Aristippus, or The Jovial Philosopher · chunk 1 of 18
Randolph, Thomas · published 1630 · first performed or written 1626 [1625-1626] (Annals) entertainment; academic entertainment unassigned nearest T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm · 456 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
BE not deceived, I have no bended knees, No supple tongue, nor speeches steeped in Oil, No candied flattery, nor honeyed words. I come an armed Prologue: armed with Arts, Who by my sacred charms and mystic skill, By virtue of this all-commanding Wand Stolen from the sleepy Mercury, will raise From black Abyss and sooty hell, that mirth Which fits this learned round. Thou long-dead Show, Break from thy Marble prison, sleep no more In miry darkness, henceforth I forbid thee To bathe in Lethe's muddy waves, ascend As bright as morning from her Tithonus' bed, And red with kisses that have stained thy cheek, Grow fresh again: What? is my power contemned? Dost thou not hear my call, whose power extends To blast the bosom of our mother Earth? To remove heavens whole frame from off her hinges, As to reverse all Nature's laws? Ascend, Or I will call a band of Furies forth, And all the Torments wit of hell can frame Shall force thee up. O spare your too officious whips a while, Give some small respite to my panting limbs, Let me have leave to speak, and truce to parley, Whose powerful voice hath forced me to salute This hated air! are not my pains sufficient, But you must torture me with the sad remembrance Of my deserts, the Causes of my exile? 'Tis thy release I seek, I come to file Those heavy shackles from thy wearied limbs, And give thee leave to walk the Stage again, As free as virtue: Burn thy withered bays, And with fresh Laurel crown thy sacred Temples, Cast off thy mask of darkness, and appear As glorious as thy sister Comedy. But first with tears, wash off that guilty sin, Purge out those ill-digested dregs of wit, That use their ink to blot a spotless fame, Let's have no one particular man traduced, But like a Noble Eagle seize on vice, As she flies bold and open! spare the persons: Let us have simple mirth, and innocent laughter; Sweet-smiling lips, and such as hide no fangs, No venomous biting teeth, or forked tongues, Then shall thy freedom be restored again, And full applause be wages of thy pain. Then from the depth of truth I here protest, I do disclaim all petulant hate and malice, I will not touch such men as I know vicious, Much less the good: I will not dare to say That such a one paid for his fellowship, And had no learning but in's purse; no Officer Need fear the sting of my detraction, I'll give all leave to fill their guts in quiet: I make no dangerous Almanacs, no gulls, No posts with envious News and biting Packets,
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T30 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
BE not deceiu'd, I haue no bended knees, No supple tongue, nor speeches steep'd in Oyle, No candied flattery, nor honied words. I come an armed Prologue: arm'd with Arts, Who by my sacred charmes and mystick skill, By vertue of this all-commanding Wand Stolne from the sleepy Mercury, will raise From blacke Abysse and sutty hell, that mirth Which fits this learned round. Thou long-dead Show, Breake from thy Marble prison, sleepe no more In myrie darkenesse, hencefoorth I forbid thee To bathe in Lethe's muddy waues, ascend As bright as morning from her Tithons bed, And red with kisses that haue stain'd thy cheeke, Grow fresh againe: What? is my power contemned? Dost thou not heare my call, whose power extends To blast the bosome of our mother Earth? To remoue heauens whole frame from off her hinges, As to reuerse all Natures lawes? Ascend, Or I will call a band of Furies foorth, And all the Torments wit of hell can frame Shall force thee vp. O spare your too officious whips a while, Giue some small respit to my panting limbs, Let me haue leaue to speake, and truce to parlie, Whose powerfull voyce hath forc'd me to salute This hated ayre! are not my paines sufficient, But you must torture me with the sad remembrance Of my deserts, the Causes of my exile? 'Tis thy release I seeke, I come to file Those heauy shackels from thy wearied limbes, And giue thee leaue to wae the Stage againe, As free as vertue: Burne thy withered Bayes, And with fresh Laurell crowne thy sacred Temples, Cast off thy maske of darknesse, and appeare As glorious as thy sister Comedy. But first with teares, wash off that guilty sinne, Purge out those ill-digested dregges of wit, That vse their inke to blot a spotlesse fame, Let's haue no one particular man traduc'd, But like a Noble Eagle seaze on vice, As she flies bold and open! spare the persons: Let vs haue simple mirth, and innocent laughter; Sweet-smiling lips, and such as hide no fangs, No venemous biting teeth, or forked tongues, Then shall thy freedome be restor'd againe, And full applause be wages of thy paine. Then from the depth of truth I here protest, I doe disclaime all petulant hate and malice, I will not touch such men as I know vicious, Much lesse the good: I will not dare to say That such a one pay'd for his fellowship, And had no learning but in's purse; no Officer Need feare the sting of my detraction, I'll giue all lcaue to fill their guts in quiet: I make no dangerous Almanacks, no gulls, No posts with enuious Newes and biting Packets,