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) unassigned nearest T26 Devils, hell and fiends · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T26: devil, hell, devils, sure, soul, fiend, sr, wife, lord, men.
And ravish her! is this your manly service, A Devil scorns to do't, 'tis for a beast, A villain, not a man, I am as yet But halfe a slave, but when that work is past, A damned whole one, a black ugly slave, The slave of all base slaves, do't thyself Roman, 'tis drudgery fit for thee. he's bewitched too, Bind him, and with a Bastinado give him Upon his naked belly 200. blows. Thou art more slave than I. That power supernal on whom waits my soul, Is Captain o'er my chastity. Good sir give over, The more you wrong her, yourselves vexed the more, plague's light on her and thee; thus down I throw Thy Harlot thus byth' hair, nail her to earth, Call in ten slaves, let every one discover What lust desires, and surfeit here his fill, Call in ten slaves. They are come sir at your call. O oh. Where is the Governor? There's my wretched father. My Lord, Sapritius, he's not dead, my Lord, That Witch there. 'tis no Roman gods can strike These fearful terrors, O thou happy maid, Forgive this wicked purpose of my father. I do. Gone, gone, he's peppered: 'tis thou Hast done this act internal. Heaven pardon you, And if my wrongs from thence pull vengeance down (I can no miracles work) yet from my soul Pray to those powers I serve, he may recover. He stirs, help, raise him up, my Lord. Where am I? One cheek is blasted. Blasted! Where's the Lamia That tears my entrails? I'm be witched, seize on her? I'm here, do what you please. Spurn her toth' bar. Come boy, being there, more near to heaven we are Kick harder, go out witch. O bloody hangmen, thine own gods give thee breath, Each of thy tortures is my several death. Do you like my service now, say am not I A Master worth attendance. Attendance, I had rather lick clean the soles of your dirty boots, then wear the richest suit of any infected Lord, whose rotten life hangs between the 2 Poles. A Lords suit! I would not give up the cloak of your service to meet the splay-foot estate of any left-eyed knight above the Antipodes, because they are unlucky to meet. This day i'll try your loves to me, 'tis only But well to use the agility of your arms, Or legs, I am lofty at them. Or any other member that has no legs. thou'lt run into some hole. If I meet one that's more than my match, & that I cannot stand in their hands, I must & will creep on my knees. hear me my little team of villains, hear me, I cannot teach you Fencing with these Cudgels, Yet you must use them, lay them on but soundly, That's all. Nay if we come to malling once, puh, But what Walnut tree is it we must beat.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T30 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
And rauish her! is this your manly seruice, A Diuell scornes to doo't, tis for a beast, A villaine, not a man, I am as yet But halfe a slaue, but when that worke is past, A damned whole one, a blacke vgly slaue, The slaue of all base slaues, doo't thy selfe Roman, Tis drudgery fit for thee. Hees bewitch'd too, Binde him, and with a Bastinado giue him Vpon his naked belly 200. blowes. Thou art more slaue then I. That power supernall on whom waites my soule, Is Captaine ore my chastity. Good sir giue ore, The more you wrong her, your selfes vex'd the more, Plagues light on her and thee; thus downe I throw Thy Harlot thus bi'th haire, naile her to earth, Call in ten slaues, let euery one discouer What lust desires, and surfet heere his fill, Call in ten flaues. They are come sir at your call. O oh. Where is the Gouernour? There's my wretched father. My Lord, Sapritius, hee's not dead, my Lord, That Witch there. T is no Romane gods can strike These fearefull terrors, O thou happy maid, Forgiue this wicked purpose of my father. I doe. Gone, gone, he's peppered: tis thou Hast done this act internall. Heauen pardon you, And if my wrongs from thence pull vengeance downe (I can no myracles worke) yet from my soule Pray to those powers I serue, he may recouer. He slirres, helpe, raise him vp, my Lord. Where am I? One cheeke is blasted. Blasted! Wheres the Lamia That teares my entrailes? I'me be witch'd, seize on her? I'me heere, do what you please. Spurne her too'th barre. Come boy, being there, more neere to heauen we are Kicke harder, goe out witch. O bloudy hangmen, thine own gods giue thee breth, Each of thy tortors is my seuerall death. Doe you like my seruice now, say am not I A Master worth attendance. Attendance, I had rather licke cleane the soles of your durty bootes, then weare the richest sute of any infected Lord, whose rotten life hangs betweene the 2 Poles. A Lords sute! I wud not giue vp the cloake of your seruice to meet the splay-foot estate of any leftey'd knight aboue the Antipodes, because they are vnlucky to meete. This day ile try your loues to me, tis onely But well to vse the agility of your armes, Or legs, I am losty at them. Orany other member that has no legges. Thou't runne into some hole. If I meet one that's more thē my match, & that I cannot stand in their hands, I must & will creep on my knees. Heere me my little teeme of villaines, heare me, I cannot teach you Fencing with these Cudgels, Yet you must vse them, lay them on but soundly, Thats all. Nay if we come to malling once, puh, But what Wall-nut tree is it we must beate.