The Atheist's Tragedy, or The Honest Man's Revenge · chunk 14 of 41
Tourneur, Cyril · published 1611 · first performed or written 1611 [1607-1611] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown T40 Sin, guilt and violent loss within famil typicality 0.87 · 505 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T40: brother, death, life, die, heaven, sin, live, father, blood, soul.
Brother! dear Brother! Rascals, villains, knaves. Eternal darkness damn you; come away. Go round about into the gravel pit, and help my Brother up. Why what a strange unlucky night is this? Is't not my Lord? I think that Dog that howled the news of grief, that fatal screechowl ushered on this mischiefs. Mischief indeed my Lord. Your Brother's dead. he's dead. he's dead. Dead be your tongues. Drop out mine eyeballs, and let envious Fortune play at tennis with'em. Have I lived to this? Malicious Nature! hadst thou borne me blind; thou'dst yet been something favourable to me. No breath? No motion? prithee tell me heaven! hast shut thine eye to wink at murder; or hast put this sable garment on, to mourn at's death? Not one poor spark in the whole spacious sky, of all that endless number would vouchsafe to shine? You viceroys to the King of nature! whose constellations govern mortal births; where is that fatal Planet ruled at his Nativity? That might ha' pleased to light him out, as well into th'world; unless it be ashamed To have been the instrument of such a good man's cursed destiny.— Passions transports you. Recollect yourself. Lament him not. Whether our deaths be good Or bad; it is not death but life that tries; He lived well, (therefore) questionless, well dies. I. 'tis an easy thing for him that has no pain to talk of patience. Do you think that Nature has no feeling? Feeling? Yes. But has she purposed any thing for nothing? What good receives this body by your grief? Whether is't more unnatural not to grieve for him you cannot help with it; or hurt yourself with grieving and yet grieve in vain? Indeed had he been taken from me like a piece o'dead flesh, I should neither ha' felt it, nor grieved for't. But come hither, 'pray look here. Behold the lively tincture of his blood! Neither the Dropsy nor the jaundice in't. But the true freshness of a sanguine red; for all the fog of this black murderous night has mixed with it. For any thing I know, he might ha' lived till doomsday, and ha' done more good than either you or I. O Brother! He was a man of such a native goodness; as if Regeneration had been given him in his mother's womb. So harmless, that rather than ha' trod upon a worm, he would ha' shunned the way. So dearly pitiful, that e'er the poor could ask his charity with dry eyes, he gave 'em relief wi'tears— with tears— yes faith with tears. Take up the Corpse. For wisdom's sake let reason fortify this weakness. Why what would you ha' me do? Foolish Nature will have her course in spite o'wisdom. But I have e'en done. All these words were but a great wind, and now this shower of tears has laid it, I am calm again. You may set forward when you will. I'll follow you, like one that must and would not.
seed 43: T37 · seed 44: T36 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Brother! deare Brother! Rascals, villaines, knaues. Eternall darkenesse damne you; come away. Goe round about into the grauell pit, and helpe my Brother vp. Why what a strange vnlucky night this? Is't not my Lord? I thinke that Dogge that hol'd the newes of griefe, that fatall Scrichowle vsherd on this mischiefs. Mischeife indeed my Lord. Your Brother's dead. Hee's dead. Hee's dead. Dead be your tongues. Drop out mine eye-bals, and let enuious Fortune play at tennis with'em. Haue I liu'd to this? Malicious Nature! hadst thou borne me blinde; th'adst yet been something fauourable to me. No breath? No motion? 'prithee tell me heauen! hast shut thine eye to winke at murther; or hast put this sable garment on, to mourne at's death? Not one poore sparke in the whole spatious skye, of all that endlesse number would vouchsafe to shine? You vize-royes to the King of nature! whose constellations gouerne mortall births; where is that fatall Planet rul'd at his Natiutie? That might ha'pleas'd to light him out, as well into th'world; vnlesse it be asham'd Thaue beene the instrument of such a good mans cursed destnie.— Passions transports you. Recollect your selfe. him not. Whether our deaths be good Or bad; it is not death but life that tryes; Hee liu'd well, (therefore) questionlesse, well dyes. I. Tis an easie thing for him that has no paine to talke of patience. Doe you thinke that Nature has no feeling? Feeling? Yes. But has she purpos'd any thing for nothing? What good receiues this body by your griefe? Whether is't more vnnaturall not to grieue for him you cannot helpe with it; or hurt your selfe with grieuing and yet grieue in vaine? Indeede had hee beene taken from mee like a piece o'dead flesh, I should neither ha' felt it, nor grieued for't. But come hether, 'pray looke heere. Behold the liuely tincture of his bloud! Neither the Dropsie nor the Iaundies in't. But the true freshnesse of a sanguine red; for all the fogge of this blacke murdrous night has mix'd with it. For any thing I know, hee might ha' liu'd till doomesday, and ha' done more good then either you or I. O Brother He was a man of such a natiue goodnesse; as if Regeneration had beene giuen him in his mothers wombe. So harmeles, that rather then ha' trod vpon a worme, hee would ha' shun'd the way. So deerely pittifull, that e're the poore could aske his charity with dry eyes, hee gaue' em reliefe wi'teares—with teares—yes faith with teares. Take vp the Corps. For wisedom's sake let reason fortifie this weakenesse. Why what would you ha' mee doe? Foolish Nature will haue her course in spight o'wisedome. But I haue e'en done. All these wordes were but a great winde, and now this showre of teares has layd it, I am calme againe. You may set forward when you will. Ile follow you, like one that must and would not.