Histriomastix, or The Player Whipped · chunk 13 of 25
Marston, John · published 1610 · first performed or written 1599 [1598-1599] (Annals) moral · Unknown T9 Theatre talk: prologues, poets and playe typicality 0.83 · 500 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T9: play, stage, poet, prologue, author, wit, plays, muse, scene, players.
My Lord hath sent request to see a play. Your Lord? what, shall our pains be soundly recompensed? With open hand of honours frank reward? Ye shall have four fair Angels gentlemen, Fair Ladies mean you? we have four i'th' play Nay (my good friends) I mean in fair pure gold. Fie 'tis to much, too long ere it be told, Mas these are single jests indeed, But I will double it once, ye shall have eight. But are you sure that none will want the weight? To weigh down our expense in sumptuous Clothes? Well, pleasure's pride shall mount to higher rate, ten pound a play will scarce maintain our state, Fat Plenty brings in Pride and Idleness: The world doth turn a Maze in giddy round: This time doth raise, what other times confound. O sir, your moral lines were better spent, In matters of more worthy consequent. Well, whilst occasion helps to climb alofft, we'll mount Promotions highest battlement. And break your necks I hope; climb not too fast, A heady course, confusion ends at last. Preach to the poor; look Steward, to your count, Direct your household, teach not us to mount: Farewell ye proud (I hope they hear me not) Proud Statute Rogues. Faith husband, I'll have one to bear my train, Another bore before to usher me. Nay I myself will learn the Courtly grace, Honour shall give my wealth a higher place. Out on these velvet guards, and black laced sleeves, These simpering fashions simply followed. Well, through the streets in thundering coach I'll ride, Why serves our wealth, but to maintain our pride? Law, Arms, and Merchandise, these are three heads, From whence Nobility first took his spring. Then let our haughty minds our fortunes spend, Pleasure and honour shall our wealth attend. Nay I will have it, I that I will. Contain your speech, within your private thoughts, we are encountered with the honoured train. Fair Ladies, could these times afford you cates, You should be feasted in Apollo's hall; But (Lords) the chaps of wide-paunched gluttony, Have wasted all the dainties of the land. Servant Philarchus, what, no mask too night? A Play, a Mask, a Banquet, we'll have all. My Lord, the Players now are grown so proud, Ten pound a play, or no point Comedy. What? insolent with glib prosperity? Faith Gentlemen no Players will appear: Gallants, to your Mask. How soon they can remember to forget, Their undeserved Fortunes and esteem; Blush not the peasants at their pedigree? Sucked pale with lust; what, bladders swollen with pride, To strut in shreds of nitty broguery? Well, though the penny raised them to the pound, Just Envy, causeless Pride doth still confound. Well let them blaze, there's none so blind but sees, pride's fall is still frost-bit with miseries. What, come they in so blunt without device? The night is dead before the sport be borne. Cease Music there, prepare to banquet sirs. Ceres and Bacchus tickled Venus stirs.
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)
My Lord hath sent request to see a play. Your Lord? what, shall our paines be soundly recompenc'd? With open hand of honours srancke reward? Yee shall haue foure faire Angells gentlemen, Faire Ladies meane you? we haue foure i'th' play Nay (my good friends) I meane in faire pure gold. Fie tis to much, too long ere it be told, Mas these are single iests indeed, But I will double it once, ye shall haue eight. But are you sure that none will want the weight? To wey downe our expence in sumptuous Clothes? Well, pleasures pride shall mount to higher rate, Tenne pound a play will scarce maintaine our state, Fat Plenty brings in Pride and Idlenesse: The world doth turne a Maze in giddy round: This time doth rayse, what other times confound. O sir, your morall lines were better spent, In matters of more worthy consequent. Well, whilest occasion helpes to clime alofft, Wee'le mount Promotions highest battlement. And breake your necks I hope; clime not too fast, A heady course, confusion ends at last. Preach to the poore; looke Steward, to your compt, Direct your houshold, teach not vs to mount: Farewell yee proud (I hope they heare me not) Proud Statute Rogues. Faith husband, Ile haue one to beare my traine, Another bare before to vsher me. Nay I my selfe will learne the Courtly grace, Honour shall giue my wealth a higher place. Out on these veluet gards, and black lac'd sleeues, These simpering fashions simply followed. Well, through the streetes in thundring coache Ile ride, Why serues our wealth, but to maintaine our pride? Lawe, Armes, and Merchandize, these are three heads, From whence Nobility first tooke his spring. Then let our haughty mindes our fortunes spend, Pleasure and honour shall our wealth attend. Nay I will haue it, I that I will. Containe your speech, within your priuate thoughts, Wee are encountred with the honour'd traine. Faire Ladies, could these times affoord you cates, You should be feasted in Apolloes hall; But (Lords) the chaps of wide-pancht gluttonie, Haue wasted all the dainties of the land. Seruant Philarchus, what, no maske too night? A Play, a Maske, a Banquet, weele haue all. My Lord, the Players now are growne so proud, Ten pound a play, or no point Comedy. What? insolent with glib prosperity? Faith Gentlemen no Players will appeare: Gallants, to your Maske. How soone they can remember to forget, Their vndeserued Fortunes and esteeme; Blush not the peasants at their pedigree? Suckt pale with lust; what, bladders swolne with pride, To strout in shreds of nitty brogerie? Well, though the penny raisd them to the pound, Iuſt Enuie, causelesse Pride doth still confound. Well let them blase, ther's none so blind but sees, Prydes fall is still frost-bit with miseries. What, come they in so blunt without deuise? The night is dead before the sport be borne. Cease Musick there, prepare to banquet sirs. Ceres and Bacchus tickled Venus stirres.