If It Be Not Good, the Devil Is in It (If This Be Not a Good Play, the Devil Is in It) · chunk 38 of 44
Dekker, Thomas · published 1612 · first performed or written 1611 [1611-1612] (Annals) comedy · Queen Anne's Men · Red Bull T15 Friars and holy orders in plot typicality 0.84 · 505 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T15: friar, lord, holy, friars, robin, peggy, lacie, angelo, love, nun.
Guard the Abbey gates, let not a Friar go forth: You have a King amongst you, which is he? A King! I know of none here. villains you lie: This caitiff does delude you, torture him. Hang him, and these up o'er the Abbey walls, Our wrath shall smite like thunder where it falls. I shall like a dog, die without money, Lurchall. I warrant you. Tyrant, that royal heart thou huntest, is here, Stand from me all, you have betrayed me all, And i'll trust none of you, if the Lion must fall, Fall shall he like a Lion; thinkst thou (base Lord) Because the glorious Sun behind black clouds Has a while hid his beams, he's darkened for ever? eclipsed never more to shined, yes, and to throw Fires from his sparkling eyes, thee to confound, Touch not that noble friend of mine, (It seems, For my sake marked for danger,) let your arrows (dipped in rank poison) be shot all at me, Since all is lost, die nobly, and lose life too: O uncle! must the first dart fly from you? Into thy bosom fly I. To betray me? To fight for thee till I can fight no more: Hadst thou possessed this Kingly spirit before, We ne'er had left thee: what makes Iudas here? Here's he that to the Duke thy life betrayed. Bohor! ay, Bohor. I told him where you were. I tell thee thou'rt a traitor & i'll have Thy head off, or thou mine. Head? Thart a slave? Thou seest Duke what to trust too. I have confessed, and shall be hanged, the King? Our fair game come to this? our swords I see▪ Must from your heartsblood let out all my wrongs? A murdered daughter for just vengeance cries, Whom to appease, your lives we'll sacrifice: Beat the drum. Thunder mock thunder, beats ours. O let these fires be quenched out with my tears, I waters cannot, (Duke) I bind thy rage With this strong charm, and this read over that spell, And let thy hard breast grow more flexible. Where's Iovinelli; and that bastard crew Of my false friends? Beheaded. They have their due. The ring I gave her, and her hand: old man,— Where's the old Friar delivered these? he's gone. Make after him, 'tis some delusion. 'tis no delusion (father) am I the ground Of this your quarrel, which must both confound If you goe on: your battailes thus ile pt, The first blow given, shall run clean through my heart▪ Oh noble constant maid, forgive my wrongs, The warmth of heaven to a pining spring Cannot such comfort give as thy glad presence Does to my bosom. Will you fight or no? 'twere madness to wish storms when fair winds blow: Will you your faith yet keep? Inviolate. Then here end all my wars. And all my hate. Ha all these Friers vp to the Abbey walles, And with shrill voices, this our peace proclaim, Stay holy father: Bohor, See you this done.
seed 43: T19 · seed 44: T20 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Guard the Abbey gates, let not a Frier goe forth: You haue a King amongst you, which is he? A King! I know of none here▪ Villaines you lie: This caitife does delude you, tortur him. Hang him, and these vp or'e the Abbey walls, Our wrath shall smite like thunder where it falls. I shall like a dog, die without money, Lurchall. I warrant you. Tyran, that royall hart thou huntst, is here, Stand from me all, you haue betrayd me all, And ile trust none of you, if the Lion must fall, Fall shall he like a Lion; thinkst thou (base Lord) Because the glorious Sun behind blacke cloudes Has a while hid his beames, hees darkned for euer? Ecclipsd neuer more to shind, yes, and to throw Fires from his sparklings eyes, thee to confound, Touch not that noble friend of mine, (It seemes, For my sake markd for danger,) let your arrowes (Dipd in rancke poyson) be shot all at me, Since all is lost, die nobly, and loose life too: O vncle! must the first dart fly from you? Into thy bosome fly I. To betray me? To fight for thee till I can fight no more: Hadst thou possest this Kingly spirit before, We ne're had left thee: what makes Iudas here? Heres he that to the Duke thy life betraide. Bohor! I, Bohor. I told him where you were. I tell thee tha'rt a traitor & ile haue Thy head off, or thou mine. Head? Thart a slaue? Thou seest Duke what to trust too. I haue confest, and shal be hangd, the King? Our faire game come to this? our swordes I see▪ Must from your hearts-blood let out al my wronges? A murdred daughter for iust vengeance cryes, Whom to appease, your liues weele sacrafize: Beate the drom. Thunder mock thunder, beat ours. O let these fires be quench out with my tears, I waters cannot, (Duke) I bind thy rage With this strong charme, nd ths read ore that spell, And let thy hard brest grow more flexible. Wheres Iounelli; and that bastard cue Of my false friendes? Beheaded. They haue their due. The ring I gaue her, and her hand: old man,— Wheres the old Frier deliuerd these? Hees gon. Make after him, tis some delusion. Tis no delusion (father) am I the ground Of this your quarrell, which must both confound If you goe on: your battailes thus ile pt, The first blow giuen, shall run cleane through my heart▪ Oh constant maid, forgiue my wrongs, The of heauen to a pyning spring such comfort giue as thy glad presence my bosome. Will you fight or no? Twere madnes to wish stormes when faire windes blow: Will you your saith yet keepe? Inuiolate. Then here end all my warres. And all my hate. Ha all these Friers vp to the Abbey walles, And with shrill voyces, this our peace proclaime, Stay holy father: Bohor, See you this don.