Cartwright, William · published 1639 · first performed or written 1636 [Aug 30] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · before the Court unassigned nearest T24 Apollo, Phoebus and the Muses · 468 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T24: apollo, phoebus, midas, muses, ears, play, hedone, gods, siren, time.
THe rites and Worship are both old, but you Have pleased to make both Priest and People new. The same Sun in yond Temple doth appear; But theyare your Rays, which give him lustre here. That Fire hath watched e'er since; but it hath been Only Your gentler breath that kept it in. Things of this nature scarce survive that night That gives them Birth; they perish in the sight; Cast by so far from afterlife, that there Is scarce aught can be said, but that they were. Some influence yet may cross this fate; what You Please to awaken must still come forth new. And though the untouched Virgin Flower doth bring The true and native dowries of the Spring; Yet some desires there are perhaps, which do Affect that Flower chafed and sullied too: For in some bosoms stuck, it comes from thence Double-perfumed, and deeper strikes the Sense. And we are bid plead this; foreseeing how That which was fresh ere while may languish now. Things twice seen loose; but when a King or Queen Commands a second sight, they're then first seen. THese wicked Ephesian Captives, are most everlasting Tipplers; I charmed my fleas with'em last night, and left them too I'm sure well to live, and yet they're at it again this morning. Hem! hem! hem! A pox on our jailor. &c. So! now they're tuning their Pipes. O the Religion of these Greeks! they sing and drink down the Sun, and then they sing and drink him up again. Some drunken Hymn I warrant you towards now, in the praise of their great huge, rolling, Tunbellyed god Bacchus as they call him. Let's harken a little. 'A pox on our jailor, and on his fat Jowl ' there's liberty lies in the bottom o'th' Bowl. 'A fig for whatever the Rascal can do, Our Dungeon is deep, but our Cup's so too. ' Then drink we a round in despite of our Foes, And make our hard Irons cry clink in the Close. Wondrous good i'faith! These fettered Swans chant it most melodiously before their deaths. Sure there is a great deal of pleasure in being hanged; for I have observed it e'er since I was a little one, that they always sing before they go to't. But here's that will spoil your voices my Friends. Who's there? Your friend at a dead lift; your Landlord Molops. Now grand Commissioner of fate; what wouldst thou have Heir apparent to Pluto? Come forth; and if you can endure to read, her's a Persian line in my hand will instruct you. Guardian of Rags and Vermin, Protector of half-breeches and no shirts, what's thy Rascalship's pleasure? Good words Sir, good words: I am your Destiny, do you not see your Thread of Life here?
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)
THe rites and Worship are both old, but you Have pleas'd to make both Priest and People new. The same Sun in yon Temple doth appeare; But they'are your Rayes, which give him lustre here. That Fire hath watch'd e're since; but it hath been Onely Your gentler breath that kept it in. Things of this nature scarce survive that night That gives them Birth; they perish in the sight; Cast by so far from after-life, that there Is scarce ought can be said, but that they were. Some influence yet may crosse this fate; what You Please to awaken must still come forth new. And though the untouch'd Virgin Flow'r doth bring The true and native Dowrys of the Spring; Yet some desires there are perhaps, which doe Affect that Flower chaf'd and sully'd too: For in some bosomes stucke, it comes from thence Double-perfum'd, and deeper strikes the Sense. And we are bid plead this; fore-seeing how That which was fresh ere while may languish now. Things twice seene loose; but when a King or Queene Commands a second sight, they're then first seene. THese wicked Ephesian Captives, are most everlasting Tipplers; I charm'd my fleas with'em last night, and left them too I'm sure well to live, and yet they're at it againe this morning. Hem! hem! hem! A pox on our Gaolor. &c. So! now they're tuning their Pipes. O the Religion of these Greekes! they sing and drinke downe the Sunne, and then they sing and drinke him up againe. Some drunken Hymne I warrant you towards now, in the prayse of their great huge, rowling, Tunbellyed god Bacchus as they call him. Let's hearken a little. 'A pox on our Gaolor, and on his fat Jowle 'Ther's liberty lyes in the bottome o'th'Bowle. 'A figge for what ever the Raskall can doe, 'Our Dungeon is deepe, but our Cup's so too. 'Then drinke we a round in despight of our Foes, 'And make our hard Irons cry clinke in the Close. Wondrous good I faith! These fetter'd Swannes chant it most melodiously before their deathes. Sure there is a great deale of pleasure in being hang'd; for I have observ'd it e're since I was a little one, that they alwayes sing before they goe to't. But here's that will spoyle your voyces my Friends. Who's there? Your friend at a dead lift; your Landlord Molops. Now grand Commissioner of fate; what wouldst thou have Heyre apparent to Pluto? Come forth; and if you can endure to read, her's a Persian line in my hand will instruct you. Guardian of Ragges and Vermin, Protectour of halfe-breeches and no shirts, what's thy Raskalship's pleasure? Good words Sir, good words: I am your Destiny, do you not see your Thread of Life here?