Day, John · published 1633 · first performed or written 1606 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T9 Theatre talk: prologues, poets and playe · 504 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T9: play, stage, poet, prologue, author, wit, plays, muse, scene, players.
Hide your heads, the terrible curse comes like a stone upon you. Rancour, spite, malice, hate, and all disasters, Strengthen my faith against all poetastors. May their intents though pure as crystal glasses, Be counted salt and capital Trespasses, O may their lines and laboured industry, Though worthy of Apollo's plaudite, The clearest thought in loyalty excelling, Be by some Dor presented for libelling; When they have writ a Scene, in which their brains Have dropped their dearest sweets, and their swollen veins Emptied the Conduit of their purest spirit, As they stand gaping to receive their merit, In stead of Plaudities, their chiefest blisses, Let their deserts be crowned with mews and hisses: Behind each post, and at the Gallery corners, Sat empty gulls, slight fools, and false Informers; Let some sly Fox out of discretion's embers, Term them the Lands unnecessary members; And like the Deer, when they have spent their breath To make King's sport, let them be torn to death, Even by their friends; 'twould set my thoughts a twanging, Might I but ●e one of them go to hanging. A passing strange curse, and no question he has traveled far for some of the times. He must travel further that finds any reason in't. No matter for reason, there's rhyme enough if that be good. Some of it is no better than it should be, or my judgement deceives me. Sure he had some reason to make this rhyme, and a man could pick it out. Rather than I'll be counted inquisitive, mine ears shall content themselves with the rhymes only, and leave the reason to the scanning of Poets, whom it more nearly concerns. But where's the wag that invited us to this banquet of mirth, shrunk in the wetting? I were a rare jest now, if whilst the Boy keeps us here in expectation of Dametas gullery, his Master has made an escape with the Duke's daughters. That, or some knavery else upon my life: I had the boy in shrewd suspicion at the first. And this his sudden and stolen departure confirms it currant. Then we are sped, for in suspicions face I see some subtle stratagem in chase. Will your Ladyship believe me now? nay and I say't your worship may swear't, though I have but a (poor as to say) hole of mine own, I hope the spirits have more denomination over me, then to make it a common Slaughter-house of carnality, where every Iacke may command flesh for his money. No more words sweet woman, I confess I was in the wrong, this is not the hole the Fox hides his head in, and therefore for the love of womanhood conceal mine errors; for howsoever I complained, 'tis thy forehead aches, thy temples have the terrible blow as they say, thy husband is a bad man. My husband? ay, I, good woman, thy husband; he is, as I say, a fleshly member, and I fear he has overcome the foolish thing my daughter.
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)
Hide your heads, the terrible curſe comes like a ſtone upon you. Rancor, ſpite, malice, hate, and all diſaſters, Strengthen my faith againſt all poetaſtors. May their intents though pure as chriſtall glaſſes, Be counted falte and capitall Treſpaſſes, O may their lines and labour'd induſtrie, Though worthy of Apollo's plaudite, The cleereſt thought in loyalty excelling, Be by ſome Dor preſented for libelling; When they have writ a Scene, in which their braines Have dropp'd their deereſt ſweets, and their ſwolne veines Emptied the Conduit of their pureſt ſpirit, As they ſtand gaping to receive their merit, In ſtead of Plaudities, their chiefeſt bliſſes, Let their deſerts be crown'd with mewes and hiſſes: Behind each poſt, and at the Gallery corners, Sit empty gulls, ſlight fooles, and falſe Informers; Let ſome ſlye Foxe out of diſcretions embers, Terme them the Lands unneceſſary members; And like the Deere, when they have ſpent their breath To make Kings ſport, let them be torne to death, Even by their friends; 'twould ſet my thoughts a twanging, Might I but e one of them goe to hanging. A paſſing ſtrange curſe, and no queſtion he has travelled farre for ſome of the times. He muſt travell further that findes any reaſon in't. No matter for reaſon, there's rime enough if that be good. Some of it is no better then it ſhould bee, or my judgement deceives me. Sure hee had ſome reaſon to make this rime, and a man could picke it out. Rather then Ile bee counted inquiſitive, mine eares ſhall content themſelves with the rimes only, and leave the reaſon to the ſcanning of Poets, whom it more neerely concernes. But where's the wag that invited us to this banquet of mirth, ſhrunke in the wetting? I were a rare jeſt now, if whil'ſt the Boy keeps us here in expectation of Dametas gullery, his Maſter has made an eſcape with the Dukes daughters. That, or ſome knavery elſe upon my life: I had the boy in ſhrewd ſuſpicion at the firſt. And this his ſudden and ſtoln departure confirms it currant. Then we are ſped, for in ſuſpitions face I ſee ſome ſubtle ſtratagem in chace. Will your Ladiſhip beleeve me now? nay and I ſay't your worſhip may ſwear't, though I have but a (poore as to ſay) hole of mine owne, I hope the ſpirits have more denomination over mee, then to make it a common Slaughter-houſe of carnallity, where every Iacke may command fleſh for his money. No more wordes ſweete woman, I confeſſe I was in the wrong, this is not the hole the Foxe hides his head in, and therfore for the love of woman-hood conceale mine errours; for howſoever I complain'd, tis thy forehead akes, thy temples have the terrible blow as they ſay, thy husband is a bad man. My husband? I, I, good woman, thy husband; hee is, as I ſay, a fleſhly member, and I feare he has overcome the fooliſh thing my daughter.