If It Be Not Good, the Devil Is in It (If This Be Not a Good Play, the Devil Is in It) · chunk 26 of 44
Dekker, Thomas · published 1612 · first performed or written 1611 [1611-1612] (Annals) comedy · Queen Anne's Men · Red Bull T5 Christian faith, sin and salvation typicality 0.79 · 473 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T5: god, christ, david, sin, holy, israel, lord, mercy, sins, faith.
I'll tell thee how: are any here in debt To Merchants, Mercers, Tailors? let'em jet In their own satins, pay for what they ha' ta'en, And these will go less brave, other less complain. Ha ha! The mighty wrongs the weak, the rich the poor, This man should have his own, could he grease more His too-fat lawyer; that wretch for's coat does sue, But his coat's gone, and his skin flayed off too, Is't his purse be o'ermatched: these gross impure And rank diseases, long unto thy cure, Thy word's in pawn for't, these are the poors cries, How wilt thou stop their throats? With halters. Hang 'em. Hang 'em! any halters here list so set down? This lawbook speaks not so, yet 'tis thine own. Still braving me with this? burn it. Yes do. If you burn all the week, burn Saturday too: Do one good days-deed first, read poor men's plaints. hell's plagues confound 'em: in their heads and thine Vex me no more. I warrant thee i'll save mine. Holy Saint pardon me, ('las good father, my brain So wild is I forgot thee, but i'll to him again, 'tis but an old man's head off. King take it, i'll speak whilst this stands on my shoulders. But that you are.— An honest man, thou●'st have this, o I beseek thy attention to this Reverend sub-prior, Who plains against disorders of this House; Where once Devotion dwelled and Charity, there's Drunkenness now, Gluttony, and Lechery, Tell thou the Tale. Bad story soon is told; Because 'tis foul, that Leaf does all enfold, Their sins grow high, and fearful, and strike at Heaven, Punish them THOU, whose power from thence is given. Your Friars so lusty! All the Barbers in Naples tell news of that Priory. I would your Grace would let me purge this house of her infection; bestow the Livings of it on me, I'll sweeten it in one month. he'll lay it in▪ Lavender. The covent, the Demesnes, Immunities, Rents, Customs, charters, what to this house of Baal soever is belonging— Brisco 'tis thine. wilt rob the Church too, (Now thoust nothing left▪ scarce for thyself?) O heaven forfend such theft! Bestow it at thy pleasure. Woe to those days, When to raise Upstarts, the poor CHURCH decays. Call back thy gift (o King) and ere these eyes Behold unhallowed hands to Tyrannize Where many a good man his his Orisons said, And many a Requiem been sung out for the Dead, (Till I am thrust out by Death) o let me have My dwelling there, there let me dig my Grave, With mine own Nails, (shut up from worldly Light, Between two walls,) and die an anchorite. I refer you to your Patron there. That's I: Show me first where your Abbey-gold sleeps, then go die.
seed 43: T4 · seed 44: T5 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Ile tell thee how: are any here in debt To Merchants, Mercers, Taylors? let'em iet In their owne sattins, pay for what they haane, And these will goe lesse braue, tother lesse complaine. Ha ha! The mightie wrongs the weake, the rich the poore, This man should haue his owne, could he greaze more His too-fat lawyer; that wretch for's coate does sue, But his coat's gon, and his skin flead off too, Ist his purse bee ore-match'd: these grosse impure And ranck diseases, long vnto thy cure, Thy word's in pawn fort, these are the poores cryes, How wilt thou stop their throates? With halters. Hang 'em. Hang 'em! any halters here list so set down? This law-booke speakes not so, yet tis thine own. Still brauing me with this? burne it. Yes doe. If you burne all the weeke, burne saterday too: Doe one good dayes-deed first, read poore mens plaints. Hels plagues confound 'em: in their heads and thine Vex me no more. I warrant thee ile saue mine. HolySaint pardon me, ( good father, my braine So wilde is I forgot thee, but ile to him againe, Tis but an old mans head off. King take it, ile speake whilest this stands on my shoulders. But that you are.— An honest man, thou'st haue this, ô I beseeke thy attention to this Reuerend subPrior, Who plaines against disorders of this House; Where once Deuotion dwelt and Charitie, Ther's Drunkennesse now, Gluttonie, and Lecherie, Tell thou the Tale. Bad Storie soone is tolde; Because tis foule, that Leafe does all infolde, Their sinnes grow hye, and fearefull, and strike at Heauen, Punish them THOV, whose power from thence is giuen. Your Friers so lustie! All the Barbers in Nples tell newes of that Priorie. I would your Grace would let me purge this ouse of her infection; bestowe the Liuings of it on mee, ile seeten it one Moneth. Heele lay it in▪ Lauender. The Couent, the Demeasnes, Immunities, Rents, Customes, Chartres, what to this house of Baall soeuer is belonging—Brisco tis thine. Wut rob the Church too, (Now th'ast nothing left▪ scarce for thy selfe?) O heauen for-fend such theft! Bestowe it at thy pleasure. Woe to thoses dayes, When to raise Vpstarts, the poore CHVRCH decayes. Call backe thy gift (ô King) and ere these eyes Behold vnhallowed hands to Tyrannize Where many a good man hys his Osons said, And many a Rquiem bene sung out for the Dead, (Till I am thrust ou by Death) ô let ee haue My dwelling there, there let me dig my Graue, With mine owne Nayles, (shut vp from worldly Light, Betweene two walls,) and dye an Anchoryte. I referre you to your Patron there. Thats I: Shew mee first where your Abbey-gold sleeps, then goe dye.