The Atheist's Tragedy, or The Honest Man's Revenge · chunk 32 of 41
Tourneur, Cyril · published 1611 · first performed or written 1611 [1607-1611] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 518 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Why dost thou stare upon me? Thou art not the skull of him I murdered. What hast thou to do to vex my conscience? Sure thou wert the head of a most dogged Usurer, thouart so uncharitable. And that Bawd the sky, there; she could shut the windows and the doors of this great chamber of the world; and draw the curtains of the clouds between those lights and me about this bed of earth, when that same strumpet Murder & myself committed sin together. Then she could leave us in the dark, till the close deed was done: But now, that I begin to feel the loathsome horror of my sin; and (like a lecher emptied of his lust) desire to bury my face under my eyebrows, and would steal from my shame unseen; she meets me i'th' face with all her light corrupted eyes, to challenge payment o' me.— O behold. Yonder's the Ghost of old Montferrers in a long white sheet, climbing yond lofty mountain to complain to Heaven of me.— Montferrers!' pox o' fearfulness. 't is nothing but a fair white cloud. Why? was I borne a coward? He lies that says so. Yet the countenance of a bloodless worm might ha' the courage now to turn my blood to water. The trembling motion of an Aspen leaf, would make me like the shadow of that leaf he shaking under't. I could now commit a murder', were it but to drink the fresh warm blood of him I murdered; to supply the want and weakness o'mine own; 'tis grown so cold and phlegmatic. Murder, murder, murder. mountains overwhelm me, the Ghost of old Montferrers haunts me. Murder, murder, murder. O were my body circumvolved within that cloud; that when the thunder tears his passage open, it might scatter me to nothing in the air! Here you shall find the murdered body. Black Beelzebub, and all his hellhounds come to apprehend me? No my good Lord. we come to apprehend the murderer. The Ghost (great Pluto) was a fool; unfit to be employed in any serious business for the state of hell. Why? could not he ha' suffered me to raise the mountain o' my sins with one as damnable as all the rest; and then ha' tumbled me to ruin? But apprehend me e'en between the purpose and the act? before it was committed? Is this the murderer? He speaks suspiciously. No verily. This is my Lord D'amville. And his distraction (I think) grows out of his grief for the loss of a faithful servant. For surely I take him to be Borachio that is slain. Haah! Borachio slain? Thou look'st like Snuff, dost not. Yes in sincerity my Lord. Hark thee?— Sawest thou not a Ghost? A Ghost? where my Lord?— I smell a Fox. Here i' the Churchyard. Tush, tush; their walking spirits are mere imaginary fables. There's no such thing in rerum natura. Here is a man slain. And with the Spirit of consideration, I rather think him to be the murderer got into that disguise, than any such fantastic toy.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Why doest thou stare vpon me? Thou art not the scull of him I murder'd. What hast thou to doe to vexe my conscience? Sure thou wert the head of a most dogged Vurer, th'art so vncharitable. And that Bawde the skie, there; she could shut the windowes and the dores of this great chamber of the world; and draw the curtaines of the clouds betweene those lights and me about this bed of earth, when that same Stumpet Murder & my selfe committed sin together. Then she could leaue vs the darke, till the close deed was done: But now, that I begin to feele the loathsome horrour of my sinne; and (like a Leacher emptied of his lust) desire to burie my face vnder my eye-browes, and would steale from my shame vnseene; she meetes me i'th face with all her light corrupted eyes, to challenge payment o' mee.—O beholde. Yonder's the Ghast of olde Monferrers in a long white sheete, climbing yod loftie mountaine to complaine to Heau'n of me.— Montferrers! 'pox o' fearefulnesse. T' is nothing but a fare white cloude. Why? was I borne a coward? He lies that sayes so. Yet the count'nance of a bloudlesse worme might ha' the courage now to turne my bloud to water. The trembling motion of an Aspen leafe, would make me like the shadow of that leafe he shaking vnder't. I could now commit a murder', were it but to drinke the fresh warme bloud of him I murder'd; to supply the want and weakenesse o'mine owne; t'is growne so colde and fegmaticke. Murder, murder, murder. Mountaines o'erwhelme mee, the Ghoast of olde Montferrers haunts me. Murder, murder, murder. O were my body circumuolu'd within that cloude; that when the thunder teares his passage open, it might scatter me to nothing in the ayre! Here you shali finde the murder'd body. Black Beelzebub, and all his hell-hounds come to apprehend me? No my good Lord. Wee come to apprehend the murderer. The Ghoast (great Pluto) was a foole; vnfit to be imployed in any serious businesse for the state of hell. Why? could not he ha' suffer'd me to raise the mountaine o' my sinnes with one as damnable as all the rest; and then ha' tumbled me to ruine? But apprehend me e'en betweene the purpose and the act? before it was committed? Is this the murderer? He speakes suspitiously. No verily. This is my Lord D'amville. And his distraction (I thinke) growes out of his griefe for the losse of a faithfull seruant. For surely I take him to be Borachio that is slaine. Haah! Borachio slaine? Thou look'st like Snuffe, doest not. Yes in sincerity my Lord. Harke thee?—Sawest thou not a Ghoast? A Ghoast? where my Lord?—I smell a Foxe. Heere i' the Churchyard. Tush, tush; their walking spirits are meere imaginarie fables. There's no such thing in rerum natura. Heere is a man slaine. And with the Spirit of confideration, I rather think him to be the murderer got into that disguise, then any such phantastique toy.