The Entertainment at Sir Francis Jones's Welcome (Comus the Great Sir of Feasts) (The Servant of Comus) · chunk 2 of 3
Middleton, Thomas · published 1621 · first performed or written 1621 [1620-1621] (Annals) entertainment; civic play unassigned nearest T9 Theatre talk: prologues, poets and playe · 408 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T9: play, stage, poet, prologue, author, wit, plays, muse, scene, players.
WHy well said, thus should Christmas be Lightsome, jocund, blithe and free, Now it looks like bounty's Palace, Where every Cup has his full ballast, Drown Cares with juice that Grapes have bled, And make Times cheek look fresh and red, Let nothing now but Healths go round, And no sooner off, but crowned With sparkling Liquours, bounding up, Quick in Pallet, as in Cup: To be heavy, to be dull, Is a fault so pitiful, We bar it from the course of Reason, Care must not peep abroad this Season, Nor a sad look dare appear Within ten Mile of Christmas cheer; Sighs are banished ten leagues farther, Either Cellar, Hall or Larder; To be jovial then and blithe Is truly to pay (Christmas) Tithe, And where free Mirth is and impartial, Christmas there h'as made me marshal. Why how now? know you where you are? rude thing; Bold and unmannered Licence, dare you bring Your free Speech hither, before me begin? Who let this Skittish thing of Lightness in? Some call the Porter hither, yet stay, stay, I've power in words to chase this toy away; I wonder that the Music suffers thee To come into their room? Why Nicety? Believe me honest Me (whate'er you be) She's able to spoil all your Harmony, Corrupt your airs with Lightness. Oh fie, fie, How ill you blaze my Coat, Severity? Is this a place for you? can Lightness here Under the Hazard of her Shame appear? Why thou dull lumpish Thing, void of all fashion, mirth's poison, Enemy to Recreation, Thou Melancholy wretch, so filled with spite Thou eatest thy heart, when others take delight, I must be merry, 'tis my nature— Fool. Dull dogbolt. Skit. What? this a Scolding School, How now? so high got? and so loud withal? Whose doing was't placest you two there to brawl? Pray mark the Assembly, look upon 'em well, Think where you are, and let that rude thought quell Your unbeseeming difference, 'tis not here As at a Pit, here's Reverence, Worth, and Fear. She says this place and season suits not me. She says but right in that, O Levity, No, nor you neither, You may be gone too, You're Both Extremes, therefore no place for you, Lightness becomes not, nor Severity, It must me between both, and I am She, Too Light, is bad, and too Severe as Vild, But both well tempered, makes the mixture mild,
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)
WHy well ſaid, thus ſhould Chriſtmas be Lightſome, Iocond, blithe and free, Now it lookes like Bounties Pallace, Where euery Cup ha's his full Ballace, Drowne Cares with Iuice that Grapes haue bled, And make Times cheeke looke freſh and red, Let nothing now but Healths goe round, And no ſooner off, but crown'd With ſparkling Liquors, bounding vp, Quicke in Pallet, as in Cup: To be heauy, to be dull, Is a fault ſo pittifull, We bar it from the courſe of Reaſon, Care muſt not peep abroad this Seaſon, Nor a ſad looke dare appeare Within ten Mile of Chriſtmas cheere; Sighes are baniſht ten leagues farder, Either Cellar, Hall or Larder; To be Iouiall then and blithe Is truely to pay (Chriſtmas) Tithe, And where free Mirth is and impartiall, Chriſtmas there h'as made me Marſhiall. Why how now? know you where you are? rude thing; Bold and vnmanner'd Licence, dare you bring Your free Speech hither, before me begin? Who let this Skittiſh thing of Lightneſſe in? Some call the Porter hither, yet ſtay, ſtay, I'ue power in words to chaſe this toy away; I wonder that the Muſique ſuffers thee To come into their roome? Why Nicety? Beleeue me honeſt Me (what e're yoube) She's able to ſpoyle all your Harmony, Corrupt your ayres with Lightneſſe. Oh fie, fie, How ill you blaze my Coate, Seuerity? Is this a place for you? can Lightneſſe here Vnder the Hazard of her Shame appeare? Why thou dull lumpiſh Thing, void of all faſhion, Mirths poyſon, Enemy to Recreation, Thou Melancholly wretch, ſo fil'd with ſpite Thou eat'ſt thy heart, when others take delight, I muſt be merry, tis my nature— Foole. Dull dogbolt. Skit. What? this a Scolding Schoole, How now? ſo hie got? and ſo lowd withall? Whoſe doing wa'ſt plac'ſt you two there to braule? Pray marke the Aſſembly, looke vppon e'm well, Thinke where you are, and let that rude thought quell Your vnbeſeeming difference, tis not heere As at a Pit, here's Reuerence, Worth, and Feare. She ſayes this place and ſeaſon ſuites not me. She ſayes but right in that, O Leuity, No, nor you neither, You may be gon too, Y'are Both Extreames, therefore no place for you, Lightnes becomes not, nor Seuerity, It muſt me betweene both, and I am Shee, Too Light, is bad, and too Seuere as Vilde, But both well temperd, makes the mixture milde,