Randolph, Thomas · published 1638 · first performed or written 1630 [licensed for stage, Nov 25] (Annals) moral · King's Revels Company T9 Theatre talk: prologues, poets and playe typicality 0.70 · 507 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T9: play, stage, poet, prologue, author, wit, plays, muse, scene, players.
This is the other extreme of Urbanity; Bomolocus a fellow conceited of his own wit, though indeed it be nothing but the base dreggs of scandal, and a lump of most vile and loathsome scurrility. ay, this is he we looked for all the while! Scurrility! here she hath her impious throne, Here lies her heathenish dominion, In this most impious cell of corruption; For 'tis a Purgatory, a meerc Limbo, Where the black Devil and her dam Scurrility Do rule the roast; fowl Princes of the air! Scurrility! that is he that throweth scandals, Soweth, and throweth scandals, as 'twere dirt Even in the face of holiness, and devotion. His presence is contagious, like a dragon He belches poison forth, poison of the pit, Brimstone, hellish and sulphureous poison: I will not stay, but fly as far as zeal Can hurry me— the roof will fall and brain me, If I endure to hear his blasphemies, His graceless blasphemies. He shall vent none here; But stay, and see how justly we have used him. Stay brother, I do find the spirit grow strong. Hail sacred wit!— Earth breeds not bays enough To crown thy spacious merit. Oh— Oh— Cratinus, Eupolis, Aristophanes, Or whatsoever other wit did give Old Comedies the reins, and let her lose To stigmatize what brow she pleased with slander Of people, Prince, Nobility— All must yield To this Triumphant brain! Oh— Oh— They say you'll lose a friend before a jest; 'Tis true, there's not a jest that comes from you, That is the true Minerva of this brain, But is of greater value than a world Of friends, were every prayer of men we meet A Pylades and Orestes. Oh— Oh— Some say you will abuse your Father too, Rather than lose the opinion of your wit; Who would not that has such a wit as yours? 'Twere better twenty Parents were exposed To scorn and laughter, than the simplest thought Or least conceit of yours, should dye abortive, Or perish a braine-Embrio. Oh— oh— How's this? that tongue grown silent that syrens Stood still to admire? Oh— oh— 'twere better that the spheres should lose their harmony, And all the Choristers of the wood grow hoarse! What wolf hath spied you first? Oh— oh— Sure Hermes envying that there was on earth An eloquence more than his, has struck you dumb! Malicious deity! Oh— oh— Go in sir there's a Glass that will restore That tongue, whose sweetness Angels might adore. Oh—oh—oh—oh—oh—oh—.oh— Thus Sir you see how we have put a gag In the licentious mouth of base scurrility; He shall not Ibis-like purge upward here, To infect the place with pestilential breath; we'll keep him tongue-tied; you and all I promise By Phoebus and his daughters, whose chaste zones Were never yet by impure hands untied Our language shall flow chaste, nothing sound here That can give just offence to a strict ear. This gag hath wrought my good opinion of you I begin to think 'em lawful recreations.
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)
This is the other extreame of Vrbanity; Bomolocus a fellow conceited of his own wit, though indeed it be nothing but the base dreggs of scandall, and a lumpe of most vile and loathsome scurrility. I, this is he we lookt for all the while! Scurrility! here she hath her impious throne, Here lies her heathenish dominion, In this most impious cell of corruption; For 'tis a Purgatory, a meerc Limbo, Where the black Divell and her damme Scurrility Doe rule the rost; fowle Princes of the aire! Scurrility! that is he that throweth scandalls, Soweth, and throweth scandalls, as 'twere durt Even in the face of holinesse, and devotion. His presence is contagious, like a dragon He belches poison forth, poison of the pit, Brimstone, hellish and sulphureous poyson: I will not stay, but fly as farre as zeale Can hurry me—the roofe will fall and braine me, If I endure to heare his blasphemies, His gracelesse blasphemies. He shall vent none here; But stay, and see how justly we have us'd him. Stay brother, I doe find the spirit grow strong. Haile sacred wit!—Earth breeds not Baies enough To crowne thy spatious merit. Oh—Oh—Oh. Cratinus, Eupolis, Aristophanes, Or whatsoever other wit did give Old Comedies the raines, and let her loose To stigmatize what brow she pleas'd with slander Of people, Prince, Nobility—All must yeeld To this Triumphant braine! Oh—Oh—Oh. They say you'l loose a friend before a jest; 'Tis true, there's not a jest that comes from you, That is the true Minerva of this braine, But is of greater value then a world Of friends, were every prayre of men we meet A Pylades and Orestes. Oh—Oh—Oh. Some say you will abuse your Father too, Rather then loose the opinion of your wit; Who would not that has such a wit as yours? 'Twere better twenty Parents were expos'd To scorne and laughter, then the simplest thought Or least conceit of yours, should dye abortive, Or perish a braine-Embrio. Oh—oh—oh.— How's this? that tongue growne silent that syrens Stood still to admire? Oh—oh—oh.— Twere better that the spheares should loose their harmony, And all the Choristers of the wood grow hoarse! What wolfe hath spied you first? Oh—oh—oh— Sure Hermes envying that there was on earth An eloquence more then his, has struck you dumb! Malitious deitie! Oh—oh—oh-oh.— Goe in sir there's a Glasse that will restore That tongue, whose sweetnesse Angels might adore. Oh—oh—oh—oh—oh—oh—.oh— Thus Sir you see how we have put a gagge In the licentious mouth of base scurrility; He shall not Ibis-like purge upward here, To infect the place with pestilentiall breath; Wee'le keepe him tongue-tide; you and all I promise By Phoebus and his daughters, whose chast zones Were never yet by impure hands untied Our language shall flow chast, nothing sound here That can give just offence to a strict eare. This gagge hath wrought my good opinion of you I begin to think 'em lawfull recreations.