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 0.78 · 483 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T12: iupiter, saturn, iuno, venus, gods, mars, earth, titan, love, fair.
What's become of my little Punk, Venus; and the poult-foote Stinkard, her Husband? ha? O, they are rid home i'the Coach, as fast as the wheels can run. God Iupiter is banished, I hear: and his Cockatrice, Iuno, locked up:' heart; and and all the Poetry in Parnassus get me to be a Player again, I'll fallen 'em my share for six pence. But this is Humours; Horace, that Goat-footed envious Slave: he's turned fawn now; an Informer, the Rogue: 'tis he has betrayed us all; Did you not see him, with the Emperor, crouching? Yes. Well, follow me. Thou shalt libel, and I'll cudgel the Rascal. Boy, prouide me a Truncheon; Revenge shall gratulate him, Tam Marti, quam Mercurio. I, but Master; take heed how you give this out, Horace is a Man of the Sword. 'Tis true, in troth: they say, he's valiant. Valiant? so is mine Arse: Gods, and Fiends? I'll blow him into air, when I meet him next: He dares not fight with a puckfist. Master, here he comes. Where? Iupiter save thee, my good Poet; my Prophet; my Noble Horace. I scorn to beat the Rogue i'the Court; and I saluted him, thus fair, because he should suspect nothing, the Rascal; Come; we'll go see how forward our journeyman is toward the untrussing of him. Do you hear, Captain? I'll write nothing in it but Innocence: because I may swear I am Innocent. Nay, why pursue you not the Emperor for your reward, now; Lupus? Stay, Asinius; you, and your Stager, and your band of Lictors: I hope your service merits more respect, Then thus, without a thanks, to be sent hence? Well, well, jest on, jest on. Thou base unworthy Groom. (Lupus.) I 'tis good. Was this the Treason? this, the dangerous plot, Thy clamorous tongue so bellowed through the Court? Hadst thou no other Project to increase Thy Grace with Caesar, but this Wolvish train; To pray upon the life of innocent Mirth, And harmless pleasures, bred, of noble wit? Away: I loathe thy presence: Such as thou, They are the Moths, and Scarabbes of a State; The Bane of Kingdoms; and the dregs of Courts: Who (to endeer themselves to any 'mploiement) Care not, whose fame they blast; whose life they endanger: And under a disguised, and cobweb mask Of love, unto their Sovereign, vomit forth Their own prodigious malice; and pretending To be the Props, and Columns of his safety, The Guards unto his Person, and his Peace, Disturb it most, with their false Lapwing cries. Good. Caesar shall know of this; believe it. Caesar doth know it (Wolf) and to his knowledge, He will (I hope) reward your base Endeavours. Princes that will but hear, or give access To such officious Spies, can near be safe: They take in poison, with an open Ear, And free from Danger, become slaves to Fear.
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)
What's become of my little Punque, Venus; and the poult-foote Stinkard, her Husband? ha? O, they are rid home i'the Coach, as faſt as the wheeles can runne. God Iupiter is baniſht, I heare: and his Cockatrice, Iuno, lockt vp: 'Hart; and and all the Poetry in Parnaſſus get me to be a Player againe, I'le fell 'hem my ſhare for ſix pence. But this is Humours; Horace, that Goat-footed enuious Slaue: hee's turn'd fawne now; an Informer, the Rogue: 'tis he has betraid vs all; Did you not ſee him, with the Emperour, crouching? Yes. Well, follow me. Thou ſhalt libell, and I'le cudgell the Raſcall. Boy, pronide me a Trunchion; Reuenge ſhall gratulate him, Tam Marti, quam Mercurio. I, but Maſter; take heed how you giue this out, Horace is a Man of the Sword. 'Tis true, introth: they ſay, hee's valiant. Valiant? ſo is mine Arſe: Gods, and Fiendes? I'le blow him into aire, when I meete him next: He dares not fight with a puck-fiſt. Maſter, here he comes. Where? Iupiter ſaue thee, my good Poet; my Prophet; my Noble Horace. I ſcorne to beate the Rogue i'the Court; and I ſaluted him, thus faire, bicauſe he ſhould ſuſpect nothing, the Raſcall; Come; wee'll goe ſee how forward our Iourneyman is toward the vntruſſing of him. Doe you heare, Captaine? I'le write nothing in it but Innocence: becauſe I may ſweare I am Innocent. Nay, why purſue you not the Emperour for your reward, now; Lupus? Stay, Aſinius; you, and your Stager, and your band of Lictors: I hope your ſeruice merits more reſpect, Then thus, without a thankes, to be ſent hence? Well, well, ieaſt on, ieaſt on. Thou baſe vnworthy Groome. (Lupus.) I 'tis good. Was this the Treaſon? this, the dangerous plot, Thy clamorous tongue ſo bellowed through the Court? Hadſt thou no other Proiect to encreaſe Thy Grace with Caeſar, but this Wooluiſh traine; To pray vpon the life of innocent Mirth, And harmeleſſe pleaſures, bred, of noble wit? Away: I loath thy preſence: Such as thou, They are the Moathes, and Scarabbes of a State; The Bane of Kingdomes; and the dregges of Courts: Who (to endeer themſelues to any 'mploiement) Care not, whoſe fame they blaſt; whoſe life they endanger: And vnder a diſguiſ'd, and cobweb Maſque Of loue, vnto their Soueraigne, vomit foorth Their owne prodigious malice; and pretending To be the Props, and Columnes of his ſafety, The Guardes vnto his Perſon, and his Peace, Diſturbe it moſt, with their falſe Lapwing cries. Good. Caeſar ſhall know of this; beleeue it. Caeſar doth know it (Wolfe) and to his knowledge, He will (I hope) reward your baſe Endeuours. "Princes that will but heare, or giue acceſſe "To ſuch officious Spies, can nere be ſafe: "They take in poyſon, with an open Eare, "And free from Danger, become ſlaues to Feare.