Selected quad for the lemma: book_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
book_n	know_v	speak_v	write_v	2,682	5	5.1468	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A07078	The scourge of villanie Three bookes of satyres.	Marston, John, 1575?-1634.	1598 (1598)	STC 17485; ESTC S104629	28,311	124

for lecherers To satiate Nay to tyer thee with the vse Of weakning lust Yee fainers leaue t' abuse Our better thoughts with your hipocisie Or by the euer-liuing Veritie I 'le stryp you nak'd and whyp you with my rimes Causing your shame to liue to after times SATYRE X. Humours SLeep grim Reproofe my iocond Muse dooth sing In other keyes to nimbler fingering Dull sprighted Melancholy leaue my braine To hell Cimerian night in liuely vaine I striue to paint then hence all darke intent And sullen frownes come sporting meriment Cheeke dimpling laughter crowne my very soule With iouisance whilst mirthfull iests controule The goutie humours of these pride-swolne dayes Which I doe long vntill my pen displaies O I am great with mirth some midwifrie Or I shall breake my sides at vanitie Roome for a capering mouth whose lips nere stur But in discoursing of the gracefull slur Who euer heard spruce skipping Curio Ere prate of ought but of the whirle on toe The turne aboue ground Robrus sprauling kicks Fabius caper Harries tossing tricks Did euer any eare ere heare him speake Vnlesse his tongue of crosse-poynts did intreat His teeth doe caper whilst he eates his meate His heeles doe caper whilst he takes his seate His very soule his intellectuall Is nothing but a mincing capreall He dreames of toe-turnes each gallant hee doth meete He fronts him with a trauers in the streete Prayse but Orchestra and the skipping art You shall commaund him faith you haue his hart Euen capring in your fist A hall a hall Roome for the Spheres the Orbes celestiall Will daunce Kemps Iigge They 'le reuel with neate iumps A worthy Poet hath put on their Pumps O wits quick trauers but sance ceo's slow Good faith t is hard for nimble Curio Yee gracious Orbs keepe the old measuring All 's spoyld if once yee fall to capering Luscus what 's playd to day faith now I know I set thy lips abroach from whence doth flow Naught but pure Iuliat and Romio Say who acts best Drusus or Roscio Now I haue him that nere of ought did speake But when of playes or Plaiers he did treate H'ath made a common-place booke out of plaies And speakes in print at least what ere he sayes Is warranted by Curtaine plaudeties If ere you heard him courting Lesbias eyes Say Curteous Sir speakes he not mouingly From out some new pathetique Tragedie He writes he railes he iests he courts what not And all from out his huge long scraped stock Of well penn'd playes Oh come not within distance Martius speakes Who nere discourseth but of fencing feates Of counter times finctures slye passataes Stramazones resolute Stoccataes Of the quick change with wiping mandritta The carricado with th' enbrocata Oh by Iesu Sir me thinks I heare him cry The honourable fencing mistery Who doth not honor Then fals he in againe Iading our eares and some-what must be saine Of blades and Rapier-hilts of surest garde Of Vincentio and the Burgonians ward This bumbast foile-button I once did see By chaunce in Liuias modest companie When after the God-sauing ceremonie For want of talke-stuffe falls to foinerie Out goes his Rapier and to Liuia He showes the ward by puncta reuersa The incarnata Nay by the blessed light Before he goes he 'le teach her how to fight And hold her weapon Oh I laught amaine To see the madnes of this Martius vaine But roome for Tuscus that iest-mounging youth Who nere did ope his Apish gerning mouth But to retaile and broke anothers wit Discourse of what you will he straight can fit Your present talke with Sir I 'le tell a iest Of some sweet Lady or graund Lord at least Then on he goes And nere his tongue shall lye Till his ingrossed iests are all drawne dry But then as dumbe as Maurus when at play H'ath lost his crownes and paun'd his trim array He doth naught but retaile iests breake but one Out flies his table-table-booke let him alone He 'le haue 't i-fayth Lad hast an Epigram Wilt haue it put into the chaps of Fame Giue Tuscus coppies sooth as his owne wit His propper issue he will father it O that this Eccho that doth speake spet write Naught but the excrements of others spright This ill-stuft truncke of iests vvhose very soule Is but a heape of Iibes should once inroule His name mong creatures termed rationall whose cheefe repute whose sence whose soule al Are fedde with offall scrapes that sometimes fal From liberall wits in their large festiuall Come a loft Iack roome for a vaulting skip Roome For Torquatus that nere op'd his lip But in prate of pummado reuersa Of the nimble tumbling Angelica Now on my soule his very intelect Is naught but a curuetting Sommerset Hush hush cryes honest Phylo peace desist Doost thou not tremble sower Satyrist Now iudiciall Musus readeth thee He 'le whip each line he 'le scourge thy balladry Good fayth he will Phylo I prethee stay Whilst I the humour of this dogge display He 's naught but censure wilt thou credite me He neuer wrote one line in poesie But once at Athens in a theame did frame A paradox in prayse of Vertues name Which still he huggs and lulls as tenderly As cuckold Tisus his wifes bastardie Well here 's a challenge I flatly say he lyes That heard him ought but censure Poesies T is his discourse first hauing knit the brow Stroke vp his fore-top champed euery row Belcheth his slauering censure on each booke That dare presume euen on Medusa looke I haue no Artists skill in simphonies Yet when some pleasing Diapason flies From out the belly of a sweet touch'd Lute My eares dares say t is good or when they sute Some harsher seauens for varietie My natiue skill discernes it presently What then Will any sottish dolt repute Or euer thinke me Orpheus absolute Shall all the world of Fidlers follow me Relying on my voyce in musickrie Musus here 's Rhodes le ts see thy boasted leape Or els avaunt lewd curre presume not speake Or with thy venome-sputtering chapps to barke Gainst well-pend Poems in the tongue-tied darke O for a humour looke who yon doth goe The meager lecher lewd Luxurio T is he that hath the sole monopolie By patent of the Suburbe lecherie No new edition of drabbs comes out But seene and allow'd by Luxurios snout Did euer any man ere heare him talke But of Pick-hatch or of some Shorditch baulke Aretines filth or of his wandring whore Of some Cynedian or of Tacedore Of Ruscus nastie lothsome brothell rime That stincks like Aiax froth or muck-pit slime The newes he tells you is of some new flesh Lately broke vp spanne new hote piping fresh The curtesie he showes you is some morne To giue you Venus fore her smock be on His eyes his tongue his soule his all is lust VVhich vengeance and confusion follow must Out on this salt humour letchers dropsie Fie it doth soyle my chaster poesie O spruce How