Caesar and Pompey (The Wars of Caesar and Pompey) · chunk 8 of 34
Chapman, George · published 1631 · first performed or written 1605 [1602-1605; Act 2, sc. 1 written 1610-1611(?)] (Annals) tragedy · Unacted (?) · Blackfriars T26 Devils, hell and fiends typicality 0.75 · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T26: devil, hell, devils, sure, soul, fiend, sr, wife, lord, men.
That's certain, for every ass does that. What art thou? A villain worse than thou. And dost breathe? I speak thou hear'st, I move, my pulse beats Fast as thine. And wherefore liv'st thou? The world's out of frame, a thousand Rulers Wresting it this way, and that, with as many Religions; when, as heaven's upper Sphere is moved Only by one; so should the Sphere of earth be, and I'll have it so. How canst thou? what art thou? My shape may tell thee. No man? Man? no, spawn of a clot, none of that cursed Crew, damned in the mass itself; plagued in his birth, Confined to creep below, and wrestle with the Elements; Teach himself tortures; kill himself, hang himself; No such galley slave, but at war with heaven; Spurning the power of the gods, command the Elements. What mayst thou be then? An endless friend of thine; an immortal devil. Heaven bless us. Nay then, forth, go, hang thyself, and thou talk'st Of heaven once. I have done; what devil art thou? Read the old stoic Pherecides, that tells thee Me truly, and says that I Ophioneus (for so is My name.) Ophioneus? what's that? Devilish Serpent, by interpretation; was general Captain of that rebellious host of spirits that Waged war with heaven. And so were hurled down to hell. We were so; and yet have the rule of earth; and cares Any man for the worst of hell then? Why should he? Well said; what's thy name now? My name is Fronto. Fronto? A good one; and has Fronto lived thus long In Rome? lost his state at dice? murdered his Brother for his means? spent all? run thorough worse Offices since? been a Promoter? a Purveyor? a Pander? A Sumner? a Sergeant? an Intelligencer? and at last Hang thyself? How the devil knows he all this? Why thou art a most green Plover in policy, I Perceive; and mayst drink Golte-foote, for all thy Horsemane beard: 'Slight, what need hast Thou to hang thyself? as if there were a dearth Of hangmen in the land? Thou liv'st in a good cheap State, a man may be hanged here for a little, or Nothing. What's the reason of thy desperation? My idle dissolute life, is thrust out of all his corners By this searching tumult now on foot in Rome. Caesar now and Pompey Are both for battle: Pompey (in his fear Of Caesar's greater force) is sending hence His wife and children, and he bent to fly. See, all are on their wings; and all the City In such an uproar, as if fire and sword Were ransacking, and ruining their houses, No idle person now can lurk near Rome, All must to arms; or shake their heels beneath Her martial halters; whose officious pride I'll shun, and use mine own swinge: I be forced To help my Country, when it forceth me To this past-helping pickle?
1605 [1602-1605; Act 2, sc. 1 written 1610-1611(?)]
First performance (BritDrama)
1606 [1599-1631]
Company (BritDrama)
Unacted (?)
Theater
Blackfriars;Indoor Professional
Genre (British Drama)
tragedy
Play type
Adult Professional;Professional;Closet/Unacted
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 958 · TCP A18425 · DEEP 769
Edition role
Representative edition — used in the analysis
Position
nodes 454–522 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 8 of 34 in this edition
Length
493 words · 689 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T26 — Devils, hell and fiendscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.747 (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)
That's certaine, for euery aſſe does that. What art thou? A villaine worſe then thou. And doſt breathe? I ſpeake thou hear'ſt, I moue, my pulſe beates Faſt as thine. And wherefore liu'ſt thou? The world's out of frame, a thouſand Rulers Wreſting it this way, and that, with as many Religions; when, as heauens vpper Sphere is mou'd Onely by one; ſo ſhould the Sphere of earth be, and Ile haue it ſo. How canſt thou? what art thou? My ſhape may tell thee. No man? Man? no, ſpawne of a clot, none of that curſed Crew, damn'd in the maſſe it ſelfe; plagu'd in his birth, Confinde to creepe below, and wreſtle with the Elements; Teach himſelfe tortures; kill himſelfe, hang himſelfe; No ſuch gally ſlaue, but at warre with heauen; Spurning the power of the gods, command the Elements. What maiſt thou be then? An endleſſe friend of thine; an immortall deuill. Heauen bleſſe vs. Nay then, forth, goe, hang thy ſelfe, and thou talk'ſt Of heauen once. I haue done; what deuill art thou? Read the old ſtoick Pherecides, that tels thee Me truly, and ſayes that I Ophioneus (for ſo is My name.) Ophioneus? what's that? Deuiliſh Serpent, by interpretation; was generall Captaine of that rebellious hoſt of ſpirits that Wag'd warre with heauen. And ſo were hurl'd downe to hell. We were ſo; and yet haue the rule of earth; and cares Any man for the worſt of hell then? Why ſhould he? Well ſaid; what's thy name now? My name is Fronto. Fronto? A good one; and has Fronto liu'd thus long In Rome? loſt his ſtate at dice? murther'd his Brother for his meanes? ſpent all? run thorow worſe Offices ſince? beene a Promoter? a Purueyor? a Pander? A Sumner? a Sergeant? an Intelligencer? and at laſt Hang thy ſelfe? How the deuill knowes he all this? Why thou art a moſt greene Plouer in policy, I Perceiue; and maiſt drinke Golte-foote, for all thy Horſemane beard: S'light, what need haſt Thou to hang thy ſelfe? as if there were a dearth Of hangmen in the land? Thou liu'ſt in a good cheape State, a man may be hang'd here for a little, or Nothing. What's the reaſon of thy deſperation? My idle diſlolute life, is thruſt out of all his corners By this ſearching tumult now on foot in Rome. —Caeſar now and Pompey Are both for battaile: Pompey (in his feare Of Caeſars greater force) is ſending hence His wife and children, and he bent to fly. See, all are on their wings; and all the City In ſuch an vproare, as if fire and ſword Were ranſacking, and ruining their houſes, No idle perſon now can lurke neare Rome, All muſt to armes; or ſhake their heeles beneath Her martiall halters; whoſe officious pride Ile ſhun, and vſe mine owne ſwinge: I be forc't To helpe my Countrey, when it forceth me To this paſt-helping pickle?