The Atheist's Tragedy, or The Honest Man's Revenge · chunk 12 of 41
Tourneur, Cyril · published 1611 · first performed or written 1611 [1607-1611] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T40 Sin, guilt and violent loss within famil · 490 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T40: brother, death, life, die, heaven, sin, live, father, blood, soul.
Good reason sir, the beer has sent all the malt up into your brain, and left nothing but the water in your body. Borachio! seest those fellows? Yes my Lord. Their drunkenness that seems ridiculous, Shall be a serious instrument, to bring Our sober purposes to their success. I am prepared for th'execution, sir. Cast off this habit, and about it straight. Let them drink healths, & drown their brains i'the flood; I'll promise them they shall be pledged in blood. You ha'left a damnable snuff here. Do you take that in snuff Sir? You are a damnable rogue then.— Fortune I honour thee. My plot still rises, According to the model of mine own desires.— Lights for my Brother.— What ha'you drunk yourselves mad you knaves. My Lord the jacks abused me. I think they are the jacks indeed that have abused thee, Dost hear? that fellow is a proud knave. He has abused thee. As thou goest over the fields by and by, in lighting my brother home, I'll tell thee what' shalt do. Knock him over the pate with thy torch, I'll bear the out in't. I will singe the goose by this torch. Dost hear; fellow. Seest thou that proud knave, I have given him a lesson for his sauciness. H'as wronged thee. I'll tell thee what' shalt do: As we go over the fields by and by, clap him suddenly o'er the coxcomb with thy torch, I'll bear thee out in't. I will make him understand as much. Now monsieur Snuff! What has my brother done? Made his Will; and by that Will made you his heir; with this proviso, that as occasion shall hereafter move him; he may revoke or alter it when he pleases. Yes. Let him if he can.— I'll make it sure from his revoking. Brother now good night. The sky is dark, we'll bring you o'er the fields. Who can but strike, wants wisdom to maintain: He that strikes safe and sure, has heart and brain. O Love! thou chaste affection of the Soul, Without th'adulterate mixture of the blood; That virtue which to goodness addeth good: The minion of heavens heart. Heaven! is't my fate For loving that thou lov'st to get thy hate? Or was my Charlemont thy chosen Love? And therefore hast received him to thyself? Then I confess thy anger's not unjust. I was thy rival Yet to be divorced From love, has been a punishment enough. (Sweet heaven) without being married unto hate, Hadst thou been pleased: O double misery! Yet since thy pleasure hath inflicted it, I not my heart, my dutie shall submit. Mistress Cataplasma, good night. I pray when your Man has brought you home, let him return and light me to my house. He shall instantly wait on your Ladyship. Good Mistress Cataplasma; for my servants are all drunk; I cannot be beholding to'em for their attendance. O here's your Bride.
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)
Good reason sir, the beere has sent all the malt vp into your braine, and left nothing but the water in your body. Borachio! seest those fellowes? Yes my Lord. Their drunkennesse that seemes ridiculous, Shall be a serious instrument, to bring Our sober purposes to their successe. I am prepar'd for th'execution, sir. Cast off this habite, and about it straight. Let them drinke healthes, & drowne their braines i'the floud; Ile promise them they shall be pledg'd in bloud. You ha'left a damnable snuffe here. Doe you take that in snuffe Sir? You are a damnable rogue then.— Fortune I honour thee. My plot still rises, According to the modell of mine owne desires.— Lights for my Brother.—What ha'you drunke your selues mad you knaues. My Lord the Iackes abus'd mee. I thinke they are the Iackes indeed that haue abus'd thee, Dost heare? that fellow is a proud knaue. Hee has abus'd thee. As thou goest ouer the fields by and by, in lighting my brother home, Ile tell thee what'sha't doe. Knocke him ouer the pate with thy torch, Ile beare the out in't. I will sindge the goose by this torch. Doest heare; fellow. Seest thou that proud knaue, I haue giuen him a lesson for his sawcinesse. H'as wrong'd thee. Ile tell thee what'sha't doe: As we goe ouer the fields by and by, clap him sodainely o'er the coxe-combe with thy torch, Ile beare thee out in't. I will make him vnderstand as much. Now Mounsieur Snuffe! What has my brother done? Made his Will; and by that Will made you his heyre; with this prouiso, that as occasion shall hereafter moue him; hee may reuoke or alter it when he pleases. Yes. Let him if he can.—Ile make it sure from his reuoking. Brother now good night. The skie is darke, wee'l bring you o'er the fields. Who can but strike, wants wisedome to maintaine: Hee that strikes safe and sure, has heart and braine. O Loue! thou chast affection of the Soule, Without th'adultrate mixture of the bloud; That vertue which to goodnesse addeth good: The minon of heauens heart. Heauen! is't my fate For louing that thou lou'st to get thy hate? Or was my Charlemont thy chosen Loue? And therefore hast receiu'd him to thy selfe? Then I confesse thy anger's not vniust. I was thy riuall Yet to be diuorc'd From loue, has beene a punishment enough. (Sweete heauen) without being marryed vnto hate, Hadst thou beene pleas'd: O double miserie! Yet since thy pleasure hath inflicted it, I not my heart, my dutie shall submit. Mistresse Cataplasma, good night. I pray when your Man has brought you home, let him returne and light me to my house. He shall instantly waite on your Ladiship. Good Mistresse Cataplasma; for my seruants are all drunke; I cannot be beholding to'em for their attendance. O here's your Bride.