Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Chapel (second) unassigned nearest T35 Fools, wit and railing · 496 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
How? to his bright mistress, CANIDIA? ay, sir, that's but a borrowed name; as Ovid's CORINNA, or PROPERTIUS his CYNTHIA, or your NEMESIS, or DELIA, TIBULLUS. It's the name of HORACE his witch, as I remember. Why? the ditty's all borrowed; 'tis Horace's: hang him plagiary. How? he borrow of HORACE? he shall pawn himself to ten brokers, first. Do you hear, POETASTERS? I know you to be men of worship— He shall write with HORACE, for a talon: and let Maecenas, and his whole college of critics take his part: thou shalt do't, young PHOEBUS: thou shalt, PHAETON; thou shalt. Alas, sir, HORACE! he is a mere sponge; nothing but humours, and observation, he goes up and down sucking from every society, and when he comes home, squeezes himself dry again. I know him, I. Thou sayest true, my poor poetical Fury, he will pen all he knows. A sharp thorny-toothed satirical rascal, fly him; he carries heigh in his horn: he will sooner lose his best friend, than his least jest. What he once drops upon paper, against a man, lives eternally to upbraid him in the mouth of every slave tankard-bearer, or waterman; not a bawd, or a boy that comes from the bakehouse, but shall point at him: 'tis all dog, and scorpion; he carries poison in his teeth, and a sting in his tail. Fough, body of JOVE! I'll have the slave whipped one of these days for his satires, and his humours, by one cashiered clerk, or another. we'll undertake him, Captain. ay, and tickle him i' faith, for his arrogancy, and his impudence, in commending his own things; and for his translating: I can trace him i' faith. O, he is the most open fellow, living; I had as lief as a new suit, I were at it. Say no more then, but do it; 'tis the only way to get thee a new suit; sting him, my little newts; I'll give you instructions: I'll be your intelligencer, we'll all join, and hang upon him like so many horseleeches, the players and all. We shall sup together, soon; and then we'll conspire, i' faith. O, that HORACE had stayed still, here. So would not I: for both these would have turned Pythagoreans, then. What, mute? ay, as fishes i'faith: come, ladies, shall we go? We await you, sir. But mistress CHLOE asks, if you have not a god to spare, for this gentleman. Who, Captain TUCCA? I; he. Yes, if we can invite him along, he shall be MARS. Has MARS any thing to do with VENUS? O, most of all, lady. Nay, then, I pray let him be invited: and what shall CRISPINUS be? MERCURY, mistress CHLOE. MERCURY? that's a Poet? is't? No, lady; but somewhat inclining that way: he is a Herald at arms. A Herald at arms? good: and MERCURY? pretty: he has to do with VENUS, too? A little, with her face, lady; or so.
seed 43: T16 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
How? to his bright mistris, CANIDIA? I, sir, that's but a borrowed name; as OVIDS CORINNA, or PROPERTIVS his CYNTHIA, or your NEMESIS, or DELIA, TIBVLLVS. It's the name of HORACE his witch, as I remember. Why? the ditt'is all borrowed; 'tis HORACES: hang him plagiary. How? he borrow of HORACE? hee shall pawne himselfe to ten brokers, first. Doe you heare, POETASTERS? I know you to be men of worship— He shall write with HORACE, for a talent: and let MECoeNAS, and his whole colledge of criticks take his part: thou shalt do't, young PHOEBVS: thou shalt, PHAETON; thou shalt. Alas, sir, HORACE! hee is a meere spunge; nothing but humours, and obseruation, he goes vp and downe sucking from euery societie, and when hee comes home, squeazes himselfe drie againe. I know him, I. Thou saiest true, my poore poeticall Furie, hee will pen all hee knowes. A sharpe thornie-tooth'd satyricall rascall, flie him; hee carries hey in his horne: he wil sooner lose his best friend, then his least iest. What he once drops vpon paper, against a man, liues eternally to vpbraid him in the mouth of euery slaue tankerd-bearer, or water-man; not a bawd, or a boy that comes from the bake-house, but shall point at him: 'tis all dogge, and scorpion; he carries poison in his teeth, and a sting in his taile. Fough, body of IOVE! I'le haue the slaue whipt one of these daies for his satyres, and his humours, by one casheer'd clarke, or another. Wee'll vnder-take him, Captaine. I, and tickle him i' faith, for his arrogancie, and his impudence, in commending his owne things; and for his translating: I can trace him i' faith. O, he is the most open fellow, liuing; I had as lieue as a new sute, I were at it. Say no more then, but doe it; 'tis the only way to get thee a new sute; sting him▪ my little neufts; I'le giue you instructions: I'le bee your intelligencer, we'll all ioyne, and hang vpon him like so many horse-leaches, the plaiers and all. We shall sup together, soone; and then wee'll conspire, i' faith. O, that HORACE had staied still, here. So would not I: for both these would haue turn'd Pythagoreans, then. What, mute? I, as fishes i'faith: come, ladies, shall we goe? We await you, sir. But mistris CHLOE askes, if you haue not a god to spare, for this gentleman. Who, Captaine TVCCA? I; hee. Yes, if we can inuite him along, he shall be MARS. Ha's MARS any thing to doe with VENVS? O, most of all, ladie. Nay, then, I pray let him bee inuited: and what shall CRISPINVS be? MERCVRY, mistris CHLOE. MERCVRY? that's a Poet? is't? No, ladie; but somewhat inclining that way: hee is a Herald at armes. A Herald at armes? good: and MERCVRY? pretty: hee ha's to doe with VENVS, too? A little, with her face, ladie; or so.