Histriomastix, or The Player Whipped · chunk 25 of 25
Marston, John · published 1610 · first performed or written 1599 [1598-1599] (Annals) moral · Unknown unassigned nearest T12 Olympian gods: Jupiter, Juno, Venus and · 490 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T12: iupiter, saturn, iuno, venus, gods, mars, earth, titan, love, fair.
The dearth of Malt denies it It's a hard world if the Constable despise it. Must we be shipped in earnest, Or do you make us Sheep in jest, Ecce signum. constable do you know what you do. ay, banish idle fellows out o'th' land, Why constable do you know what you see. ay, I see a Madge owlet: and she sees not see. Know you our credit with Sir Oliver? True, but your boasting hath cracked it, (I fear.) Faith I must fall to making fiddle strings again. And I to curl horse tails to make fools beards. I'll boldy fall to ballading again. Sirs, those provisoes will not serve the turn, What hoe, Sailors, ship away these players. The wind blows fair, and we are ready sir. No matter where it blows; away with them. It's an ill wind blows a man thus clean out of ballading. Bondage, wan Sickness, and bare Poverty, Vanish like clouds before the Eastern light, Now Peace appears, hence all to endless night, And you dejected spirits, crushed with want, Mount up your minds unto the fairest hope, Need hath nursed Peace within your Horoscope, The warm reflection of whose cheering beams, Makes you as rich as bright Pactolus streams. Shine plenteous Bounty, crown the naked world, With odourous wreaths of thy abundant sweets, Laborious Artisans, now bustle up, Your drooping spirits with alacrity. Peace gives your toiling sweat a due regard, Crowning your labour with a rich reward. Ceres be lavish, Bacchus swell to brim, And all to Peace sing a propitious hymn, With Laurel shall our Altars flame, In honour of thy sacred name. No more: Be dumb in hushed observance at this sight, Here comes Amazements object, wonders height, pieces patroness, heavens miracle, virtues honour, Earth's admiration, Chastities Crown, justice perfection, Whose train is unpollute Virginity, Whose Diadem of bright immortal Fame, Is burnished with valued respect, Ineffable wonder of remotest lands; Still sway thy gracious Sceptre, I resign; What I am is by Thee, myself am thine, Astraea mounts unto the Throne. Mount Empress, whose praise for Peace shall mount, Whose glory, which thy solid virtues won, Shall honour Europe whilst there shines a Sun. Crowned with heavens inward beauties, world's applause, Throned and reposed within the loving fear Of thy adoring Subjects: live as long As Time hath life, and Fame a worthy tongue. Still breath our glory, the world's Empress, religion's Guardian, pieces patroness; Now flourish Arts, the Queen of Peace doth reign, Virtue triumph, now she doth sway the stem, Who gives to Virtue, honour's Diadem. All sing Paeans to her sacred worth, Which none but Angels tongues can warble forth: Yet sing, for though we cannot light the Sun, Yet utmost might hath kind acceptance won. Religion, Arts, and Merchandise, triumph, triumph: Astraea rules, whose gracious eyes, triumph, triumph. o'er Vice's conquest, whose desires, triumph, triumph: Whose all to chiefest good aspires, than all triumph.
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)
The dearth of Malt denies it Its a hard world if the Constable dispise it. Must we be shipt in earnest, Or doe you make vs Sheepe in ieast, Ecce signum. Cunstable doe you know what you doe. I, banish idle fellowes out o'th'land, Why Cunstable doe you know what you see. I, I see a Madge howlet: and she sees not see. Know you our credit with Sir Oliuer? True, but your boasting hath crakt it, (I feare.) Faith I must fall to making fidle strings againe. And I to curle horse tailes to make fooles beards. Ile boldy fall to ballading againe. Sirs, those prouisoes will not serue the turne, What hoe, Saylers, ship away these players. The winde blowes faire, and we are ready sir. No matter where it blowes; away with them. It's an ill winde blowes a man thus cleane out of ballading. Bondage, wan Sicknesse, and bare Pouerty, Vanish like clowds before the Easterne light, Now Peace appeares, hence all to endlesse night, And you deiected spirits, crusht with want, Mount vp your mindes vnto the fairest hope, Neede hath nurst Peace within your Horoscope, The warme reflexion of whose cheering beames, Makes you as rich as bright Pactolus streames. Shine plentuous Bountie, crowne the naked world, With odourous wreaths of thy aboundant sweetes, Laborious Artizanes, now bustle vp, Your drouping spirits with alacritie. Peace giues your toyling sweat a due regard, Crowning your labour with a rich reward. Ceres be lauish, Bacchus swell to brimme, And all to Peace sing a propitious himne, With Lawrell shall our Altars flame, In honour of thy sacred name. No more: Be dumbe in husht obseruance at this sight, Heere comes Amazements obiect, wonders height, Peaces patronesse, Heauens miracle, Vertues honour, Earths admiration, Chastities Crowne, Iustice perfection, Whose traine is vnpolute Virginity, Whose Diadem of bright immortall Fame, Is burnisht with vnvalued respect, Ineffable wonder of remotest lands; Still sway thy gratious Scepter, I resigne; What I am is by Thee, my selfe am thine, Astraea mounts vnto the Throne. Mount Emperesse, whose praise for Peace shall mount, Whose glory, which thy solid vertues wonne, Shall honour Europe whil'st there shines a Sunne. Crown'd with Heauens inward beauties, worlds applause, Thron'd and reposd within the louing feare Of thy adoring Subiects: liue as long As Time hath life, and Fame a worthy tongue. Still breath our glory, the worlds Empresse, Religions Gardian, Peaces patronesse; Now flourish Arts, the Queene of Peace doth raigne, Vertue triumph, now shee doth sway the stemme, Who giues to Vertue, honours Diadem. All sing Paeans to her sacred worth, Which none but Angels tongues can warble forth: Yet sing, for though we cannot light the Sunne, Yet vtmost might hath kinde acceptance wonne. Religion, Arts, and Merchandise, triumph, triumph: Astraea rules, whose gracious eyes, triumph, triumph. O're Vices conquest, whose desires, triumph, triumph: Whose all to chiefest good aspires, then all triumph.