Selected quad for the lemma: sense_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
sense_n	wit_n	worthy_a	write_v	29	3	4.9547	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A27178	Fifty comedies and tragedies written by Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, Gentlemen ; all in one volume, published by the authors original copies, the songs to each play being added.; Plays. Selections	Beaumont, Francis, 1584-1616.; Fletcher, John, 1579-1625.	1679 (1679)	Wing B1582; ESTC R13766	2,374,878	1,160

That had a hand with thee Witty Yes all these Sir Old K. Nephew part a hundr'd pound amongst 'em I 'll repay it wealth love me as I love wit When I die I 'll build an Alms-house for decay'd wits Sir Gr. I 'll entertain one in my life time Scholar you shall be my Chaplain I have the gift of twenty Benefices simple as I am here Pris Thanks my great Patron Cun. Sir your Gentry and your name shall both be rais'd as high as my fortunes can reach 'em for your friend● sake Witty Something will be in my present power the future more You shall snare with me Ruin and Wife Thanks worthy Gentlemen Nee. Sir I would beg one thing of you Sir Gr. You can beg nothing of me Witty Oh Sir if she begs there 's your power over her Sir Gr. She has begg'd me for a fool already but 't is no matter I have begg'd her for a Lady that she might have been That 's one for another Witty Nay but if she beg Sir Gr. Let her beg agen then Nee. That your man Pompey's Coat may come over his ears back agen I would not he should be lost for my sake Sir Gr. Well 't is granted for mine own sake Mirab. I 'll intreat it Sir Sir Gr. Why then 't is granted for your sake Old K. Come come down with all weapons now 't is Musick time So it be purchas'd at an easie rate Some have receiv'd the knocks some giv'n the hits And all concludes in love there 's happy wits Exeunt The Epilogue at the reviving of this Play WE need not tell you Gallants that this night The Wits have jumpt or that the Scenes hit right 'T would be but labor lost for to excuse What Fletcher had to do in his brisk Muse Was so Mercurial that if he but writ An Act or two the whole Play rose up wit We 'll not appeal unto those Gentlemen Judge by their Cloaths if they sit right nor when The Ladies smile and with their Fanns delight To whisk a clinch aside then all goes right 'T was well receiv'd before and we dare say You now are welcome to no vulgar Play The Fair Maid of the Inn. A TRAGI-COMEDY The Persons represented in the Play Duke of Florence Cesario a young Gentleman of a fiery nature Son to Alberto Albertus Father to Cesario Admiral of Florence Baptista a brave Sea-Commander antient friend to Albertus and Father to Mentivole and Biancha Mentiuole Son to Baptista Lover of Clarissa Prospero a noble friend to Baptista Two Magistrates of Florence Host the supposed Father to Biancha Forobosco a cheating Mountebank Clown the Mountebanks man and setter Three Gentlemen Secretary to the Duke Four fools and knaves who pretend love to Biancha the Fair Maid of the Inn. Dancer Taylor Mulitteer Pedant Sailors Women Mariana Wife to Albertus a virtuous Lady Clarissa Mariana's Daughter in love with Mentiuole Juliana Neece to the Duke of Genoa Baptista's second wife Biancha the Fair Maid of the Inn beloved of Cesario and Daughter to Baptista and Juliana Hostess the supposed Mother of Biancha The Scene Florence PROLOGUE PLays have their fates not as in their true sence They 're understood but as the influence Of idle custom madly works upon The dross of many tongu'd opinion A worthy story howsoever writ For Language modest Mirth Conceit or Wit Meets oftentimes with the sweet commendation Of hang 't 't is scurvy when for approbation A Jigg shall be clapt at and every rhime Prais'd and applauded by a clamorous chime Let ignorance and laughter dwell together They are beneath the Muses pity Hither Come nobler Judgements and to those the strain Of our invention is not bent in vain The Fair Maid of the Inn to you commends Her hopes and welcomes and withal intends In th' Entertains to which she doth invite ye All things to please and some things to delight ye Actus Primus Scaena Prima Enter Cesario and Clarissa Cesario INterpret not Clarissa my true zeal In giving you counsel to transcend the bounds That should confine a brother 't is your honor And peace of mind which honor last will leave you I labor to preserve and though you yet are Pure and untainted and resolve to be so Having a Fathers eye and Mothers care In all your ways to keep you fair and upright In which respects my best advices must Appear superfluous yet since love dear Sister Will sometimes tender things unnecessary Misconstrue not my purpose Claris Sir I dare not But still receive it as a large addition To the much that I already stand ingag'd for Yet pardon me though I profess upon A true examination of my self Even to my private thoughts I cannot find Having such strong supporters to uphold me On what slight