Middleton, Thomas / Rowley, William · published 1620 · first performed or written 1620 (Annals) masque · Prince Charles's Men (first) unassigned nearest T35 Fools, wit and railing · 519 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
They have a new-found vapour to expel me, They smoke me out: ask 'em but why they do't, And he that worst can speak, yet this can say, I take this whiff to drive the Time away. Oh, but the worst of all, women do hate me: I cannot set impression on their checks With all my circular hours, days, months, and years, But 'tis wiped off with gloss and pencilry, Nothing so hateful, as grey hairs and Time; Rather no hair at all; 'tis sin's Autumn now: For those fair Trees that were more fairer cropped, Or they fall of themselves, or will be lopped: Even Time itself (to number all his griefs) Would waste himself unto his ending date: How many would eternity wish here, And that the Sun, and Time, and Age might stand And leave their Annual distinction, That nature were bedrid, all motion sleep? Time having then such foes, has cause to weep. Redress it Iupiter. I tell thee, glorious Daughter: and you things Shut up in wretchedness, the world knew once His age of happiness; blessed times owned him, Till those two ugly ills, Deceit, and Pride, Made it a perished substance: Pride brought in Forgetfulness of goodness, Merit, Virtue, And placed ridiculous Officers in life; Vainglory, Fashion, Humour, and such toys That shame to be produced. The frenzy of Apparel, that's run mad, And knows not where to settle Masculine painting; And the five Starches, mocking the five Senses, All in their different and ridiculous colours, Which for their apish and fantastic follies, I summon to make odious, and will fit 'em With flames of their own colours. What, no respect amongst you? must I wake you In your forgetful duties? jet before me? Take place of me? you rude presumptuous gossip: Pray who am I? not I the primitive Starch? You blue-eyed Frokin, looks like fire and brimstone; You Caudle-colour, much of the complexion Of high Shrove-Tuesday Batter, yellow-hammer: And you my Tanzy face, that shows like Pride, Served up in sorrel sops, green Sickness baggage: And last, thou Red Starch, that wear'st all thy blushes Under thy cheeks, looks like a strangled Moon calf, With all thy blood settled about thy neck, The Ensign of thy shame, if thou hadst any; Know, I'm Starch Protestant, thou Starch Puritan With the blue nostril, whose tongue lies i' thy nose. Wicked interpretation! I ha' known a white-faced hypocrite, Lady Sanctity, A Yellow ne'er came near her, and sh'as been A citizen's wife too, starched like Innocence; But the devil's pranks not uglier: In her mind Wears Yellow, hugs it, if her husband's trade Could bear it, there's the spite: but since she cannot Wear her own linen Yellow; yet she shows Her love to't, and makes him wear Yellow hose. I am as stiff i' my opinion As any Starch amongst you. ay, as you. And I as any. I scorn to come behind. Then conclude thus: When all men's several censures, all the Arguments The world can bring upon us, are applied; The sin's not i' the colour, but the pride.
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)
They haue a new-found vapour to expell me, They smoke me out: aske vm but why they doo't, And he that worst can speake, yet this can say, I take this whiffe to driue the Time away. Oh, but the worst of all, women doe hate me: I cannot set impression on their checkes With all my circular houres, dayes, months, and yeeres, But 'tis wip'd off with glosse and pensilrie, Nothing so hatefull, as gray haires and Time; Rather no haire at all; 'tis sinnes Autumne now: For those faire Trees that were more fairer cropt, Or they fall of themselues, or will be lopt: Euen Time it selfe (to number all his griefes) Would waste himselfe vnto his ending date: How many would eternitie wish heere, And that the Sunne, and Time, and Age might stand And leaue their Annuall distinction, That nature were bed-rid, all motion sleepe? Time hauing then such foes, ha's cause to weepe. Redresse it Iupiter. I tell thee, glorious Daughter: and you things Shut vp in wretchednesse, the world knew once His age of happinesse; blessed times ownde him, Till those two vgly ills, Deceit, and Pride, Made it a perisht substance: Pride brought in Forgetfulnesse of goodnesse, Merit, Vertue, And plac'd ridiculous Officers in life; Vaine-glory, Fashion, Humour, and such toyes That shame to be produc'd. The phrenzie of Apparell, that's runne mad, And knowes not where to settle Masculine painting; And the fiue Starches, mocking the fiue Sences, All in their diff'rent and ridiculous colours, Which for their apish and fantastique follies, I summon to make odious, and will fit vm With flames of their owne colours. What, no respect amongst you? must I wake you In your forgetfull duties? iet before me? Take place of me? you rude presumptuous gossip: 'Pray who am I? not I the primitiue Starch? You blew-eyde Frokin, lookes like fire and brimstone; You Cawdle-colour, much of the complexion Of high Shroue-Tuesday Batter, yallow-hammer: And you my Tanzy face, that shewes like Pride, Seru'd vp in Sorrill sops, greene Sicknesse baggage: And last, thou Red Starch, that wear'st all thy blushes Vnder thy cheekes, looks like a strangled Moone calfe, With all thy bloud settled about thy necke, The Ensigne of thy shame, if thou hadst any; Know, I'me Starch Protestant, thou Starch Puritane With the blew nostrill, whose tongue lies i' thy nose. Wicked interpretation! I ha known a white-fac't hyppocrite, Lady Sanctity, A Yellow ne'r came neere her, and sh'as beene A Citizens wife too, starcht like Innocence; But the Diuels pranks not vglier: In her minde Weares Yellow, huggs it, if her husbands trade Could beare it, there's the spite: but since she cannot Weare her owne linnen Yellow; yet she shewes Her loue too't, and makes him weare Yellow hose. I am as stiffe i' my opinion As any Starch amongst you. I, as you. And I as any. I scorne to come behinde. Then conclude thus: When all mens seuerall censures, all the Arguments The world can bring vpon vs, are applyde; The sinne's not i' the colour, but the pride.