Jonson, Ben · published 1601 · first performed or written 1598 (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T41 Household service: masters, doors and po · 488 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
signor Prospero. signor Prospero? A young gentleman of the family of Strozzi, is he not? ay, sir, the same: signor Thorello, the rich Florentine merchant married his sister. You say very true. Musco. Sir. Make this Gentleman drink, here. I pray you go in, sir, and't please you. Now (without doubt) this letter's to my son. Well: all is one: I'll be so bold as read it, Be it but for the styles sake, and the phrase; Both which (I do presume) are excellent, And greatly varied from the vulgar form, If Prospero's invention gave them life. How now? what stuff is here? Sirrah Lorenzo, I muse we cannot see thee at Florence: 'Sblood, I doubt, Apollo hath got thee to be his Ingle, that thou comest not abroad, to visit thine old friends: well, take heed of him; he may do somewhat for his household servants, or so; But for his retainers, I am sure, I have known some of them, that have followed him, three, four, five year together, scorning the world with their bare heels, & at length been glad for a shift, (though no clean shift) to lie a whole winter, in half a sheet, cursing Charles wain, and the rest of the stars intolerably. But (quis contra divos?) well; Sirrah, sweet villain, come and see me; but spend one minute in my company, and 'tis enough: I think I have a world of good jests for thee; oh sirrah, I can show thee two of the most perfect, rare, & absolute true Gulls, that ever thou saw'st, if thou wilt come. 'Sblood, invent some famous memorable lie, or other, to flap thy father in the mouth withal: thou hast been father of a thousand, in thy days, 〈◊〉 couldst be no Poet else: any scurvy roguish excuse will serve; say thou com'st but to fetch wool for thine Inke-borne. And then too, thy Father will say thy wits are a woolgathering. But it's no matter; the worse, the better. Any thing is good enough for the old man. Sirrah, how if thy Father should see this now? what would he think of me? Well, (however I write to thee) I reverence him in my soul, for the general good all Florence delivers of him. Lorenzo, I conjure thee (by what, let me see) by the depth of our love, by all the strange sights we have seen in our days, (I or nights either) to come to me to Florence this day. Go to, you shall come, and let your Muses go spin for once. If thou wilt not, s'hart, what's your god's name? Apollo? I; Apollo If this melancholy rogue (Lorenzo here) do not come, grant, that he do turn Fool presently, and never hereafter, be able to make a good jest, or a blank verse, but live in more penury of wit and Invention, then either the Hall-Beadle, or Poet Nuntius.
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)
Signior Prospero. Signior Prospero? A young gentleman of the family of Strozzi, is he not? I, sir, the same: Signior Thorello, the rich Florentine merchant married his sister. You say very true. Musco. Sir. Make this Gentleman drinke, here. I pray you goe in, sir, and't please you. Now (without doubt) this letter's to my sonne. Well: all is one: Ile be so bold as reade it, Be it but for the styles sake, and the phrase; Both which (I doe presume) are excellent, And greatly varied from the vulgar forme, If Prospero's inuention gaue them life. How now? what stuffe is here? Sirha Lorenzo, I muse we cannot see thee at Florence: S'blood, I doubt, Apollo hath got thee to be his Ingle, that thou commest not abroad, to vst thine old friends: well, take heede of him; hee may doe somewhat for his houshold seruants, or so; But for his Retayners, I am sure, I haue knowne some of them, that haue followed him, three, foure, fiue yeere together, scorning the world with their bare heeles, & at length bene gad for a shift, (though no cleane shift) to lye a whole winter, in halfe a sheete, cursing Charles wayne, and the rest f the starres intolerably. But (quis contra diuos?) well; Sirha, sweete villayne, come and see me; but spend one minute in my compay, and 'tis inough: I thinke I haue a world of good lets for thee▪ oh sirha, I can shew thee two of the most perfect, rare, & absolute true Gulls, that euer thou saw'st, if thou wil come. S'blood, inuent some famous morable lye, or other, to flap thy father in the mouth withall: thou hast bene father of a thousand, in thy dayes, could'st be no Poet else: any sciruy roguish excuse will serue; say thou comst but to fetch wooll for thine Inke-borne. And then too, thy Father will say thy wits are a wooll-gathering. But it's no matter; the worse, the better. Any thing is good inough for the old man. Sirha, how thy Father should see this now? what would he think of me? Well, (howeuer I write to thee) reuerence him in my soule, for the generall good all Florence deliuers of him. Lorenzo, I coniure thee (by what, let me see) by the depth of our loue, by all the strange sights we haue seene in our dayes, (I or nights eyther) to come to me to Florence this day. Go to, you shall come, and let your Muses goe spinne for once. If thou wilt not, s'hart, what's your gods name? Apollo? I; Apollo If this melancholy rogue (Lorenzo here) doe not come, graunt, that he doe turne Foole presently, and neuer hereafter, be able to make a good Iest, or a blanke verse, but liue in more penurie of wit and Inuention, then eyther the Hall-Beadle, or Poet Nuntius.