The Atheist's Tragedy, or The Honest Man's Revenge · chunk 37 of 41
Tourneur, Cyril · published 1611 · first performed or written 1611 [1607-1611] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 500 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
oh. he's dead. O there expires the date of my posterity! Can Nature be so simple or malicious to destroy the reputation of her proper memory? She cannot. Sure there is some power above her that controls her force. A power above Nature? Doubt you that my Lord? Consider but whence Man receives his body and his form. Not from corruption like some worms and Flies; but only from the generation of a man. For Nature never did bring forth a man without a Man; Nor could the first Man being but the passive Subject not the active Mover, be the maker of himself; So of necessity there must be a Superior power to Nature. Now to myself I am ridiculous. Nature thou art a Traitor to my soul. Thou hast abused my trust. I will complain to a superior Court, to right my wrong I'll prove thee a forger of false assurances. In yond Star chamber thou shalt answer it. Withdraw the bodies. O the sense of death begins to trouble my distracted soul. Bring forth the malefactors to the Bar. Are you the Gentlewoman in whose house The murders were committed? Yes my Lord. That worthy attribute of Gentry, which Your habit draws from ignorant respect; Your name deserves not: nor yourself the name Of woman. Since you are the poison that Infects the honour of all womanhood. My Lord; I am a Gentlewoman: yet I must confess my poverty compels my life to a condition lower than my birth or breeding. Tush we know your birth. But under colour to profess the Sale Of tires and toys for Gentlewomen's pride; You draw a frequentation of men's wives To your licentious house; and there abuse Their Husbands.— Good my Lord her rent is great. The good Gentlewoman has no other thing to live by but her lodgings: So, she's forced to let her fore-rooms out to others, and herself contented to lie backwards. So. Here is no evidence accuses you, For accessaries to the murder; yet Since from the Spring of lust which you preserved; And nourished; ran th' effusion of that blood: Your punishment shall come as near to death. As life can bear it. Law cannot inflict Too much severity upon the cause Of such abhorred effects. Receive your sentence. Your goods (since they were gotten by that means, Which brings diseases;) shall be turned to th'use Of Hospitals. You carted through the Streets; According to the common shame of Strumpets, Your bodies whipped till with the loss of blood, You faint under the hand of punishment. Then that the necessary force of want, May not provoke you to your former life; You shall be set to painful labour; whose Penurious gains shall only give you food To hold up Nature; mortify your flesh; And make you fit for a repentant end. O good my Lord! No more; away with 'em. Now Monsieur Snuff! A man of your profession, found in a place of such impiety?
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)
Ooh. Hee's dead. O there expires the date of my posteritie! Can Nature be so simple or malicious to destroy the reputation of her proper memorie? Shee cannot. Sure there is some power aboue her that conroules her force. A power aboue Nature? Doubt you that my Lord? Consider but whence Man receiues his body and his forme. Not from corruption like some wormes and Flies; but onely from the generation of a man. For Nature neuer did bring forth a man without a Man; Nor could the first Man being but the passiue Subiect not the actiue Mouer, be the maker of himselfe; So of necessitie there must be a Superiour power to Nature. Now to my selfe I am ridiculous. Nature thou art a Traytour to my soule. Thou hast abus'd my trust. I will complaine to a superiour Court, toright my wrong I'le proue thee a forger of false assurances. In yond' Starre chamber thou shalt answere it. Withdraw the bodies. O the sence of death begins to trouble my distractedsoule. Bring forth the malefactors to the Barre. Are you the Gentlewoman in whose house The murders were committed? Yes my Lord. That worthie attribute of Gentrie, which Your habite drawes from ignorant respect; Your name deserues not: nor your selfe the name Of woman. Since you are the poyson that Infects the honour of all womanhood. My Lord; I am a Gentlewoman: yet I must confesse my pouertie compels my life to a condition lower then my birth or breeding. Tush we know your birth. But vnder colour to professe the Sale Of Tyres and toyes for Gentlewomens pride; You draw a frequentation of mens wiues To your licentious house; and there abuse Their Husbands.— Good my Lord her rent is great. The good Gentlewoman has no other thing to liue by but her lodgings: So, she's forc'd to let her fore-roomes out to others, and her selfe contented to lie backwards. So. Heere is no euidence accuses you, For accessaries to the murder; yet Since from the Spring of lust which you preseru'd; And nourish'd; ranne th' effusion of that bloud: Your punishment shall come as neare to death. As life can beare it. Law cannot inflict Too much seueritie vpon the cause Of such abhor'd effects. Receiue your sentence. Your goods (since they were gotten by that meanes, Which brings diseases;) shall beturn'd to th'vse Of Hospitalles. You carted through the Streetes; According to the common shame of Strumpets, Your bodies whip'd till with the losse of bloud, You faint vnder the hand of punishment. Then that the necessarie force of want, May not prouoke you to your former life; You shall be set to painefull labour; whose Penurious gaines shall onely giue you foode To hold vp Nature; mortifie your flesh; And make you fit for a repentant end. O good my Lord! No more; away with 'em. Now Monsieur Snuffe! A man of your profession, found in a place of such impietie?