Shirley, James · published 1632 · first performed or written 1632 [licensed for stage, Jan 10] (Annals) comedy · King's Revels Company (?); Prince Charles's Men (second) (?) · Salisbury Court unassigned nearest T35 Fools, wit and railing · 495 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
No. You do not know what power I have with him. You have too much I'll undertake— You sha'not rob me of the reward. What reward? Perhaps another kiss; pray tell her, I Went cheerfully to finish her command. I do admire and love this noble temper, What flames are these? Suppress 'em, they grow high, If he affect her so, what hope have I? Mad? why you still enjoy discourse. What then? may not a man be mad, and yet talk wisely? But few in my experience. Do not abuse thy knowledge, at the worst Thou canst but say, our senses are depraved, Thrown off o'th' hinge; the tongue is none I hope, Though some would have the titillation joined to make up a sixth in the grave synod: Believe then I am mad; I'll prove't by reason. By reason? that's a new way to prove it; But I'll hear no reason. Then thou art mad thyself. Nay, I think I am madder o'th' two, And have as much reason, if there be reason Able to make one mad; but let's be wise: Or if it must be that y'ave lost your wits, Let's see and we can recover 'em by drinking; For he that is not sober after drunkenness, Is no man of this world. Now thou talkest wildly. I talk wildly, that would justify myself to be in my wits, and you that talk reason and sense won't believe y'ave any. If it be so, that may conclude I ha' lost 'em, And do not understand myself. So, so, I should believe another in that argument, But not you, for in knowing that, you prove You are no madman. Prithee tell me, thou art a piece of a Philosopher, And knowest the natural causes. Hold in that; I must confess, you are little Beside yourself: I a Philosopher? I studied Titleman sometimes i'th' College, As others did, and wanting Epictetus' lantern, slept always with a watching Candle In my study window, and might very well Dream over learning o'my Desk, or so; What Aristotle might infuse into My sleeps I know not, but waking I ne'er troubled myself to understand him; true I loved His Book De Coelo, for the heavenly Title, And made my Father buy it, for my study Of Divinity, told him I would be a Bishop; That brought me threescore pound a year for sack: I prithee do not talk of learning. Why then acknowledge, I am mad, and I have done. Well for this once I will allow it, thouart mad. But wherefore do y'allow it, what's the cause? Nay, nay, I know not that. I'll tell thee then. 'tis come about again. And let thy judgement censure me If I produce not able reasons— To prove madness, he makes me mad to hear him; Now I consider better on't, I confess You have some cause to be a little mad, The loss of such a Mistress.
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)
No. You doe not know what power I have with him. You have too much Ile undertake— You sha'not rob me of the reward. What reward? Perhaps another kisse; pray tell her, I Went cheerefully to finish her command. I doe admire and love this noble temper, What flames are these? Suppresse 'em, they grow high, If he affect her so, what hope have I? Mad? why you still enjoy discourse. What then? may not a man be mad, and yet talke wisely? But few in my experience. Doe not abuse thy knowledge, at the worst▪ Thou canst but say, our senses are deprav'd, Throwne off o'th'hinge; the tongue is none I hope, Though some would have the titillation Ioynd to make up a sixth in the grave Synode: Beleeve then I am mad; Ile prov't by reason. By reason? that's a new way to prove it; But Ile heare no reason. Then thou art mad thy selfe. Nay, I thinke I am madder o'th two, And have as much reason, if there bee reason Able to make one mad; but let's be wise: Or if it must be that y'ave lost your wits, Let's see and wee can recover e'm by drinking; For hee that is not sober after drunkennesse, Is no man of this world. Now thou talkest wildly. I talke wildly, that would justifie my selfe to bee in my wits, and you that talk reason and sense wo'not beleeve y'ave any. If it bee so, that may conclude I ha' lost 'em, And doe not understand my selfe. So, so, I should beleeve another in that argument, But not you, for in knowing that, you prove You are no mad-man. Prethee tell mee, thou art a peece of a Philosopher, And knowest the naturall causes. Hold in that; I must confesse, you are little Beside your selfe: I a Philosopher? I studied Titelman sometimes i'th College, As others did, and wanting Epictetus Lanthorne, slept alwaies with a watching Candle In my study window, and might very well Dreame over learning o'my Deske, or so; What Aristotle might infuse into My sleepes I know not, but waking I nere troubled My selfe to understand him; true I lov'd His Booke De Coelo, for the heavenly Title, And made my Father buy it, for my study Of Divinity, told him I would be a Bishop; That brought me threescore pound a yeere for sacke: I prethee doe not talke of learning. Why then acknowledge, I am mad, and I have done. Well for this once I will allow it, th'art mad. But wherefore doe y'allow it, what's the cause? Nay, nay, I know not that. Ile tell thee then. Tis come about agen. And let thy judgement censure mee If I produce not able reasons— To prove madnesse, he makes me mad to heare him; Now I consider better on't, I confesse You have some cause to be a little mad, The losse of such a Mistresse.