Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1596 [1594-1596] (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T9 Theatre talk: prologues, poets and playe · 450 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T9: play, stage, poet, prologue, author, wit, plays, muse, scene, players.
'Tis strange my Theseus, that these lovers speak of. More strange than true. I never may believe These antic fables, nor these Fairy toys, Lovers and mad men have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend more Then cool reason ever comprehends. The Lunatic, the Lover, and the Poet, Are of imagination all compact. One sees more devils then vast hell can hold; That is the mad man. The Lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt. The Poet's eye in a fine frenzy rolling, doth glance From heaven to earth, from earth to heaven. And as imagination bodies forth the forms of things Unknown; the Poet's pen turns them to shapes, And gives to air nothing, a local habitation, And a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination, That if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy. Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a Bear? But all the story of the night told over, And all their minds transfigured so together, More witnesseth than fancy's images, And grows to something of great constancy; But howsoever, strange, and admirable. here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth: joy, gentle friends, joy and fresh days Of love accompany your hearts. More than to us, wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed. Come now, what masks, what dances shall we have, To wear away this long age of three hours, Between our after supper, and bedtime? Where is our usual manager of mirth? What Revels are in hand? Is there no play, To ease the anguish of a torturing hour? Call Egeus. here mighty Theseus. Say, what abridgement have you for this evening? What mask? What music? How shall we beguile The lazy time, if not with some delight? There is a brief how many sports are rife: Make choice of which your Highness will see first. The battle with the Centaurs to be sung By an Athenian Eunuch, to the Harp. we'll none of that. That have I told my Love In glory of my kinsman Hercules. The riot of the tipsy Bachanals, Tearing the Thracian singer, in their rage? That is an old device, and it was played When I from Thebes came last a Conqueror. The thrice three Muses, mourning for the death of learning, late deceased in beggary. That is some Satire keen and critical, Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony. A tedious brief Scene of young Pyramus, And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth. Merry and tragical? Tedious, and brief? That is, hot ice, and wondrous strange snow. How shall we find the concord of this discord?
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)
'Tis ſtrange my Theſeus, yt theſe louers ſpeake of. More ſtrange then true. I neuer may beleeue Theſe anticke fables, nor theſe Fairy toyes, Louers and mad men haue ſuch ſeething braines, Such ſhaping phantaſies, that apprehend more Then coole reaſon euer comprehends. The Lunaticke, the Louer, and the Poet, Are of imagination all compact. One ſees more diuels then vaſte hell can hold; That is the mad man. The Louer, all as franticke, Sees Helens beauty in a brow of Egipt. The Poets eye in a fine frenzy rolling, doth glance From heauen to earth, from earth to heauen. And as imagination bodies forth the forms of things Vnknowne; the Poets pen turnes them to ſhapes, And giues to aire nothing, a locall habitation, And a name. Such tricks hath ſtrong imagination, That if it would but apprehend ſome ioy, It comprehends ſome bringer of that ioy. Or in the night, imagining ſome feare, How eaſie is a buſh ſuppos'd a Beare? But all the ſtorie of the night told ouer, And all their minds transfigur'd ſo together, More witneſſeth than fancies images, And growes to ſomething of great conſtancie; But howſoeuer, ſtrange, and admirable. Heere come the louers, full of ioy and mirth: Ioy, gentle friends, ioy and freſh dayes Of loue accompany your hearts. More then to vs, waite in your royall walkes, your boord, your bed. Come now, what maskes, what dances ſhall we haue, To weare away this long age of three houres, Between our after ſupper, and bed-time? Where is our vſuall manager of mirth? What Reuels are in hand? Is there no play, To eaſe the anguiſh of a torturing houre? Call Egeus. Heere mighty Theſeus. Say, what abridgement haue you for this euening? What maske? What muſicke? How ſhall we beguile The lazie time, if not with ſome delight? There is a breefe how many ſports are rife: Make choiſe of which your Highneſſe will ſee firſt. The battell with the Centaurs to be ſung By an Athenian Eunuch, to the Harpe. Wee'l none of that. That haue I told my Loue In glory of my kinſman Hercules. The riot of the tipſie Bachanals, Tearing the Thracian ſinger, in their rage? That is an old deuice, and it was plaid When I from Thebes came laſt a Conqueror. The thrice three Muſes, mourning for the death of learning, late deceaſt in beggerie. That is ſome Satire keene and criticall, Not ſorting with a nuptiall ceremonie. A tedious breefe Scene of yong Piramus, And his loue Thisby; very tragicall mirth. Merry and tragicall? Tedious, and briefe? That is, hot ice, and wondrous ſtrange ſnow. How ſhall wee finde the concord of this diſcord?