Jonson, Ben · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Chapel (second) · Blackfriars T8 Captains, gallants and cheats typicality 0.89 · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T8: captain, master, money, gentleman, little, lieutenant, rogue, pray, minos, honest.
Nay, and thou dalliest, than I am thy Foe, And Fear shall force, what Friendship cannot win; Thy Death shall bury what thy life conceals, Villain! thou diest, for more respecting her, than me. O, stay my Lord. Yet speak the truth, and I will guerdon thee: But if thou dally once again, thou diest. Enough of this, Boy. Why then lament therefore: damned be thy Guts unto King Pluto's hell, and Princely Erebus; for Sparrows must have food. Pray, sweet Captain, let one of them do a little of a Lady. O! he will make thee eternally enamoured of him there: do Sirrah; do: 'twill allay your fellows Fury a little. Master, mock on: the scorn thou givest me, Pray Ioue some Lady may return on thee: No: you shall see me do the Moor: Master, lend me your scarf a little. Here, 'tis at thy service, Boy: You, Master Minos, hark hither a little. Exeunt. How dost like him? art not rapt? art not tickled now? dost not applaud, Rascal? dost not applaud? Yes: what will you ask for 'em a week, Captain? No you mangonizing slave, I will not part from 'em: you'll sell 'em for Ingles you; let's ha' good cheer to morrow night at supper, Stalker, and then we'll talk, good Capon, & Plover, do you hear, Sirrah? & do not bring your eating Player with you there; I cannot away with him: He will eat a leg of mutton, while I am in my porridge, the lean Poluphagus, his belly is like Barathrum, he looks like a Midwife in Man's apparel, the slave; nor the villanous-out-of-tune fiddler O Enobarbus, bring not him. What hast thou there? six and thirty? ha? No, here's all I have (Captain) some five and twenty. Pray Sir, will you present, & accommodate it unto the Gentleman: for mine own part, I am a mere stranger to his Humour: beside, I have some business invites me hence, with Master Asinius Lupus, the Tribune. Well: go thy ways; pursue thy Projects, let me alone with this Design: my Poëtaster shall make thee a Play, & thou shalt be a man of good parts, in it. But stay, let me see: Do not bring your Father AEsope, your Politician; unless you can ram up his mouth with Cloves: the slave smells ranker than some sixteen Dunghilles, and is seventeen times more rotten: Mary, you may bring Friskin, my Zany: he's a good skipping Swaggerer; and your fat Fool there, my Mango, bring him too: but let him not beg Rapiers, nor scarves in his over-familiar playing face, nor roar out his barren bold jests, with a tormenting Laughter, between drunk and dry. Do you hear, Rascal? Give him warning, Admonition, to forsake his saucy glavering Grace, and his goggle Eye: it does not become him, Sirrah: tell him so. Yes Captain: Iupiter, and the rest of the Gods confine your modern delights, without disgust.
nodes 832–853 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 24 of 50 in this edition
Length
492 words · 737 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T8 — Captains, gallants and cheatscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.894 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T11 · seed 44: T14 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Nay, and thou dallieſt, then I am thy Foe, And Feare ſhall force, what Friendſhip cannot winne; Thy Death ſhall bury what thy life conceales, Villaine! thou dieſt, for more reſpecting her, than me. O, ſtay my Lord. Yet ſpeake the truth, and I will guerdon thee: But if thou dally once againe, thou diest. Enough of this, Boy. Why then lament therefore: damn'd be thy Guts vnto King Plutoes hell, and Princely Erebus; for Sparrowes muſt haue food. 'Pray, ſweete Captaine, let one of them doe a little of a Lady. O! he will make thee eternally enamourd of him there: doe Sirrah; doe: 'twill allay your fellowes Fury a little. Maſter, mocke on: the ſcorne thou giueſt me, Pray Ioue ſome Lady may returne on thee: No: you ſhall ſee me doe the Moore: Maſter, lend me your ſcarfe a little. Here, 'tis at thy ſeruice, Boy: You, Maſter Minos, harke hither a little. Exeunt. How do'ſt like him? art not rapt? art not tickled now? do'ſt not applaud, Raſcall? do'ſt not applaud? Yes: what will you aske for 'hem a weeke, Captaine? No you mangonizing ſlaue, I will not part from 'hem: you'll ſell 'hem for Enghles you; let's ha' good cheare to morrow night at ſupper, Stalker, and then wee'll talke, good Capon, & Plouer, do you hear, Sirrah? & do not bring your eating Plaier with you there; I cannot away with him: He will eate a legge of mutton, while I am in my porridge, the leane Poluphagus, his belly is like Barathrum, he lookes like a Midwife in Mans apparrell, the ſlaue; nor the villanous-out-of-tune Fidler O Enobarbus, bring not him. What haſt thou there? ſix and thirty? ha? No, here's all I haue (Captaine) ſome fiue and twenty. 'Pray Sir, will you preſent, & accommodate it vnto the Gentleman: for mine owne part, I am a meere ſtranger to his Humour: beſides, I haue ſome buſineſſe inuites me hence, with Maſter Aſinius Lupus, the Tribune. Well: goe thy waies; purſue thy Proiects, let me alone with this Deſſeigne: my Poëtaſter ſhall make thee a Play, & thou ſhalt be a man of good parts, in it. But ſtay, let me ſee: Doe not bring your Father AEſope, your Polititian; vnleſſe you can ramme vp his mouth with Cloues: the ſlaue ſmells ranker then ſome ſixteene Dung-hilles, and is ſeuenteene times more rotten: Mary, you may bring Friskin, my Zany: Hee's a good skipping Swaggerer; and your fat Foole there, my Mango, bring him too: but let him not begge Rapiers, nor ſcarfes in his ouer-familiar playing face, nor roare out his barren bold Ieſtes, with a tormenting Laughter, betweene drunke and dry. Doe you heare, Raſcall? Giue him warning, Admonition, to forſake his ſawcy glauering Grace, and his goggle Eye: it does not become him, Sirrah: tell him ſo. Yes Captaine: Iupiter, and the reſt of the Gods confine your moderne delights, without diſguſt.