Dekker, Thomas / Massinger, Philip · published 1622 · first performed or written 1620 [licensed for stage, Oct 6; revised and re-licensed for stage, Jul 7, 1624] (Annals) tragedy · Red Bull (Revels) Company (first) T26 Devils, hell and fiends typicality 0.83 · 481 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T26: devil, hell, devils, sure, soul, fiend, sr, wife, lord, men.
Before any master under the Zodiac. For clothes no matter; I have a mind to both. And one thing I like in you, now that you see The bonfire of your Lady's state burnt out, You give it over, do you not? Let her be hanged. And poxed. Why now you're mine. Come let my bosom touch you. We have bugs Sir. there's money, fetch your clothes home, there's for you Avoid Vermin: give over our mistress! a man cannot prosper worse if he serve the devil. How? the devil! I'll tell you what now of the devil, He's no such horrid creature, cloven footed, Black, saucer-eyed, his nostrils breathing fire, As these lying Christians make him. No! He's more loving, To man, than man to man is. Is he so! would we two might come acquainted with him. You shall: he's a wondrous good fellow, loves a cup of wine, a whore, any thing, you have money, it's ten to one but I'll bring him to some Tavern to you or other. I'll bespeake the best room i'th'; house for him. Some people he cannot endure. we'll give him no such cause. He hates a civil Lawyer, as a soldier does peace? How a commoner? loves him from the teeth outward. Pray my Lord and Prince, let me encounter you with one foolish question: does the devil eat any Mace in's broth? Exceeding much, when his burning fever takes him, and then he has the knuckles of a Bailiff boiled to his breakfast. Then my Lord, he loves a catchpole does he not? Har. As a Bearward does a dog, a catchpole! he has sworn if ever he dies, to make a Sergeant his heir, and a yeoman his overseer. How if he come to any great man's gate, will the Porter let him come in sit? Oh, he loves Porters of great men's gates, because they are ever so near the wicket. Do not they whom he makes much on, for all his stroking their cheeks, lead hellish lives under him. No, no, no, no, he will be damn before he hurts any man. Do but you (when you're throughly acquainted with him) ask for any thing, see if it does not come. Anything! Call for a delicate race whore; she's brought you. Oh my elbow itches: will the devil keep the door? Be drunk as a beggar, he helps you home. O my fine devil! some watchman I warrant, I wonder who's his constable. Will you swear, roar, swagger? he claps you. How! ath' chops. No, ath' shoulder, and cries O my brave boy. Will any of you kill a man? Yes, yes, ay, I. What's his word, hang, hang, 'tis nothing. Or stab a woman. Yes, yes, ay, I. Here's the worst word he gives you, a pox on't go on. O inveigling rascal, I am ravished.
1620 [licensed for stage, Oct 6; revised and re-licensed for stage, Jul 7, 1624]
First performance (BritDrama)
1620 [Oct]
Company (BritDrama)
Red Bull (Revels) Company (first)
Genre (British Drama)
tragedy
Play type
Adult Professional;Professional
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 843 · TCP A07249 · DEEP 698
Edition role
Representative edition — used in the analysis
Position
nodes 1597–1645 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 27 of 43 in this edition
Length
481 words · 665 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T26 — Devils, hell and fiendscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.831 (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)
Before any master vnder the Zodiake. For clothes no matter; I haue a mind to both. And one thing I like in you, now that you see The bonefire of your Ladyes state burnt out, You giue it ouer, do you not? Let her be hangd. And poxd. Why now y'are mine. Come let my hosome touch you. We haue bugges Sir. Ther's mony, fetch your cloths home, theres for you Auoid Vermine: giue ouer our mistresse! a man cannot prosper worse if he serue the diuell. How? the diuell! Ile tell you what now of the diuell, He's no such horrid creature, clouen footed, Blacke, saucer-eyde, his nostrils breathing fire, As these lying Christians make him. No! He's more louing, To man, then man to man is. Is hee so! wud wee two might come acquainted with him. You shall: he's a wondrous good fellow, loues a cup of wine, a whore, any thing, you haue mony, its ten to one but Ile bring him to some Tauerne to you or other. Ile be speake the best roome ith; house for him. Some people he cannot ondure. Weele giue him no such cause. He hates a ciuill Lawyer, as a souldier does peace? How a commoner? Loues him from the teeth outward. Pray my Lord and Prince, let me encounter you with one foolish question: does the diuell eate any Mace in's broth? Exceeding much, when his burning feauer takes him, and then hee has the knuckles of a Bailiffe boyld to his breakefast. Then my Lord, he loues a Gatchpole does he not? Har. As a Bearward does a dog, a Gatchpole! he has sworn if euer he dies, to make a Serieant his heire, and a Yoeman his euerseer. How if he come to any great mans gate, will the Porter let him come in sit? Oh, hee loues Porters of great mens gates, because they are euer so neere the wicket. Doe not they whom he makes much on, for all his stroking their cheekes, leade hellish liues vnder him. No, no, no, no, he will be damn before he hurts any man. Doe but you (when y'are throughly acquainted with him) aske for any thing, see if it does not come. Anything! Call for a delicate race whore; she's brought you. Oh my elbow itches: will the diuel keepe the dore? Be drunke as a begger, he helps you home. O my fine diuell! some watchman I warrant, I wonder who's his constable. Will you sweare, roare, swagger? he claps you. How! ath' chops. No, ath' shoulder, and cries O my braue boy. Will any of you kill a man? Yes, yes, I, I. Whats his word, hang, hang, tis nothing. Or stab a woman. Yes, yes, I, I. Here's the worst word he giues you, a pox on't goe on. O inueaglingrascall, I am rauishd.