Hawkins, William · published 1627 · first performed or written 1627 [Feb 6] (Annals) comedy T24 Apollo, Phoebus and the Muses typicality 0.80 · 514 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T24: apollo, phoebus, midas, muses, ears, play, hedone, gods, siren, time.
TO thee, renowned Lauriger, I come a happy messenger, From Hedone, Queen Hedone, sweet Hedone, The Goddess of delight and pleasure, The life of life, the worl is best treasure, Perform what I advise, And thou shalt be more wise, Than all the rest that follow Your mighty god Apollo. Apollo's task torments your brains, Abates your spirits, dries your veins. Vain is your labour little profit, No quiet by it, no end of it. O cast away that laurel bow, And crown thy head with roses now, Now whilst thy frolic youth gives leisure To bathe thyself in choicest pleasure. Thy time doth go, As rivers flow. Ere long, you know, Grey hairs will grow. Then shalt thou sigh, and say with tears, Why lost I so my youthful years? My spring is past, yet fain I would, (But cannot) bud in winter's cold. Come then before age bids good night, Spend youthful day in sweet delight. Is this the lecture you read to us? Is this all you can say? A flourishing glozing poetical Theme, that hath neither truth nor substance in it. An empty sounding painted drum, fit for children to hear and follow with their rattles and hobby horses. Go Gill flirt, go set up your Pedlars shop in Venus' Court. There shall you have those that will dance to your music. No man so learned, wise, or strong, But may be conquered by my song. I can hear thee no longer. avaunt thou Circe. Thinkest thou to transform me into a swine? I fly. If he gone? I will not leave him so. A letter from the goddess herself may pierce deeper with him, as it did with Amphibius. Jug Rubbish, what, jug Rubbish. Come and bring his girdle. Here forsooth. Have you warmed it? I can find none but seacole fire to warm it: Out upon thee slut seacoal? I cannot abide to have any of that brimstone fume to come about the body of my child. Go kindle some Charcoal, and warm it well on both sides. What Mother can think it any pain to bring forth so precious a fruit? O my living walking joy, thy father's picture, and thy Mother's self, why shouldest thou be weaned from my lap? Sweet Mother. If I were to choose a Mother, Thou and no other Should be my Mother. Sweet Child, when thou speakest, methinks the Muses, if there were nine times nine of them, are but Oysterwomen and Kitchinsluffe. Honourable Mother Indulgence, I must be no more prentice to Apollo's trade. Must I? No my Child, thou art in a better trade. We are higher flown now. I like this new Master better than Musaeus. we have no terrible sceptre shaken over us in the captain's school. Out upon that bloody butcherly weapon. What a base thing it is, that a man should be armed against children? What natural Mother can suffer her own flesh and blood to be torn by these black gown? cannibals? He that rancheth the flesh of my child, had as good kiss—
seed 43: T29 · seed 44: T27 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
TO thee, renowned Lauriger, I come a happy messenger, From Hedone, Queene Hedone, sweet Hedone, The Goddesse of delight and pleasure, The life of life, the worl is best treasure, Performe what I aduise, And thou shalt be more wise, Then all the rest that follow Your mighty god Apollo. Apollos tske torments your braines, Abates your spirits, dries your vains. Vaine is your labour little profit, No quiet by it, no end of it. O cast away that lawrell bow, And crowne thy head with roses now, Now whil'st thy frolick youth giues leasure To bath thy selfe in choysest pleasure. Thy time doth goe, As riuers flow. Ere long, you know, Gray haires will grow. Then shalt thou sigh, and say with teares, Why lost I so my youthfull yeares? My spring is past, yet faine I would, (But cannot) budde in winters cold. Come then before age bids good night, Spend youthfull day in sweet delight. Is this the lecture you reade to vs? Is this all you can say? A flourishing glosing poeticall Theme, that hath neither truth nor substance in it. An empty sounding painted drumme, fit or children to heare and follow with their rattles and hobby horses. Goe Gill flurt, goe set vp your Pedlars shop in Venus Court. There shall you haue those that will dance to your musicke. No man so learned, wise, or strong, But may be conquered by my song. I can heare thee no longer. Auaunt thou Circe. Think'st thou to transforme mee into a swine? I flye. If hee gone? I will not leaue him so. A letter from the goddesse her selfe may pierce deeper with him, as it did with Amphibius. IVgge Rubbish, what, Iugge Rubbish. Come and bring hi gdle. Heere forsooth. Haue you warm'd it? I can finde none but seacole fire to warme it: Out vpon thee slut Seacoale? I cannot abide to haue any of that brimstone fume to come about the body of my childe. Goe kindle some Charcoale, and warme it well on both sides. What Mother can thinke it any paine to bring forth so pretious a fruit? O my liuing walking ioy, thy fathers picture, and thy Mothers selfe, why shouldest thou be weaned from my lappe? Sweet Mother. If I were to chuse a Mother, Thou and no other Should be my Mother. Sweet Childe, when thou speakest, mee thinkes the Mses, if there were nine times nine of them, are but Oysterwomen and Kitchinsluffe. Honourable Mother Indulgence, I must be no more prentise to Apollos trade. Must I? No my Childe, thou art in a better trade. We are higher slowne now. I like this new Master better then Musaeus. Wee haue no terrible scepter shaken ouer vs in the Captaines schoole. Out vpon that bloody butcherly weapon. What a base thing it is, that a man should bee arm'd against children? What naturall Mother can suffer her owne flesh and blood to bee torne by these blacke gown? Canibals? He that rancheth the flesh of my child, had as good kisse—