Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1608 (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T35 Fools, wit and railing · 480 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
Pray you, who does the Wolf love? The Lamb. I, to devour him, as the hungry Plebeians would the Noble Martius. He's a Lamb indeed, that baes like a Bear. he's a Bear indeed, that lives like a Lamb. You two are old men, tell me one thing that I shall ask you. Well sir. In what enormity is Martius poor in, that you two have not in abundance? He's poor in no one fault, but stored withal. Especially in Pride. And topping all others in boasting. This is strange now: Do you two know, how you are censured here in the City, I mean of us o' th' right hand File, do you? Why? ho ware we censured? Because you talk of Pride now, will you not be angry. Well, well sir, well. Why 'tis no great matter: for a very little thief of Occasion, will rob you of a great deal of Patience: Give your dispositions the reines, and be angry at your pleasures (at the least) if you take it as a pleasure to you, in being so: you blame Martius for being proud. We do it not alone, sir. I know you can do very little alone, for your helps are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous single: your abilities are to Infantlike, for doing much alone. You talk of Pride: Oh, that you could turn your eyes toward the Napes of your necks, and make but an Interiour survey of your good selves. Oh that you could. What then sir? Why then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy Magistrates (alias Fools) as any in Rome. Menenius, you are known well enough too. I am known to be a humorous Patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot Wine, with not a drop of allaying Tiber in't: Said, to be something imperfect in favouring the first complaint, hasty and Tinder-like upon, to trivial motion: One, that converses more with the Buttock of the night, then with the forehead of the morning. What I think, I utter, and spend my malice in my breath. Meeting two such Weals men as you are (I cannot call you Licurgusses,) if the drink you give me, touch my palate adversly, I make a crooked face at it, I can say, your worships have delivered the matter well, when I find the Ass in compound, with the Mayor part of your syllables. And though I must be content to bear with those, that say you are reverend grave men, yet they lie deadly, that tell you have good faces, if you see this in the Map of my Microcosm, follows it that I am known well enough too? What harm can your besom Conspectuities glean out of this Character, if I be known well enough too. Come sir come, we know you well enough.
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)
Pray you, who does the Wolfe loue? The Lambe. I, to deuour him, as the hungry Plebeians would the Noble Martius. He's a Lambe indeed, that baes like a Beare. Hee's a Beare indeede, that liues like a Lambe. You two are old men, tell me one thing that I ſhall aske you. Well ſir. In what enormity is Martius poore in, that you two haue not in abundance? He's poore in no one fault, but ſtor'd withall. Eſpecially in Pride. And topping all others in boaſting. This is ſtrange now: Do you two know, how you are cenſured heere in the City, I mean of vs a' th' right hand File, do you? Why? ho ware we cenſur'd? Becauſe you talke of Pride now, will you not be angry. Well, well ſir, well. Why 'tis no great matter: for a very little theefe of Occaſion, will rob you of a great deale of Patience: Giue your diſpoſitions the reines, and bee angry at your pleaſures (at the leaſt) if you take it as a pleaſure to you, in being ſo: you blame Martius for being proud. We do it not alone, ſir. I know you can doe very little alone, for your helpes are many, or elſe your actions would growe wondrous ſingle: your abilities are to Infant-like, for dooing much alone. You talke of Pride: Oh, that you could turn your eyes toward the Napes of your neckes, and make but an Interiour ſuruey of your good ſelues. Oh that you could. What then ſir? Why then you ſhould diſcouer a brace of vnmeriting, proud, violent, teſtie Magiſtrates (alias Fooles) as any in Rome. Menenius, you are knowne well enough too. I am knowne to be a humorous Patritian, and one that loues a cup of hot Wine, with not a drop of alaying Tiber in't: Said, to be ſomething imperfect in fauouring the firſt complaint, haſty and Tinder-like vppon, to triuiall motion: One, that conuerſes more with the Buttocke of the night, then with the forhead of the morning. What I think, I vtter, and ſpend my malice in my breath. Meeting two ſuch Weales men as you are (I cannot call you Licurguſſes,) if the drinke you giue me, touch my Palat aduerſly, I make a crooked face at it, I can ſay, your Worſhippes haue deliuer'd the matter well, when I finde the Aſſe in compound, with the Maior part of your ſyllables. And though I muſt be content to beare with thoſe, that ſay you are reuerend graue men, yet they lye deadly, that tell you haue good faces, if you ſee this in the Map of my Microcoſme, followes it that I am knowne well enough too? What harme can your beeſome Conſpectuities gleane out of this Charracter, if I be knowne well enough too. Come ſir come, we know you well enough.