Jonson, Ben · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Chapel (second) · Blackfriars T9 Theatre talk: prologues, poets and playe typicality 0.78 · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T9: play, stage, poet, prologue, author, wit, plays, muse, scene, players.
STAY Monster: ere thou sink, thus on thy head Set we our boulder foot; with which we tread Thy malice into earth: So Spite should die; Despised and scorned by noble industry. If any muse why I salute the Stage, An armed Prologue; know it is a dangerous age: Wherein, who writes, had need present his Scenes Forty fold proof against the conjuring means Of base Detractors, and illiterate Apes, That fill up rooms in fair and formal shapes. 'Gainst these, have we put on this forced defence: Whereof the Allegory and hid sense Is, that a well erected Confidence Can fright their pride, and laugh their folly hence. Here now, put case our Author should once more Swear that his Play were good; he doth implore, You would not argue him of Arrogance; How ere that common Spawn of Ignorance, Our Fry of Writers, may beslime his fame, And give his action that adulterate name. Such full blown vanity he more doth loath Then base dejection; There's a mean twixt both: Which with a constant firmness he pursues, As one that knows the strength of his own Muse. And this he hopes all free souls will allow: Others that take it with a rugged brow, Their moods he rather pities, then envies: His mind it is above their injuries. THAN, when this body falls in funeral fire, My name shall live, and my best part aspire. It shall go so. Young master, Master Ovid, do you hear? God's a me! away with your songs and sonnets; and on with your gown and Cap, quickly: here, here, your Father will be a man of this room presently. Come, nay, nay, nay, nay, be brief. These verses too, a poison on 'em, I cannot abide 'em, they make me ready to cast, by the banks of Helicon. Nay look, what a rascally untoward thing this Poetry is; I could tear 'em now. Give me, how near's my Father? heart a'man: get a law book in your hand, I will not answer you else. Why so: now there's some formality in you; By Ioue, & three or four of the Gods more, I am right of mine old master's humour for that; this villainous Poetry will undo you, by the Welkin. What, hast thou buskins on, Luscus, that thou swearest so tragically and high? No: but I have boots on sir, and so has your father too by this time: for he called for 'em, ere I came from the lodging. Why? was he no readier? O no; and there was the mad skeldering Captain, with the velvet arms, ready to lay hold on him as he comes down: he that presses every man he meets, with an oath, to lend him money, and cries; Thou must do't old boy, as thou art a man, a man of worship. Who? Pantilius Tucca? I, he: and I met little master Lupus the Tribune, going thither too.
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)
STAY Monſter: ere thou ſinke, thus on thy heade Set wee our boulder foote; with which we tread Thy malice into earth: So Spight ſhould die; Despis'd and ſcornd by noble induſtry. If any muſe why I ſalute the Stage, An armed Prologue; know 't is a dangerous age: Wherein, who writes, had neede preſent his Scenes Fortie fold proofe againſt the coniuring meanes Of baſe Detractors, and illiterate Apes, That fill vp roomes in faire and formall ſhapes. 'Gainſt theſe, haue we put on this forc't defenſe: Whereof the Allegory and hid ſenſe Is, that a well erected Confidence Can fright their pride, and laugh their follie hence. Here now, put caſe our Author ſhould once more Sweare that his Play were good; he doth implore, You would not argue him of Arrogance; How ere that common Spawne of Ignorance, Our Fry of Writers, may beſlime his fame, And giue his action that adulterate name. Such full blowne vanity he more doth loath Then baſe deiection; There's a meane twixt both: Which with a constant firmeneſſe he purſues, As one that knowes the ſtrength of his owne Muſe. And this he hopes all free ſoules will allowe: Others that take it with a rugged browe, Their moodes he rather pities, then enuies: His minde it is aboue their iniuries. THEN, when this bodie fals in funerall fire, My name ſhall liue, and my beſt part aspire. It ſhall goe ſo. Young maſter, Maſter Ouid, do you heare? Gods a me! away with your ſongs and ſonets; and on with your gowne and Cappe, quickly: here, here, your Father will bee a man of this roome preſently. Come, nay, nay, nay, nay, be briefe. Theſe verſes too, a poyſon on 'hem, I cannot abide 'hem, they make me readie to caſt, by the bankes of Helicon. Nay looke, what a raſcally vntoward thing this Poetry is; I could teare 'hem now. Giue mee, how neere's my Father? Hart a'man: get a lawe booke in your hand, I will not anſwere you elſe. Why ſo: now there's ſome formalitie in you; By Ioue, & three or foure of the Gods more, I am right of myne olde maſters humour for that; this villanous Poetry will vndoe you, by the Welkin. What, haſt thou buſkins on, Luſcus, that thou ſwear'ſt ſo tragically and high? No: but I haue bootes on ſir, and ſo ha's your father too by this time: for he call'd for 'hem, ere I came from the lodging. Why? was he no readier? O no; and there was the mad skeldring Captaine, with the veluet armes, readie to lay holde on him as he comes down: hee that preſſes euery man hee meetes, with an oath, to lend him money, and cries; Thou muſt doo't old boy, as thou art a man, a man of worſhippe. Who? Pantilius Tucca? I, hee: and I met little maſter Lupus the Tribune, going thither too.