The Wounds of Civil War, or Marius and Scilla · chunk 26 of 38
Lodge, Thomas · published 1594 · first performed or written 1588 [1586-1591] (Annals) tragedy · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men T44 Drinking: wine, ale and taverns typicality 0.81 · 507 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T44: drink, wine, numps, ale, butler, pot, sing, moy, drunk, win.
Doth Marius use with glorious words to jest, And mock his captives with these glozing terms? No Ladies, Marius hath sought for honour with his sword, And holds disdain to triumph in your falls. Live Cornelia, live fair and fairest Fulvia: If you have done or wrought me injury, Sulla shall pay it through his misery. So gracious (famous Consul) are thy words, That Rome and we shall celebrate thy worth, And Sulla shall confess himself o'ercome. If lady's prayers or tears may move the heavens, Sulla shall vow himself old Marius' friend. Ladies for that I nought at all regard, Scilla's my foe, I'll triumph over him, For other conquest glory doth not win. Therefore come on, that I may send you unto Sulla, Sirrah, dally not with us, you know where he is. O sir, a quart is a quart in any man's purse, and drink is drink, and can my master live without his drink I pray you? You have a master then sirrah? Have I master thou scoundrel? I have an Orator to my master, a wise man to my master. But fellows, I must make a parenthesis of this pint pot, for words make men dry: now by my troth I drink to Lord Anthonie. Fellow soldiers, the weakness of his brain hath made his tongue walk largely, we shall have some novelties by and by. Oh most surpassing wine, thou marrow of the vine, More welcome unto me, than whips to scholars be, Thou art and ever was a means to mend an ass, Thou makest some to sleep, and many more to weep, And some be glad & merry, with heigh down derry, derry. Thou makest some to stumble, and many more to fumble: And me have pinky nine, more brave and jolly wine: What need I praise thee more, for thou art good with heigh ho If wine then be so good, I pray thee for thy part, Tell us where Lord Anthony is, & thou shalt have a quart. First shall the snow be black, & pepper lose his smack And stripes forsake my back, first merry drunk with sack, I will go boast and track, and all your costards crack, Before I do the knack shall make me sing alack: Alack the old man is weary, for wine hath made him merry: with a heigh ho. I pray thee leave these rhymes, and tell us where thy master is. Faith where you shall not be unless ye go with me. But shall I tell them so? O no sir, no, no, no, the man hath many a foe, as far as I do know: you do not flower me I trow. See how this liquor fumes, & how my force presumes. You would know where Lord Anthonie is? I perceive you. Shall I say he is in yond farm house? I deceive you. Shall I tell you this wine is for him? the gods forfend, and so I end. Go fellow fighters there's a bob for ye.
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)
Doth Marius vse with glorious words to iest, And mocke his captiues with these glosing tearmes? No Ladies, Marius hath sought for honour with his sword, And holds disdaine to triumph in your fals. Liue Cornelia, liue faire and fairest Fuluia: If you haue done or wrought me iniurie, Scilla shall pay it through his miserie. So gratious (famous Consull) are thy words, That Rome and we shall celebrate thy worth, And Scilla shall confesse himselfe orecome. If Ladies praiers or teares may mooue the heauens, Scilla shall vow himselfe old Marius frend. Ladies for that I nought at all regard, Scilla's my foe, Ile triumph ouer him, For other conquest glorie doth not win. Therefore come on, that I may send you vnto Scilla, Sirrha, dally not with vs, you know where he is. O sir, a quart is a quart in any mans purse, and drinke is drinke, and can my master liue without his drinke I pray you? You haue a master then sirrha? Haue I master thou scondrell? I haue an Orator to my master, a wise man to my master. But fellowes, I must make a parenthesis of this pint pot, for words make men dry: now by my troth I drinke to Lord Anthonie. Fellow souldiers, the weaknes of his braine hath made his tongue walke largely, we shall haue some nouelties by and by. Oh most surpassing wine, thou marow of the vine, More welcome vnto me, than whips to schollers bee, Thou art and euer was a meanes to mend an asse, Thou makest some to sleep, and manie mo to weep, And some be glad & merry, with heigh down derry, derry. Thou makest some to stumble, and many mo to fumble: And me haue pinkie nine, more braue and iolly wine: VVhat need I praise thee mo, for thou art good with heigh ho If wine then be so good, I pree thee for thy part, Tell vs where Lord Anthony is, & thou shalt haue a quart. First shal the snow be black, & pepper lose his smack And stripes forsake my backe, first merrie drunke with sack, I will go boast and tracke, and all your costards cracke, Before I doo the knacke shall make me sing alacke: Alacke the old man is wearie, for wine hath made him merrie: with a heigh ho. I pre thee leaue these rymes, and tell vs where thy master is. Faith where you shall not bee vnles ye goe with mee. But shall I tell them so? O no sir, no, no, no, the man hath manie a foe, as farre as I doo know: you doo not flour me I trow. See how this licor fumes, & how my force presumes. You would know where Lord Anthonie is? I perceiue you. Shall I say he is in yond farme house? I deceiue you. Shall I tell you this wine is for him? the gods forfend, and so I end. Go fellow fighters theres a bob for ye.