ground the least doubt can be rais'd To render me suspected I can fall Or from my Fame or Virtue Caesar Far be it from me To nourish such a thought and yet excuse me As you would do a Lapidary whose whole fortunes Depend upon the safety of one Jewel ●f he think no case precious enough To keep it in full l●stre nor no locks ●●ough lending strength to Iron doors sufficient ●o guard it and secure him you to me are A Gemm of more esteem and priz'd higher ●han ●●●●ers do their Muck or great men Title 〈◊〉 any s●●w which heaven avert in you 〈◊〉 reputation like a Diamond Cut newly from the rock women with envie And men with covetous desires look up at By prying ei●s discovered in a moment Would r●nder what the braveries of Florence For want o● counterpoize forbear to cheapen Of ●●●e or no value Cl●●is I see brother The mark you shoot at and much thank your love ●ut for my Virgin Jewel which is brought In comparison with your Diamond rest assur'd ●t shall not fall in such a workmans hands Whose ignorance or malice shall have power To cast one cloud upon it but still keep Her native splendor Cesa 'T is well I commend you And study your advancement with that care As I would do a Sisters whom I love With more than common order Claris That from me I hope 's return'd to you Cesar I do confess it Yet let me tell you but still with that love I wish to increase between us that you are Observ'd against the gravity long maintain'd ●n Italy where to see a maid unmasqu'd Is held a blemish to be over-frequent In giving or receiving visits Clari. How Cesar Whereas the custom is here to wooe by Picture And never see the substance you are fair And beauty draws temptations on You know it I wou●d not live to see a willing grant ●●m ●ou to one unworthy of your birth ●e●ture or fortune yet there have been Ladies Of rank proportion and of means beyond you That have prov'd this no miracle C●aris One unworthy Why pray you gentle brother who are they That I vouchsafe these bounties to I hope In your strict Criticisme

guess By the divided pieces which the Press Hath severally sent forth nor were gone so Like some our Modern Authors made to go One meerly by the help of th' other who To purchase fame do come forth one of two Nor wrote you so that ones part was to lick The other into shape nor did one stick The others cold inventions with such wit As serv'd like spice to make them quick and fit ●or out of mutual want or emptiness ●nd you conspire to go still Twins to th'Press But what thus join'd you wrote might have come forth As good from each and stor'd with the same worth That thus united them you did join sence In you 't was League in others impotence And the Press which both thus amongst us sends Sends us one Poet in a pair of friends JASPER MAINE On the happy Collection of Mr. FLETCHER 'S Works never before printed FLETCHER arise Vsurpers share thy Bays They Canton thy vast Wit to build small Plays He comes his Volume breaks through Clouds and Dust Down little Wits Ye must refund Ye must Nor comes he private here 's Great BEAUMONT too How could one single World encompass Two For these Co-heirs had equal power to teach All that all Wits both can and cannot reach Shakespear was early up and went so drest As for those dawning hours he knew was best But when the Sun shone forth You Two thought fit To wear just Robes and leave off Trunk hose Wit Now now 't was perfect none must look for New Manners and Scenes may alter but not You For Yours are not meer humours gilded Strains The fashion lost Your massy Sence remains Some think Your Wits of two Complexions fram'd That One the Sock th' Other the Buskin claim'd That should the Stage embattail all its Force FLETCHER would lead the Foot BEAUMONT the Horse But you were Both for Both not Semi-wits Each Piece is wholly Two yet never splits Y' are not two Faculties and one Soul still He th' Understanding Thou the quick free Will But as two Voyces in one Song embrace FLETCHER's keen Trebble and deep BEAUMONT's Base Two full Congenial Souls still Both prevail'd His Muse and Thine were Quarter'd not Impal'd Both brought Your Ingots Both toil'd at the Mint Beat melted sifted till no dross stuck in 't Then in each Others Scales weigh'd every Grain Then smooth and burnish'd then weigh'd all again Stampt both your Names upon 't at one bold Hit Then then 't was Coin as well as Bullion-Wit Thus Twins But at when Fate one Eye deprives That other strives to double which survives So BEAUMONT dy'd yet left in Legacie His Rules and Standard wit FLETCHER to Thee Still the same Planet though not fill'd so soon A two horn'd Crescent then now one Full-moon Joynt Love before now Honour doth provoke So the old Twin Giants forcing a huge Oak One slipt his footing th' Other sees him fall Graspt the whole Tree and single held up all Imperial FLETCHER here begins thy Reign Scenes flow like Sun-beams from thy glorious Brain Thy swift dispatching Soul no more doth stay Than he that built two Cities in one day