Cynthia's Revels, or The Fountain of Self-Love · chunk 53 of 66
Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1600 [1600-1601] (Annals) satire · Children of the Chapel (second) unassigned nearest T16 Gallantry: ladies, lordships and complim · 507 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T16: lady, madam, gentleman, lordship, ladies, honour, mistress, sweet, court, servant.
Come, invert my mustachio, and we have done. 'Tis good. Hold still I pray you, sir. Nay, the fucus is exorbitant, sir. Death! dost thou burn me, Harlot? I beseech you, sir. Beggar, Varlet, Poltroon? Excellent, excellent! Your french Beat is the most natural beat of the world. O, that I had played at this weapon! Peace, now they come on; the second part. Madame, your beauties, being so attractive, I muse you are left thus, alone. Better be alone, sir; then ill-accompanied. Nought can be ill, lady, that can come near your goodness. Sweet Madame, on what part of you soever a man casts his eye, he meets with perfection; you are the lively image of VENUS, throughout; all the GRACES smile in your cheeks; your beauty nourishes, as well as delights; you have a tongue steeped in honey; and a breath like a panther: your breasts and forehead are whiter than goats milk, or May-blossoms; a cloud is not so soft as your skin.— Well struck, Monsieur: He charges like a Frenchman indeed, thick, and hotly. Your cheeks are Cupid's baths, wherein he uses to steep himself in milk, and nectar: He does light all his torches at your eyes, and instructs you how to shoot, and wound, with their beams. Yet I love nothing, in you, more than your innocence; you retain so native a simplicity, so unblamed a behaviour. methinks, with such a love, I should find no head, nor foot of my pleasure: You are the very spirit of a lady. Fair play, Monsieur? you are too hot on the quarry. Give your competitor audience. Lady, how stirring soever the Monsieurs tongue is, he will lie by your side, more dull than your eunuch. A good stroke; That mouth was excellently put over. You are fair, lady— You offer foul, signor, to close. Keep your distance; for all your Bravo rampant, here. I say you are fair, lady, let your choice be fit, as you are fair. I say, ladies do never believe they are fair, till some fool begins to dote upon 'em. You play too rough, gentlemen. Your frenchified fool is your only fool, lady: I do yield to this honourable Monsieur, in all civil, and human courtesy. Buzz. Admirable. Give him the prize. Give him the prize; That mouth, again, was most courtly hit, and rare. I knew, I should pass upon him with the bitter Bob. O, but the Reverse was singular. It was most subtle, AMORPHUS. If I had done't, it should have been better. How heartily they applaud this, CRITES! You suffer 'em too long I'll take off their edge instantly. Name the prize, at the solemn Address. Two lips wagging. And never a wise word; I take it. Give to AMORPHUS. And, upon him, again; let him not draw free breath. Thanks, fair deliverer, and my honourable judges, Madame PHANTASTE, you are our worthy object at this next weapon. Most covetingly ready, AMORPHUS. Your Monsieur is crest-fallen. So are most of 'em once a year.
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)
Come, inuert my mustachio, and we haue done. 'Tis good. Hold still I pray you, sir. Nay, the ucus is exorbitant, sir. Death! doost thou burne me, Harlot? I beseech you, sir. Begger, Varlet, Poultroun? Excellent, excellent! Your french Beate is the most naturall beate of the world. O, that I had plaid at this weapon! Peace, now they come on; the second part. Madame, your beauties, being so attractiue, I muse you are left thus, alone. Better be alone, sir; then ill-accompanied. Nought can be ill, ladie, that can come neere your goodnesse. Sweet Madame, on what part of you soeuer a man casts his eye, he meets with perfection; you are the liuely image of VENVS, throughout; all the GRACES smile in your cheeks; your beautie nourishes, as well as delights; you haue a tongue steep't in honie; and a breath like a panther: your brests and forehead are whiter then gotes milke, or May-blossomes; a cloud is not so soft as your skinne.— Well strooke, Monsieur: Hee charges like a Frenchman indeed, thicke, and hotly. Your cheekes are CVPIDS baths, wherein hee vses to steepe himselfe in milke, and nectar: Hee do's light all his torches at your eyes, and instructs you how to shoot, and wound, with their beames. Yet I loue nothing, in you, more then your innocence; you retaine so natiue a simplicitie, so vnblam'd a behauiour. Mee thinkes, with such a loue, I should find no head, nor foot of my pleasure: You are the verie spirit of a ladie. Faire play, Monsieur? you are too hot on the quarrie. Giue your competitor audience. Lady, how stirring soeuer the Monsieurs tongue is, hee will lie by your side, more dull then your eunuch. A good stroke; That mouth was excellently put ouer. You are faire, lady— You offer foule, Signior, to close. Keepe your distance; for all your Brauo rampant, here. I say you are faire, lady, let your choice be fit, as you are faire. I say, ladies doe neuer beleeue they are faire, till some foole begins to dote vpon 'hem. You play too rough, gentlemen. Your frenchified foole is your onely foole, lady: I doe yeeld to this honorable Monsieur, in all ciuill, and humane courtesie. Buzze. Admirable. Giue him the prize. Giue him the prize; That mouth, againe, was most courtly hit, and rare. I knew, I should passe vpon him with the bitter Bob. O, but the Reuerse was singular. It was most subtile, AMORPHVS. If I had don't, it should haue beene better. How heartily they applaud this, CRITES! You suffer 'hem too long I'le take off their edge instantly. Name the prize, at the solemne Addresse. Two lips wagging. And neuer a wise word; I take it. Giue to AMORPHVS. And, vpon him, againe; let him not draw free breath. Thankes, faire deliuerer, and my honorable iudges, Madame PHANTASTE, you are our worthy obiect at this next weapon. Most couetingly ready, AMORPHVS. Your Monsieur is crest-falne. So are most of 'hem once a yeere.