Jack Drum's Entertainment (Katherine and Pasquil) · chunk 1 of 32
Marston, John · published 1601 · first performed or written 1600 (Annals) comedy · Children of Paul's (second) unassigned nearest T9 Theatre talk: prologues, poets and playe · 539 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T9: play, stage, poet, prologue, author, wit, plays, muse, scene, players.
IN good faith Gentlemen, I think we shall be forced to give you right Iohn Drums entertainment, for he that composed the Book, we should present, hath done us very vehement wrong, he hath snatched it from us, upon the very instance of entrance, and with violence keeps the boys from coming on the Stage. So God help me, if we wrong your delights, 'tis infinitely against our endeavours, unless we should make a tumult in the Tiring-house. You much mistake his Action Tyer-man, His violence proceeds not from a mind That grudgeth pleasure to this generous presence, But doth protest all due respect and love Unto this choice selected influence. He vows, if he could draw the music from the Spheres To entertain this presence with delight, Or could distill the quintessence of heaven In rare composed Scenes, and sprinkle them Among your ears, his industry should sweat To sweeten your delights: but he was loath, Wanting a Prologue, & ourselves not perfect, To rush upon your eyes without respect: Yet if you'll pardon his defects and ours, he'll give us passage, & you pleasing scenes, And vows not to torment your listening ears With mouldy fopperies of stale Poetry, Unpossible dry musty Fictions: And for our parts to gratify your favour, we'll study till our cheeks look wan with care, That you our pleasures, we your loves may share. Come Timothy Twedle, tickle thy Pipe on the green, as I have tippled the Pot in the Seller, and the hoy for the honour of Highgate, you old Trojan. And a heigh for the honour of Highgate, Hem, by my halidom, though I say it, that should not say it, I think I am as perfect in my Pipe, as Officers in poling, Courtiers in flattery, or wenches in falling: Why look you Jack Drum, 'tis even as natural to me, as bawdry to a sumner, knavery to a Promoter, or damnation to an Usurer. But is Holloway Morice prancing up the hill? ay, I; and Sir Edward, and the yellow toothed, sunk-eyed, gouty shanked Usurer Maman, my young Mistresses and all are coming to the green, lay Cushions, lay the Cushions, ha the wenches! The wenches, ha, when I was a young man and could tickle the Minikin, and made them cry thanks sweet Timothy, I had the best stroke, the sweetest touch, but now (I may sigh to say it) I am fallen from the Fiddle and betook me to thee. Sit M. Mammon, ha here's a goodly day nigh. I thank you Sir, and faith what news at court? Why by this Bordeaux juice, 'tis now become The shewing-horn of bezzlers' discourse, The common food of prate: what news at court? But in these stiff necked times when every jade Huffs his upreared crest, the zealous bent Of Councillors solid cares is trampled on By every hackneys heels: Oh I could burst At the conjectures fears, preventions And restless tumbling of our tossed brains: Ye shall have me an empty cask that's furred With nought but barmy froth, that near traveled Beyond the confines of his Mistress lips, Discourse as confident of peace with Spain, As if the Genius of quick Machiavel ushered his speech.
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)
IN good faith Gentlemen, I thinke we shall be forced to giue you right Iohn Drums entertainment, for hee that composde the Booke, we should present, hath done vs very vehement wrong, he hath snatched it from vs, vpon the very instance of entrance, and with violence keepes the boyes from comming on the Stage. So God helpe me, if we wrong your delights, tis infinitly against our endeuours, vnles we should make a tumult in the Tyring-house. You much mistake his Action Tyer-man, His violence proceeds not from a minde That grudgeth pleasure to this generous presence, But doth protest all due respect and loue Vnto this choise selected influence. He vowes, if he could draw the musick frō the Spheares To entertaine this presence with delight, Or could distill the quintessence of heauen In rare composed Sceanes, and sprinkle them Among your eares, his industry should sweat To sweeten your delights: but he was loth, Wanting a Prologue, & our selues not perfect, To rush vpon your eyes without respect: Yet if youle pardon his defects and ours, Heele giue vs passage, & you pleasing sceanes, And vowes not to torment your listning eares With mouldy fopperies of stale Poetry, Vnpossible drie mustie Fictions: And for our parts to gratifie your fauour, Weele studie till our cheekes looke wan with care, That you our pleasures, we your loues may share. Come Timothy Twedle, tickle thy Pipe on the greene, as I haue tipled the Pot in the Seller, and the hoy for the honor of High-gate, you old Troian. And a heigh for the honor of Hygate, Hem, by my holydam, tho I say it, that shuld not say it, I think I am as perfect in my Pipe, as Officers in poling, Courtiers in flattery, or wenches in falling: Why looke you Iacke Drum, tis euen as naturall to me, as brawdry to a Somner, knauery to a Promoter, or damnation to an Vsurer. But is Holloway Morice prancing vp the hill? I, I; and Sir Edward, and the yeallow toothd, sunck-eyde, gowtie shankt Vsurer Maman, my young Mistresses and all are comming to the greene, lay Cushions, lay the Cushions, ha the wenches! The wenches, ha, when I was a yong man and could tickle the Minikin, and made them crie thankes sweete Timothy, I had the best stroke, the sweetest touch, but now (I may sigh to say it) I am falne from the Fidle and betooke me to thee. Sit M. Mamon, ha heeres a goodly day nigh. I thank you Sir, and faith what newes at court? Why by this Burdeux iuice, tis now become The shewing-horne of Bezelers discourse, The common foode of prate: what newes at court? But in these stiffe nekt times when euery Iade Huffes his vpreared crest, the zealous bent Of Councellors solide cares is trampled on By euery hacknies heeles: Oh I could burst At the coniectures feares, preuentions And restles tumbling of our tossed braines: Ye shall haue me an emptie caske thats furd With nought but barmy froath, that nere traueld Beyond the confines of his Mistresse lippes, Discourse as confident of peace with Spaine▪ As if the Genius of quick Machiauel Vsherd his speech.