Fletcher, John / Massinger, Philip · published 1637 · first performed or written 1625(?) (Annals) comedy · King's Men · Blackfriars T62 The courtier as a type: fashion, affecta typicality 0.74 · 477 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T62: courtier, shrug, face, court, italian, monsieur, scholar, fashion, french, courtiers.
Troth (if he be nothing else) As of the Courtier; all his Songs, and Sonnets, His Anagrams, Acrostics, Epigrams, His deep and Philosophical discourse Of natures hidden secrets, makes not up A perfect husband; He can hardly borrow The Stars of the Celestial crown to make me A tire for my head; nor Charles' Wain for a Coach, Nor Ganymede for a Page, nor a rich gown From Juno's Wardrobe, nor would I lie in (For I despair not once to be a mother) Under heavens spangled Canopy, or banquet My guests and Gossips with imagined Nectar, Pure Orleans would do better; no, no, father, Though I could be well pleased to have my husband A Courtier, and a Scholar, young, and valiant, These are but gaudy nothings, If there be not Something to make a substance. And what's that? A full estate, and that said, I've said all, And get me such a one with these additions, Farewell Virginity, and welcome wedlock. But where is such one to be met with Daughter? A black Swan is more common, you may wear Grey tresses ere we find him. I am not So punctual in all ceremonies, I will bate Two or three of these good parts, before I'll dwell Too long upon the choice. Only, my Lord, remember That he be rich and active, for without these, The others yield no relish, but these perfect; You must bear with small faults, Madam. Merry Wench, And it becomes you well, I'll to Brisac, And try what may be done; i'th' mean time, home, And feast thy thoughts with th'pleasures of a Bride. Thoughts are but airy food Sir, let her taste them. Unload part of the Library, and make room For th'other dozen of Carts, I'll straight be with you. Why hath he more books? More than ten Marts send over. And can he tell their names? their names? he has 'em As perfect as his pater noster, but that's nothing, ‛Has read them over leaf by leaf three thousand times; But here's the wonder, though their weight would sink A Spanish Carrack, without other ballast, He carrieth them all in his head, and yet He walks upright. Surely he has a strong brain. If all thy pipes of wine were filled with books Made of the barks of trees, or mysteries writ In old moth-eaten velum, he would sip thy Cellar Quite dry, and still be thirsty; Then for's Diet, He eats and digests more Volumes at a meal, Than there would be Larks (though the sky should fall) Devoured in a month in Paris, yet fear not Sons o'th' the buttery, and kitchen, though his learned stomach Cannot b' appeased; he'll seldom trouble you, His knowing stomach contemns your black Jacks, Butler, And your Flagons, and Cook thy boiled, thy roast, thy baked. How liveth he?
seed 43: T60 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Troth (if he be nothing else) As of the Courtier; all his Songs, and Sonnets, His Anagrams, Acrosticks, Epigrammes, His deepe and Philosophicall discourse Of natures hidden secrets, makes not up A perfect husband; He can hardly borrow The Starres of the Celestiall crowne to make me A tire for my head; nor Charles Waine for a Coach, Nor Ganimede for a Page, nor a rich gowne From Juno's Wardrobe, nor would I lye in (For I despaire not once to be a mother) Under heavens spangled Canopy, or banquet My guests and Gossips with imagin'd Nectar, Pure Orleans would doe better; no, no, father, Though I could be well pleas'd to have my husband A Courtier, and a Scholar, young, and valiant, These are but gawdy nothings, If there be not Something to make a substance. And what's that? A full estate, and that said, I've said all, And get me such a one with these additions, Farewell Virginity, and welcome wedlocke. But where is such one to be met with Daughter? A blacke Swan is more common, you may weare Grey tresses ere we finde him. I am not So punctuall in all ceremonies, I will bate Two or three of these good parts, before Ile dwell Too long upon the choice. Onely, my Lord, remember That he be rich and active, for without these, The others yeeld no rellish, but these perfect; You must beare with small faults, Madam. Merry Wench, And it becomes you well, Ile to Brisac, And try what may be done; ith' meane time, home, And feast thy thoughts with th'pleasures of a Bride. Thoughts are but airy food Sir, let her taste them. Unload part of the Library, and make roome For th'other dozen of Carts, Ile straight be with you. Why hath he more bookes? More than ten Marts send over. And can he tell their names? their names? he has 'em As perfect as his pater noster, but that's nothing, 'Has read them over leafe by leafe three thousand times; But here's the wonder, though their weight would sinke A Spanish Carracke, without other ballast, He carryeth them all in his head, and yet He walkes upright. Surely he has a strong braine. If all thy pipes of wine were fill'd with bookes Made of the barkes of trees, or mysteries writ In old moth-eaten vellam, he would sip thy Celler Quite dry, and still be thirsty; Then for's Diet, He eates and digests more Volumes at a meale, Than there would be Larkes (though the sky should fall) Devowr'd in a moneth in Paris, yet feare not Sonnes oth' the buttry, and kitehin, though his learn'd stomacke Cannot b' appeas'd; Hee'll seldome trouble you, His knowing stomacke contemnes your blacke Jackes, Butler, And your Flagons, and Cooke thy boyl'd, thy roast, thy bak'd. How liveth he?