The Contention for Honor and Riches · chunk 7 of 11
Shirley, James · published 1633 · first performed or written 1631 [c.1625-1632; adapted 1658] (Annals) moral unassigned nearest T62 The courtier as a type: fashion, affecta · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T62: courtier, shrug, face, court, italian, monsieur, scholar, fashion, french, courtiers.
Have you done yet? I have not much more to say. It does appear by all this prattle then, You do not know me, and have ta'en too much On trust to talk of Soldier, a name thou'st not deserved to mention, because Some fellows here, have bragged, and perhaps beaten You, and some other of your satin Tribe, Into belief that they have seen the wars, That perhaps mustered at Mile-end, Or Finsbury. Must the true sons of courage, Be thus dishonoured, and their character Defaced by such prodigious breath? must we, We that for Honour and your safeties suffer, What in the repetition would fright Your pale souls from you, when perhaps you foot A jig at home, and revel with your Lady, Be thus rewarded! Happy they that died Their Country sacrifice, to prevent the shame Of living with such popular drones, but I Should wrong our glorious profession By any Arguments, to make thee sensible Of what we are: it shall suffice to publish What is not now in ignorant supposition. But truth, of your gay quality and virtues, You are a Courtier. Very good. Not so. If such there be, I talk not to them now, But to thee Phantasm, of whom men do doubt Whether thou hast a soul, thou that dost think it The better and more grateful part of thy Religion, to we are good clothes, and suffer More pains at buttoning of thy gaudy doublet, Than thou durst take for heaven, thou hast divided Thy flattery into several articles, And hast so often called your great men goods, That 'tis become thy Creed, and thou dost now Believe no other, thou wilt take a bribe, To undo a Nation, and sell thy Countrymen To as many persecutions as the Devil: thou art beholding to thy pride, it has Made thee thy own self-love, for without it, None else affecting thee I do now see, What else could keep thee from despair & drowning? Thy wantonness has made thy body poor, But not in show, for though thy back have paid for't, It wears rich trappings; Art may help your legs, But cannot cure your dancing: that and pepper, Avoid with like discretion, one betrays you At dinner, and the other between meals. Go purchase lands and a fair house, which must When thou livest in it be an Hospital, And owe no other body for diseases. Pray come, and take a chamber. Thou hast ignorance And impudence enough for twenty Alchemists. I'll hear no more. A little, I'll entreat you, You shall be beaten afterward, ne'er fear it. Dar'st thou blaspheme the Court? I honour it, And all the Noble ornaments of State, That like Pomegranates in old Aaron's coat, Adorn the Prince that wears 'em, but such Courtiers That cozen us like Glowworms in the night, Or rotten wood, I hate, and in their number For this time be content I list your worship.
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)
Have you done yet? I have not much more to say. It does appeare by all this prattle then, You doe not know me, and have ta 'ne too much On trust to talke of Souldier, a name Tha'st not deserv'd to mention, because Some fellowes here, have brag'd, and perhaps beaten You, and some other of your satten Tribe, Into beliefe that they have seene the warres, That perhaps mustered at Mile-end, Or Finesbury. Must the true sonnes of courage, Be thus dishonor'd, and their character Defac'd by such prodigious breath? must we, We that for Honor and your safeties suffer, What in the repetition would fright Your pale soules from you, when perhaps you foot A jigge at home, and revell with your Lady, Be thus rewarded! Happy they that dyed Their Country sacrifice, to prevent the shame Of living with such popular drones, but I Should wrong our glorious profession By any Arguments, to make thee sensible Of what we are: it shall suffice to publish What is not now in ignorant supposition. But truth, of your gay quality and vertues, You are a Courtier. Very good. Not so. If such there be, I talke not to them now, But to thee Phantasme, of whom men doe doubt Whether thou hast a soule, thou that dost thinke it The better and more gratefull part of thy Religion, to we are good clothes, and suffer More paines at buttoning of thy gawdy doublet, Then thou durst take for heaven, thou hast devided Thy flattery into severall articles, And hast so often called your great men goods, That tis become thy Creed, and thou dost now Beleeve no other, thou w'ot take a bribe, To undoe a Nation, and sell thy Country-men To as many persecutions as the Devill: thou art beholding to thy pride, it has Made thee thy owne selfe-lover, for without it, None else affecting thee I doe now see, What else could keep thee from despaire & drowning? Thy wantonnesse has made thy body poore, But not in shew, for though thy back have payd for't, It weares rich trappings; Art may helpe your legs, But cannot cure your dancing: that and pepper, Avoid with like discretion, one betrayes you At dinner, and the other betweene meales. Goe purchase lands and a faire house, which must When thou livest in it be an Hospitall, And owe no other body for diseases. Pray come, and take a chamber. Thou hastignorance And impudence enough for twenty Alchymists. Ile heare no more. A little, Ile intreat you, You shall be beaten afterward, ne're feare it. Dar'st thou blaspheme the Court? I honour it, And all the Noble ornaments of State, That like Pomegranats in old Aarons coate, Adorne the Prince that wears 'em, but such Courtiers That coozen us like Glow-wormes in the night, Or rotten wood, I hate, and in their number For this time be content I list your worship.