Shakespeare, William / Middleton, Thomas · published 1623 · first performed or written 1607 [c.1606-c.1608] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T35 Fools, wit and railing · 505 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
More counsel with more Money, bounteous Timon. More whore, more Mischief first, I have given you earnest. Strike up the Drum towards Athens, farewell Timon: if I thrive well, I'll visit thee again. If I hope well, I'll never see thee more. I never did thee harm. Yes, thou spok'st well of me. Call'st thou that harm? Men daily find it. Get thee away, And take thy Beagles with thee. We but offend him, strike. That Nature being sick of man's unkindness Should yet be hungry: Common Mother, thou Whose womb unmeasureable, and infinite breast Teems and feeds all: whose selfsame Mettle Whereof thy proud Child (arrogant man) is puffed, Engenders the black Toad, and Adder blew, The gilded Newt, and eyeless venomed Worm, With all th' abhorred Births below Crispe Heaven, Whereon Hyperions quickening fire doth shine: Yield him, who all the humane Sons do hate, From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root: Enseare thy Fertile and Conceptious womb, Let it no more bring out ingrateful man. Go great with Tigers, Dragons, Wolves, and Bears, team with new Monsters, whom thy upward face Hath to the Marbled Mansion all above Never presented. O, a Root, dear thankes: Dry up thy Marrows, Vines, and Plough-torne Leas, Whereof ingrateful man with Liquorish draughts And Morsels Unctuous, greases his pure mind, That from it all Consideration slips— More man? Plague, plague. I was directed hither. Men report, Thou dost affect my Manners, and dost use them. 'Tis then, because thou dost not keep a dog Whom I would imitate. Consumption catch thee. This is in thee a Nature but infected, A poor unmanly Melancholy sprung From change of future. Why this Spade? this place? This Slave-like Habit, and these looks of Care? Thy Flatterers yet wear Silk, drink Wine, lie soft, Hug their diseased Perfumes, and have forgot That ever Timon was. Shame not these Woods, By putting on the cunning of a Carper. Be thou a Flatterer now, and seek to thrive By that which has undone thee; hinge thy knee, And let his very breath whom thou'lt observe Blow off thy Cap: praise his most vicious strain, And call it excellent: thou wast told thus: Thou gav'st thine ears (like Tapsters, that bad welcome) To Knaves, and all approachers: 'Tis most just That thou turn Rascal, hadst thou wealth again, Rascals should have't. Do not assume my likeness. Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself. Thou hast cast away thyself, being like thyself A Madman so long, now a Fool: what thinkest That the bleak air, thy boisterous Chamberlain Will put thy shirt on warm? Will these moist Trees, That have outlived the Eagle, page thy heels And skip when thou pointest out? Will the cold brook Candied with Ice, Cawdle thy Morning taste To cure thy o're-nights surfeit? Call the Creatures, Whose naked Natures live in all the spite Of wreakful Heaven, whose bare unhoused Trunks, To the conflicting Elements exposed Answer mere Nature: bid them flatter thee. O thou shalt find.
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)
More counſell with more Money, bounteous Timon. More whore, more Miſcheefe firſt, I haue giuen you earneſt. Strike vp the Drum towardes Athens, farewell Timon: if I thriue well, Ile viſit thee againe. If I hope well, Ile neuer ſee thee more. I neuer did thee harme. Yes, thou ſpok'ſt well of me. Call'ſt thou that harme? Men dayly finde it. Get thee away, And take thy Beagles with thee. We but offend him, ſtrike. That Nature being ſicke of mans vnkindneſſe Should yet be hungry: Common Mother, thou Whoſe wombe vnmeaſureable, and infinite breſt Teemes and feeds all: whoſe ſelfeſame Mettle Whereof thy proud Childe (arrogant man) is puft, Engenders the blacke Toad, and Adder blew, The gilded Newt, and eyeleſſe venom'd Worme, With all th' abhorred Births below Criſpe Heauen, Whereon Hyperions quickning fire doth ſhine: Yeeld him, who all the humane Sonnes do hate, From foorth thy plenteous boſome, one poore roote: Enſeare thy Fertile and Conceptious wombe, Let it no more bring out ingratefull man. Goe great with Tygers, Dragons, Wolues, and Beares, Teeme with new Monſters, whom thy vpward face Hath to the Marbled Manſion all aboue Neuer preſented. O, a Root, deare thankes: Dry vp thy Marrowes, Vines, and Plough-torne Leas, Whereof ingratefull man with Licouriſh draughts And Morſels Vnctious, greaſes his pure minde, That from it all Conſideration ſlippes — More man? Plague, plague. I was directed hither. Men report, Thou doſt affect my Manners, and doſt vſe them. 'Tis then, becauſe thou doſt not keepe a dogge Whom I would imitate. Conſumption catch thee. This is in thee a Nature but infected, A poore vnmanly Melancholly ſprung From change of future. Why this Spade? this place? This Slaue-like Habit, and theſe lookes of Care? Thy Flatterers yet weare Silke, drinke Wine, lye ſoft, Hugge their diſeas'd Perfumes, and haue forgot That euer Timon was. Shame not theſe Woods, By pacing on the cunning of a Carper. Be thou a Flatterer now, and ſeeke to thriue By that which ha's vndone thee; hindge thy knee, And let his very breath whom thou'lt obſerue Blow off thy Cap: praiſe his moſt vicious ſtraine, And call it excellent: thou waſt told thus: Thou gau'ſt thine eares (like Tapſters, that bad welcom) To Knaues, and all approachers: 'Tis moſt iuſt That thou turne Raſcall, had'ſt thou wealth againe, Raſcals ſhould haue't. Do not aſſume my likeneſſe. Were I like thee, I'de throw away my ſelfe. Thou haſt caſt away thy ſelfe, being like thy ſelf A Madman ſo long, now a Foole: what think'ſt That the bleake ayre, thy boyſterous Chamberlaine Will put thy ſhirt on warme? Will theſe moyſt Trees, That haue out-liu'd the Eagle, page thy heeles And skip when thou point'ſt out? Will the cold brooke Candied with Ice, Cawdle thy Morning taſte To cure thy o're-nights ſurfet? Call the Creatures, Whoſe naked Natures liue in all the ſpight Of wrekefull Heauen, whoſe bare vnhouſed Trunkes▪ To the conflicting Elements expos'd Anſwer meere Nature: bid them flatter thee. O thou ſhalt finde.