THE ATHEIST'S TRAGEDY; OR THE HONEST MAN'S REVENGE. BY CYRIL TOURNEUR.

D'Amville (the Atheist) with the aid of his wicked instrument, Borachio, murders his Brother, Montferrers, for his Estate. After the deed is done, Borachio and he talk together of the circumstances which attended the murder.

D'Am. Here's a sweet comedy, begins with O dolentis, and concludes with ha, ha, he.

Bor. Ha, ha, he.

D'Am. O my echo! I could stand reverberating this sweet musical air of joy, till I had perished my sound lungs with violent laughter. Lovely nightraven, thou hast seized a carcase?

Bor. Put him out on's pain. I lay so fitly underneath the bank from whence he fell, that ere his faultering tongue could utter double O, I knocked out his brains with this fair ruby; and had another stone just of this form and bigness ready. that I laid in the broken scull upon the ground for his pillow, against the which they thought he fell and perished.

D'Am. Upon this ground I'll build my manor house, And this shall be chiefest corner stone.

Bor. This crown'd the most judicious murder, that The brain of man was e'er deliver'd of.

circumstance

D'Am. Aye, mark the plot. Not any
That stood within the reach of the design,
Of persons, dispositions, matter, time,
Or place, but by this brain of mine was made
An instrumental help; yet nothing from

The induction to the accomplishment seem'd forced,

Or done o' purpose, but by accident.

[Here they reckon up the several circumstances.

Bor. Then darkness did

Protect the execution of the work

Both from prevention and discovery.

D'Am. Here was a murder bravely carried through
The eye of observation, unobserved.

Bor. And those that saw the passage of it, made
The instruments; yet knew not what they did.
D'Am. That power of rule, philosophers ascribe
To him they call the Supreme of the Stars,
Making their influences governors

Of sublunary creatures, when theirselves
Are senseless of their operations.

[Thunder and Lightning. What! dost start at thunder? Credit my belief, 'tis a mere effect of nature, an exhalation hot and dry, involved within a watry vapour in the middle region of the air, whose coldness congealing that thick moisture to a cloud, the angry exhalation shut within a prison of contrary quality, strives to be free; and with the violent eruption through the grossness of that cloud, makes this noise we hear.

Bor. 'Tis a fearful noise.

Now

D'Am. 'Tis a brave noise; and, methinks, graces our accomplished project, as a peal of ordnance does a triumph. It speaks encouragement. nature shews thee how it favored our performance to forbear this noise when we set forth, because it should not terrify my brother's going home, which would have dashed our purpose: to forbear this lightning in our passage, lest it should ha' warned him of the pitfall. Then propitious nature winked at our proceedings; now, it doth express how that forbearance favor'd our success,

*

*

*

*

Drowned

1

Drowned Soldier.

walking upon the fatal shore,

Among the slaughter'd bodies of their men,
Which the full-stomach'd sea had cast upon
The sands, it was my unhappy chance to light
Upon a face, whose favor when it lived
My astonish'd mind inform'd me I had seen.
He lay in his armour, as if that had been
His coffin; and the weeping sea (like one
Whose milder temper doth lament the death
Of him whom in his rage he slew) runs up
The shore, embraces him, kisses his cheek;
Goes back again, and forces up the sands
To bury him; and every time it parts,
Sheds tears upon him; till at last, (as if
It could no longer endure to see the man
Whom it had slain, yet loth to leave him) with
A kind of unresolv'd unwilling pace,
Winding her waves one in another, (like'
A man that folds his arms, or wrings his hands,
For grief) ebb'd from the body, and descends;
As if it would sink down into the earth,
And hide itself for shame of such a deed.61

Match Refused.

I entertain the offer of this match,
With purpose to confirm it presently.
I have already mov'd it to my daughter;
Her soft excuses savour'd at the first
Methought but of a modest innocence

61 This way of description which seems unwilling ever to leave off, weaving parenthesis within parenthesis, was brought to its height by sir Philip Sidney. He seems to have set the example to Shakspeare. Many beautiful instances may be found all over the Arcadia. These bountiful Wits always give full measure, pressed down and running over.

Of

Of blood, whose unmov'd stream was never drawn
Into the current of affection. But when I
Replied with more familiar arguments,
Thinking to make her apprehension bold ;
Her modest blush fell to a pale dislike,
And she refus'd it with such confidence,
As if she had been prompted by a love
Inclining firmly to some other man ;
And in that obstinacy she remains.

Love and Courage.

O do not wrong him. Tis a generous mind
That led his disposition to the war;
For gentle love and noble courage are
So near allied, that one begets another:

Or love is sister, and courage is the brother.
Could I affect him better than before,

His soldier's heart would make me love him more.

THE

THE REVENGER'S TRAGEDY. RY CYRIL

TOURNEUR.

Vindici addresses the Scull of his dead Lady.

Thou sallow picture of my poison'd love,
My study's ornament, thou shell of death,
Once the bright face of my betrothed lady,
When life and beauty naturally fill'd out
These ragged imperfections;

When two heav'n-pointed diamonds were set
In those unsightly rings
then 'twas a face

So far beyond the artificial shine

Of any woman's bought complexion,

That the uprightest man (if such there be
That sin but seven times a day) broke custom,
And made up eight with looking after her.
O she was able to ha' made a usurer's son
Melt all his patrimony in a kiss;

And what his father fifty years told,

To have consum'd, and yet his suit been cold.

Here's an eye,

Able to tempt a great man

Again.

to serve God:

A pretty hanging lip, that has forgot now to dissemble.
Methinks this mouth should make a swearer tremble;
A drunkard clasp his teeth, and not undo 'em,

To suffer wet damnation to run thro' 'em.

Here's a cheek keeps her colour let the wind go whistle :
Spout rain, we fear thee not: be hot or cold,

All's one with us: and is not he absurd,
Whose fortunes are upon their faces set,
That fear no other God but wind and wet?
Does the silk-worm expend her yellow labours
For thee for thee does she undo herself?

Are