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 · 481 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T26: devil, hell, devils, sure, soul, fiend, sr, wife, lord, men.
Ha, heavenly Music. 'tis in the air. Illusions of the Devil Wrought by some one of her Religion. That fain would make her death a miracle, It frights not me: because he is your son Let him have burial, but let her body Be cast forth with contempt in some high way, And be to Vultures and to Dogs a prey. Is't Holiday (Oh Caesar) that thy servant, (Thy Provost, to see execution done On these base Christians in Caesarea) Should now want work: sheep these Idolaters That none are stirring, As a curious Painter When he has made some admirable piece, Stands off, and with a searching eye examines Each colours how 'tis sweetened, and then hugs Himself for his rare workmanship.— So here Will I my Drolleries and bloody Lantskips Long passed wrapped up unfold to make me merry With shadows, now I want the substances. My Muster-book of Hellhounds, were the Christians Whose names stand here (alive) and armed, not Rome Could move upon her Hinges. What I have done, Or shall hereafter, is not out of hate To poor tormented wretches, no I am carried With violence of zeal, and streams of service I owe our Roman gods. Great Britain, what. A thousand wives with brats sucking their breasts, Had hot Irons pinch 'em off and thrown to swine; And then their fleshy backparts he wed with hatchets, Were mined and baked in Pies to feed starved Christians. Ha, ha. Again, again,— East. Anglas—, oh, East-Angles, Bandogs (kept three days hungry) worried 1000. British Rascals, stied up, fat Of purpose, striped naked, and disarmed. I could outstare a year of Suns and Moons, To sit at these sweet bull-baitings, so I could Thereby but one Christian win to fall In adoration to my Iupiter. twelve hundred Eyes bored with Augurs out: oh! eleven thousand Torn by wild beasts: two hundred rammed i'th' earth Toth' armpits, and full Platters round about'em, But far enough for reaching, eat dogs, ha, ha, ha. Tush, all these tortures are but phillipings, Flea-bitings; I before the destinies My bottom did wind up, would flesh myself Once more, upon some one remarkable Above all these, this Christian Slut was well, A pretty one, but let such horror follow The next I feed with torments, that when Rome Shall hear it, her foundation at the sound May feel an Earthquake. How now? Are you amazed Sir— so great a Roman spirit and does it tremble. How cam'st thou in? to whom thy business? To you: I had a mistress late sithence by you Upon a bloody errand, you entreated That when she came into that blessed Garden Whither she knew she went, and where (now happy) She feeds upon all joy, she would send to you Some of that Garden fruit and flowers, which here To have her promise saved, are brought by me.
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)
Ha, hauenly Musicke. Tis in the ayre. Illusions of the Diuell Wrought by some one of her Religion. That faine would make her death a miracle, It frights not me: because he is your sonne Let him haue buriall, but let her body Be cast forth with contempt in some high way, And be to Vultures and to Dogea prey. Is't Holliday (Oh Casar) that thy seruant, (Thy Prouost, to see execution done On these base Christians in Casarea) Should now want worke: sheepe these Idolaters That none are stirring, As a curious Painter When he has made some admirable peece, Stands off, and with a searching eye examines Each colours how tis sweetned, and then hugs Himselfe for his rare workemanship.— So heere Will I my Drolleries and bloudy Lantskips Long past wrap'd vp vnfold to make me merry With shadowes, now I want the substances. My Muster-booke of Hel-hounds, were the Christians Whose names stand heere (aliue) and arm'd, not Rome Could mooue vpon her Hindges. What I haue done, Or shall heereafter, is not out of hate To poore tormented wretches, no I am carried With violence of zeale, and streames of seruice I owe our Romane gods. Great Britaine, what. A thousand wiues with brats sucking their brests, Had hot Irons pinch 'em off and throwne to swine; And then their fleshy backparts he wed with hatchets, Were mine'd and bak'd in Pies to feede staru'd Christians. Ha, ha. Agen, agen, —East. Anglas—, oh, East-Angles, Bandogs (kept three dayes hungry) worried 1000. Brittish Rascals, styed vp, fat Of purpose, strip'd naked, and disarm'd. I could outstare a yeere of Sunnes and Moones, To sit at these sweete Bul-baitings, so I could Thereby but one Christian win to fall In adoration to my Iupiter. Twelue hundred Eyes boar'd with Augurs out: oh! eleuen thousand Torne by wild beasts: two hundred ram'd i'th earth To'th armepits, and full Platters round about'em, But farre enough for reaching, eate dogs, ha, ha, ha. Tush, all these tortures are but phillipings, Flea-bitings; I before the destinies My bottome did winde vp, would flesh my selfe Once more, vpon some one remarkeable Aboue all these, this Christian Slut was well, A pretty one, but let such horror follow The next I feede with torments, that when Rome Shall heare it, her foundation at the sound May feele an Earth-quake. How now? Are you amazd'd Sir—so great a Roman spirit and does it tremble. How cam'st thou in? to whom thy businesse? To you: I had a mistresse late senthence by you Vpon a bloudy errand, you intreated That when she came into that blessed Garden Whither she knew she went, and where (now happy) Shee feedes vpon all ioy, she would send to you Some of that Garden fruit and flowers, which heere To haue her promise sau'd, are brought by me.