Cowley, Abraham · published 1638 · first performed or written 1633 [c.1633-1636] (Annals) pastoral unassigned nearest T9 Theatre talk: prologues, poets and playe · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T9: play, stage, poet, prologue, author, wit, plays, muse, scene, players.
Who's here? a most rare posture! How the good soul folds in his arms! he dreams Sure that he hugs his Mistress now, for that Is his disease without all doubt, so, good, With what judicious garb he plucks his hat Over his eyes; so, so, good! better yet; He cries; by this good light, he cries; the man Is careful, and intends to water his sheep With his own tears; ha, ha, ha, ha. Dost thou see any thing that deserves thy laughter, Fond swain? I see nothing in good troth but you, To jeer those who are Fates May-game Is a redoubled fault; for 'tis both sin, And folly too; our life is so uncertain Thou canst not promise that thy mirth shall last Tomorrow, and not meet with any rub, Than thou mayst act that part, today thou laugh'st as I act a part? it must be in a Comedy then, I abhor Tragedies: beside, I never Practised this posture; heigh ho! woe, alas! Why do I live? my music is my sighs Whilst tears keep time. You take too great a licence to your wit; Wit, did I say? I mean, that which you think so. And it deserves my pity, more than anger. Else you should find, that blows are heavier far Than the most studied jests you can throw at me. Faith it will be but labour lost to beat me, All will not teach me how to act this part; Woe's me! alas! I'm a dull rogue, and so Shall never learn it. You're unmannerly To talk thus saucily with one you know not, Nay, hardly ever saw before, be gone And leave me as you found me, my worst thoughts Are better company than thou. Enjoy them then, Here's nobody desires to rob you of them. I would have left your company without bidding, 'Tis not so pleasant, I remember well, When I had spent all my money, I stood thus And therefore hate the posture ever since. D'ye hear? I'm going to a wedding now; If you'ave a mind to dance, come along with me, Bring your hard-hearted Mistress with you too, Perhaps I may persuade her, and tell her Your music's sighs, and that your tears keep time. Will you not go? Farewell then, good Tragical actor. Now have at thee Melarnus; For 'tis but a folly, &c. Thou art a Prophet, Shepherd; She is hard As rocks which suffer the continual siege Of Sea and wind against them; but I will Win her or lose (which I should gladly do) myself: myself? why so I have already: Ho! who hath found Florellus? he is lost, Lost to himself, and to his parents likewise, (who having missed me, do by this time search Each corner for to find me) ôh! Florellus, Thou must be wicked, or for ever wretched, Hard is the Physic, harder the disease.
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)
Who's here? a most rare posture! How the good soule folds in his armes! he dreames Sure that he hugges his Mistris now, for that Is his disease without all doubt, so, good, With what judicious garbe hee plucks his hat Over his eyes; so, so, good! better yet; He cryes; by this good light, he cryes; the man Is carefull, and intends to water his sheepe With his owne teares; ha, ha, ha, ha. Dost thou see any thing that deserves thy laughter, Fond swaine? I see nothing in good troth but you, To jeere those who are Fates May-game Is a redoubled fault; for 'tis both sinne, And folly too; our life is so uncertaine Thou canst not promise that thy mirth shall last To morrow, and not meet with any rubbe, Then thou mayst act that part, to day thou laugh'st as I act a part? it must be in a Comedy then, I abhorre Tragedyes: besides, I never Practiz'd this posture; Hey ho! woe, alas! Why doe I live? my musick is my sighes Whilst teares keepe time. You take too great a licence to your wit; Wit, did I say? I meane, that which you think so. And it deserves my pitty, more then anger. Else you should find, that blowes are heavier farre Then the most studied jefts you can throw at me. Faith it will be but labour lost to beat mee, All will not teach me how to act this part; Woe's me! alas! I'me a dull rogue, and so Shall never learne it. You're unmannerly To talke thus sawcily with one you know not, Nay, hardly ever saw before, be gone And leave me as you found me, my worst thoughts Are better company then thou. Enjoy them then, Here's no body desires to rob you of them. I would have left your company without bidding, 'Tis not so pleasant, I remember well, When I had spent all my money, I stood thus And therefore hate the posture ever since. D'yee heare? I'me going to a wedding now; If you'ave a mind to dance, come along with me, Bring your hard-hearted Mistris with you too, Perhaps I may perswade her, and tell her Your Musick's sighes, and that your teares keepe time. Will you not goe? Farewell then, good Tragicall actor. Now have at thee Melarnus; For 'tis but a folly, &c. Thou art a Prophet, Shepheard; She is hard As rocks which suffer the continuall siege Of Sea and wind against them; but I will Win her or lose (which I should gladly doe) My selfe: my selfe? why so I have already: Ho! who hath found Florellus? he is lost, Lost to himselfe, and to his parents likewise, (who having miss'd me, doe by this time search Each corner for to find me) ôh! Florellus, Thou must be wicked, or for ever wretched, Hard is the Physick, harder the disease.