Technogamia, or The Marriages of the Arts · chunk 48 of 64
Holyday, Barten · published 1618 · first performed or written 1618 [Feb 13] (Annals) comedy · at University unassigned nearest T44 Drinking: wine, ale and taverns · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T44: drink, wine, numps, ale, butler, pot, sing, moy, drunk, win.
Nay what sullenness is this? Prithee tell. What is it? I won't. A pox on't, I long to know. Prithee what is't Melancholico? Come, what is't, Melancholico? Nay, I'm a blockhead, I'm a blockhead, Choler, 'pray what is't? your delicate wit, I doubt not can easily tell. A rope of all sullen noddies: he sees every one greedy to know, and therefore out of a doggedness conceals it. A rope, if he had never proposed it, it would never have angered me. Will you tell, Melancholico? Alas, I'm a blockhead. Well, we'll wait his leisure. I shall not sleep for thinking on't, if he does not tell me. I shall dream on't all night. Good Melancholico, what is't? Alas, I'm a blockhead. Pish, why then Good blockhead, what is't? Nay, you won't tell who danced in the Hobby-horse, you. I' saith I will, if you'll tell this first, and swear you will not be angry with him, for throwing you down. Nay, I'll know that first, and without all conditions. Do Musica, prithee do. I'll tell you then in your ear, Melancholico. Nay, he have it told openly, it concerns every one as much as me. Why then if you would know, 'twas Phantastes; that had been at the same merry-making with me. Phantastes! Indeed I have heard he's the only fellow in the Country to dance in an Hobby-horse: but he might have used his friends the humours better. But you'll forgive him I hope now. For thy sake we will. Well. Now Melancholico, what is't? ay but Musica, you shall kiss me first. Come on then. Kiss me again. Why and again. And again. And again. Now you shall all recant the word Blockhead, and say Melancholico is no blockhead: say so. Melancholico is No blockhead. So Musica, kiss me once more, and then I'll tell. Why thus I do, sweet Melancholico, that art no blockhead. Well said, you little rogue. Why now I'll tell you, It is the Rainbow described by Homer; but you shall have it by parts: It is not, and yet we see it,— the colours in the Rain bow are not true and very colours, but only seem so to be; as I have heard Physica often say. It is like a picture, and yet is no picture,— that's manifest. And it was drawn by a blind Painter,— Homer was blind and a Poet, now a Poet as I have heard my Master say, may fitly be called a Painter; as painting may be called poesy in picture. The illation is superfluous to apprehensive ears. I'll remember this i'faith; where are my Bells, and Waistcooats, and Napkins? Well, now fare you well all. Farewell, Musica. Farewell, Gallants; my business lies this way too. Who goes this way? That do I. Come on then; farewell, Lads. Fare you well: I'm glad they are all gone, I have got some what. What is't? The pair of Bells which Melancholico would not wear.
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 what ſullenneſſe is this? Prethee tell. What is it? I woun't. A poxe on't, I long to know. Prethee what is't Melancholico? Come, what is't, Melancholico? Nay, I'me a block-head, I'me a block-head, Choler, 'pray what is't? your delicate wit, I doubt not can eaſily tell. A rope of all ſullen noddies: hee ſees euery one greedy to know, and therefore out of a doggedneſſe conceales it. A rope, if hee had neuer propos'd it, it would neuer haue anger'd me. Will you tell, Melancholico? Alas, I'me a block-head. Well, wee'l waite his leaſure. I ſhall not ſleepe for thinking on't, if he does not tell me. I ſhall dreame on't all night. Good Melancholico, what is't? Alas, I'me a block-head. Piſh, why then Good block-head, what is't? Nay, you wonn't tell who danc'd in the Hobby-horſe, you. I' ſaith I will, if you'l tell this firſt, and ſweare you will not be angry with him, for throwing you downe. Nay, Ile know that firſt, and without all conditions. Doe prthee doe. Ile tell you in your eare, Melancholico. Nay, he haue it told openly, it concernes euery one as much as me. Why then if you would know, 'twas Phantaſtes; that had bin at the ſame merry-making with me. Phantaſtes! Indeed I haue heard hee's the onely fellow in the Countrey to dance in an Hobby-horſe: but hee might haue vs'd his friends the humours better. But you'l forgiue him I hope now. For thy ſake we will. Well. Now Melancholico, what is't? I but Muſica, you ſhall kiſſe me firſt. Come on then. Kiſſe me againe. Why and againe. And againe. And againe. Now you ſhall all recant the word Block-head, and ſay Melancholico is no block-head: ſay ſo. Melancholico is No block-head. So Muſica, kiſſe me once more, and then Ile tell. Why thus I doe, ſweet Melancholico, that art no block-head. Well ſaid, you little rogue. Why now I'l tell you, It is the Raine-bow deſcrib'd by Homer; but you ſhall haue it by parts: It is not, and yet we ſee it, — the colours in the Raine bow are not true and very colours, but onely ſeeme ſo to be; as I haue heard Phyſica often ſay. It is like a picture, and yet is no picture, —that's manifeſt. And it was drawne by a blinde Painter, — Homer was blinde and a Poet, now a Poet as I haue heard my Maſter ſay, may fitly bee call'd a Painter; as painting may be call'd Poēſie in picture. The illation is ſuperfluous to apprehenſiue eares. Ile remember this i'faith; where are my Bels, and Waſt-coates, and Napkins? Well, now fare you well all. Farewell, Muſica. Farewell, Gallants; my buſineſſe lyes this way too. Who goes this way? That doe I. Come on then; farewell, Lads. Fare you well: I'm glad they are all gone, I haue got ſome what. What is't? The paire of Bels which Melancholico would not weare.