If It Be Not Good, the Devil Is in It (If This Be Not a Good Play, the Devil Is in It) · chunk 43 of 44
Dekker, Thomas · published 1612 · first performed or written 1611 [1611-1612] (Annals) comedy · Queen Anne's Men · Red Bull unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 496 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
His name. Guy Eaulx. Who calls? damnation stops throat. Let it stop thine. Am I betrayed? give fire, now, now, give fire. Te burn thine own soul villain. Pay him his hire: He has a desperate rakehells face. Had his plot ta'en fire, One real me before any other had doomsday seen, Kings who in tombs lay at rest had wakened been, He was within 12. hours of he wing down A whole land at one blow, and at once drown In a flood of flames, an arch-royal with his whole fleet, Of nobility and clergy: in a leaden sheet Law and her children had been hotly wrapped; Millons ere this had in our jail been clapped, For damned Arts not known now, which had then been rise, but now lie dead (th' Acts with the men. Make much of this our ningle: for the rest deliver'em to our head-hangman. When? When? In a twinkling. How applauds Pluto Our enginous tortures, and most rigorous doom? Minos, thy doom is just;— But your all-faced Caitiffs.) What fish in your infernal Nets, Drew you up i'th' Naples' Court, City and Friary? We charged you sail thither: Is mischief's River there dry? Dry, No: Fat preys for hell we all did meet, In Court, City, Country, Nay, in every street, In every house, within, and without. He that wore best clothes, had some Devil about him: Courtiers from Naples hither in shoals are come, Some for Ambition, for Flattery, and Envy some: Some, who (each meal) eat subjects up, and wore, Whole Families in their shoestrings, such, and others more, Being here, have been examining (ever since They came) by hells-clerk, (spotted-Conscience.) Till the next Sessions, these we must defer. None come fro'th' City, so many bad being there! Yes, (King of endless horror) see who's here: Bartervile richmen in hell! they are welcome, what's the grey beard One that can buy thee and ten such as thou art out of thy sea-coal-pit here. Is not this Newcastle? No covetous wretch: 'tis Hell, thy black-soul's prison. Soul in prison! I never had any soul to speak on. Now thou shalt find thoust one. Can Angels Bail me? Not all the wealth which the world's back does bear Can Bail thy wretched soul hence, Now 'tis here. A thousand Pounds.— Where be't fool? Thy wealths now gone, Thy hands still catch at bags, but they gripe none. What's this?— Ha, ha, ha. Air, shadows, things Imaginary: That is thy Torment now, which was thy Glory. If you give me bags full of Sawdust, in stead of money, my Ghost shall walk. To thy grim Father of Hell. No, to my old brother, Sir Achitophel Pinch gut shall I: shall I? Hence with him the, Churl's mad: In Lethes-flood drowned all the wealth he had. My chain, Let me hang in chains, so it be my Gold chain; Thieves, thieves, thieves. Throw him headlong into our boiling-lake, Where molten Gold runs.
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)
His name. Guy Eaulx. Who cals? damnation stops throate. Let it stop thine. Am I betrayd? giue fire, now, now, giue fire. Te burne thine owne soule villaine. Pay him his hire: He has a desperate rakehels face. Had his plot tane fire, One real me before any other had doomesday seene, Kings who in tombes lay at rest had wakened beene, He was within 12. howers of he wing downe A whole land at one blow, and at once drowne In a flood of flames, an Ark-roiall with his whole fleete, Of nobilitie and clergy: in a leaden sheete Law and her children had bin hotly wrap'd; Millons ere this had in our iayle bin clap'd, For damned Arts not known now, which had then Bin rie, but now lye dead (th' Acts with the men. Make much of this our ningle: for the res Deliuer'em to our head-hangman. When? When? In a twinckling. How applaudes Pluto Our enginous tortures, and most rigorous doome? Minos, thy doome is iust;—But your all-fac'de Caiffs.) What fih in your infernall Nets, Drew you vp Ith Npls Court, and rierie? We chard'de you saile thither: Is mischiefs Riuer there die? Drie, No: Fat preyes for hell we all did meete, In Court, Citie, Countrey, Nay, in euery streete, In euery house, within-him, and without-him. Hee that wore best cloathes, had some Diuell about him: Courtiers from Naples hither in sholes are come, Some for Ambition, for Flattery, and Enuie some: Some, who (each meale) eate subicts vp, and wore, Whole Families in their shoo-strings, such, and others more, Being here, haue bene examining (euer since They came) by Hells-clarke, (spotred-Conscience.) Till the next Sessions, these wee must deferre. None come fro'th Citie, so many bad being there! Yes, (King of endles horror) see who's here: Barteruile Rich-mē in hel! they are welcom, whats the gray beard One that can buy thee and ten such as thou art out of thy Sea-coale-pits ere. Is not this Newcastle? No couetous wretch: tis Hell, thy blacke-soules prison. Soule in prison! I neuer had any soule to speake on. Now thou shalt finde th'ast one. Can Angells Bayle mee? Not all the wealth which the worlds back does beare Can Bayle thy wretched soule hence, No tis here. A thousand Pounds.— Where foole? Thy wealths now gone, Thy hands still catch at bags,, but they gripe none. Whats this?— Ha, ha, ha. Ayre, shadowes, things Imaginary: That is thy Torment now, which was thy Glory. If you giue me bags full of Saw-dust, in stead of money, my Ghost shall walke. To thy grim Father of Hell. No, to my olde brother, Syr Achiophell Pinch gut shall I: shall I? Hence with him the, Churl's mad: In Lethes-flood drownd all the wealth hee had. My chaine, Let me hang in chaines, so it bee my Golde chaine; Theeues, theeues, theeues. Throwe him head-long into our boyling-Lake, Where molten Golde unnes.