Satiromastix, or The Untrussing of the Humorous Poet · chunk 15 of 44
Dekker, Thomas · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men and Children of Paul's (second) unassigned nearest T13 Knights, squires and ladies · 503 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T13: knight, raph, lady, knights, george, master, squire, rafe, pray, god.
To Court. I know I took a woman to my wife, And I know women to be earthly Moons, That never shine till night, I know they change Their Orbs (their husbands) and in sickish hearts, Steal to their sweet Endimions, to be cured With better Physic, sweeter diet drinks, Then home can minister: all this I know Yet know not all, but give me leave O King, To boast of mine, and say that I know none; I have a woman but not such a one. Why, she's confirmed in thee; I now approve her, If constant in thy thoughts who then can move her? willt please your Highness take your place within, The Ladies attend the Table. I go good Knight; What thy oath. My Lord, My oath's my honour, my honour is my life, My oath is constant, so I hope my wife. If you fly out Ningle, here's your Cloak; I think it rains too. Hide my shoulders in't. Troth so thouadst need, for now thou art in thy P and cue; thou hast such a villainous broad back, that I warrant thouart able to bear away any man's jets in England. It's well Sir, I ha' strength to bear yours methinks; fore God you are grown a piece of a Critist, since you fell into my hands: ah little rogue, your wit has picked up her crumbs pretty and well. Yes faith, I find my wit a the mending hand Ningle; troth I do not think but to proceed Poetaster next Commencement, if I have my grace perfectly: every one that confer with me now, stop their nose in merriment and swear I smell somewhat of Horace; one calls me Horace's Ape, another Horace's Beagle, and such Poetical names it passes. I was but at barber's last day, and when he was rencing my face, did but cry out, fellow thou mak'st me connive too long, & says he says hyee, Master Asinius Bubo, you have e'en Horace's words as right as if he had spit them into your mouth. Well, away dear Asinius, deliver this letter to the young Gallant Druso, he that fell so strongly in love with me yesternight. It's a sweet musk-cod, a pure spiced-gull, by this feather I pity his Ingenuities; but hast writ all this since Ningle? I know thou hast a good running head and thou listest. Foh come, your great bellied wit must long for every thing too; why you Rook, I have a set of letters ready starched to my hands, which to any fresh suited gallant that but newly enters his name into my roll, I send the next morning, ere his ten o'clock dream has rise from him, only with clapping my hand to't, that my Novice shall start, ho and his hair stand an end, when he sees the sudden flash of my writing; what you pretty Diminutive rogue, we must have false fierce to amaze these spangle babies, these true heirs of Ma. Justice Shallow.
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)
To Court. I know I tooke a woman to my wife, And I know women to be earthly Moones, That neuer shine till night, I know they change Their Orbes (their husbands) and in sickish hearts, Steale to their sweete Endimions, to be cur'd With better Phisicke, sweeter dyet drinkes, Then home can minister: all this I know Yet know not all, but giue me leaue O King, To boast of mine, and saie that I know none; I haue a woman but not such a one. Why, she's confirmed in thee; I now approoue her, If constant in thy thoughts who then can mooue her? Wilt please your Highnes take your place within, The Ladies attend the Table. I goe good Knight; Wat thy oath. My Lord, My oath's my honour, my honour is my life, My oath is constant, so I hope my wife. If you flye out Ningle, heer's your Cloake; I thinke it raine too. Hide my shoulders in't. Troth so th'adst neede, for now thou art in thy Pee and Kue; thou hast such a villanous broad backe, that I warrant th'art able to beare away any mans iees in England. It's well Sir, I ha strength to beare yours mee thinkes; fore God you are growne a piece of a Critist, since you fell into my hands: ah little roague, your wit has pickt vp her crum prettie and well. Yes faith, I finde my wit a the mending hand Ningle; troth I doe not thinke but to proceede Poetaster next Commencement, if I haue my grace perfectlie: euerie one that confer with me now, stop their nose in merriment and sweare I smell somewhat of Horace; one calles me Horaces Ape, another Horaces Beagle, and such Poeticall names it passes. I was but at Barbers last day, and when he was rencing my face, did but crie out▪ fellow thou makst me too long, & sayes he sayes hyee, Master Asinius Bub, you haue eene Horaces wordes as right as if he had spit them into your mouth. VVell, away deare Asinius, deliuer this letter to the young Gallant Drus, he that fell so strongly in loue with mee yesternight. It's a sweete Muske-cod, a pure spicd-gull, by this feather I pittie his Ingenuities; but hast writ all this since Ningle? I know thou hast a good running head and thou listest. Foh come, your great belly'd wit mu long for euery thing too; why you Roke, I haue a set of letters readie starcht to my hands, which to any fresh suited gallant that but newlie enters his name into my rowle, I send the next morning, ere his ten a clocke dreame has rize from him, onelie with claping my hand to't, that my Nouice shall start, ho and his haire stand an end, when hee sees the sodaine flash of my writing; what you prettie Diminitiue roague, we must haue false fiers to amaze these spangle babies, these true heires of Ma Iusice Shallow.