Richards, Nathaniel · published 1640 · first performed or written 1635 [1634-1636] (Annals) tragedy · King's Revels Company unassigned nearest T26 Devils, hell and fiends · 495 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T26: devil, hell, devils, sure, soul, fiend, sr, wife, lord, men.
Hoy day; not drawn by woman said you, If he come here, he shall be hanged and drawn, And dry drawn to; not drawn by a woman! gog's nigs that's fine i'faith. See, here they come prepared; I must withdraw For a more apt employment, show your skills, Women through lust and Hell will work their wills. Come Sir, we'll enter you. Most certain Into the devil's vaulting school; where lust In triumph rides o'er shame and innocence, Am I not in Hell. O silly Silius. Cannot a sweet shaped gallant like myself, Enter the house where Venus vestals live But it must needs be Hell, ha, ha, ha. Welcome Princely Spirits, Sweet faces, rich clothes, and exquisite bodies, Make you for ever (my most curious clients) Pruriently, pleasing to the blood of beauty, Hem and Stitch some stools and cushions quick. What have you brought me to your sempster's house. These are no idle persons. Is this your lusty kindred, sweet pleasure Which angles souls to hell, as men hook fish; ay, this is she the bane of all devotion, She whose enticements turns weak men aside From the right way of virtue, throwing 'em down Into the gulf of all confusion; From whence methinks those dreadful souls I hear Now at this instant cursing of your Sex; Your sin affected trimings to entice Which implicates the wretched mind of man Crying with horror 'gainst your impudence. O woman, woman, thy bewitching motion, fool's wisdom, reason, and blinds all devotion. What is the man detracted from his wits trow. Out thou devourer up of maiden heads Hoy day, I a devourer of maiden heads, That (with joy be it spoken) I have not had A maidenhead these fifty years. Prithee be not thus bitter unto 'em, Poor necessary evils they pleasure us. Out on your beastly, your most senseless pleasures, That makes you reasonless, esteeming best Those things delight you most. O I could stand, My life-time here to hear this Silius rail. Note but the end of all your lustful pleasures, All breed diseases, griefs, reproaches foul, Consumption of the body, and the soul, Engender sorrows and sottishness, Forgets all prudence, grows most insolent, Breeds th' Epilepsy that falling evil▪ Begets murder, makes a man a devil, o'erthrows whole families, confounds the just, Foisteth in children illegitimate, Corrupts all humane sweet society. The various paths of lust are all uneven, Her pleasures dreadful plagues the scourge of heaven. Our sovereign good is pleasure unto which None can attain but valiant men and wise. Oh. Silius thou shalt not fall unless I fall, Nor rise without me, we love thee Cajus Thou soul of music breath, breath and enchant. With thy delicious Tones while thus we bend, And health our love mirror of men to thee. Fool that I am, thou hast undone thyself, Keep in my virtue or this fiery trial Flames thee to Cinders. Fill for him, is't prepared? With deepest Art.
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)
Hoy day; not drawne by woman sayd you, If he come here, he shall be hang'd and drawne, And dry drawne to; not drawne by a woman! Gogs nigs that's fine ifaith. See, here they come prepar'd; I must withdraw For a more apt imployment, shew your skills, Women through lust and Hell will worke their wills. Come Sir, wee'l enter you. Most certaine Into the divels vaulting schoole; where lust In triumph rides or'e shame and innocence, Am I not in Hell. O silly Silius. Cannot a sweet shap't gallant like my selfe, Enter the house where Veus vestalls live But it must needs be Hell, ha, ha, ha. Welcome Princely Spirits, Sweet faces, rich cloathes, and exquisite bodies, Make you for ever (my most curious clients) Pruiently, pleasing to the blood of beautie, Hem and Stitch some stooles and cushions quicke. What have you brought me to your Sempsters house. These are no idle persons. Is this your lusty kindred, sweet pleasure Which angles soules to hell, as men hooke fish; I, this is she the bane of all devotion, She whose inticements turnes weake men aside From the right way of vertue, throwing em downe Into the gulfe of all confusion; From whence me thinks those dreadfull soules I heare Now at this instant cursing of your Sex; Your sinne affected trimings to entice Which implicates the wretched mind of man Crying with horrour 'gainst your impudence. O woman, woman, thy bewitching motion, Fooles wisedome, reason, and blinds all devotion. What is the man detracted from his wits tro. Out thou devourer up of maiden heads Hoy day, I a devourer of maiden heads, That (with joy be it spoken) I have not had A maidenhead these fiftie yeares. Prethee be not thus bitter unto 'em, Poore necessary evils they pleasure us. Out on your beastly, your most senselesse pleasures, That makes you reasonlesse, esteeming best Those things delight you most. O I could stand, My lifetime here to heare this Silius raile. Note but the end of all your lustfull pleasures, All breed diseases, griefes, reproaches foule, Consumption of the body, and the soule, Engender sorrowes and sotishnesse, Forgets all prudence, growes most insolent, Breeds th' Eplepse that falling evill▪ Begets murder, makes a man a divell, O'rethrowes whole families, confounds the just, Foisteth in children illigitimate, Corrupts all humane sweet societie. The various paths of lust are all uneven, Her pleasures dreadfull plagues the scourge of heaven. Our soveraigne good is pleasure unto which None can attaine but valiant men and wise. Oh. Silius thou shalt not fall unlesse I fall, Nor rise without me, we love thee Cajus Thou soule of musicke breath, breath and enchant. With thy delicious Tones while thus we bend, And health our love mirrour of men to thee. Foole that I am, thou hast undone thy selfe, Keepe in my vertue or this fiey triall Flames thee to Cindars. Fill for him, st prepar'd? With deepest Art.