Anonymous · published 1570 · first performed or written 1568 [before 1569] (Annals) moral · Children of Paul's (first)(?) unassigned nearest T35 Fools, wit and railing · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
Either my glass is wonderfully spotted, Or else my face is wonderfully blotted. This is not my Coat, why where had I this weed, By the Mass I look like a very fool indeed. O heaps of haps, O rueful chance to me, O Idleness woe worth the time, that I was ruled by thee. Why did I lay my head, within thy lap to rest? Why was I not advised by her, that wished and will me best. O ten times trouble blessed wights, whose corpses in grave do lie: That are not driven to behold, these wretched cares which die. On me your furies all on me, have poured out your spite, Come now and slay me at the last, and rid my sorrows quite. What coast shall me receive, where shall I show my head: The world will say this same is he, that if he list had sped. This same is he that took, an enterprise in hand, This same is he that scarce one blow, his enemy did withstand. This same is he that fought, and fell in open field: This same is he that in the song, of Idleness did yield. This same is he that was in way, to win the game To join himself whereby he should have won immortal fame. And now is wrapped in woe, and buried in despair, O happy case for the if death would rid the quite of care. Shame. Who calls for shame? Here is a merchant Shame, for thee to tame. A shame come to you all, for I am almost lame, With trudging up and down to them that loose their game, And here is one whom thou must rightly blame, That hath preferred his folly to his fame. Who? this good fellow, what call you his name? wit? that on wooing, to Lady Science came. Come aloft child let me see, what friscoles you can ●et, He hath deserved it, let him be well bet. O spare me with the whip, and slay me with thy knife: Ten thousand times more dear to me, were present death then life Nay nay my friend, thou shalt not die as yet. Remember in what case, Dame Nature left thee Wit, And how thou hast abused the same. Thou hast deceived all our hope as all the world may see. A shame come to it. Remember what fair words, and promises thou didst make, That for my daughter's love, no pains thou wouldst forsake. Remember in what sort, we had a care of thee: Thou hast deceived all our hope, as all the world may see. A shame come to it. Remember how Instruction, should have been followed still, And how thou wouldst be ruled, by none but by Will. How idleness hath crept, and reigneth in thy breast, How Ignorance her son, hath wholly thee possessed. A shame come to 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)
Eyther my glasse is wonderfully spotted, Or els my face is wonderfully blotted. This is not my Cote, why wher had I this wéede, By the Masse I loke like a very foole in éede. O heapes of happes, O rufull chaunce to me, O Idlenes woo worth the time, that I was ruled by thee. Why did I lay my head, within thy lappe to rest? Why was I not adud by her, that wissht and wil me best. O ten times troble blessed wights, whose corpes in graue do lye: That are not driuen to behould, these wretched cares which die. On me your furies all on me, haue poured out your spite, Come nowe and slay me at the last, and ridde my sorowes quite. What coast shall me receyue, wher shal I shew my head: The world wyll saye this same is hée, that if he list had sped. This same is he that toke, an enterpryse in hand, This same is hee that scarce one blow, his ennemy did withstand. This same is he that fought, and fell in open field: This same is he that in the songe, of Idlenes did yelde. This same is he that was in way, to winne the game To ioyne himselfe wherby he should haue won immortal fame. And now is wrapt in woe, and buried in dispayre, O happye cace for the if death would rid the quite of care. Shame. Who calls for shame? Here is a marchant Shame, for thee to tame. A shame come to you all for I am almost lame, Wyth trudging vp and downe to them that lose their game, And here is one whom thou must rightly blame, That hath preferde his folly to his fame. Who? this good fellowe, what call you his name? Witte? that on wooing, to Lady Science came. Come aloft child let me sée, what friscoles you can et, He hath deserued it, let him be well bet. O spare mee wyth the whippe, and sley mée with thy knife: Ten thousand times more deare to mée, were present death then lyfe Naye naye my frend, thou shalt not die as yet. Remember in what case, Dame Nature left thee Witte, And how thou hast abused the same. Thou hast deceaued all our hope as all the world may sée. A shame come to it. Remember what fayre words, and promises thou diddest make, That for my daughters loue, no paynes thou wouldest forsake. Remember in what sorte, we had a care of the: Thou hast deceyued all our hope, as all the world may see. A shame come to it. Remember how Istruction, should haue bene followed styll, And howe thou wouldest be ruled, by none but by Wyll. How Idelnes hath crept, and raigneth in thy breast, How Ignoraunce her sonne, hath wholly thee possest. A shame come to it.