Satiromastix, or The Untrussing of the Humorous Poet · chunk 42 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) T9 Theatre talk: prologues, poets and playe typicality 0.71 · 511 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T9: play, stage, poet, prologue, author, wit, plays, muse, scene, players.
Nay your oh's, nor your Callin-oes cannot serve your turn; your tongue you know is full of blisters with railing, your face full of pockey-holes and pimples, with your fiery inventions: and therefore to preserve your head from aching, this Biggin is yours,— nay by Sesu you shall be a Poet, though not Laurefied, yet nettlefied, so: Sirrah stinker, thou'rt but untrussed now, I owe thee a whipping still, and I'll pay it: I have laid rods in Piss and Vinegar for thee: It shall not be the Whipping a'th' Satire, nor the Whipping of the blind-bear, but of a counterfeit juggler, that steals the name of Horace. How? counterfeit? does he usurp that name? Yes indeed an't please your Grace, he does sup up that abominable name. He does O King Cambises, he does: thou hast no part of Horace in thee but's name, and his damnable vices: thou hast such a terrible mouth, that thy beard's afraid to peep out; but, look here you staring Leviathan, here's the sweet visage of Horace; look parboiled-face, look; Horace had a trim longbeard, and a reasonable good face for a Poet, (as faces go nowadays) Horace did not screw and wriggle himself into great Men's familiarity, (impudently) as thou doest: nor wear the Badge of gentlemen's company, as thou dost thy Taffety sleeves tacked too only with some points of profit: No, Horace had not his face punched full of Oylet-holes, like the cover of a warming-pan: Horace loved Poets well, and gave Coxcombs to none but fools; but thou lov'st none, neither Wisemen nor fools, but thyself: Horace was a goodly Corpulent Gentleman, and not so lean a hollow-cheeked Scrag as thou art: No, here's thee Copy of thy countenance, by this will I learn to make a number of villainous faces more, and to look scurvily upo'th' world, as thou dost. Sir Vaughan will you minister their oath? Master Afinius Bubo, you shall swear as little as you can, one oath shall dam up your Innocent mouth. Any oath Sir, I'll swear any thing. You shall swear by Phoebus (who is your poet's good Lord and Master,) that hereafter you will not hire Horace, to give you poesies for rings, or handkerchers, or knives which you understand not, nor to write your love-letters; which you (in turning of a hand) set your marks upon, as your own: nor you shall not carry Latin Poets about you, till you can write and read English at most; and lastly that you shall not call Horace your Ningle. By Phoebus I swear all this, and as many oaths as you will, so I may trudge. Trudge then, pay your legs for Fees, and be discharge. Tprooth— run Redcap, ware horns there. Now Master Horace, you must be a more horrible swearer, for your oath must be (like your wits) of many colours; and like a broker's book of many parcels. Read, read; th'inventory of his oath. I'll swear till my hair stands upon end, to be rid of this sting, oh this sting.
seed 43: T16 · seed 44: T15 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Nay your oohs, nor your Callin-es cannot serue your turne; your tongue you know is full of blisters with rayling, your face full of pockey-holes and pimples, with your fierie inuentions: and therefore to preserue your head from aking, this Biggin is yours,—nay by Sesu you shall bee a Poet, though not Lawrefyed, yet Nettlefyed, so: Sirra stincker, thou'rt but vntruss'd now, I owe thee a whipping still, and Ile pay it: I haue layde roddes in Pisse and Vineger for thee: It shall not bee the Whipping Satyre, nor the Whipping of the blinde-Beare, bnt of a counterfeit lugler, that steales the name of Horace. How? counterfeit? does hee vsurpe that name? Yes indeede ant please your Grace, he does sup vp that abhominable name. Hee does O King Cambises, hee does: thou hast no part of Horace in thee but's name, and his damnable vices: thou hast such a terrible mouth, that thy beard's afraide to peepe out; but, looke heere you staring Leuiathan, heere's the sweete visage of Horace; looke perboylde-face, looke; Horace had a trim long-beard, and a reasonable good face for a Poet, (as faces goe now-a-dayes) Horace did not skrue and wriggle himselfe into great Mens famyliarity, (impudentlie) as thou dost: nor weare the Badge of Gentlemens company, as thou doost thy Taffetie sleeues tackt too onely with some pointes of profit: No, Horace had not his face puncht full of Oylet-holes, like the couer of a warming-pan: Horace lou'd Poets well, and gaue Coxcombes to none but fooles; but thou lou'st none, neither Wisemen nor fooles, but thy selfe: Horace was a goodly Corpulent Gentleman, and not so leane a hollow-cheekt Scrag as thou art: No, heere's thee Coppy of thy countenance, by this will I learne to make a number of villanous faces more, and to looke scuruily vpon'th world, as thou dost. Sir Vaughan will you minister their oath? Master Afinius Bubo, you shall sweare as little as you can, one oath shall damme vp your Innocent mouth. Any oath Sir, Ile sweare any thing. You shall sweare by Phoebus (who is your Poets good Lord and Master,) that heere-after you will not hyre Horace, to giue you poesies for rings, or hand-kerchers, or kniues which you vnderstand not, nor to write your Loueletters; which you (in turning of a hand) set your markes vpon, as your owne: nor you shall not carry Lattin Poets about you, till you can write and read English at most; and lastlye that you shall not call Horace your Ningle. By Phoebus I sweare all this, and as many oathes as you will, so I may trudge. Trudge then, pay your legs for Fees, and bee dissarg'd. Tprooth—runne Red-cap, ware hornes there. Now Master Horace, you must be a more horrible swearer, for your oath must be (like your wittes) of many collours; and like a Brokers booke of many parcels. Read, read; th'inuentory of his oath. Ile sweare till my haire stands vpan end, to bee rid of this sting, oh this sting.