The Atheist's Tragedy, or The Honest Man's Revenge · chunk 19 of 41
Tourneur, Cyril · published 1611 · first performed or written 1611 [1607-1611] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T50 Fleets, armies and generals: war by sea · 491 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T50: sea, honour, general, soldiers, men, ship, fight, soldier, king, vittori.
So it had need, for your foredoor (here) is both common and dangerous. Good night honest Fresco. Good night madam; if you get me kissing o'Ladies again.— This falls out handsomely. But yet the matter does not well succeed; Till I have brought it to the very deed. Sergeant! what hour o'the night is't. About one. I would you would relieve me; for I am So heavy, that I shall ha'much ado; To stand out my perdu. I'll e'en but walk The round (sir) and then presently return. For God's sake Sergeant relieve me, above five hours together in so foul a stormy night as this? Why 'tis a music Soldier. Heaven and earth are now in consort, when the Thunder and the Canon play one to another. I know not why I should be thus inclined to sleep, I feel my disposition pressed with a necessity of heaviness. Soldier! if thou hast any better eyes, I prithee wake me when the Sergeant comes. Sir, 'tis so dark and stormy that I shall scarce either see or hear him e'er he comes upon me. I cannot force myself to wake.— Return to France; for thy old Father's dead; And thou by murder, disinherited. Attend with patience the success of things; But leave revenge unto the King of kings. O my affrighted soul! what fearful dream Was this that waked me? Dreams are but the raised Impressions of premeditated things, By serious apprehension left upon Our minds, or else th'imaginary shapes Of objects proper to th' complexion, or The dispositions of our bodies. These Can neither of them be the cause, why I Should dream thus; for my mind has not been moved With any one conception of a thought To such a purpose; nor my nature wont To trouble me with fantasies of terror. It must be something that my Genius would Inform me of. Now gracious heaven forbid! O! let my Spirit be deprived of all Foresight and knowledge, ere it understand That vision acted; or divine that act To come. Why should I think so? Leave I not My worthy Father i'the kind regard Of a most loving Uncle? Soldier! sawst No apparition of a man? You dream Sir; I saw nothing. Tush. These idle dreams Are fabulous. Our boiling fantasies Like troubled waters falsify the shapes Of things retained in them; and make 'em seem Confounded, when they are distinguished, So My actions daily conversant with war; (The argument of blood and death) had left (Perhaps) th'imaginary presence of Some bloody accident upon my mind: Which mixed confusedly with other thoughts, (Whereof th'remembrance of my Father, might Be one) presented all together, seem Incorporate; as if his body were The owner of that blood, the subject of That death; when he's at Paris, and that blood Shed here. It may be thus. I would not leave The war, for reputation's sake, upon An idle apprehension; a vain dream.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T46 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
So it had neede, for your fore-doore (here) is both common and dangerous. Good night honest Fresco. Good night Madame; if you get mee kissing o'Ladies againe.— This fals out handsomely. But yet the matter does not well succeed; Till I haue brought it to the very deede. Serieant! what houre o'the night is't. About one. I would you would relieue me; for I am So heauie, that I shall ha'much adoe; To stand out my perdu. Ile e'en but walke The round (sir) and then presently returne. For God's sake Serieant relieue me, aboue fiue houres together in so foule a stormy night as this? Why t'isa musique Souldier. Heauen and earth are now in consort, when the Thunder and the Canon play one to another. I know not why I should be thus inclin'd to sleepe, I feele my disposition press'd with a necessitie of heauines. Souldier! if thou hast any better eyes, I prithee wake mee when the Serieant comes. Sir, t'is so darke and stormy that I shall scarce eyther see or heare him e'er he comes vpon mee. I cannot orce my selfe to wake.— Returne to France; for thy old Father's dead; And thou by murther, disinherited. Attend with patience the successe of things; But leaue reuenge vnto the King of kings. O my affrighted soule! what fearefull dreame Was this that wak'd mee? Dreames are but the rais'd Impressions of premeditated things, By serious apprehension left vpon Our mindes, or else th'imaginary shapes Of obiects proper to th' complexion, or The dispositions of our bodyes. These Can neyther of them be the cause, why I Should dreame thus; for my mind has not been mou'd With any one conception of a thought To such a purpose; nor my nature wont To trouble me with phantasies of terror. It must be something that my Genius would Informe me of. Now gratious heauen forbid! O! let my Spirit be depriu'd of all Fore-sight and knowledge, ere it vnderstand That vision acted; or diuine that act To come. Why should I thinke so? Left I not My worthy Father i'the kind regard Of a most louing Vncle? Souldier! sawst No apparition of a man? You dreame Sir; I saw nothing. Tush. These idle dreames Are fabulous. Our boyling phantasies Like troubled waters falsifie the shapes Of things retain'd in them; and make' em seeme Confounded, when they are distinguish'd, So My actions daily conuersant with warre; (The argument of bloud and death) had left (Perhaps) th'imaginary presence of Some bloudy accident vpon my minde: Which mix'd confusedly with other thoughts, (Whereof th'remembrance of my Father, might Be one) presented all together, seeme Incorporate; as if his body were The owner of that bloud, the subiect of That death; when hee's at Paris, and that bloud Shed here. It may be thus. I would not leaue The warre, for reputatio'ns sake, vpon An idle apprehension; a vaine dreame.