Greene, Robert · published 1594 · first performed or written 1589 [1586-1590] (Annals) comedy · Queen Elizabeth's Men unassigned nearest T56 Magic, spells and conjuring · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T56: magic, faustus, charms, charm, conjure, spirits, skill, ho, power, spells.
But Bacon roves a bow beyond his reach, And tells of more than magic can perform: Thinking to get a fame by fooleries, Have I not past as far instate of schools: And red of many secrets, yet to think, That heads of Brass can utter any voice, Or more, to tell of deep philosophy, This is a fable Aesop had forgot. Burdens thou wrong'st me in detracting thus, Bacon loves not to stuff himself with lies: But tell me fore these Doctors if thou dare, Of certain questions I shall move to thee. I will ask what thou can. Marry sir he'll strait be on your pickpack to know whether the feminine or the masculine gender be most worthy. Were you not yesterday master Burden at Henly upon the Thembs? I was, what then? What book studied you there on all night? I, none at all I read not there a line. Then doctors, Friar Bacon's art knows nought. What say you to this master Burden doth he not touch you? I pass not of his frivolous speeches. Nay master Burden, my master ere he hath done with you, will turn you from a doctor to a dunce, and shake you so small, that he will leave no more learning in you than is in Balaam's Ass. Masters, for that learned Burdens skill is deep, And sore he doubts of Bacon's Cabalism: I'll show you why he haunts to Henly oft, Not doctors for to taste the fragrant air: But there to spend the night in Alchemy, To multiply with secret spells of art. Thus private steals he learning from us all, To prove my sayings true, I'll show you strait, The book he keeps at Henly for himself. Nay now my master goes to conjuration, take heed. masters stand still, fear not, I'll show you but his book. Per omnes deos infernales Belzephon. Oh master cease your conjuration, or you spoil all, for here's a she devil come with a shoulder of mutton o●●spit, you have marred the devils supper, but no doubt he thinks our College fare is slender, and so hath sent you his cook with a shoulder of mutton to make it exceed. Oh where am I, or what's become of me. What art thou? Hostess at Henly mistress of the Bell. How camest thou here. As I was in the kitchen 'mongst the maids, Spitting the meat against supper for my guess: A motion moved me to look forth of door. No sooner had I pried into the yard, But strait a whirlwind hoist me from thence, And mounted me aloft unto the clouds: As in a trance I thought nor feared nought, Nor know I where or whether I was ta'en: Nor where I am, nor what these persons be. No, know you not master Burden. Oh yes good sir, he is my daily guest, What master Burden, ttwas but yesternight, That you and I at Henly played at cards.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T4 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
But Bacon roues a bow beyond his reach, And tels of more than magicke can performe: Thinking to get a fame by fooleries, Haue I not paſt as farre inſtate of ſchooles: And red of many ſecrets, yet to thinke, That heads o Braſſe can vtter any voice, Or more, to tell of depe philoſophie, This is a fable Aeſ had forgot. Burden thou wrongſt me in detracting thus, Bacon loues not to ſtuffe himſelfe with lies: But tell me fore theſe Doctors if thou dare, Of certaine queſtions I ſhall moue to thee. I will aske what thou can. Marrie ſi heele ſtraight be on your pickpacke to knowe whether the feminine or the maſculin gender be moſt worthie. Were you not yeſterday maiſter Burden at Henly vpon the Thembs? I was, what then? What booke ſtudied you there on all night? I, none at all I red not there a lie. Then doctors, Frier Bacons art knowes nought. What ſay you to this maiſter Burden doth hee not touch you? I paſſe not of his friuolous ſpeeches. Nay maiſter Burden, my maiſter ere hee hath done with you, will turne you from a doctor to a dunce, and ſhake you ſo ſmall, that he will leaue no more learning in you than is in Baaams Aſſe. Maiſters, for that learned Burdens skill is deepe, And ſore he doubts of Bacons Cabaliſme: Ile ſhew you why he haunts to Henly oft, Not doctors for to taſt the fragrant aire: But there to ſpend the night in Alcumie, To multiplie with ſecret ſpels of art. Thus priuat ſteales he learning from vs all, To prooue my ſayings true, Ile ſhew you ſtraight, The booke he kepes at Henly for himſelfe. Nay now my maiſter goes to coniuration, take heede. Maiſters ſtand ſtill, feare not, Ile ſhew you but his booke. Pe omnes deos infernales Belcephon. Oh maiſter ceaſe your coniuration, or you ſpoile all, for heeres a ſhee duell cme with a ſhoulder of mutton o ſpit, you haue mard the diuels ſupper, but no doubt hee thinkes our Colledge fare is ſlender, and ſo hath ſent you his cooke with a ſhoulder of mutton to make it exceed. Oh where am I, or whats become of me. What art thou? Hoſteſſe at Henly miſtreſſe of the Bell. How cameſt thou heere. As I was in the kitchen mongſt the maydes, Spitting the meate againſt ſupper for my gueſſe: A motion mooued me to looke forth of dore. No ſooner had I pried into the yard, But ſtraight a whirlewind hoiſted me from thence, And mounted me alot vnto the cloudes: As in a trance I thought nor feared nought, Nor know I where or whether I was tane: Nor where I am, nor what theſe perſons be. No, know you not maiſter Burden. Oh yes good ſir, he is my daily gueſt, What maiſter Burden, twas but yeſternight, That you and I at Henly plaid at cardes.