The Devil's Charter, or Pope Alexander the Sixth · chunk 21 of 45
Barnes, Barnabe · published 1607 · first performed or written 1606 (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · before the Court unassigned nearest T56 Magic, spells and conjuring · 476 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T56: magic, faustus, charms, charm, conjure, spirits, skill, ho, power, spells.
what Mandragon or salvage Ascapart, what Pantaconger or Pantagruell Art thou that fightest with thy father's soul Or with some subtle apparitions. Which no man can behold with mortal eyes Or art thou ravished with bedlamy Fighting with figments and vain fantasies chimeras or black spirits of the night. Come not within 9. furlongs of this place. My name is Rubosongal the grim ghost Of Bembocamber king of Calicute. And here for this night I keep sentinel For Muscopateron great king of flies; Great grandsire of ten thousand hecatombs. I Conjure thee foul fiend of Acheron By puissant Hoblecock and Bristletoe, By Windicaper Monti-bogglebo. Polipotmos and the dreadful names of Mulli-sack and Hermocotterock. By Petrovidemi, by the dogged spirits Of Bacchus which Canary land inherits. By purple Aligant the bloody giant. And leaden headed hollock pure and pliant. By Birrha Martia and by Sydrack sweet Who did with mathew Glynne in combat meet. And by this awful cross upon my blade Of which black curs and hedgehogs are afraid. And by this fox which stinks of Pagan blood, Dost thou walk there for mischief or for good. Brave man whose spirit is approved well, (As most approved panders truly tell) Under green hedges, under cobblers stalls, In portal, porches, under battered walls, Which day; by night keeps watchful sentinel To guise the pleasures of fair Claribell Profane arch patriarch of Pancridge steeple, The bauldy beacon of ungodly people. With other master which I might allege To the Grand Captain of Collman-hedge, Marching fould Amazonian trulls in troops Whose lanterns are still lighted in their poops. Some without kerchiefs, others with torn smocks; Certain imboched with piles, and some with poxes. Others with rotten shoes and stockings rent With carrine in each ditch keep parliament. In petticoats all patched and waistcoat torn, And wandering with some rag bless every thorn. Which with their Targets never make retire, From any breach till they their foomen fire. Rebating the stiff points of their keen blades Till all their champions masculine prove lads. To thee saith Frescobaldi case thy steel lest thou the rigor of my fury feel. And yet I love thee for thy martial grace, Thine in all service: shake hands and embrace. A pox upon thy coward fists foul knave, And yet I love thee rogue: ask rogue and have. Come and embrace: 'tis blithe when maltmen meet, And drink till they have lost both head and feet. And drivelling sleep on every stall and bench With every man a knee in his hand and in his Can a pretty wench But Frescobaldi my brave Bodigonero, Varlet of velvet, my moccado villain, Old heart of durance, my stripped canvas shoulders, And my Perpetuana pander tell me; Tell me what humours cataplasmatic, Excited have thy Bacchic fantasies: To draw that triumphant swerlidildido, Upon some spirit of the Buttery,
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)
what Mandragon or saluage Ascapart, what Pantaconger or Pantagruell Art thou that fightest with thy fathers soule Or with some subtill apparitions. Which no man can behould with mortall eyes Or art thou rauished with bedlamy Fighting with figments and vaine fantazies Chimeraes ot blacke spirrits of the night. Come not within 9. furlongs of this place. My name is Rubosongal the grimme ghost Of Bembocamber king of Calicute. And here for this night I keepe centrenell For Muscopateron great king of flyes; Great grandfier of ten thousand hecatombes. I Coniure thee fowle fiende of Acheron By puissant Hoblecock and Bristletoe, By Windicaper Monti-bogglbo. Polipotmos and the dreadfull names of Mulli-sacke and Hermocotterock. By Petrouidemi, by the dogged spirrits Of Bacchus which Canary land inherrits. By purple Aligant the bloudy gyant. And leaden headed hollock pure and pliant. By Brrha Martia and by Sydrack sweete Who did with mathew Glynne in combat meete. And by this awfull crosse vppon my blade Of which black curres and hedghogges are affraid. And by this fox which stinkes of Pagan bloud, Do'st thou walke there for mischiefe or for good. Braue man whose spirit is approued well, (As most aprooued panders truly tell) Vnder geene hedges, vnder Coblers stalles, In portall, porches, vnder batterd walles, Wich day; by night keepes watch-full centinell To guze the pleasures of faire Claribell Profane arch patriark of Pancridge steeple, The bauldy beaken of vngodly people. With oter mater which I might alleadge To the Grand Captaine of Collman-hedge, Marching fowle Amazonian trulls in troupes Whose anthornes are still lighted in their Poupes. Some without kerchiefes, others with torne smockes; Certaine imboch'd with piles, and some with poxes. Others with rotten shooes and stockings rente With carrine in each ditch keepe parliament. In petticotes all patch'd and wast-coate torne, And wandring with some ragge blesse euery thorne. Which with their Targets neuer make retire, From any breach till they their foomen fire. Rebating the stiffe pointes of their keene blades Till al their champions masculine proue lades. To thee saith Frescebadi case thy steele Least thou the rigor of my fuie feele. And yet I loue thee for thy martiall grace, Thine in all seruice: shake hands and embrace. A pox vpon thy coward fistes foule knaue, And yet I loue thee roague: aske roague and haue. Come and embrace: tis blih when malte-men meete, And drinke till they haue lost both head and feete. And driueling sleepe on euery stall and bench With euery man a knee in his hand and in his Can a prettie wench But Frescobaldi my braue Bodigonero, Varlet of veluet, my moccado villaine, Old heart of durance, my stript canuase shoulders, And my Perpetuana pander tell me; Tell me what humors Cataplasmatick, Excited haue thy Bacchick fantasies: To draw that triumphant swerlidildido, Vpon some spirit of the Buttery,