Marmion, Shackerley · published 1633 · first performed or written 1633 [1632-1633] (Annals) comedy · Prince Charles's Men (second) · before the Court T9 Theatre talk: prologues, poets and playe typicality 0.84 · 531 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T9: play, stage, poet, prologue, author, wit, plays, muse, scene, players.
ARe you the Author of this Play? What then? Out o' this Poetry, I wonder what You do with this Disease, a seed of Vipers Spawned in Parnassus' pool, whom the world frowns on, And here you vent your poison on the Stage. What say you sir? Oh you are deaf to all Sounds, but a Plaudite, and yet you may Remember, if you please, what entertainment Some of your Tribe have had, that have took pains To be contemned, and laughed at by the Vulgar, And then ascribed it to their ignorance. I should be loath to see you move their spleens With no better success, and then with some Commendatory Epistles fly to the Press, To vindicate your credit. What if I do? By my consent I'll have you Banished the Stage, proscribed, and interdicted Castalian water, and Poetical fire. In that you wrong th'approved judgements of This noble Auditory, who like a Sphere Moved by a strong Intelligence, sit round To crown our Infant Muse, whose celestial Applause, she heard at her first entrance. This way of Poetry has deceived many; For 'tis not every one that writes a Verse, Has washed his mouth in Helicon, or slept On the two topped Parnassus, there's great difference Betwixt him, that shall write a lawful Poem, And one that makes a paper of loose Verses, To court his looser Mistress; there's much air Required to lift up the Dircaean Swan, When he shall print his tracts among the clouds: Not as your ignorant Poetasters use, In spite of Phoebus, without Art or Learning, T'usurp the Stage, and touch with impure hands, The lofty Buskin, and the Comic style. This I confess; but when the prosperous gale Of their auspicious breath shall fill our sails, And make our high-born thoughts swell like a tide: And when our bolder Muse shall put on Buskins, And clap on her Talaria on her feet, Then like swift Mercury, she may aspire To a sublimer Region, with that force, And bear that weighty burden on her wings, That she shall fear to crack her pinions. 'tis this licentious generation Of Poets, trouble the peace of the whole Town; A Constable can't get his Maid with child, A Baker nor a Scrivener lose his cares, Nor a justice of Peace share with his Clerk; A Lord can't walk drunk with a torch before him, A Gallant can't be suffered to pawn's Breeches, Or leave his cloak behind him at a Tavern, But you must jerk him for it. In all ages It hath been ever free for Comic Writers, If there were any that were infamous, For lust, ambition, or avarice, To brand them with great liberty, though I Disclaim the privilege; no impure language, As Stygian mud stirred up with Charon's oar, ne'er belched so foul an air, shall ever mix With our ingenious mirth, nor need we fear, Any their foul aspersions; whilst the wise, Sit to control and judge, in whose clear eyes, As we deserve, we look to stand or fall, Passing profane people, and leave all To be determined as you censure. Boy Go and subscribe it quickly what I say.
seed 43: T16 · seed 44: T15 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
ARe you the Authour of this Play? What then? Out o' this Poetrie, I wonder what You doe with this Diſeaſe, a ſeed of Vipers Spawnd in Parnaſſus poole, whom the world frownes on, And heere you vent your poyſon on the Stage. What ſay you ſir? Oh you are deafe to all Sounds, but a Plaudite, and yet you may Remember, if you pleaſe, what entertainment Some of your Tribe haue had, that haue tooke paynes To bee contemn'd, and laught at by the Vulgar, And then aſcrib'd it to their ignorance. I ſhould be loath to ſee you mooue their ſpleenes With no better ſucceſſe, and then with ſome Commendatory Epiſtles flie to the Preſſe, To vindicate your credit. What if I doe? By my conſent Ile haue you Baniſht the Stage, proſcrib'd, and interdicted Caſtalian water, and Poeticall fire. In that you wrong th'approved judgments of This noble Auditory, who like a Spheare Mooved by a ſtrong Intelligence, ſit round To crowne our Infant Muſe, whoſe caeleſtiall Applauſe, ſhee heard at her firſt entrance. This way of Poetry has deceiv'd many; For tis not every one that writes a Verſe, Has waſht his mouth in Helicon, or ſlept On the two topt Parnaſſus, there's great difference Betwixt him, that ſhall write a lawfull Poeme, And one that makes a paper of looſe Verſes, To court his looſer Miſtreſſe; there's much ayre Requir'd to lift up the Dircaean Swanne, When he ſhall print his tracts among the clouds: Not as your ignorant Poetaſters vſe, In ſpight of Phoebus, without Art or Learning, T'uſurpe the Stage, and touch with impure hands, The loftie Buskin, and the Comick ſtile. This I confeſſe; but when the proſperous gale Of their auſpicious breath ſhall fill our ſayles, And make our high-borne thoughts ſwell like a tyde: And when our bolder Muſe ſhall put on Buskins, And clap on her Talaria on her feet, Then like ſwift Mercury, ſhee may aſpire To a ſublimer Region, with that force, And beare that weighty burthen on her wings, That ſhee ſhall feare to cracke her pincons. Tis this licentious generation Of Poets, trouble the peace of the whole Towne; A Conſtable cann't get his Mayd with child, A Baker nor a Scrivener looſe his cares, Nor a Iuſtice of Peace ſhare with his Clerke; A Lord can't walke drunk with a torch before him, A Gallant can't bee ſufferd to pawne's Brecches, Or leaue his cloake behind him at a Taverne, But you muſt jerke him for it. In all ages It hath been ever free for Comick Writers, If there were any that were infamous, For luſt, ambition, or avarice, To brand them with great liberty, though I Diſclaime the priviledge; no impure language, As Stygian mud ſtird up with Charons oare, Ne're belcht ſo fowle an ayre, ſhall ever mixe With our ingenious mirth, nor need we feare, Any their foule aſperſions; whilſt the wiſe, Sit to controule and iudge, in whoſe cleare eyes, As we deſerue, we looke to ſtand or fall, Paſſing prophaner people, and leaue all To be determined as you cenſure. Boy Goe and ſubſcribe it quickly what I ſay.