Cynthia's Revels, or The Fountain of Self-Love · chunk 4 of 66
Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1600 [1600-1601] (Annals) satire · Children of the Chapel (second) T9 Theatre talk: prologues, poets and playe typicality 0.85 · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T9: play, stage, poet, prologue, author, wit, plays, muse, scene, players.
So, sir, this is all the reformation you seek? It is: do not you think it necessary to be practised, my little wag? Yes, where any such ill-habited custom is received. O (I had almost forgot it too) they say, the umbrae, or ghosts of some three or four plays, departed a dozen years since, have been seen walking on your stage here: take heed, boy, if your house be haunted with such hobgoblins, 'twill fright away all your spectators quickly. Good, sir, but what will you say now, if a Poet (untouched with any breath of this disease) find the tokens upon you, that are of the auditory? As some one civet-wit among you, that knows no other learning, than the price of satin and velvets; nor other perfection, than the wearing of a neat suit; and yet will censure as desperately as the most professed critic in the house: presuming, his clothes should bear him out in't. Another (whom it hath pleased nature to furnish with more beard, than brain) prunes his mustaccio, lisps, and (with some score of affected oaths) swears down all that sit about him; That the old Hieronimo, (as it was first acted) was the only best, and judiciously penned play of Europe. A third great-bellied juggler talks of twenty years since, and when MONSIEUR was here, and would enforce all wits to be of that fashion, because his doublet is still so. A fourth miscalls all by the name of fustian, that his grounded capacity cannot aspire to. A fift, only shakes his bottlehead, and out of his corky brain, squeezeth out a pitiful-learned face, and is silent. By my faith, Jack, you have put me down: I would I knew how to get off with any indifferent grace. Here, take your cloak, and promise some satisfaction in your Prologue, or (I'll be sworn) we have marred all. Tut, fear not, child, this will never distaste a true sense: Be not out, and good enough. I would thou hadst some sugar-candied, to sweeten thy mouth. IF gracious silence, sweet attention, Quick sight, and quicker apprehension, (The lights of judgements throne) shine anywhere; Our doubtful author hopes this is their sphere. And therefore opens he himself to those; To other weaker beams, his labours close: As loath to prostitute their virgin strain, To every vulgar, and adulterate brain. In this alone, his MUSE her sweetness hath, She shuns the print of any beaten path; And proves new ways to come to learned ears: Pied ignorance she neither loves, nor fears. Nor hunts she after popular applause, Or foamy praise, that drops from common jaws: The garland that she wears, their hands must twine, Who can both censure, understand, define What merit is: Then cast those piercing rays, Round as a crown, in stead of honoured bays, About his poesy; which (he knows) affords Words, above action: matter, above words. WHo goes there? 'tis I, blind archer.
seed 43: T16 · seed 44: T15 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
So, sir, this is all the reformation you seeke? It is: doe not you thinke it necessarie to be practiz'd, my little wag? Yes, where any such ill-habited custome is receiu'd. O (I had almost forgot it too) they say, the vmbrae, or ghosts of some three or foure playes, departed a dozen yeeres since, haue bin seene walking on your stage heere: take heed, boy, if your house bee haunted with such hob-goblins, t'will fright away all your spectators quickly. Good, sir, but what will you say now, if a Poet (vntoucht with any breath of this disease) find the tokens vpon you, that are of the auditorie? As some one ciuet-wit among you, that knowes no other learning, then the price of satten and vellets; nor other perfection, then the wearing of a neat sute; and yet will censure as desperately as the most profess'd critique in the house: presuming, his clothes should beare him out in't. Another (whom it hath pleas'd nature to furnish with more beard, then braine) prunes his mustaccio, lisps, and (with some score of affected othes) sweares downe all that sit about him; That the old Hieronimo, (as it was first acted) was the onely best, and iudiciously pend play of Europe. A third greatbellied juggler talkes of twentie yeeres since, and when MONSIEVR was heere, and would enforce all wits to bee of that fashion, because his doublet is still so. A fourth miscals all by the name of fustian, that his grounded capacitie cannot aspire to. A fift, only shakes his bottle-head, and out of his corkie braine, squeezeth out a pittiful-learned face, and is silent. By my faith, Iacke, you haue put mee downe: I would I knew how to get off with any indifferent grace. Heere, take your cloke, and promise some satisfaction in your Prologue, or (I'le be sworne) wee haue marr'd all. Tut, feare not, child, this wil neuer distaste a true sense: Be not out, and good enough. I would thou hadst some sugar-candied, to sweeten thy mouth. IF gracious silence, sweet attention, Quicke sight, and quicker apprehension, (The lights of iudgements throne) shine any where; Our doubtfull authour hopes this is their sphere. And therefore opens he himselfe to those; To other weaker beames, his labours close: As loth to prostitute their virgin straine, To eu'rie vulgar, and adult'rate braine. In this alone, his MVSE her sweetnesse hath, Shee shunnes the print of any beaten path; And proues new wayes to come to learned eares: Pied ignorance she neither loues, nor feares. Nor hunts she after popular applause, Or fomie praise, that drops from common iawes: The garland that she weares, their hands must twine, Who can both censure, vnderstand, define What merit is: Then cast those piercing raies, Round as a crowne, in stead of honour'd bayes, About his poesie; which (he knowes) affoords Words, aboue action: matter, aboue words. WHo goes there? Tis I, blind archer.