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land_n english_a king_n lord_n 1,488 5 3.5153 3 false
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ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
A48059 Sr. Hercules Buffoon, or, The poetical squire a comedy, as it was acted at the Duke's Theatre / written by John Lacy ... Lacy, John, d. 1681. 1684 (1684) Wing L147; ESTC R1617 49,802 61

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of a day done in seven minutes Sq. Then shou'd we have all the rest of the day to be drunk in La. I believe thou speakst Short Hand already Squire for always when thou' rt d●unk thou putst twelve words into one Sq. That is not Short Hand 't is call'd Clipping the Kings English I hope Sir you 'll teach Women to scold in Short Hand Tongue and that wou'd be great Service to the Nation Bo. Good my Lord let us laugh this insufferable Short Hand Fool quite out of the Land Omnes The Short Hand Tongue ha ha ha away Fool away Over I 'll make you all Fools with one Philosophical Question Tell me whether at the great or the small end of a Spiders Egg does Nature make Production La. Thou art the Product of an Ass I 'm sure Sq. Pray you Sir let me ask you one question Is your name Overwise or Otherwise Over It is not proper for me to say I 'll quarrel with you but Sir I 'll make a Cess●tion of Friendship with you and so draw upon you Bo. Hold hold put up put up away Short Hand Ass. Over Well I pity all Fools from the Gentleman to the Lord and Lady Fools and so I take my leave Exit Overwise Sq. I hope you 'll take your leave in the Short Hand Tongue Aim My Lord we hope you will befriend us so far as to admit us Suitors to these Heiresses Lo. Gentlemen were I not concern'd I wou'd serve you frankly but being their Guardian were you my Brothers I wou'd not betray my Trust but will match them to men of such Honour and Wealth as shall deserve their Fortunes and this Resolution you cannot take unkindly La. No my good Lord your answer has fully satisfied us Bel. What a Noble Lord is this Cousin Ma. Come pretty Cousin I 'll give you half I have now nay I 'll give you half my Husband In. Thank you Honey Cousin but Iste be a little Whore then shall I not Ma. No sweet Cousin I 'll have a care of that Fi. My Lord we must see honest Captain Hammock here and his Miss well rewarded and all 's done Lo. And it shall be done to their Satisfaction EPILOGUE Wrote and spoke by J. H. Com. MEthinks Right Worthy Friends you seem to sit As if you had all ta'en Physick in the Pit When the Play 's done your jaded Fancies pall After Enjoyment thus 't is with us all You are Meer Epicures in Thinking and in fine As difficult to please in Plays as Wine You 've no true taste of either judge at random And cry De gustibus non disputandum One's for Vin d'Hermitage Love's lofty inditing Another Old Hoc he a Style that 's biting Both hate Champaign and Damn soft natural Writing And some forsooth Love Rhenish Wine and Sugar Plays in Meeter Like dead Wine swallowing Nonsense Rhimes make sweeter There 's one 's for a Cup of Nants and he 't is odds Like old Buffoon loves Plays that swinge the Gods True English Topers Racy Sack ne'er fail With such Ben. Johnson's humming Plays prevail Whilest some at Tricks and Grimace onely fleer To such must noisy frothy Farce appear These new Wits relish Small Smart Bottle Beer French Gouts that mingle Water with their Wine Cry Ah de French Song Gosoun dat is ver ' fine Who never drink without a relishing Bit Scapin methinks such sickly Tastes might hit Where w' entertain each squeamish nicer Palat With Sawce of Dances and with Songs for Salad Since then 't is so hard to please with choicest Dyet Our Guests wh'm Wit and Sense do dayly riot Since Wit is damn'd by those whom Wits we call As Love that stands by Love by Love does fall When Fools both good and bad like Whores swallow all I wish for your sakes the Sham Wits o' th' Nation Would take to some honest some thriving Vocation The Wit of our Feet you see every Night Says more to our purpose than all you can write Since things are thus carried a Wit 's such a Tool He that makes the best Plays does but best play the Fool. A Dreaded Fool 's your Bully A Wealthy Fool 's your Cit A Contented Fool 's your Cully But your Fool of Fool 's your Wit They all Fool Cit of 's Wife He fools them of their Pelf But your Wit 's so damn'd a Fool He onely Fools himself O Wits then face about to Sense Alas I know it by my self a Wit 's an Ass. For like you in my time I 've been Foolish in Rhime But now so repent the Nonsensical Crime I speak it in Tears which from me may seem odly Henceforth I 'll grow wiser Damn Wit I 'll be Godly That when by new Grace I have wip'd off old Stains In time I may pass not for Count but Sir Haynes FINIS