Histriomastix, or The Player Whipped · chunk 17 of 25
Marston, John · published 1610 · first performed or written 1599 [1598-1599] (Annals) moral · Unknown unassigned nearest T9 Theatre talk: prologues, poets and playe · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T9: play, stage, poet, prologue, author, wit, plays, muse, scene, players.
So well I mean to wear it for your sake. I can deny thee nothing if I would. Fie how this Ingling troubles our rehearsal: say on. Fellow Belsh you have found a haunt at my house You must belch and breathe your spirits some, where else. jealous of me with your seat for Master Iohn, When the door's shut the sign's in Capricorn Then you might heave the latch up with your horn This Cuckoldly coil hinders our rehearsal. I'll tear their turret tops, I'll beat their Bulwarks down, I'll rend such Rascals form their rags, And whip them out of town. Patience (my Lord) your fury strays too far. Stay sirs, rehearse no farther than you are For here be huffing parts in this new book; Have Ier'e a good humour in my part? Thou hast near a good one out of thy part; I'll play the conquering King that likes me best, Thou play the cowardly knave; thou dost but jest, Half a share, half a shirt, a Comedian A hole share, or turn Chameleon. Well sirs, the gentlemen see into our trade, We cannot gull them with browne-paper stusse, And the best Poets grown so envious They'll starve rather than we get store of money. Since dearth of Poets lets not players live by wit To spite them let's to wars, and learn to use a spit. O excellent ill a spit to roast a rhyme. 'twill serve you to remember dinner time. That's true 'tis time, let's away. Rule fire-eyed War, revel in blood and flames, Envy, whose breath hath poisoned all estates, Hath now resigned her spiteful throne to us: Stand forth Ambition; fly through the land, And enter every breast of noble blood, Infect their honoured minds with factious thoughts, And make them glister in opposed arms: Let unjust force and scarlet Tyranny Wait on their Actions till their ulcers break, Or else be lanced by the hand of War, Which cannot be without a lasting scar, Ambition like a Pestilence doth fly, To poison Honour and Nobility. Fury, thy turn is next, go now and fill The trunk of Peasants with thy dangerous breath, Inspire them with the spirit of Mutiny, Rage, and rebellion, make them desperate Hurry them headlong unto every ill, Like dust raised with a whirl wind; let their eyes, Be ever fixed upon the bruised prints Made in their state by wild oppression, And (after all) possess them with this fire, That only War must purchase their desire. Fury shall shine amongst this multitude, Like a bright Meteor in the darkest cloud. Horror shall greet the bosom of green youth, The melting liver of pied gallantry, The wrinkled vizard of Devotion, The chevril conscience of corrupted law, And frozen heart of gouty Merchandise, Horror wound these, strike palsies in their limbs, And as thou stalk'st (in thy prodigious shape,) And meet'st a fellow swollen with mounted place; Shake him with glances of thy hollow eyes, And let thy vigour live as his heart dies.
seed 43: T13 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
So well I meane to weare it for your sake. I can deny thee nothing if I would. Fie how this Ingling troubles our rehearsall: say on. Fellow Belsh you haue found a haunt at my house You must belch and breath your spirits some, where else. Iealious of me with your seate for Maister Iohn, When the door's shut the signe's in Capricorne Then you might heaue the latch vp with your horne This Cockoldly coyle hinders our rehearsall. Ile teare their turret toppes, Ile beat their Bulwarcks downe, Ile rend such Raskalls form their ragges, And whippe them out of towne. Patience (my Lord) your fury strayes too farre. Stay sirs, rehearse no farther then you are For here be huffing parts in this new booke; Haue Ier'e a good humour in my part? Thou hast neere a good one out of thy part; Ile play the conquering King that likes me best, Thou play the cowardly knaue; thou dost but ieast, Halfe a share, halfe a shirt, a Comedian A hole share, or turne Cameleon. Well sirs, the gentlemen see into our trade, We cannot gull them with browne-paper stusse, And the best Poets growne so enuious They'le starue rather then we get store of mony. Since dearth of Poets lets not players liue by wit To spight them lets to warres, and learne to vse a spit. O excellent ill a spit to rost a rime. Twill serue you to remember dinner time. Thats true tis time, let's away. Rule fier-eied Warre, reuell in blood and flames, Enuy, whose breath hath poysoned all estates, Hath now resigned her spightfull throne to vs: Stand forth Ambition; fly through the land, And enter euery brest of noble blood, Infect their honored mindes with factious thoughts, And make them glister in opposed armes: Let vniust force and scarlet Tyranny Wait on their Actions till their vlcers breake, Or else be launced by the hand of Warre, Which cannot be without a lasting scarre, Ambition like a Pestilence doth fly, To poyson Honour and Nobility. Fury, thy turne is next, goe now and fill The trunck of Peasants with thy dangerous breath, Inspire them with the spirit of Mutiny, Rage, and rebellion, make them desperate Hurry them headlong vnto euery ill, Like dust rais'd with a whirl wind; let their eyes, Be euer fixt vpon the brused prints Made in their state by wilde oppression, And (after all) possesse them with this fire, That onely Warre must purchase their desire. Fury shall shine amongst this multitude, Like a bright Meteor in the darkest cloud. Horror shall greet the bosome of greene youth, The melting liuer of pied gallantry, The wrinckled vizard of Deuotion, The cheuerell conscience of corrupted law, And frozen heart of gowty Merchandize, Horror wound these, strike palsies in their limmes, And as thou stalk'st (in thy prodigious shape,) And meet'st a fellow swolne with mounted place; Shake him with glaunses of thy hollow eyes, And let thy vigour liue as his heart dies.