Books like The Revenger's Tragedy

Vindice, seeking revenge for the death of his betrothed (who has been poisoned by the lascivious Duke she spurned), enlists the aid of his brother Hyppolito, dons a disreputable pimpalicious disguise, and eventually destroys the corrupt world he inhabits together with what little was left of his own innocence. Unlike the works of that universal genius Shakespeare, this play--which most modern scholars attribute to Thomas Middleton--could never be mistaken for a modern drama, for it is concerned neither with psychological depth nor consistency of tone; rather, it achieves its effects through a combination of impressive symbolic tableaux and highly-wrought language that together produce a complex moral perspective. Sometimes it seems like an absurd black farce in which soulless stick-figures rush toward inevitable destruction, and at others it appears more like a morality play or a Juvenalian satire with Vindice alternatively assuming the masks of the Vice or the Satirist. Underneath these masks, Vindice himself is infected by the evil he excoriates; he is both an avenging angel and a symptom of social and moral decline. Even the darkest corners of this world, however, are illuminated by Vindice's magnificent poetry--more beautiful than anything in Renaissance drama except for Marlowe, Webster and Shakespeare. If you won't take my word for it, check out what T.S. Eliot has to say on the subject.On second thought, see for yourself. Below is a speech spoken by Vindice to his mistress' skull, which he holds in his hand and soon plans to use as an instrument in his elaborate plan of revenge:\ : And now methinks I could e'en chide myselfFor doting on her beauty, though her deathShall be revenged after no common action.Does the Silk-worm expend her yellow laborsFor thee? for thee does she undo herself?Are Lordships sold to maintain LadyshipsFor the poor benefit of a bewitching minute?Why does yon fellow falsify highwaysAnd put his life between the Judge's lipsTo refine such a thing, keeps horse and menTo beat their valors for her?Surely we're all mad people, and theyWhome we think are, are not; we mistake those,Tis we are mad in sense, they but in clothes. . .Does every proud and self-affecting DameCamphor her face for this? And grieve her MakerIn sinful baths of milk, when many an infant starves,For her superfluous outside--all for this?Who now bids twenty pound a night, preparesMusic, perfumes, and sweetmeats? All are hushed.Thou mayest lie chaste now! It were fine methinks,To have thee seen at Revels, forgetful feasts,And unclean brothels. Sure, t'would fright the sinnerAnd make him a good coward, put a RevellerOut off his Antic ambleAnd cloy an Epicure with empty dishes.Here might a scornful and ambitious womanLook through and through herself. See Ladies, with false formsYou deceive men, but cannot deceive worms."\