The Bloody Brother (Rollo, Duke of Normandy) · chunk 5 of 39
Fletcher, John / Field, Nathan / Massinger, Philip · published 1639 · first performed or written 1617 [revised 1627-1630] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T46 Swords, quarrels and valour · 471 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T46: rapier, sword, fight, gentlemen, gentleman, kicked, kill, dagger, signor, valour.
Nor your miseries begin in murder, Duty, allegiance, and all respects of what you are, forsake me: Do you stare on? is this a Theatre? Or shall these kill themselves, like to mad fencers, To make you sport? keep them asunder, or By heaven I'll charge on all. Keep the peace. I am for you, my lord, and if you'll have me, I'll act the Constable's part. Live I to see this? Will you do that your enemies dare not wish, And cherish in yourselves those furies, which Hell would cast out? Do, I am ready; kill me, And these, that would fall willing sacrifices To any power that would restore your reason, And make you men again, which now you are not. These are your bucklers boy. My hindrances; And were I not confirmed, my Justice in The taking of thy life, could not weigh down The wrong, in shedding the least drop of blood Of these whose goodness only now protects thee, Thou shouldst feel I in act would prove myself What thou in words dost labour to appear. Hear this, and talk again? I'll break through all, But I will reach thy heart. 'Tis bets guarded. Make way, or I will force it, who are those? My sons? my shames; turn all your swords on me, And make this wretched body but one wound, So this unnatural quarrel find a grave In the unhappy womb that brought you forth: Dare you remember that you had a mother, Or look on these grey hairs, made so with tears, For both your goods, and not with age; yet Stand doubtful to obey her? from me you had Life, nerves, and faculties, to use these weapons; And dare you raise them against her, to whom You owe the means of being what you are? All peace is meant to you. Why is this war, then? As if your arms could be advanced, and I Not set upon the rack? your blood is mine, Your dangers mine, your goodness I should share in; I must be branded with those impious marks You stamp on your own foreheads and on mine, If you go on thus: for my good name therefore, Though all respects of honour in yourselves, Be in your fury choked, throw down your swords; Your duty should beswifter than my tongue; And join your hands while they be innocent; You have heat of blood, and youth apt to Ambition, To plead an easy pardon for what's past: But all the ills beyond this hour committed, From gods or men must hope for no excuse, Can you hear this unmoved, No syllable of this so pious charm, but should have power To frustrate all the juggling deceits, With which the devil blinds you. I begin to melt, I know not how.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Nor your miseries begin in murther, Duty, allegeance, and all respects of what you are, forsake me: Doe you stare on? is this a Theater? Or shall these kill themselves, like to mad fencers, To make you sport? keep them asunder, or By heaven I'le charge on all. Keep the peace. I am for you, my lord, and if you'le have mee, I'le act the Constables part. Live I to see this? Will you doe that your enemies dare not wish, And cherish in your selves those furies, which Hell would cast out? Doe, I am ready kill mee, And these, that would fall willing sacrifices To any power that would retore your reason, And make you men againe, which now you are not These are your bucklers boy. My hinderances; And were I not confirm'd, my Justice in The taking of thy life, could not weigh downe The wrong, in shedding the least drop of blood Of these whose goodnesse only now protects thee, Thou should'st feele I in act would prove my selfe What thou in words do'st labour to appeare. Heare this, and talke againe? I'le break through all But I will reach thy heart. 'Tis bettes guarded. Make way, or I will force it, who are those My sonnes? my shames; turne all your swords on mee, And make this wretched body but one wound, So this unnaturall quarrell find a grave In the unhappy wombe that brought you forth: Dare you remember that you had a mother, Or look on these gray haires, made so with teares, For both your goods, and not with age; an yet Stand doubtfull to obey her? from mee you had Life, nerves, and faculties, to use these weapons; And dare you raise them against her, to whom You owe the meanes of being what you are? All peace is meant to you. Why is this warre, then? As if your armes could be advanc'd, and I Not set upon the rack? your blood is mine, Your dangers mine, your goodnesse I should share in I must be branded with those impious markes You stamp on your own foreheads and on mine, If you goe on thus: for my good name therefore, Though all respects of honour in your selves, Bee in your fury choackt, throw down your swords; Your duty should beswifter than my tongue; And joyne your hands while they be innocent; You have heate of blood, and youth apt to Ambition, To plead an easie pardon for what's past: But all the ills beyond this houre committed, From gods or men must hope for no excuse, Can you heare this unmov'd, No syllable of this so pious charme, but should have powe To frustrate all the juggling deceits, With which the divell blinds you. I begin to melt, I know not how.