Shakespeare, William · published 1600 · first performed or written 1596 [1594-1596] (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T9 Theatre talk: prologues, poets and playe · 499 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T9: play, stage, poet, prologue, author, wit, plays, muse, scene, players.
He says, they can do nothing in this kind. The kinder we, to give them thanks, for nothing. Our sport shall be, to take what they mistake. And what poor duty cannot do, noble respect Takes it in might, not merit. Where I have come, great Clerks have purposed To greet me, with premeditated welcomes; Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, Make periods in the midst of sentences, Throttle their practised accent in their fears, And in conclusion dumbly have broke off, Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet, Out of this silence, yet, I picked a welcome: And in the modesty of fearful duty, I read as much, as from the rattling tongue Of saucy and audacious eloquence. Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity, In least, speak most, to my capacity. So please your Grace, the Prologue is addressed. Let him approach. If we offend, it is with our good will. That you should think, we come not to offend, But with good will. To show our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end. Consider then, we come but in despite. We do not come, as minding to content you, Our true intent is. All for your delight, We are not here. That you should here repent you, The Actors are at hand: and, by their show, You shall know all, that you are like to know▪ This fellow doth not stand upon points. He hath rid his Prologue, like a rough Colt: he knows not the stop. A good moral my Lord. It is not enough to speak; but to speak true. Indeed he hath played on this Prologue, like a child on a Recorder, a sound; but not in government. His speech was like a tangled Chain; nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next? Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show. But, wonder on, till truth make all things plain. This man is Pyramus, if you would know: This beauteous Lady Thsby is certain. This man, with lime and roughcast, doth present Wall, that vile wall, which did these lovers sunder: And through walls chink, poor souls, they are content To whisper. At the which, let no man wonder. This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn, Presenteth moonshine. For if you will know, By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn To meet at Ninus tomb, there, there to woo▪ This grizzly beast (which Lion hight by name) The trusty Thysby, coming first by night, Did scar away, or rather did affright: And as she fled, her mantle she did fall: Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain. Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth, and tall, And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain: Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade, He bravely broached his boiling bloody breast. And Thisbe, tarrying in Mulberry shade, His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest, Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain, At large discourse, while here they do remain,
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)
He sayes, they can doe nothing in this kinde. The kinder we, to giue them thanks, for nothing. Our sport shall be, to take what they mistake. And what poore duty cannot doe, noble respect Takes it in might, not merit. Where I haue come, great Clerkes haue purposed To greete me, with premeditated welcomes; Where I haue seene them shiuer and looke pale, Make periods in the midst of sentences, Throttle their practiz'd accent in their feares, And in conclusion dumbly haue broke off, Not paying mee a welcome. Trust me, sweete, Out of this silence, yet, I pickt a welcome: And in the modesty of fearefull duty, I read as much, as from the rattling tongue Of saucy and audacious eloquence. Loue, therefore, and tong-tide simplicity, In least, speake most, to my capacity. So please your Grace, the Prologue is addrest. Let him approach. If wee offend, it is with our good will. That you should thinke, we come not to offend, But with good will. To shew our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end. Consider then, we come but in despight. We doe not come, as minding to content you, Our true intent is. All for your delight, Wee are not here. That you should here repent you, The Actors are at hand: and, by their showe, You shall know all, that you are like to knowe▪ This fellow doth not stand vpon points. He hath rid his Prologue, like a rough Colte: hee knowes not the stoppe. A good morall my Lord. It is not enough to speake; but to speake true. Indeed he hath plaid on this Prologue, like a child on a Recorder, a sound; but not in gouernement. His speach was like a tangled Chaine; nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next? Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show. But, wonder on, till truthe make all things plaine. This man is Pyramus, if you would knowe: This beautious Lady Thsby is certaine. This man, with lyme and roughcast, doth present Wall, that vile wall, which did these louers sunder: And through wals chinke, poore soules, they are content To whisper. At the which, let no man wonder. This man, with lanterne, dogge, and bush of thorne, Presenteth moone-shine. For if you will know, By moone-shine did these louers thinke no scorne To meete at Ninus tombe, there, there to wooe▪ This grizly beast (which Lyon hight by name) The trusty Thysby, comming first by night, Did scarre away, or rather did affright: And as she fled, her mantle she did fall: Which Lyon vile with bloody mouth did staine. Anon comes Pyramus, sweete youth, and tall, And findes his trusty Thisbyes mantle slaine: Whereat, with blade, with bloody blamefull blade, He brauely broacht his boyling bloody breast. And Thisby, tarying in Mulberry shade, His dagger drewe, and dyed. For all the rest, Let Lyon, Moone-shine, Wall, and louers twaine, At large discourse, while here they doe remaine,