Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T9: play, stage, poet, prologue, author, wit, plays, muse, scene, players.
WHat hoe, where are these paltry Players? still poring in their papers and never perfect? for shame come forth, your Audience stay so long, their eyes wax dim with expectation. How now my honest Rogue; what play shall we have here tonight? Sir you may look upon the Title. What, Spectrum once again? Why noble Cerberus, nothing but patch-panel stuff, old gallimaufreys and cotton-candle eloquence? out you bawling bandog fox-furred slave: you dried stockfish you, out of my sight. Well 'tis no matter: I'll set me down and see't, and for fault of a better, I'll supply the plate of a scurvy Prologue. Spectrum is a looking glass indeed, Wherein a man a History may read, Of base conceits and damned roguery: The very sink of hell-bred villainy. Why how now humorous George? what as necholy as a mantletree? Will you see any tricks of legerdemain, slight of hand, cleanly conveyance, or deceptio visus? what will you see Gentleman to drive you out of these dumps? Out you soused gurnet, you Woolfist, be gone I say and bid the Players dispatch and come away quickly, and tell their fiery Poet that before I have done with him; I'll make him do penance upon a stage in a calves skin. O Lord sir ye are deceived in me, I am no tile-carrier, I am a juggler. I have the superficial skill of all the seven liberal sciences at my singer's end. I'll show you a trick of the twelves, and turn him over the thumbs with a trice. I'll make him fly swifter than meditation. I'll show you as many toys as there be minutes in a month, and as many tricks as there be motes in the sun. Prithee what tricks canst thou do? Marry sir I will show you a trick of cleanly conveyance. Hei fortuna furim nunquam credo, With a cast of clean conveyance, come aloft Iack for thy master's advantage (he's gone I warrant ye.) Mass an 'tis well done, now I see thou canst do something, hold thee there's twelve pence for thy labour. Go to that barm-froth Poet and to him say, He quite has lost the Title of his play, His calf skin jests from hence are clean exiled, Thus once you see that Wily is beguiled. Now kind Spectators, I dare boldly say, You all are welcome to our Authors play: Be still a while, and ere we go, we'll make your eyes with laughter flow. Let Momus mates judge how they list, We fear not what they babble: Nor any paltry poet's pen, Amongst that rascal rabble. But time forbids me further speech, My tongue must stop her race: My time is come, I must be dumb, And give the actor's place.
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)
VVHat hoe, where are theſe paltrie Plaiers? ſtil poaring in their papers and neuer perfect? for ſhame come forth, your Audience ſtay ſo long, their eies waxe dim with expectation. How now my honeſt Rogue; what play ſhall wee haue here to night? Sir you may looke vpon the Title. What, Spectrum once again? Why noble Cerberus, nothing but patch-pannell ſtuffe, olde gally-mawfreies and cotten-candle eloquence? out you bawling bandogge foxfrd ſlaue: you dried ſtockefiſh you, out of my ſight. Well tis no matter: Ile ſet mee downe and ſee't, and for fault of a better, Ile ſupply the plate of a ſcuruy Prologue. Spectrum is a looking glaſſe indeede, Wherein a man a Hiſtory may read, Of baſe conceits and damned roguerie: The very ſinke of hell-bred villeny. Why how now humorous George? what as necholy as a mantletree? Will you ſee any trickes of Leigerdemaine, ſlight of had, clenly conuayance, or deceptio viſus? what will you ſee Gentleman to driue you out of theſe dumps? Out you ſouſt gurnet, you Woolfiſt, be gon I ſay and bid the Players diſpatch and come away quickly, and tell their fiery Poet that before I haue done with him; Ile make him do penance vpon a ſtage in a Calues skin. O Lord ſir ye are deceiued in me, I am no t ecarrier, I am a Iuggler. I haue the ſuperficiall skill of all the ſeuen liberall ſciences at my ſingers end. Ile ſhew you a tricke of the twelues, and turne him ouer he thumbes with a trice. Ile make him fly ſwifter then meditation. Ile ſhew you as many toies as there be minutes in a moneth, and as many trickes as there be motes in the ſunne. Prithee what trickes canſt thou doe? Marry ſir I wil ſhew you a trick of cleanly conueiance. Hei fortuna furim nunquam credo, With a caſt of cleane conueyance, come aloft Iack for thy maſters aduantage (hees gone I warrant ye.) Mas an tis well done, now I ſee thou canſt de ſomething, holde thee thers twelue pence for thy labour▪ Goe to that barme-froth Poet and to him ſay, He quite has loſt the Title of his play, His Calue skin ieſts from hence are cleane exil'd, Thus once you ſee that Wily is beguil'd. Now kind Spectators, I dare boldly ſay, You all are welcome to our Authors play: Be ſtill a while, and ere we goe, Weele make your eies with laughter flowe. Let Momus mates iudge how they liſt, We feare not what they babble: Nor any paltry Poets pen, Amongſt that raſcall rabble. But time forbids me further ſpeech, My tongue muſt ſtop hir race: My time is come, I muſt be dumbe, And giue the Actors place.