Jonson, Ben · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Chapel (second) · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 481 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Tut, tut: abandon, this idle humour, 'tis nothing but Melancholy. Fore Ioue, now I think out, I am to appear in Court here, to answer to one that has me in suit: sweet Horace go with me; this is my hour: if I neglect it, the Law proceeds against me: Thou art familiar with these things; pray thee, if thou lovest me, go. Now let me die Sir, if I know your Laws; Or have the power, to stand half so long In their (_____) Courts, as while a Case is Argued. Besides, you know Sir where I am to go, and the Necessity.— 'tis true:— I hope the hour of my release be come: He will (upon this Consideration) discharge me sure. Troth, I am doubtful, what I may best do; whether to leave thee, or my affairs, Horace? O Iupiter, me Sir; me, by any means: I beseech you, me, Sir. No faith, I'll venture those now; Thou shalt see I love thee, come Horace. Nay then, I am desperate: I follow you Sir. 'Tis hard contending with a man that overcomes thus. And how deals Maecenas with thee? Liberally? Ha? Is he open handed? bountiful? he's still himself, Sir. Troth Horace, thou art exceeding happy in thy Friends and Acquaintance; they are all most choice spirits, and of the first rank of Romans: I do not know that Poet, I protest, has used his Fortune more prosperously than thou hast. If thou wouldst bring me known to Maecenas, I should second thy desert well; Thou shouldst find a good sure Assistance of me: One that would speak all good of thee in thy Absence, and be content with the next Place, not envying thy Reputation with thy Patron. Let me not live, but I think thou and I (in a small time) should lift them all out of Fauor, both Virgil, Varius, and the best of them; and enjoy him wholly to ourselves. Gods, You do know it, I can hold no longer; This Breeze hath pricked my Patience: Sir, your Silkenness Clearly mistakes Maecenas; and his house; To think, there breathes a Spirit beneath his Roof, Subject unto those poor affections Of under-mining Envy, and Detraction, Moods, only proper to base groveling minds: That Place is not in Rome, I dare affirm, More pure, or free, from such low common Evils. There's no man grieved, that this is thought more Rich, Or this more Learned; Each man hath his Place, And to his merit, his reward of Grace: Which with a mutual love they all embrace. You report a wonder! 'tis scarce credible, this. I am no Torturer, to enforce you to believe it, but 'tis so. Why, this inflames me with a more ardent desire to be his, than before: but, I doubt I shall find the entrance to his Familiarity, somewhat more than difficult, Horace.
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)
Tut, tut: abandon, this idle humor, 'tis nothing but Melancholy. Fore Ioue, now I thinke out, I am to appeare in Court here, to anſwere to one that has me in ſuite: ſweete Horace goe with me; this is my howre: if I neglect it, the Law proceedes againſt me: Thou art familiar with theſe thinges; pray thee, if thou loueſt me, goe. Now let me die Sir, if I know your Lawes; Or haue the power, to ſtand halfe ſo long In their ( ) Courts, as while a Caſe is Argued. Beſides, you know Sir where I am to goe, and the Neceſſity.— Tis true:— I hope the howre of my releaſe be come: He will (vpon this Conſideration) diſcharge me ſure. Troth, I am doubtfull, what I may beſt doe; whether to leaue thee, or my affaires, Horace? O Iupiter, me Sir; me, by any meanes: I beſeech you, me, Sir. No faith, Ile venture thoſe now; Thou ſhalt ſee I loue thee, come Horace. Nay then, I am deſperate: I follow you Sir. 'Tis hard contending with a man that ouercomes thus. And how deales Mecoenas with thee? Liberally? Ha? Is he open handed? bountifull? Hee's ſtill himſelfe, Sir. Troth Horace, thou art exceeding happy in thy Friends and Acquaintance; they are all moſt choiſe ſpirits, and of the firſt ranke of Romanes: I doe not know that Poet, I proteſt, ha's vſd his Fortune more proſperouſly then thou haſt. If thou would'ſt bring me knowne to Mecoenas, I ſhould ſecond thy deſert well; Thou ſhouldſt find a good ſure Aſſiſtance of me: One that would ſpeake all good of thee in thy Abſence, and be content with the next Place, not enuying thy Reputation with thy Patron. Let me not liue, but I thinke thou and I (in a ſmall time) ſhould lift them all out of Fauor, both Virgill, Varius, and the beſt of them; and enioy him wholly to our ſelues. Gods, You doe know it, I can hold no longer; This Brize hath prickt my Patience: Sir, your Silkeneſſe Clearely miſtakes Mecoenas; and his houſe; To thinke, there breaths a Spirit beneath his Roofe, Subiect vnto thoſe poore affections Of vnder-mining Enuy, and Detraction, Moodes, onely proper to baſe groueling minds: That Place is not in Rome, I dare affirme, More pure, or free, from ſuch low common Euils. There's no man greeu'd, that this is thought more Rich, Or this more Learned; Ech man hath his Place, And to his merit, his reward of Grace: Which with a mutuall loue they all embrace. You report a wonder! tis ſcarce credible, this. I am no Torturer, to enforce you to beleeue it, but tis ſo. Why, this enflames me with a more ardent deſire to be his, then before: but, I doubt I ſhall find the entrance to his Familiarity, ſomewhat more then difficult, Horace.