Ever brim full and sometimes running o'r To feed poor languid Wits that wait at door Who creep and creep yet ne'r above ground stood For Creatures have most feet which have least Blood Put thou art still that Bird of Paradise ●hich hath no Feet and ever nobly flies Rich lusty sence such as the Poets ought For Poems if not excellent are naught Low Wit in Scenes in State a Peasant goes If mean and flat let it foot Yeoman-Prose That such may spell as are not Readers grown To whom he that writes Wit shews he hath none Brave Shakespear flow'd yet had his Ebbing too Often above Himself sometimes below Thou always best if ought seem'd to decline 'T was the unjudging Rout's mistake not Thine Thus thy fair SHEPHERDESS which the bold Heap False to themselves and Thee did prize so cheap Was found when understood fit to be Crown'd At worst 't was worth two hundred thousand Pound Some blast thy Works lest we should track their walk Where they steal all those few good things they talk Wit-Burglary must chide those it feeds on For plunder'd Folks ought to be rail'd upon But as stoln goods go off at half their worth Thy strong Sence palls when they purloin it forth When didst Thou borrow where 's the Man e'r read Ought beg'd by Thee from those alive or dead Or from dry Goddesses as some who when They stuff their Page with gods write worse than men Thou wert thine own Muse and hadst such vast odds Thou out-writ'st him whose Verse made all those Gods Surpassing those our dwarfish Age up-rears As much as Greeks or Latines thee in years Thy Ocean Fancy knew nor Banks nor Damms We ebb down dry to pebble Anagrams Dead and insipid all despairing sit Lost to behold this great Relapse of Wit What strength remains is like that wild and fierce Till Johnson made good Poets and right Verse Such boyst'rous Trifles thy Muse would not brook Save when she 'd show how scurvily they look No savage Metaphors things rudely Great Thou dost display not butcher a Conceit Thy Nerves have Beauty which invades and charms Looks like a Princess harness'd in bright Arms. Nor art thou loud and cloudy those that do Thunder so much do 't without Lightning too Tearing themselves and almost split their Brain To render harsh what thou speak'st free and clean Such gloomy Sence may pass for High and Proud But true-born wit still flies above the Cloud Thou know'st 't was Impotence what they call Height Who blusters strong i' th' Dark but creeps i' th' Light And as thy thoughts were clear so innocent Thy Fancy gave no unswept Language vent Slander'st not Laws prophan'st no holy Page As if thy Fathers Crosier aw'd the Stage High Crimes were still arraign'd though they made shift To prosper out four Acts were plagu'd i' th' Fifth All 's safe and wise no stiff affected Scene Nor swoln nor flat a true full natural Vein Thy Sence like well-drest Ladies cloath'd as skin'd Not all unlac'd nor City starcht and pin'd Thou hadst no Sloth no Rage no sullen Fit But Strength and Mirth FLETCHER's a Sanguine VVit Thus two great Consul-Poets all things sway'd Till all was English Born or English Made Mitre and Coyfe here into one Piece spun BEAUMONT a Judge's this a Prelate's Son What strange Production is at last display'd Got by two Fathers without Female aid Behold two Masculines espous'd each other Wit and the World were born without a Mother J. BERKENHEAD On the Edition of Mr. Francis Beaumont's and Mr. John Fletcher's Plays never printed before I Am amaz'd and this same Ecstasie Is both my Glory and Apologie Sober Joys are dull Passions they must bear Proportion to the Subject if so where Beaumont and Fletcher shall vouchsafe to be That subject That Joy must be Ecstasie Fury is

give thy self So common and so idle so open vile So great a wronger of thy worth so low I cannot nor I must not credit thee Lon. Now by this light I am a whoremaster An open and an excellent whormaster And take a special glory that I am so I thank my Stars I am a whoremaster And such a one as dare be known and seen And pointed at to be a noble wencher Bew. Do not let all ears hear this hark he Sir I am my self a whoremaster I am Believe it Sir in private be it spoken I love a whore directly most men are wenchers And have profest the Science few men That look upon ye now but whoremasters Or have a full desire to be so Lon. This is noble Bew. It is without all question being private And held as needful as intelligence But being once discover'd blown abroad And known to common senses 't is no more Than geometrical rules in Carpenters That only know some measure of an Art But are not grounded be no more deceived I have a conscience to reclaim you Sir Mistake me not I do not bid you leave your whore Or less to love her forbid it I should be such a villain to my friend Or so unnatural 't was never harbor'd here Learn to be secret first then strike your Deer Lon. Your fair instructions Mousieur I shall learn Bew. And you shall have them I desire your care Lon. They are your servants