Jonson, Ben · published 1631 · first performed or written 1629 [licensed for stage, Jan 19] (Annals) comedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T41 Household service: masters, doors and po · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
Bird of the Arts he is, and Fly by name! Buz. Blow him off good Pru, they'll mar all else. The Sovereign's honour is to cherish learning. What in a Fly? In any thing industrious. But Flies are busy! Nothing more troublesome, Or importune! there's nothing more domestic, Tame, or familiar than your Fly in Cuerpo. That is when his wings are cut, he is tame indeed, else Nothing more impudent, and greedy; licking: Or saucy, good Sir Glorious. Leave your Advocateship Except that we shall call you Orator Fly, And send you down to the dresser, and the dishes. A good flap, that! Commit you to the steem! Or else condemn you to the bottles. And pots. There is his quarry. He will chirp, far better, Your bird, below. And make you finer Music. His buzz will there become him. Come away. Buz, in their faces: Give 'em all the Buz, Dor in their ears, and eyes, Hum, Dor, and Buz! I will statuminate and under prop thee. If they scorn us, let us scorn them- we'll find The thoroughfare below, and Quaere him, Leave these relics, Buz; they shall see that I, Spite of their jeers, dare drink, and with a Fly. A fair remove at once, of two impertinents! Excellent Pru! I love thee for thy wit, No less than State. One must preserve the other. Who's here? O Lovel, Madam, your sad servant. Sad? he is sullen still, and wears a cloud About his brows; I know not how to approach him. I will instruct you, madame, if that be all, Go to him and kiss him. How, Pru? Go, and kiss him, I do command it. thouart not wild, wench! No, Tame, and exceeding tame, but still your Sovereign. Hath too much bravery made thee mad? Nor proud do, what I do enjoin you. No disputing Of my prerogative, with a front, or frown; Do not detract: you know th'authority Is mine, and I will exercise it, swiftly, If you provoke me. I have woven a net To snare myself in! Sir I am enjoined To tender you a kiss; but do not know Why, or wherefore, only the pleasure royal Will have it so, and urges— Do not you Triumph on my obedience, seeing it forced thus. There 'tis. And welcome. Was there ever kiss That relished thus! or had a sting like this, Of so much Nectar, but, with Aloës mixed. No murmuring, nor repining, I am fixed. It had, methinks, a quintessence of either, But that which was the better, drowned the bitter. How soon it passed away! how unrecovered! The distillation of another soul Was not so sweet! and till I meet again, That kiss, those lips, like relish, and this taste, Let me turn all, consumption, and, here waste. The royal assent is past, and cannot alter. You'll turn a Tyrant. Be not you a Rebel, It is a name is alike odious.
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)
Bird of the Arts he is, and Fly by name! Buz. Blow him off good Pru, they'l mar all else. The Soueraigne's honor is to cherish learning. What in a Fly? In any thing industrious. But Flies are busie! Nothing more troublesom, Or importune! Ther's nothing more domestick, Tame, or familiar then your Flie in Cuerpo. That is when his wings are cut, he is tame indeed, else Nothing more impudent, and greedy; licking: Or sawcy, good Sir Glorious. Leaue your Aduocate-ship Except that we shall call you Orator Flie, And send you downe to the dresser, and the dishes. A good flap, that! Commit you to the steem! Or s condemn you to the bottles. And pots. There is his quarry. He will chirp, far better, Your bird, below. And make you finer Musique. His buz will there become him. Come away. Buz, in their faces: Giue 'hem all the Buz, Dor in their eares, and eyes, Hum, Dor, and Buz! I will statuminate and vnder prop thee. If they scorne vs, let vs scorne them- Wee'll finde The thorough-fare below, and Quaere him, Leaue these relicts, Buz; they shall see that I, Spight of their jeares, dare drinke, and with a Flie. A faire remoue at once, of two impertinents! Excellent Pru! I loue thee for thy wit, No lesse then State. One must presrue the other. Who's here? O Lovel, Madam, your sad seruant. Sad? he is sollen still, and weares a cloud About his browes; I know not how to approach him. I will instruct you, madame, if that be all, Goe to him and kisse him. How, Pru? Goe, and kisse him, I doe command it. Th'art not wilde, wench! No, Tame, and exceeding tame, but still your Sou'raigne. Hath too much brauery made thee mad? Nor proud Doe, what I doe enioyne you. No disputing Of my prerogatiue, with a front, or frowne; Doe not detrect: you know th'authority Is mine, and I will exercise it, swiftly, If you prouoke me. I haue wouen a net To snare my selfe in! Sir I am enioyn'd To tender you a kisse; but doe not know Why, or wherefore, onely the pleasure royall Will haue it so, and vrges—Doe not you Triumph on my obedience, seeing it forc't thus. There 'tis. And welcome. Was there euer kisse That relish'd thus! or had a sting like this, Of so much Nectar, but, with Aloës mixt. No murmuring, nor repining, I am fixt. It had, me thinks, a quintessence of either, But that which was the better, drown'd the bitter. How soone it pass'd away! how vnrecouered! The distillation of another soule Was not so sweet! and till I meet againe, That kisse, those lips, like relish, and this taste, Let me turne all, consumption, and, here waste. The royall assent is past, and cannot alter. You'l turne a Tyran. Be not you a Rebell, It is a name is alike odious.