Jonson, Ben · published 1631 · first performed or written 1626 [Feb] (Annals) comedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T9 Theatre talk: prologues, poets and playe · 474 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T9: play, stage, poet, prologue, author, wit, plays, muse, scene, players.
Not, his Actors will abuse him enough, or I am deceived. Yonder he is within (I was i' the Tiring-house a while to see the Actors dressed) rolling himself up and down like a tun, i' the midst of 'em, and spurges, never did vessel of wort, or wine work so! His sweeting put me in mind of a good Shroving dish (and I believe would be taken up for a service of state somewhere, an't were known) a stewed Poet! He doth sit like an unbraced Drum with one of his heads beaten out: For, that you must note, a Poet hath two heads, as a Drum has, one for making, the other repeating, and his repeating head is all to pieces: they may gather it up i' the tiring-house; for he hath torn the book in a Poetical fury, and put himself to silence in dead Sack, which, were there no other vexation, were sufficient to make him the most miserable Emblem of patience. The Prologue, peace. Gramercy Letherleg: Get me the Spurrier, * And thou hast fitted me. I'll do't presently. Look to me, wit, and look to my wit, Land, That is, look on me, and with all thine eyes, Male, Female, yea, Hermaphroditic eyes, And those bring all your helps, and perspicills, To see me at best advantage, and augment My form as I come forth, for I do feel I will be one, worth looking after, shortly. Now, by and by, that's shortly. it strikes! One, two, Three, four, five, six. Enough, enough, dear watch, Thy pulse hath beat enough. Now sleep, and rest; Would thou couldst make the time to do so too: I'll wind thee up no more. The hour is come So long expected! There, there, drop my wardship, My pupil age, and vassalage together. And Liberty, come throw thyself about me, In a rich suit, cloak, hat, and band, for now I'll sue out no man's Livery, but miny own, I stand on my own feet, so much a year, Right, round, and sound, the Lord of mine own ground, And (to rhyme to it) threescore thousand Pound! Not come? Not yet? Taylor thou art a vermin, Worse than the same thou prosecut'st, and prickest In subtle seam— (Go too, I say no more) Thus to retard my long: on the day I do writ man, to beaten thee. One and twenty, Since the clock strooke, complete! and thou wilt feel it Thou foolish Animal! I could pity him, (An I were not hearty angry with him now) For this one piece of folly he bears about him, To dare to tempt the Fury of an heir, T' above two thousand a year; yet hope his custom! Well, Mr. Fashioner, there's some must break— A head, for this your breaking. Are you come, Sir,
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)
No, his Actors will abuſe him enough, or I am deceiu'd. Yonder he is within (I was i' the Tiring-houſe a while to ſee the Actors dreſt) rowling himſelfe vp and downe like a tun, i' the midſt of 'hem, and ſpurges, neuer did veſſel of wort, or wine worke ſo! His ſweating put me in minde of a good Shrouing diſh (and I beleeue would be taken vp for a ſeruice of ſtate ſomewhere, an't were knowne) a ſtew'd Poet! He doth ſit like an vnbrac'd Drum with one of his heads beaten out: For, that you muſt note, a Poet hath two heads, as a Drum has, one for making, the other repeating, and his repeating head is all to pieces: they may gather it vp i' the tiring-houſe; for hee hath torne the booke in a Poeticall fury, and put himſelfe to ſilence in dead Sacke, which, were there no other vexation, were ſufficient to make him the moſt miſerable Embleme of patience. The Prologue, peace. GRamercie Letherleg: Get me the Spurrier, And thou haſt fitted me. I'll do't preſently. Look to me, wit, and look to my wit, Land, That is, looke on me, and with all thine eyes, Male, Female, yea, Hermaphroditicke eyes, And thoſe bring all your helpes, and perſpicills, To ſee me at beſt aduantage, and augment My forme as I come forth, for I doe feele I will be one, worth looking after, ſhortly. Now, by and by, that's ſhortly. 't ſtrikes! One, two, Three, foure, fiue, ſix. Inough, inough, deare watch, Thy pulſe hath beate inough. Now ſleepe, and reſt; Would thou couldſt make the time to doe ſo too: I'll winde thee vp no more. The houre is come So long expected! There, there, drop my wardſhip, My pupill age, and vaſſalage together. And Liberty, come throw thy ſelfe about me, In a rich ſuite, cloake, hat, and band, for now I'le ſue out no mans Liuery, but miny owne, I ſtand on my owne feete, ſo much a yeere, Right, round, and ſound, the Lord of mine owne ground, And (to ryme to it) threeſcore thouſand Pound! Not come? Not yet? Taylor thou art a vermine, Worſe then the ſame thou proſecut'ſt, and prick'ſt In ſubtill ſeame— (Go too, I ſay no more) Thus to retard my longings: on the day I doe write man, to beat thee. One and twenty, Since the clock ſtrooke, compleat! and thou wilt feele it Thou fooliſh Animall! I could pitty him, (An' I were not heartily angry with him now) For this one peece of folly he beares about him, To dare to tempt the Furie of an heyre, T' aboue two thouſand a yeere; yet hope his cuſtome! Well, Mr. Faſhioner, theres ſome muſt breake— A head, for this your breaking. Are you come, Sir,