Satiromastix, or The Untrussing of the Humorous Poet · chunk 34 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) T19 Virtue, Fortune and Vice as abstractions typicality 0.70 · 499 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T19: virtue, fortune, virtues, honour, fame, vice, envy, world, pride, great.
What could I do, out of a just revenge, But bring them to the Stage? they envy me because I hold more worthy company. Good Horace, no; my cheeks do blush for thine, As often as thou speakst so, where one true And nobly-virtuous spirit; for thy best part Loves thee, I wish one ten, even from my heart. I make account I put up as deep share In any good man's love which thy worth earns, As thou thyself; we envy not to see, Thy friends with bays to crown thy Poesy. No, here the gall lies, we that know what stuff Thy very heart is made of; know the stalk On which thy learning grows, and can give life To thy (once dying) baseness; yet must we Dance Antics on your Paper. anius. This makes us angry, but not envious, No, were thy warped soul, put in a new mould, I'd wear thee as a jewel set in gold. And jewels Master Horace, must be hanged you know. Good Pagans, well said, they have sowed up that broken seam-rent lie of thine, that Demetrius is out at Elbows, and Crispinus is fallen out with Satin here, they have; but bloat-herring dost hear? Yes honoured Captain, I have ears at will. Is't not better be out at Elbows, than to be a bondslave, and to go all in Parchment as thou dost? Parchment Captain? 'tis Perpetuana I assure you. My Perpetual pantaloon true, but 'tis waxed over; thouart made out of Wax; thou must answer for this one day; thy Muse is a haggler, and wears clothes upon best-be-trust: thouart great in somebody's books for this, thou know'st where; thou wouldst be out at Elbows, and out at heels too, but that thou layest about thee with a Bill for this, a Bill— I confess Captain, I followed this suit hard. I know thou didst, and therefore whilst we have Hiren here, speak my little dish-washers, a verdict piss-kitchens. Blanket. Hold I pray, hold, by Sesu I have put upon my head, a fine device, to make you laugh, 'tis not your fools Cap Master Horace, which you covered your Poetasters in, but a fine trick, ha, ha is jumbling in my brain. I'll beat out thy brains, my whoreson handsome dwarf, but i'll have it out of thee. What is it good Sir Vaughan? To conclude, 'tis after this manners, because Ma. Horace is ambition, and does conspire to be more high and tall, as God a mighty made him, we'll carry his terrible, person to Court, and there before his majesty Dub, or what you call it, dip his Muse in some liquor, and christian him, or die him, into colours of a Poet. Excellent. Super Superexcellent Revellers go, proceed you Masters of Art in kissing these wenches, and in dances, bring you the quivering Bride to Court, in a Mask, come Grumboll, thou shalt Mum with us; come, dog me skneakesbill. O thou my Muse!
seed 43: T13 · seed 44: T16 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
What could I doe, out of a iust reuenge, But bring them to the Stage? they enuy me because I holde more worthy company. Good Horace, no; my cheekes doe blush for thine, As often as thou speakst so, where one true And nobly-vertuous spirit; for thy best part Loues thee, I wish one ten, euen from my heart. I make account I put vp as deepe share In any good mans loue which thy worth earnes, As thou thy selfe; we enuy not to see, Thy friends with Bayes to crowne thy Poesie. No, heere the gall lyes, we that know what stuff Thy verie heart is mde of; know the stake On which thy learning growes, and can giue lie To thy (once dying) basenes; yet must we Dance Antickes on your Paper. anius. This makes vs angry, but not enuious, No, were thy warpt soule, put in a new molde, Ide weare thee as a Iewell set in golde. And Iewels Master Horace, must be hang'd you know. Good Pagans, well said, they haue sowed vp that broken seame-rent lye of thine, that Demetrius is out at Elbowes, and Cripinus is falne out with Sattin heere, they haue; but boate-herring dost heare? Yes honour'd Captaine, I haue eares at will. Ist not better be out at Elbowes, then to bee a bondslaue, and to goe all in Parchment as thou dost? Parchment Captaine? tis Pepetuana I assure you. My Perpetuall pantaloone tue, but tis waxt ouer; th'art made out of Wax; thou must answere for this one day; thy Muse is a gler, and weares cloathes vpon best-be-trust: th'art great in some bodies books for this▪ thou knowst where; thou wouldst bee out at Elbowes, and out at heeles too, but that thou layst about thee with a Bill for this, a Bill— I confesse Capten, I followed this suite hard. I know thou dd, and therefore whilst we haue Hiren heere, speake my little dish-washers, a verdit Pissekitchins. Blancket. Holde I pray, holde, by Seu I haue put vpon my heade, a fie deuice, to make you laugh, tis not your fooles Cap Master Horace, which you couer'd your Poetasters in, but a fine tricke, ha, ha▪ is iumbling in my braine. Ile beate out thy braines, my whorson hansome dwarfe, but ile haue it out of thee. What is it good Sir Vaughan? To conclude, tis after this manners, because Ma. Horace is ambition, and does conspire to bee more hye and tall▪ as God a mighe made him, wee'll cary his terrible, person to Court, and there before his Masestie Dub, or what you call it, dip his Muse in some licour, and christen him, or dye him, into collours of a Poet. Exceilent. Super Super-excellent Reuellers goe, proceede you Masters of Arte in kissing these wenches, and in daunces, bring you the quiuering Bride to Court, in a Maske, come Gumboll, thou shalt Mum with vs; come, dogge mee skneakesbill. O thou my Muse!