Lingua, or The Combat of the Tongue and the Five Senses for Superiority · chunk 5 of 51
Tomkis, Thomas · published 1607 · first performed or written 1607 [1602-1607] (Annals) comedy; allegory unassigned nearest T56 Magic, spells and conjuring · 500 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T56: magic, faustus, charms, charm, conjure, spirits, skill, ho, power, spells.
Set up a Si quis for it. Mercury all's mine own, here's none to cry halves mine. When I am gone, Tactus' thy sneezing somewhat did pottend, Was ever man so fortunate as I? To break his shins at such a stumbling Block, Roses and bay pack hence: this Crown and rob, My Brows and Body circles and invests. How gallantly it fits me, sure the slave, Measured my head that wrought this Coronet. They lie that say Complexions cannot change: My blood's 〈◊〉, and I am transformed, Unto the sacred temper of a King, Me think I here my noble Parasites Styling me Caesar, or great Alexander, Licking my feet and wondering where I got This precious ointment; how my pace is mended, How princely do I speak, how sharp I threaten: Peasants I'll curb your head strong impudence: And make you tremble when the Lion roots, Yea earthbred worms. O for a looking glass: Poets will write whole volumes of this scar, Where's my attendants? Come hither Sirrah quickly. Or by the wings of Hermes.— Ay me Olfactus comes, I called too soon, he'll have half part I fear what shall I do! Where shall I run? how shall I shift him of! This is the time & this the place appointed, Where Visiu promised to confer with me, I think he's there— No, no, 'tis Tactus sure. How now? What makes you sit so nicely? It's past imagination, it's so indeed. How fast his deeds are fixed and how melancholy he looks. Tactus, Tactus. For this is true, Man's life is wondrous brittle. He's mad I think he talks so Idly, so ho, Tactus. And many have been metamorphosed, To stranger matters and more uncouth fonnes, I must go nearer him he doth not hear. And yet me thinks, I speak as I was wont And— Tactus, Tactus. Olfactus as thou lovest come not near me, Why art thou hatching eggs thouart feared to break them Touch me not lest thou chance to break my life. What's this under thee? If thou meddle with me I am utterly undone, Why man what ails thee? Let me alone and I'll tell thee, Lately I came from fine Fantastes' house. So I believe for thou'rt very foolish. No sooner had I parted out of doors, But up I held my hands before my face: To shield mine eyes from th' lights piercing beams, When I protest I saw the Sun as clear, Through these my palms as through a prospective▪ No marvel, for when I beheld my fingers: I saw my fingers near transformed to glass, Opening my breast, my Breast was like a window, Through which I plainly did perceive my heart: In whose two Concaves I discerned my thoughts, Confusedly lodged in great multitudes. Ha, ha, ha, ha, why this is excellent, Momus himself can find no fault with thee Thou'st make a passing live▪ Anatomic. And decide the Question much disputed: Betwixt the Galenists and Aristotle.
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)
Set vp a Si quis for it. Mercury alls mine owne, heres none to cry halfes mine. When I am gone, Tactus thy sneezing somewhat did pottend, VVas euer man so fortunate as I? To breake his shinnes at such a stumbling Block, Roses and Baies packe hence: this Crowne and Robe, My Browes and Bodie circles and inuests. How gallantly it fitts me, sure the slaue, Measurd my head that wrought this Coronet. They lie that say Complections cannot change: My Bloud's , and I am transform'd, Vnto the sacred temper of a King, Me thinke I here my noble Parasites Stiling me Caesar, or great Alexander, Licking my feete and wondring where I got This pretious oyntment; how my pace is mended, How princely do I speake, how sharpe I threaten: Peasants Ile curbe your head strong impudence: And make you tremble when the Lyon roates, Yea earth-bred womes. O for a looking glasse: Poets will wite whole volumes of this scarre, VVhere's my attendants? Come hither Sirra quickly. Or by the wings of Heres.— Ay me Olfactus comes, I cald too soone, Heele haue halfe part I feare what shall I do! Where shall I run? how shall I shift him of! This is the time & this the place appointed, Where Visiu promis'd to conferre with me, I thinke hee's there—No, no, tis Tactus sure. How now? What makes you sit so nicely? Its past immagination, its so indeed. How fast his deeds are fixed and how melancholly he lookes. Tactus, Tactus. For this is true, Mans life is wondrous brittle. He's mad I thinke he talkes so Idely, so ho, Tactus. And many haue beene metamorphosed, To stranger matters and more vncoth fonnes, I must go neerer him he doth not heare. And yet me thinks, I speake as I was wont And— Tactus, Tactus. Olfactus as thou louest come not neere me, Why art thou hatching eggs th'art feard to breake them Touch me not least thou chance to breake my life. Whats this vnder thee? If thou meddle with mee I am vtterly vndone, Why man what ayles thee? Let me alone and Ile tell thee, Lately I came from fine Fantastes house. So I beeeue for thar't very foolish. No sooner had I parted out of doores, But vp I held my hands before my face: To sheild mine eyes from th' lights percing beames, When I protest I saw the Sunne as cleere, Through these my palmes as through a prospectiue▪ No marueile, for when I beheld my fingers: I sawe my fingers neere transform'd to glasse, Opening my breast, my Breast was like a windowe, Through which I plainely did perceiue my heart: In whose two Concaues I discernd my thoughts, Confusdly lodged in great multitudes. Ha, ha, ha, ha, why this is excellent, Momus himselfe can find no fault with thee Thou'st make a passing liue▪ Anatom. And decide the Question much disputed: Betwixt the Galenists and Aristotle.