Jack Drum's Entertainment (Katherine and Pasquil) · chunk 32 of 32
Marston, John · published 1601 · first performed or written 1600 (Annals) comedy · Children of Paul's (second) unassigned nearest T62 The courtier as a type: fashion, affecta · 476 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T62: courtier, shrug, face, court, italian, monsieur, scholar, fashion, french, courtiers.
Faith Gent. I ha' brewed such a strong headed jest Will make you drunk, and reel with laughter: You know monsieur Iohn fo de king? Very well, he read French to my daughters. I to gull the Fool, have brought him to my wife, as to a loose lascivious Courtesan, she being a mere stranger to the jest, and there some three hours ago left him: but I am sure she hath so cudgeled him with quick sharp jests, and so battered him with a volley of her wit, as indeed she is exceeding witty, and admirable chaste, that in my conscience he'll never dare to court women more. Would to God he were returned. See even on your wish he's come. Iesu preserve you sweet Metre Brabant, by gour de most delicate plump vench dat ever me touch: me am your slave, your peasant; by gour a votre service whilst I live vor dis. He would persuade you now that he touched her, with an immodest hand. Ha, ha, ha. touch her, by Gour me tuch her, and touch her, and me touch her, me near tuch such a vench, de finea foot, de cleanest leg, de sleekest skin: and me tell e sure token, she hath de finest little varte you know veare: he by Gour me near tuch such a vench. Pray God he have not brewed a heady jest indeed. Why faith Gentlemen I am Cuckold, by this light I am. By gour me no know, you tell a me 'twas a Courtesan, pray you pardon me, by my troth, me teach you French to t'end of de vorlde. Come here's thy Cap of Maintenance, the Coronet Of Cuckolds. Nay you shall wear it, or wear My Rapier in your guts by heaven. Why dost thou not well deserve to be thus used? Why shouldst thou take felicity to gull Good honest souls, and in thy arrogance And glorious ostentation of thy wit, Think God infused all perfection Into thy soul alone, and made the rest For thee to laugh at? Now you Censurer Be the ridiculous subject of our mirth. Why Fool, the power of Creation Is still Omnipotent, and there's no man that breathes So valiant, learned, witty, or so wise, But it can equal him out of the same mould. Wherein the first was formed. Then leave proud scorn, And honest self made Cuckold, wear the horn. Wear the horn? ay, spite of all your teeth I'll wear this Crown, and triumph in this horn. Why faith 'tis valorously spoke fair Sir, we'll solemnize your Coronation With royal pomp. Now Gentlemen prepare A liberal spirit to entertain a jest, Where free light jocund mirth shall be enthroned With sumptuous state. Now Music beat the air, entrance our thoughts with your harmonious sounds, Our Fortune laughs, and all content abounds.
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)
Faith Gent. I ha brewed such a strong headed Iest Will make you drunk, and reele with laughter: You know Mounsieur Iohn fo de king? Very well, he read French to my daughters. I to gull the Foole, haue brought him to my wife, as to a loose lasciuious Curtezan, she being a meer straunger to the Iest, and there some three houres ago left him: but I am sure shee hath so cudgeld him with quicke sharpe Iests, and so batterd him with a volley of her wit, as indeed she is exceeding wittie, and admirable chaste, that in my conscience heele neuer dare to court women more. Would to God he were returnd. See euen on your wish hee's come. Iesu preserue you sweet Metre Brabant, by gor de most delicat plumpe vench dat euer mee tuche: mee am your slaue, your peasaunt; by gor a votre seruice whil'ste I liue vor dis. He would perswade you now that he toucht her, with an immodest hand. Ha, ha, ha. Tuch her, by Gor mee tuch her, and tuch her, and mee tuch her, mee nere tuch such a venche, de finea foote, de cleanest legge, de sleekest skin: and mee tell e sure token, shee hath de finest little varte you knowe veare: hee by Gor mee nere tuch such a vench. Pray God hee haue not brew'd a headie Iest indeed. Why faith Gentlemen I am Cuckolde, by this light I am. By gor mee no knowe, you tell a mee twas a Curtezan, prey you pardon mee, by my trote, me teche you French to t'end of de vorlde. Come heer's thy Cap of Maintenance, the Coronet Of Cuckolds. Nay you shall weare it, or weare My Rapier in your gutts by heauen. Why doest thou not well deserue to be thus vsde? Why should'st thou take felicitie to gull Good honest soules, and in thy arrogance And glorious ostentation of thy wit, Thinke God infused all perfection Into thy soule alone, and made the rest For thee to laugh at? Now you Censurer Be the ridiculous subiect of our mirth. Why Foole, the power of Creation Is still Omnipotent, and there's no man that breathes So valiant, learned, wittie, or so wise, But it can equall him out of the same mould. Wherein the first was form'd. Then leaue proud scorne, And honest selfe made Cuckold, weare the horne. Weare the horne? I, spite of all your teethe Ile weare this Crowne, and triumph in this horne. Why faith tis valorously spoke faire Sir, Weel solemnise your Coronation With royall pompe. Now Gentlemen prepare A liberall spirit to entertaine a Ieast, VVhere free light Iocund mirth shall be enthroand VVith sumptuous state. Now Musicke beat the aire, Intrance our thoughts with your harmonious sounds, Our Fortune laughes, and all content abounds.