Bew. You must not love Lon. How Sir Bew. I mean a Lady there 's danger She hath an Usher and a Waiting Gentlewoman A Page a Coach-man these are fee'd and fee'd And yet for all that will be prating Lon. So. Bew. You understand me Sir they will discover 't And there is a loss of credit Table-talk Will be the end of this or worse than that Will this be worthy of a Gentleman Long. Proceed good Sir Bew. Next leave your City Dame The best of that Tribe are most meerly coy Or most extreamly foolish both which vices Are no great stirrers up unless in Husbands That owe this Cattle fearing her that 's coy To be but seeming her that 's fool too forward Lon. This is the rarest fellow and the soundest I mean in knowledge that e'r wore a Codpiece H 'as found out that will pass all Italy All France and England to their shames I speak And to the griefs of all their Gentlemen The noble Theory of Luxury Bew. Your patience And I will lay before your eyes a course That I my self found out 't is excellent Easie and full of freedome Long. O good Sir You rack me till I know it Bew. This it is When your desire is up your blood well heated And apt for sweet encounter chuse the night And with the night your Wench the streets have store There seize upon her get her to your chamber Give her a cardecew 't is royal payment When ye are dull dismiss her no man knows Nor she her self who hath encountred her Lon. O but their faces Bew. Nere talke of faces The night allows her equal with a Dutchess Imagination doth all think her fair And great clapt in Velvet she is so Sir I have tryed those and do find it certain It never failes me 't is but twelve nights since My last experience Lon. O my meiching Varlet I 'll fit ye as I live 'T is excellent I 'll be your Scholar Sir Enter Lady and Servant Wife You are fairly welcome both troth Gentlemen You have been strangers I could chide you for 't And taxe ye with unkindness What 's the news The Town was never empty of some novelty Servant What 's your intelligence Ser. Faith nothing I have not heard of any worth relating Bew. Nor I sweet Lady Lon. Then give me attention Monsieur Shattillion 's mad Wife Mad Lon. Mad as May-butter And which is more mad for a Wench Lady 'T is strange and full of pity Lon. All that comes near him He thinks are come of purpose to betray him Being full of strange conceit the wench he loved Stood very near the Crown Lady Alass good Monsieur A' was a proper man and fair demean'd A person worthy of a better temper Lon. He is strong opinion'd that the Wench he lov'd Remains close prisoner by the Kings command Fearing her title when the poor grieved Gentlewoman Follows him much lamenting and much loving ●n hope to make him well he knows her not Nor any else that comes to visit him Lady Let 's walk in Gentlemen and there discourse His further miseries you shall stay dinner As truth you must obey Om. We are your servants Exeunt Enter Couzen. Cous There 's no good to be done no cure to be wrought Upon my desperate Kinsman I 'll to horse And leave him to the fools whip misery I shall recover twenty miles this night My horse stands ready I 'll away with speed Enter Shattillion Shat. Sir may I crave your name Cous Yes Sir you may My name is Cleremont Shat. 'T is well your faction What party knit you with Cous I Know no parties ●or no Factions Sir Shat. Then weare this Cross of white And where you see the like they are my friends Observe them well the time is dangerous Cous Sir keep your cross I 'll weare none sure this fellow Is much beside himself grown mad Shat. A word Sir You can pick nothing out of this this cross Is nothing but a cross a very cross Plain without spell or witchcraft search it You may suspect and well there 's poyson in 't Powder or wild-fire but 't is nothing so Cous I do believe you Sir 't is a plain cross Shat. Then do your worst I care not tell the King Let him know all this as I am sure he shall When you have spit your venome then will I Stand up a faithful and a loyal Subject And so God save His Grace this is no Treason Cous He is March mad farewell Monsieur Exit Couzen. Shat Farewel I shall be here attending 't is my life They aime at there 's no way to save it well Let 'em spread all their nets they shall not draw me Into any open Treason I can see And can beware I have my wits about me I thank heaven for 't Enter Love Love There he goes That was the fairest hope the French Court bred The worthiest and the sweetest temper'd spirit The truest and the valiantest the best of judgment Till most unhappy I sever'd those virtues And turn'd his wit wild with a coy denial Which heaven forgive me and be pleas'd O heaven To give again his senses that my love May strike off all my follies Shat. Lady Love I Sir Shat. Your will with me sweet Lady Love Sir I come Shat. From the dread fovereign King I know it Lady He is a gracious Prince long may he live Pertain you to his chamber Lov. No indeed Sir That place is not for women Do you know me Shat. Yes I do