Cynthia's Revels, or The Fountain of Self-Love · chunk 45 of 66
Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1600 [1600-1601] (Annals) satire · Children of the Chapel (second) unassigned nearest T62 The courtier as a type: fashion, affecta · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T62: courtier, shrug, face, court, italian, monsieur, scholar, fashion, french, courtiers.
I know that a cook may as soon, and properly be said to smell well, as you to be wise. I know these are most clear, and clean strokes. But then, you have your passages, and imbrocatas in courtship; as the bitter Rob in wit; the Reverse in face, or wry-mouth; and these more subtle, and secure offenders. I will example unto you. Your opponent makes entry, as you are engaged with your mistress. You seeing him, close in her ear, with this whisper (here comes your baboon, disgrace him) and withal, stepping off, fall on his bosom, and turning to her, politicly, aloud say, lady, regard this noble gentleman, a man rarely parted, second to none in this court; and then, stooping over his shoulder, your hand on his breast, your mouth on his backside, you give him the Reverse stroke, with this Sanna, or Storks-bill, which makes up your wits Bob, most bitter. Nay, for heavens sake, teach me no more. I know all as well— 'Slid, if I did not, why was I nominated? why did you choose me? why did the ladies prick out me? I am sure there were other gallants. But me of all the rest? By that light, and as I am a courtier, would I might never stir, but 'tis strange. Would to the lord, the ladies would come once. signor, the gallants and ladies are at hand. Are you ready, sir? Instantly. Go, accomplish your attire: Cousin MORPHIDES, assist me, to make good the door with your officious tyranny. By your leave my masters there, pray you let's come by. You by? why should you come by, more than we? Why, sir? Because he is my brother, that plays the prizes. Your brother? ay, her brother, sir, and we must come in. Why, what are you? I am her husband, sir. Then thrust forward your head. What tumult is there? Who's there? bear back there. Stand from the door. Enter none but the ladies, and their hang-byes; welcome Beauties, and your kind Shadows. This country lady, my friend, good signor AMORPHUS. And my cockatrice, here. She is welcome. Knock those same pages there; and goodman Coxcomb the citizen, who would you speak withal? With whom? your brother? Who is your brother? Master ASOTUS? Is he your brother? He is taken up with great persons. He is not to know you tonight. O JOVE, master! and there come ere a citizen gentlewoman in my name, let her have entrance, I pray you. It is my sister. Brother. Brother, master ASOTUS. Who's there? 'Tis I, brother. God's me! There she is, good master, intrude he. Make place. Bear back there. Knock that simple fellow, there. Nay, good sir; It is my husband. The simpler fellow he. Away, back with your head, sir. Brother, you must pardon your nonentry: Husbands are not allowed here in truth. I'll come home soon with my sister; pray you meet us with a lantern, brother. Be merry, sister: I shall make you laugh anon.
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)
I know that a cooke may as soone, and properly be said to smel wel, as you to be wise. I know these are most cleere, and cleane strokes. But then, you haue your passages, and imbroccata's in courtship; as the bitter Rob in wit; the Reuerse in face, or wry-mouth; and these more subtle, and secure offenders. I will example vnto you. Your opponent makes entrie, as you are ingag'd with your mistresse. You seeing him, close in her eare, with this whisper (here comes your Babion, disgrace him) and withall, stepping off, fall on his bosome, and turning to her, politiquely, aloud say, ladie, reguard this noble gentleman, a man rarely parted, second to none in this court; and then, stooping ouer his shoulder, your hand on his brest, your mouth on his back-side, you giue him the Reuerse stroke, with this Sanna, or Storkes-bill, which makes vp your wits Bob, most bitter. Nay, for heauens sake, teach me no more. I know all as well— S'lid, if I did not, why was I nominated? why did you chuse mee? why did the ladies pricke out mee? I am sure there were other gallants. But me of all the rest? By that light, and as I am a courtier, would I might neuer stirre, but 'tis strange. Would to the lord, the ladies would come once. SIgnior, the gallants and ladies are at hand. Are you readie, sir? Instantly. Goe, accomplish your attire: Cousin MORPHIDES, assist me, to make good the doore with your officious tyrannie. By your leaue my masters there, pray you let's come by. You by? why should you come by, more then we? Why, sir? Because he is my brother, that playes the prizes. Your brother? I, her brother, sir, and we must come in. Why, what are you? I am her husband, sir. Then thrust forward your head. What tumult is there? Who's there? beare backe there. Stand from the doore. Enter none but the ladies, and their hang-bies; welcome Beauties, and your kind Shadowes. This countrie ladie, my friend, good signior AMORPHVS. And my cockatrice, heere. She is welcome. Knocke those same pages there; and goodman Cockescombe the cittizen, who would you speake withall? With whom? your brother? Who is your brother? Master ASOTVS? Is hee your brother? Hee is taken vp with great persons. Hee is not to know you to night. O IOVE, master! and there come ere a cittizen gentlewoman in my name, let her haue entrance, I pray you. It is my sister. Brother. Brother, master ASOTVS. Who's there? 'Tis I, brother. Gods me! There she is, good master, intrude he. Make place. Beare backe there. Knocke that simple fellow, there. Nay, good sir; It is my husband. The simpler fellow hee. Away, backe with your head, sir. Brother, you must pardon your non-entry: Husbands are not allow'd here in truth. Ile come home soone with my sister; pray you meet vs with a lanthorn, brother. Be merrie, sister: I shall make you laugh anon.