Technogamia, or The Marriages of the Arts · chunk 31 of 64
Holyday, Barten · published 1618 · first performed or written 1618 [Feb 13] (Annals) comedy · at University unassigned nearest T24 Apollo, Phoebus and the Muses · 499 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T24: apollo, phoebus, midas, muses, ears, play, hedone, gods, siren, time.
Nay, I do believe there is a great virtue in Music. O Sir, 'tis your only medicine of the mind. Indeed I think so, and that's the reason, 'tis likely, why Apollo is the god both of Music and Physic: and now I remember it, in one place where we came, in our travails, there were no Physicians, but all their sick folks were cured by Music; where was it, Phantastes? I have quite forgot. Why 'twas in Crete Sir, where Iupiter was nursed, and the Music was made with those Kettle-drums, which they sounded to drown the crying of Iupiter, when he was in his swath-bands: in reward of which love, he procured of Apollo, in the favour of the Cretians, that at the sound of those Kettledrums all sick folks, whose time of death was not come, should without any languishing sickness immediately recover; and therefore the order is, when any one is sick, they carry him presently in a Litter to the Temple where these Drums are kept; and if he does not straightways recover, they carry him home again, as a man that must die, and so provide for his funeral. Where is this Sir? in Crete? Yes, in Crete. ay, but I have heard, the Cretians are mighty liars. Upon the Faith of a Traveller, the Honesty of a Courtier, and the Word of a Gentleman, 'tis a most confirmed truth. Indeed these three are much about one value. Well, Musica, I could talk with thee all day— ay, and all night too. But I cannot stay now; I'm afraid they stay for me at the banquet. Is thy Mistress there? Yes, I think, by this time. Well, farewell till anon: you'll meet us at supper? won't you? Yes, yes; I'm going for Music. Come, my pretty Pigeon, let's bill a little; is't possible, Phantastes and Musica should meet, and part without a kiss?— now farewell. Ah: these Courtiers are liquorish-lipped: but I must go fetch the Music, To ra ding de ding, ding de ding, lan, tan dan dido. WElcome, welcome, all of you; i'good faith, I'm e'en young again, to see such a jolly company of my friends together: but, passion o' me! why, Oeconoma? ay, ay, presently, presently, we're making all haste we can. Ah, there's a good housewife, neither meat o'th' table, nor cloth laid, nor any thing in a readiness. Good friends pardon us, we are somewhat unmannerly to make you stay thus; we'll talk till supper is served in; but where's Geographus? Oh here is; welcome, welcome. Thanks, courteous Ethicus— save you gallants— fair Ladies— Phantastes, and Choler, and thou Musica, now thou art come, be a little forward to make a supply for our backwardness, and step in to my wife to help out supper quickly: why 'tis well, 'tis well, now 'tis as it should be, all friends, all friends: but where's Historia? Historia? why, ask Poeta. Me? ay, you; they say she's sick of love.
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)
Nay, I do beleeue there is a great vertue in Muſicke. O Sir, 'tis your onely medicine of the minde. Indeed I thinke ſo, and that's the reaſon, 'tis likely, why Apollo is the god both of Muſicke and Phyſicke: and now I remember it, in one place where we came, in our trauailes, there were no Phyſicions, but all their ſicke folks were cur'd by Muſicke; where was it, Phantaſtes? I haue quite forgot. Why 'twas in Creet Sir, where Iupiter was nurs'd, and the Muſicke was made with thoſe Kettle-drums, which they ſounded to drowne the crying of Iupiter, when he was in his ſwathe-bands: in reward of which loue, hee procur'd of Apollo, in the fauour of the Cretians, that at the ſound of thoſe Kettle-drummes all ſicke folkes, whoſe time of death was not come, ſhould without any languiſhing ſicknes immediately recouer; and therefore the order is, when any one is ſicke, they carry him preſently in a Litter to the Temple where theſe Drums are kept; and if hee does not ſtraight-wayes recouer, they carry him home againe, as a man that muſt dye, and ſo prouide for his funerall. Where is this Sir? in Creet? Yes, in Creet. I, but I haue heard, the Cretians are mightie liars. Vpon the Faith of a Trauellour, the Honeſtie of a Courtier, and the Word of a Gentleman, 'tis a moſt confirm'd truth. Indeed theſe three are much about one valew. VVell, Muſica, I could talke with thee all day— I, and all night too. But I cannot ſtay now; I'me afraid they ſtay for me at the banquet. Is thy Miſtris there? Yes, I thinke, by this time. Well, farewell till anon: you'll meet vs at ſupper? woun't you? Yes, yes; I'me going for Muſike. Come, my prettie Pigeon, let's bill a little; is't poſſible, Phantaſtes and Muſica ſhould meet, and part without a kiſſe?—now farewell. Ah: theſe Courtiers are lycouriſh-lip'd: but I muſt goe fetch the Muſike, To ra ding de ding, ding de ding, lan, tan dan dido. WElcome, welcome, all of you; i'good faith, I'm e'en young againe, to ſee ſuch a jolly company of my friends together: but, paſſion o' me! why, Oeconoma? I, I, preſently, preſently, wee'r making all haſte wee can. Ah, there's a good huſwife, neither meat oth' table, nor cloth laid, nor any thing in a readineſſe. Good friends pardon vs, wee are ſomewhat vnmannerly to make you ſtay thus; wee'll talke till ſupper is ſeru'd in; but where's Geographus? Oh here is; welcome, welcome. Thanks, courteous Ethicus—ſaue you gallants— faire Ladies— Phantaſtes, and Choler, and thou Muſica, now thou art come, be a little forward to make a ſupply for our backwardneſſe, and ſtep in to my wife to help out ſupper quickly: why 'tis well, 'tis well, now 'tis as it ſhould be, all friends, all friends: but where's Hiſtoria? Hiſtoria? why, aske Poeta. Mee? I, you; they ſay ſhee's ſicke of loue.