Cartwright, William · published 1639 · first performed or written 1636 [Aug 30] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · before the Court T44 Drinking: wine, ale and taverns typicality 0.83 · 507 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T44: drink, wine, numps, ale, butler, pot, sing, moy, drunk, win.
Come thou uneven lump, thou heap of sins in proof; we will liquour thy Keys, open thy Cages, and give thy meager Tenants a Play day, Rascal. Bring the Jars nearer. As I hope for fortune, I think my soul will pass into a frog. Now for a hundred Throats; to thee Molops. You Grecians I think have sponges in your maws; 'tis but setting your hands to your sides, and squeezing yourselves and presently you drink as much as before. Off with thy Cup Landlord, and talk not; we learned it from the Teat, fool. Have at thee, Archippus. I do not like these healths at random; let's have a sober methodical order for a while. What? shall we drink by dice then, and let fortune name the heir to the Cup? Or shall we drink our Mistresses names, and soak it Alphabetically? If we drink names, let not the Letters pass for single ones, but as they would in number: I do pronounce Alpha no letter till it begin to multiply. I never thought Drinking such a Mystery before; a blockhead can't be drunk, I see. Right; shallow brains can ne'er attain to't; that makes your fools, and your old governing Philosophers continue so sober still. The veget Artist, and the vigorous Poet, whose brains are full and forging still, will straight get a pleasant madness from that that will but warm those colder Rheumatic Sages, whose noses always drop like still-snouts. The noblest drinking methinks is the Postures. Let's have'em Bring the Pots in play. But where's the wenches, and the Music you promised us, good Molops. For wenches, the Town will not yield any at this time; and I durst not venture my single wife amongst you all. For Fiddlers, I have provided them, they stand ready without. Call 'em in sweet Molops. Well, what shall those Rascals play, whiles we drink the Postures? The Battle by all means. Strike up the Battle then. Think yourselves all in service now, and do as I do. Take your Bows Gent: and make a stand. Right! draw your shafts now, & knock 'em. Very good! now smooth your feathers. Well done! Present, and take aim. Here's to thee Leocrates. Have towards thee Philotas. To thee Archippus. Here Molops. Have at you Fiddlers. Now draw your Bows and let loose all. The other charge, good fellow Soldiers. Let's have a Song between, and then have at you fiddlers, employ your Throats and sing a while; you shall drink with 'em after. Sing that which I made in the Prison; 'tis seasonable enough. Now, now, the Sun is fled Down into Tethys' bed, Ceasing his solemn course awhile. What then? 'Tis not to sleep, but be Merry all night, as we; Gods can be mad sometimes, as well as men. Then laugh we, and quaff we, until our rich nose: Grow red, and contest with our Chaplets of Roses. If he be fled, whence may We have a second day, That shall not set till we command?
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)
Come thou uneven lumpe, thou heape of sinnes in proofe; we will liquor thy Keyes, open thy Cages, and give thy meager Tenants a Play day, Raskall. Bring the Jarres nearer. As I hope for fortune, I thinke my soule will passe into a frogge. Now for a hundred Throats; to thee Molops. You Grecians I thinke have sponges in your mawes; 'tis but setting your hands to your sides, and squeezing your selves and presently you drinke as much as before. Off with thy Cup Landlord, and talke not; wee learn'd it from the Teat, soole. Have at thee, Archippus. I doe not like these healths at randome; let's have a sober methodicall order for a while. What? shall we drinke by dice then, and let fortune name the heyre to the Cup? Or shall we drinke our Mistresses names, and soake it Alphabetically? If we drinke names, let not the Letters passe for single ones, but as they would in number: I doe pronounce Alpha no letter till it begin to multiply. I never thought Drinking such a Mystery before; a blockhead can't be drunke, I see. Right; shallow braines can ne're attaine to't; that makes your fooles, and your old governing Philosophers continue so sober still. The veget Artist, and the vigorous Poët, whose braines are full and forging still, will streight get a pleasant madnesse from that that will but warme those colder Rheumaticke Sages, whose noses alwayes drop like Still-snoutes. The noblest drinking methinkes is the Postures. Let's have'em Bring the Pots in play. But where's the wenches, and the Musicke you promis'd us, good Molops. For wenches, the Towne will not yeeld any at this time; and I durst not venture my single wife amongst you all. For Fidlers, I have provided them, they stand ready without. Call 'em in sweet Molops. Well, what shall those Raskalls play, whiles we drinke the Postures? The Battle by all meanes. Strike up the Battle then. Thinke your selves all in service now, and doe as I doe. Take your Bowes Gent: and make a stand. Right! draw your shafts now, & nock 'em. Very good! now smooth your feathers. Well done! Present, and take ayme. Here's to thee Leocrates. Have towards thee Philotas. To thee Archippus. Here Molops. Have at you Fidlers. Now draw your Bowes and let loose all. The other charge, good fellow Souldiers. Let's have a Song betweene, and then have at you Fidlers, employ your Throats and sing a while; you shall drinke with 'em after. Sing that which I made in the Prison; 'tis seasonable enough. Now, now, the Sunne is fled Downe into Tethys bed, Ceasing his solemne course awhile. What then? 'Tis not to sleepe, but be Merry all night, as we; Gods can be mad sometimes, as well as men. Then laugh we, and quaffe we, untill our rich nose: Grow red, and contest with our Chaplets of Roses▪ If he be fled, whence may We have a second day, That shall not set till we command?