Lingua, or The Combat of the Tongue and the Five Senses for Superiority · chunk 41 of 51
Tomkis, Thomas · published 1607 · first performed or written 1607 [1602-1607] (Annals) comedy; allegory unassigned nearest T44 Drinking: wine, ale and taverns · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T44: drink, wine, numps, ale, butler, pot, sing, moy, drunk, win.
Nay stay no longer lest they have supped before thou come. Mendacio, how shall I requite thy infinite 〈◊〉. Nay pray thee leave, go catch occasion by the foretop, but hearst thou? as soon as it is presented, round my Lady Lingua in the ear, and tell her of it. I will, I will, I will, Adieu, adieu, adieu, Why this is better than I could have wished it, Fortune I think is fallen in love with me, Answering so right mine expectation. By this time Appetite is at the Table. And with a lowly Cringe presents the Wine, To his old Master Gustus, now he takes it, Aud drinkes perchance to Lingua, she craftily Kisles the Cup, but le's not down a drop, And gives it to the rest; 'tis sweet, they'll swallow it, But when 'tis once descended to the stomach, And sends up noisome vapours to the brain, 'twill make them swagger gallantly, the●●e rage Most strangely, or 〈◊〉 Art deceives her, When if my Lady stir her nimble tongue, And closely sow contentious words amongst them, O what a stabbing there will be? what bleeding? What art thou there Mendacio? pretty rascal, Come let me kiss thee for thy good deserts. Madam dost take? have they all tasted it? All, all, and all are well nigh mad already: Oh how they stare, and swear, and fume, and brawl, Wrath gives them weapons; Pots and Candlesticks, Joined stools and Trenchers fly about the room, Like to the bloody banquet of the C●utaure●, But all the sport is to see what several thoughts The potions works in their Imaginations. For Visus thinks himself; a ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. So-hoe Mendatio! so-hoe, so-hoe! Madam I doubt they come, yonder is Appetitus, you had best begun, least in their outrage they should injure you. How now Hunger? how dost thou my fine maypole, ha? I may well be called a maypole: for the Senses do nothing but dance a morris about me. Why? what ails them? are they not (as I promised thee) friends with thee. Friends with me? nay rather frenzy: I never knew them in such a case, in all my life. Sure they drank too much, and are mad for love of thee. They want common Sense amongst them: there's such a Auditus is stark deaf, and wonders why Men speak so softly that he cannot hear them: Visiu hath drunk himself ●●a●ke blind, and therefore imagineth himself to be Polyphemus: Tactus is raging mad, and cannot be otherwise persuaded, but he is Hercules furens; there's such conceits amongst them. O that I could but find the villain Outis, Outis the villain, that thus blinded me. Who is this? Visus? ay, I, I, otherwise called Polyphemus. By heavens bright Sun, the days most glorious eye, That lighteneth all the world but Polypheme, And by mine eye that once was answerable Unto that Sun, but now's extinguished. He can see to swear me thinks?
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)
Nay staie no longer least they heue supp't before thou come. Mndacio, howe shall I requite thy infinite . Nay praie thee leaue, go catch occasion by the etop, but hearst thou? as soone as it is presented, round my Lady Lingua in the eare, and tell her of it. I will, I will, I will, Adue, adue, adue, Why this is better then I could haue wisht it, Fortune I thinke is falne in loue with me, Answering so right mine expectation. By this time Appetite is at the Table. And with a lowly Cringe presents the Wine, To his olde Maister Gustus, now he takes it, Aud drinkes perchance to Lingua, she craftily Kisles the Cup, but lets not downe a drop, And giues it to the rest; 'tis sweet, theile swallow it, But when 'tis once descended to the stomack, And sends vp noisome vapours to the braine, Twill make them swagger gallantly, thee rage Most strangely, or Art deceiues her, When if my Lady stirre her nimble tongue, And closely sowe contentious words amongst them, O what a stabbing there will be? what bleeding? What art thou there Mndacio? prettie rascall, Come let me kisse thee for thy good deserts. Madame do'st take? haue they all tasted it? All, all, and all are well nigh mad already: Oh how they stare, and sweare, and fume, and brawle, Wath giues them weapons; Pots and Candle-sticks, Ioin'd stooles and Trenchers flie about the roome, Like to the bloudie banquet of the Cutaure, But all the sport is to see what seuerall thoughts The potions works in their Imaginations. For Visus thinkes himselfe; a ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. So-hoe Mendatio! so-hoe, so-hoe! Madame I doubt they come, yonder is Appetitus, you had best begon, least in their outrage they should iniure you. How now Hunger? how do'st thou my fine may-pole, ha? I may well be calld a may-pole: for the Senses do nothing but dance a morice about mee. Why? what ayles them? are they not (as I promised thee) friends with thee. Friends with mee? nay rather frenzy: I neuer knewe them in such a case, in all my life. Sure they dranke too much, and are mad for loue of thee. They want common Sense among'st them: there's such a hurly burly Auditus is starke deafe, and wonders why Men speake so sotly that he cannot here them: Visiu hath drunke himsele ake blind, and therefore imagineth himsele to bee Polyphemu: Tactus is raging mad, and cannot bee otherwise perswaded, but hee is Hercules furens; there's such conceits amongst them. O that I could but finde the villaine Outis, Outis the vllaine, that thus blinded mee. Who is this? Visus? I, I, I, otherwise called Polyphemus. By heauens bright Sunne, the dayes most glorious eye, That lightneth all the world but Polypheme, And by myne eye that once was answerable Vnto that Sunne, but now's extinguished. He can see to sweare mee thinkes?