Chapman, George · published 1612 · first performed or written 1604 [1604-1605] (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T9 Theatre talk: prologues, poets and playe · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T9: play, stage, poet, prologue, author, wit, plays, muse, scene, players.
In prose, thou weptst. So have I seen many a moist Auditor do at a play; when the story was but a mere fiction: And didst act the Nuntius well, would I had heard it: couldst thou dress thy looks in a mournful habit? Not without preparation Sir; no more than my speech, 'twas a plain acting of an interlude to me, to pronounce the part. As how for heavens sake? Phoebus addressed his chariot towards the West To change his wearied Coursers, and so forth. Nay on, and thou lov'st me. Lysander and myself beguiled the way With interchanged discourse, but our chief Theme, Was of your dearest self, his honoured wife; Your love, your virtue; wondrous constancy. Then was her Cum to whimper; on. When suddenly appeared as far as sight A troup of horse, armed as we might discern, With javelins, Spears, and such accoutrements. He doubted nought (As innocency ever Is free from doubting ill.) There dropped a tear. My mind misgave me. They might be mountaineers. At their approach They used no other language but their weapons, To tell us what they were; Lysander drew, And bore himself Achilles like in fight, And as a Mower sweeps off t'heads of Bents, So did Lysander's sword shave off the points Of their assaulting lances. His horse at last, sore hurt, fell under him; I seeing I could not rescue, used my spurs To fly away. What from thy friend? I in a good quarrel, why not? Good; I am answered. A lance pursued me, brought me back again; And with these wounds left me t'accompany Dying Lysander: Then they rifled us, And left us. They gone; my breath not yet gone, 'gan to strive And revive sense: I with my feeble joints Crawled to Lysander, stirred him, and withal He gasped; cried Cynthia! and breathed no more. O then she howled out right. Passengers came and in a Chariot brought us straight to a Neighbour Town; where I forthwith coffined my friend in lead; and so conveyed him To this sad place. 'Twas well; and could not show but strangely. Well Sir, This tale pronounced with terror, suited with action clothed with such likely circumstance; My wounds in show, her husband's hearse in sight, think what effect it wrought: And if you doubt, let the sad consequence of her retreat to his Tomb, be your woeful instructor. For all this, I'll not despair of my wager: These Grieves that sound so loud, prove always light, True sorrow evermore keeps out of sight. This strain of mourning with Sepulchre, like an overdoing Actor, affects grossly, and is indeed so far forced from the life, that it bewrays itself to be altogether artificial. To set open a shop of mourning! 'tis palpable. Truth, the substance, hunts not after the shadow of popular Fame. Her officious ostentation of sorrow condemns her sincerity. When did ever woman mourn so unmeasurably, but she did dissemble?
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)
In prose, thou weptst. So haue I seen many a moist Auditor doe at a play; when the storie was but a meere fiction: And didst act the Nuntius well, would I had heard it: could'st thou dresse thy lookes in a mournefull habite? Not without preparation Sir; no more then my speech, twas a plaine acting of an enterlude to me, to pronounce the part. As how for heauens sake? Phoebus addrest his chariot towards the West To change his wearied Coursers, and so forth. Nay on, and thou lou'st me. Lysander and my selfe beguild the way With enterchang'd discourse, but our chiefe Theame, Was of your dearest selfe, his honour'd wife; Your loue, your vertue; wondrous constancie. Then was her Cu to whimper; on. When sodainly appear'd as far as sight A troope of horse, arm'd as we might descerne, With Iauelines, Speares, and such accoutrements. He doubted nought (As Innocencie euer Is free from doubting ill.) There dropt a teare. My minde misgaue me. They might be mountaners. At their approch They vs'd no other language but their weapons, To tell vs what they were; Lysander drew, And bore himselfe Achilles like in fight, And as a Mower sweepes off t'heads of Bents, So did Lysanders sword shaue off the points Of their assaulting lances. His horse at last, sore hurt, fell vnder him; I seeing I could not rescue, vs'd my spurres To flie away. What from thy friend? I in a good quarrell, why not? Good; I am answer'd. A lance pursued me, brought me back againe; And with these wounds left me t'accompanie Dying Lysander: Then they rifl'd vs, And left vs. They gone; my breath not yet gone, gan to striue And reuiue sense: I with my feeble ioynts Crawl'd to Lysander, stirr'd him, and withall He gaspt; cried Cynthia! and breath'd no more. O then shee howl'd out right. Passengers came and in a Chariot brought vs Streight to a Neighbour Towne; where I forthwith Coffind my friend in leade; and so conuaid him To this sad place. 'Twas well; and could not show but strangely. Well Sir, This tale pronounc't with terrour, suited with action clothed with such likely circumstance; My wounds in shew, her husbands herse in sight, thinke what effect it wrought: And if you doubt, let the sad consequence of her retreat to his Tombe, bee your wofull instructer. For all this, Ile not despaire of my wager: These Grieues that sound so lowd, proue alwaies light, True sorrow euermore keepes out of sight. This straine of mourning with Sepulcher, like an ouer-doing Actor, affects grosly, and is indeede so farre forc't from the life, that it bewraies it selfe to be altogether artificiall. To set open a shop of mourning! Tis palpable. Truth, the substance, hunts not after the shadow of popular Fame. Her officious ostentation of sorrow condemnes her sinceritie. When did euer woman mourne so vnmeasurably, but shee did dissemble?