Technogamia, or The Marriages of the Arts · chunk 47 of 64
Holyday, Barten · published 1618 · first performed or written 1618 [Feb 13] (Annals) comedy · at University unassigned nearest T35 Fools, wit and railing · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
I can tell you Choler, you had almost missed this same time too. Well, to my task, since 'tis my luck. Sanguis and Melancholico met, because one's cold and dry, and the other's hot, and sufficiently moist: Choler and Phlegmatico (have at you Choler) are like a flap-dragon, or a piece of bread sopped in Aquavitae, and then set afire— Thank you Physiognomus. And Musica met with Cheiromantes, because the hand in this sense, in respect of Music, may most justly be called the Instrument of instruments: and therefore most fitly to be coupled with it. I'faith Cheiromantes you are beholding to him, he has graced you. Come, run again. What? is't my course? Hay! Melancholico will give gallant reasons. ay, he'll be exceeding witty, I warrant you. Nay, I believe he'll give incomparable reasons. Come on Melancholico. Let's hear the first. He looks as if he would give profound ones. What? do you mean to abuse me? I'll give none. I'll play no more. That's a poor put-off i'faith; either play on, or else I'll call thee Blockhead as long as I know thee. Do, do. Blockhead, blockhead. Come, you saucy Ass, because you are so hot, I'll take you down: I'll propose a riddle. Let it be a good one, and it shall be for all the reasons thou shouldst have given. Yes faith, and't be a good one. Well, take it as it is: Riddle me, riddle me, what's this? It is not, and yet we see it: 'tis like a picture, and yet 'tis no picture: and it was drawn by a blind Painter. This is impossible. Nay Choler, you are too rash in your judgement— It is not, and yet we see it,— why, it may be you mean honesty, which peradventure you think is nowhere truly: but seems to be somewhere. No, no, your conjecture halts. It is not, and yet we see it?— If it had been, It is not, and yet we hear it, I could have given a reasonable conjecture. As how? I prithee. Why, I could have thought it to be Fame. Indeed that had been reasonable: but you see it is not so proposed; neither could that hold with the parts that follow: well, to the next. 'Tis like a picture, and yet no picture? I'll give a very strong conjecture at that. Let's hear it. Why, it may be a Gentlewoman's face painted. That conjecture is plausible, but 'twill not hold with the rest. To the last. And it was drawn by a blind Painter. That's altogether impossible. You're too quick again, Choler. I can conceive how that may be. How? How? Why the Painter might lose his sight after he had drawn the picture, And so be a blind Painter. Pretty, pretty, pretty. But you are out, Sir. Well, what was't now? Nay, since you are so hot, you shan't know. Nay, prithee what is't. No, I won't tell it.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
I can tell you Choler, you had almoſt mis't this ſame time too. Well, to my taske, ſince 'tis my lucke. Sanguis and Melancholico met, becauſe one's cold and dry, and the other's hot, and ſufficiently moiſt: Choler and Phlegmatico (haue at you Choler) are like a flap-dragon, or a piece of bread ſopt in Aqua-vitae, and then ſet a-fire— Thanke you Phyſiognomus. And Muſica met with Cheiromantes, becauſe the hand in this ſence, in reſpect of Muſicke, may moſt iuſtly bee call'd the Inſtrument of inſtruments: and therefore moſt fitly to be coupled with it. I'faith Cheiromantes you are beholding to him, he has grac'd you. Come, runne againe. What? is't my courſe? Hay! Melancholico will giue gallant reaſons. I, hee'l be exceeding witty, I warrant you. Nay, I beleeue hee'l giue incomparable reaſons. Come on Melancholico. Let's heare the firſt. He lookes as if he would giue profound ones. What? doe you meane to abuſe me? Ile giue none. Ile play no more. That's a poore put-off i'faith; either play on, or elſe Ile call thee Block-head as long as I know thee. Doe, doe. Block-head, block-head. Come, you ſawcy Aſſe, becauſe you are ſo hot, Ile take you downe: Ile propoſe a riddle. Let it be a good one, and it ſhall bee for all the reaſons thou ſhouldſt haue giuen. Yes faith, and't be a good one. Well, take it as it is: Riddle me, riddle me, what's this? It is not, and yet we ſee it: 'tis like a picture, and yet 'tis no picture: and it was drawne by a blinde Painter. This is impoſſible. Nay Choler, you are too raſh in your iudgement— It is not, and yet we ſee it, — why, it may be you meane honeſty, which peraduenture you thinke is no-where truely: but ſeemes to be ſome-where. No, no, your coniecture halts. It is not, and yet we ſee it? — If it had beene, It is not, and yet wee heare it, I could haue giuen a reaſonable coniecture. As how? I prethee. Why, I could haue thought it to be Fame. Indeed that had beene reaſonable: but you ſee it is not ſo propos'd; neither could that hold with the parts that follow: well, to the next. 'Tis like a picture, and yet no picture? Ile giue a very ſtrong coniecture at that. Let's heare it. Why, it may be a Gentlewomans face painted. That coniecture is plauſible, but 'twill not hold with the reſt. To the laſt. And it was drawne by a blinde Painter. That's altogether impoſſible. You're too quicke againe, Choler. I can conceiue how that may be. How? How? Why the Painter might loſe his ſight after he had drawne the picture, And ſo be a blinde Painter. Pretty, pretty, pretty. But you are out, Sir. Well, what was't now? Nay, ſince you are ſo hot, you ſhan't know. Nay, prethee what is't. No, I woun't tell it.