Jonson, Ben · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Chapel (second) · Blackfriars T12 Olympian gods: Jupiter, Juno, Venus and typicality 0.82 · 517 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T12: iupiter, saturn, iuno, venus, gods, mars, earth, titan, love, fair.
Wine, and good Livers, make true lovers: I'll sentence them together. Here Father: here Mother: for shame, drink yourselves drunk, and forget this dissension: you two should cling together, before our faces, and give us example of Unity. O, excellently spoken, Vulcan, on the sudden! Iupiter, may do well to prefer his Tongue to some office, for his Eloquence. His Tongue shall be Gentleman Usher to his Wit, and still go before it. An excellent fit office. I, and an excellent good jest, beside: What, have you hired Mercury, to cry your jests you make? Momus, you are envious: Why, you whoreson blockhead, 'tis your only block of wit in fashion (now adays) to applaud other folks jests. True: with those that are not Artificers themselves. Vulcan, you nod; and the mirth of the feast droops. He has filled Nectar so long, till his brain swims in it. What, do we nod, fellow Gods? sound Music, and let us startle our spirits with a song. Do, Apollo: thou art a good Musitian. What says Iupiter? Ha? ha? A Song. Why, do, do, sing: Bacchus, what say you? Ceres? But, to this song? Sing, for my part. Your belly weighs down your head, Bacehus: here's a song toward. Begin, Vulcan. What else? what else? Say, Iupiter. Mercury. I, say, say. WAKE; our mirth begins to die: Quicken it with tunes, and wine: Raise your notes; you're out: fie, fie; This Drowsiness is an ill sign. We banish him the Queer of Gods, That droops again: Then all are men, For here's not one, but nods. I like not this sudden and general heaviness, amongst our Godheads: 'Tis somewhat ominous. Apollo, Command us louder Music, and let Mercury, and Momus contend to please, and revive our senses. THAN, in a free and lofty strain, Our broken tunes we thus repair; And we answer them again, Running division on the panting Air: To celebrate this Feast of Sense, As free from Scandal, as Offence. Here is Beauty, for the Eye; For the Ear, sweet Melody; Ambrosiac Odours, for the smell; Delicious Nectar, for the Taste; For the Touch, a Ladies Waste; Which doth all the rest excel. I: This hath waked us. Mercury, our Herald; Go from ourself the great God Iupiter, to the great Emperor, Augustus Caesar: And command him, from us (of whose Bounty he hath received his Surname, Augustus) that for a Thank-offering to our Beneficence, he presently Sacrifice as a Dish to this Banquet, his beautiful and wanton Daughter Iulia: She's a cursed Quean, tell him; and plays the scold behind his back: Therefore let her be Sacrificed. Command him this, Mercury, in our high name of Iupiter Altitonans. Stay, Feather-footed Mercury; and tell Augustus, from us, the great Iuno Saturnia; if he think it hard to do, as Iupiter hath commanded him, and Sacrifice his Daughter, that he had better to do so ten times, then suffer her to love the well-nosed Poet, Ovid; whom he shall do well to whip, or cause to be whipped, about the Capitol, for soothing her, in her Follies.
seed 43: T28 · seed 44: T22 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
"Wine, and good Liuers, make true louers: I'le ſentence them togither. Here Father: here Mother: for ſhame, drinke your ſelues drunke, and forget this diſſention: you two ſhould cling togither, before our faces, and giue vs example of Vnity. O, excellently ſpoken, Vulcan, on the ſodaine! Iupiter, may doe well to preferre his Tongue to ſome office, for his Eloquence. His Tongue ſhall be Gent'man Vſher to his Wit, and ſtill goe before it. An excellent fit office. I, and an excellent good ieaſt, beſides: What, haue you hired Mercury, to cry your ieaſtes you make? Momus, you are enuious: Why, you whoreſon block-head, 'tis your only blocke of witte in faſhion (now adaies) to applaud other folkes ieaſtes. True: with thoſe that are not Artificers them ſelues. Vulcan, you nod; and the mirth of the feaſt droopes. He ha's fild Nectar ſo long, till his braine ſwimmes in it. What, doe we nod, fellow Gods? ſound Muſicke, and let vs ſtartle our ſpirits with a ſong. Doe, Apollo: thou art a good Muſitian. What ſaies Iupiter? Ha? ha? A Song. Why, doe, doe, ſing: Bacchus, what ſay you? Ceres? But, to this ſong? Sing, for my part. Your belly weighes downe your head, Bacehus: here's a ſong toward. Begin, Vulcan. What elſe? what elſe? Say, Iupiter. Mercury. I, ſay, ſay. VVAKE; our mirth beginnes to die: Quicken it with tunes, and wine: Raiſe your notes; you're out: fie, fie; This Drouzineſſe is an ill ſigne. We baniſh him the Queere of Gods, That droopes agen: Then all are men, For here's not one, but nods. I like not this ſodaine and generall heauineſſe, amongſt our Godheads: 'Tis ſomewhat ominous. Apollo, Command vs lowder Muſicke, and let Mercury, and Momus contend to pleaſe, and reuiue our ſenſes. THEN, in a free and lofty ſtrayne, Our broken tunes we thus repaire; And we anſwere them againe, Running diuiſion on the panting Ayre: To celebrate this Feast of Senſe, As free from Scandall, as Offenſe. Here is Beauty, for the Eye; For the Eare, ſweete Melody; Ambroſiack Odours, for the ſmell; Delicious Nectar, for the Taste; For the Touch, a Ladies Waſte; Which doth all the reſt excell. I: This hath wak't vs. Mercury, our Herald; Goe from our ſelfe the great God Iupiter, to the great Emperour, Augustus Caeſar: And command him, from vs (of whoſe Bounty he hath receaued his Sir-name, Augustus) that for a Thankeoffring to our Beneficence, he preſently Sacrifice as a Diſh to this Banquet, his beautifull and wanton Daughter Iulia: She's a curſt Queane, tell him; and plaies the ſcould behind his backe: Therefore let her be Sacrific'd. Commaund him this, Mercury, in our high name of Iupiter Altitonans. Stay, Feather-footed Mercury; and tell Auguſtus, from vs, the great Iuno Saturnia; if he thinke it hard to doe, as Iupiter hath commanded him, and Sacrifice his Daughter, that he had better to doe ſo tenne times, then ſuffer her to loue the well-noſ'd Poet, Ouid; whom he ſhall doe well to whip, or cauſe to be whipt, about the Capitoll, for ſoothing her, in her Follies.