Jonson, Ben · published 1631 · first performed or written 1626 [Feb] (Annals) comedy · King's Men T26 Devils, hell and fiends typicality 0.78 · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T26: devil, hell, devils, sure, soul, fiend, sr, wife, lord, men.
I remember it gossip, I went with you, by the same token, Mrs. Trouble Truth dissuaded us, and told us, he was a profane Poet, and all his Plays had Devils in them. That he kept school vpo' the Stage, could conjure there, above the School of Westminster, and Doctor Lamb too: not a Play he made, but had a Devil in it. And that he would learn us all to make our husband's Cuckolds at Plays: by another token, that a young married wife i'the company, said, she could find in her heart to steal thither, and see a little o'the vanity through her mask, and come practice at home. O, it was, Mistress— Nay, Gossip, I name no body. It may be 'twas myself. But was the Devil a proper man, Gossip? As fine a gentleman, of his inches, as ever I saw trusted to the Stage, or any where else: and loved the common wealth, well as ere a Patriot of 'em all: he would carry away the Vice on his back, quick to Hell, in every Play where he came, and reform abuses. There was the Devil of Edmonton, no such man, I warrant you. The Conjurer cozened him with a candle's end, he was an Ass. But there was one Smug, a Smith, would have made a horse laugh, and broke his halter, as they say. O, but the poor man had got a shrewd mischance, one day. How, Gossip? He had dressed a Rogue jade i' the morning, that had the Staggers, and had got such a spice of 'em himself, by noon, as they would not away all the Play time, do what he could, for his heart. 'Twas his part, Gossip, he was to be drunk, by his part. Say you so, I understood not so much. Would we had such an other part, and such a man in this play, I fear 'twill be an excellent dull thing. Expect, intent it. YOur Grace is sad me thinks, and melancholy! You do not look upon me with that face, As you were want, my Goddess, bright Pecunia: Although your Grace be fall'n, of two i'the hundred, In vulgar estimation; yet am I, You Grace's servant still: and teach this body, To bend, and these my aged knees to buckle, In adoration, and just worship of you. Indeed, I do confess, I have no shape To make a minion of, but I'm your Martyr, Your Grace's Martyr. I can hear the Rogues, As I do walk the streets, whisper, and point, There goes old Peniboy, the slave of money, Rich Peniboy, Lady Pecunia's drudge, A sordid Rascal, one that never made Good meal in his sleep, but sells the acates are sent him, Fish, Fowle, and venison, and preserves himself, Like an old hoary Rat, with mouldy piecrust. This I do hear, rejoicing, I can suffer This, and much more, for your good Grace's sake.
nodes 679–713 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 12 of 50 in this edition
Length
492 words · 686 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T26 — Devils, hell and fiendscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.777 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T23 · seed 44: T23 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
I remember it goſsip, I went with you, by the ſame token, Mrs. Trouble Truth diſwaded vs, and told vs, hee was a prophane Poet, and all his Playes had Diuels in them. That he kept ſchole vpo' the Stage, could coniure there, aboue the Schole of Weſtminſter, and Doctor Lamb too: not a Play he made, but had a Diuell in it. And that he would learne vs all to make our husbands Cuckolds at Playes: by another token, that a young married wife i'the company, ſaid, ſhee could finde in her heart to ſteale thither, and ſee a little o'the vanity through her maſque, and come practice at home. O, it was, Miſtreſſe— Nay, Goſsip, I name no body. It may be 'twas my ſelfe. But was the Diuell a proper man, Goſsip? As fine a gentleman, of his inches, as euer I ſaw truſted to the Stage, or any where elſe: and lou'd the common wealth, well as ere a Patriot of 'hem all: hee would carry away the Vice on his backe, quicke to Hell, in euery Play where he came, and reforme abuſes. There was the Diuell of Edmonton, no ſuch man, I warrant you. The Coniurer cooſen'd him with a candles end, hee was an Aſſe. But there was one Smug, a Smith, would haue made a horſe laugh, and broke his halter, as they ſay. O, but the poore man had got a ſhrewd miſchance, one day. How, Goſsip? He had dreſt a Rogue Iade i' the morning, that had the Staggers, and had got ſuch a ſpice of 'hem himſelfe, by noone, as they would not away all the Play time, doe what hee could, for his heart. 'Twas his part, Goſsip, he was to be drunke, by his part. Say you ſo, I vnderſtood not ſo much. Would wee had ſuch an other part, and ſuch a man in this play, I feare 'twill be an excellent dull thing. Expect, intend it. YOur Grace is ſad me thinks, and melancholy! You doe not looke vpon me with that face, As you were wont, my Goddeſſe, bright Pecunia: Although your Grace be falne, of two i'the hundred, In vulgar eſtimation; yet am I, You Graces ſeruant ſtill: and teach this body, To bend, and theſe my aged knees to buckle, In adoration, and iuſt worſhip of you. Indeed, I doe confeſſe, I haue no ſhape To make a minion of, but I'm your Martyr, Your Graces Martyr. I can heare the Rogues, As I doe walke the ſtreetes, whiſper, and point, There goes old Peni-boy, the ſlaue of money, Rich Peni-boy, Lady Pecunia's drudge, A ſordid Raſcall, one that neuer made Good meale in his ſleep, but ſells the acates are ſent him, Fiſh, Fowle, and veniſon, and preſerues himſelfe, Like an old hoary Rat, with mouldy pye-cruſt. This I doe heare, reioycing, I can ſuffer This, and much more, for your good Graces ſake.