If It Be Not Good, the Devil Is in It (If This Be Not a Good Play, the Devil Is in It) · chunk 42 of 44
Dekker, Thomas · published 1612 · first performed or written 1611 [1611-1612] (Annals) comedy · Queen Anne's Men · Red Bull T26 Devils, hell and fiends typicality 0.74 · 496 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T26: devil, hell, devils, sure, soul, fiend, sr, wife, lord, men.
Room here, we must come into the court within. What damned fiends are those dare make this noise? A jury of Brokers impaneled, and deeply sworn, To pass on all the villains in hell. evil-conscience be their keeper. Look to the jury: evil-conscience look to the Brokers. Now proceed. Stay, let the King of Ghosts have first a view Of those who are doomed to pains horrid, but new. Then produce those who came to your prison untried. Peace there. Here's one, hell's tortures does deride.— Ravillac. Arraign me, rend me piece-meal, i'll confess nothing. Peace, thou shalt ball thy throat out. Merciless hangmen! to tyrannize over so brave a Roman spirit. Ho, ho, what country devil is this? Thine own. A french. The eagerest blood hound that ere came from thence; Is there a King to be murdered, whilst he does stand Colossus-like, supporting a whole land, And when by his fall that Land most fears a wrack, Send forth this devil; his name is Ravillac. Ravillac: I am Ravillac, that laughs at tortures, spurns at death, defies all mercy: Gibbets, racks, fires, pincers, scalding oil, wild-horses, I spit in the face of all. Peace. No: were my tongue torn out with burning flesh-hooks, Fame's 1●00. tongues shall thunder out Rauilla's name, extol it, eternize it, 〈◊〉 it! canonize it: oh! Down with this devil toth' dung on, there let him howl. World's shall applaud my Act, and crown my soul. Another. Come, you lean dog.— One drop, a bit. What's he? what starvelings this? One that lacks a medicine for hunger: I am fallen away. From heaven. Toth' common jail with him. He must feed on beggaries basket: leave bawling serra. Shall I be undone for a little drink. No, thart undone for drinking. Starve him away— What was he when he lived. A prodigal: Who (in one year,) spent on whores, fools and slaves, An Army's maintenance, now begs for crumbs, and raves To see his sumptuous buildings, pastures, woods, That stood in uplands, drowned in Rhenish floods. Is here all? All! no, the arch-hellhound's here. What Peter Goner's this? Speak softly, within an inch of giving fire, within an inch. Had all thy grey devils in their highest lust sat, T' have littered furies, they could not have begot. One to match this: i'th' dark he groped damnation, Now, now. digged cellars to find where hell stood and has found it There was but one villainy unborn, and he crowned it. So: all the billets lie close; glorious bonfire? pontifical bonfire; brave heads to contrive this, gallant souls to conspire in't, resolute hand to seal this with my blood, through fire, through flint; ha, ha, ha, whither fly myself to heaven, friends to honour, none to the halter, enemies to massacre, ha ha, dismal tragical Comedy now? What does he? As he thinks, giving fire to powder; near in any land could devils have found, such walks, As he was beating out.
nodes 2505–2564 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 42 of 44 in this edition
Length
496 words · 757 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T26 — Devils, hell and fiendscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.736 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T23 · seed 44: T23 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Roome here, we must come into the court within. What damned fiends are those dare make this noise? A Iury of Brokers impanelde, and deepely sworne, To passe on all the villaines in hell. Euill-Conscience be their keeper. Looke to the Iury: Euill-Conscience looke to the Brokers. Now proceede. Stay, let the King of Ghosts haue first a vew Of those who are doom'd to paines horrid, but new. Then produce those who came to your prison vntryed. Peace there. Heres one, hels tortures does deride.—Rauillac. Arraigne me, rend me peece-meale, ile confesse nothing. Peace, thou shalt ball thy throate out. Merciles hangmen! to tiranize ouer so braue a Roman spirit. Ho, ho, what country diuell is this? Thine owne. A french. The eagerest blood hound that ere came from thence; Is there a King to be murdred, whilest he does stand Colossus-like, supporting a whole land, And when by his fall that Land most feares a wracke, Send forth this diuell; his name is Rauillac. Ruillac: I am Rauillac, that laughes at tortures, at death, defies all mercy: Iybbets, racks, fires, pincers, scalding oyle, wilde-horses, I spit in the face of all. Peace. No: were my tongue torne out with burning fleshhookes, Fames 100. tonges shall ūder ou Rauillas name, exoll it, eternise it, it! Canonise it: oh! Downe with this diuell to'th dunge on, there let him houle. Worlds shall applaud my Act, and crowne my soule. Another. Come, you leane dog.— One drop, a bit. Whats he? what staruelings this? One that lacks a medicine for hunger: I am falne away. From heauen. To'th common Iayle with him. He must feede on beggeries basket: leaue balling serra. Shall I be vndon for a little drinke. No, thart vndon for drinking. Starue him away— What was he when he liu'de. A prodigall: Who (in one yeare,) spent on whores, fooles and slaues, An Armies maintenance, now begges for cromes, and raues To see his sumptuous buildings, pastures, woodes, That stood in vplands, dround in Rhenish floodes. Is here all? All! no, the Arch-helhoud's here. What Peter Goner's this? Speake softly, within an inch of giuing fire, within an inch. Had all thy gray diuells in their highest lust sat, T' haue litterd furies, they could not haue begot. One to match this: ith' darke he groapd damnation, Now, now. Digd cellars to find where hel stood and has found it There was but one villany vnborne, and he crownd it. So: all the billets lye close; glorious bonfire? pontificall bonfire; braue heads to contriue this, gallant soules to conspire in't, resolute hand to seale this with my blood, through fire, through flint; ha, ha, ha, whither fly my selfe to heauen, friends to honour, none to the halter, enemies to massacre, ha ha, dismall tragicall Comedy now? What does he? As he thinkes, giuing fire to powder; Nere in any land could diuels haue found, such walkes, As he was beating out.