Technogamia, or The Marriages of the Arts · chunk 9 of 64
Holyday, Barten · published 1618 · first performed or written 1618 [Feb 13] (Annals) comedy · at University unassigned nearest T35 Fools, wit and railing · 499 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
If there be any Gentleman, that, for the accomplishing of his natural endowments, entertains a desire of learning the languages, especially, the nimble French, majest-like Spanish, courtly Italian, masculine Dutch, happily-compounding Greek, mystical Hebrew, and physical Arabic; or that is otherwise transported with the admirable knowledge of foreign policies, complemental behaviour, natural dispositions, or whatsoever else belongs to any people or country under heaven; he shall, to his abundant satisfaction, be made happy in his expectation and success, if he please to repair to the sign of the Globe. Good, good; I'll monopolize this commodity; when I shall have so many tongues to woo, I will not doubt to obtain Astronomia. SIr, you did that by a Poetica licentia. SO, Grammaticus, you'd fain Rule me still:— Et nos ergo manum ferulae subduximus. Nay, Poeta, you must not abuse him that hath been your Master, he hath been your Master, Ergo, you must not abuse him. Why, how now, Logicus? will you be the Neptune, to calm these Seas with your three-forked Mace? I thought you could spit nothing but Aristotle. Aristotle? saucy boy? Aristotelis libri sunt omne genus elegantia referti; pro Omnis generis. Nay, Poeta, we must grant you the eloquence: Nobis non licet esse tam disertis disertos. Why how, no, Logicus? hast thou caught the itch of Grammaticus? I should rather have thought, thou wouldst have infected him. How now? boys talk? by the soul of Priscian, A praeceptore vapulabis. Nay, then i'faith: A trepido vix abstinetira Magistro. What? insolent? Faciam vt meique ac huius diei, ac loci, semper memineris. Melancholico, do thou crack an argument with clog-head, there. I'll do my best to crack his pate, if I can. He bites, he bites: O, do you scratch, you coward? Yes, Sir, because you have the itch. To him, Melancholico. Nay, let me alone, I warrant you: we are at it, tooth and nail. Well, Poeta, Refero ad Senatum. Will you come again, Sir! Non si me obsecres. I believe thee, i'faith; Logicus, will you return? I see no reason for it: Ergo, I won't. O, have we broke off one of the forks of your Mace? he most valiantly now runs away upon two feet: Stay, here comes Choler, Grammaticus his man. Who was that ran away last there? Logicus? Yes. Did you beat him? Yes. And who was the other? my Master? Yes Did you beat him? Yes, Sir: what say you to that? What say I to that? marry, I say, I would have fought as long as I could have stood, if you had not left beating of my Master. Oh! is that all! Domini similis es; farewell, valiant Champion. Oh! is that all? Domini similis es; farewell, valiant Champion. How? baffled? by my masters Ferula, I'll quarrel with the next man I meet, who ere he be: and yonder comes Sanguis, Medicus his man; but he looks as if he would say somewhat; I'll therefore stand aside first, and hear what he'll say.
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)
If there be any Gentleman, that, for the accompliſhing of his natural indowments, intertaynes a deſire of learning the languages, eſpecially, the nimble French, maieſtike Spaniſh, courtly Italian, maſculine Dutch, happily-compounding Greeke, myſticall Hebrew, and phyſicall Arabicke; or that is otherwiſe transported with the admirable knowledge of forraine policies, complementall behauiour, naturall dispoſitions, or whatſoeuer elſe belongs to any people or country vnder heauen; he ſhall, to his abundant ſatisfaction, be made happy in his expectation and ſucceſſe, if he pleaſe to repaire to the ſigne of the Globe. Good, good; Ile monopolize this commodity; when I ſhall haue ſo many tongues to woo, I will not doubt to obtayne Aſtronomia. SIr, you did that by a Poetica licentia. SO, Grammaticus, you'd faine Rule me ſtill:— Et nos ergo manum ferulae ſubduximus. Nay, Poeta, you muſt not abuſe him that hath beene your Maſter, he hath beene your Maſter, Ergo, you muſt not abuſe him. Why, how now, Logicus? will you be the Neptune, to calme theſe Seas with your three-fork'd Mace? I thought you could ſpet nothing but Ariſtotle. Ariſtotle? ſawcy boy? Ariſtotelis libri ſunt omne genus elegantia referti; pro Omnis generis. Nay, Poeta, we muſt grant you the eloquence: Nobis non licet eſſe tam diſertis diſertos. Why how, no, Logicus? haſt thou caught the itch of Grammaticus? I ſhould rather haue thought, thou wouldſt haue infected him. How now? boyes talke? by the ſoule of Priſcian, A praeceptore vapulabis. Nay, then yfaith: Atrepido vix abſtinetira Magiſtro. What? inſolent? Faciam vt mei que ac huius diei, ac loci, ſemper memineris. Melancholico, doe thou cracke an argument with clog-head, there. Ile doe my beſt to cracke his pate, if I can. He bites, he bites: O, do you ſcratch, you coward? Yes, Sir, becauſe you haue the itch. To him, Melancholico. Nay, let me alone, I warrant you: we are at it, tooth and naile. Well, Poeta, Refero ad Senatum. Will you come againe, Sir! Nn ſi me obſecres. I beleeue thee, yfaith; Logicus, will you returne? I ſee no reaſon for it: Ergo, I won't. O, haue we broke off one of the forks of your Mace? he moſt valiantly now runnes away vpon two feet: Stay, here comes Choler, Grammaticus his man. Who was that ran away laſt there? Logicus? Yes. Did you beate him? Yes. And who was the other? my Maſter? Yes Did you beate him? Yes, Sir: what ſay you to that? What ſay I to that? mary, I ſay, I would haue fought as long as I could haue ſtood, if you had not left beating of my Maſter. Oh! is that all! Domini ſimilis es; farewell, valiant Champion. Oh! is that all? Domini ſimilis es; farewell, valiant Champion. How? bafled? by my maſters Ferula, Ile quarrell with the next man I meet, who er'e he be: and yonder comes Sanguis, Medicus his man; but hee lookes as if hee would ſay ſomewhat; Ile therefore ſtand aſide firſt, and heare what hee'll ſay.