The Bloody Brother (Rollo, Duke of Normandy) · chunk 8 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 T18 Rebels, barons and the king's wars at ho · 475 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
Spoke like Rollo. And to the honour of this reconcilement, We all this night will at a public Feast With choice wines drown our late fears, and with music Welcome our comforts. Sure and certain ones. Did ever such a hopeful business end thus? 'tis fatal to us all, and yet you Grandpree, Have the least cause to fear. Why; what's my hope? The certainty that you have to be hang'd● You know the Chancellors promise. Plague upon you. What think you of a Bath and a Lords daughter To entertain you? Those desires are off. Frail thoughts, all friends, no Rollians now, nor Ottoes● The several courtesies of our swords and servants Defer to after consequence; let's make use Of this night's freedom, a short Parliament to us, In which it will be lawful to walk freely. Nay, to our drink we shall have meat too, that's No usual business to the men o'th'sword. Drink deep with me to night, we shall to morrow Or whip, or hang the merrier. Led the way then. WHy should this trouble you? It does, and must do till I find ease. Consider then, and quickly; And like a wise man, take the current with you, Which once turned head, will sink you; blessed occasion Offers herself in thousand safeties to you; Time standing still to point you out your purpose, And resolution (the true child of Virtue) Ready to execute: what dull cold weakness Has crept into your bosom, whose mere thoughts Like tempests, ploughing up the sailing Forests, Even with their swing were wont to shake down hazards. What is't, your mother's tears? Pry thee be patient. Her hands held up? her prayers, or her curses? Oh power of paper dropped through by a woman! Take heed the Souldiers see it not; 'tis miserable, In Rollo below miserable; take heed your friends, The sinews of your cause, the strength you stir by, Take heed, I say, they find it not: take heed Your own repentance (like a passing-bell) Too late, and too loud, tell the world y'are perished: What noble spirit, eager of advancement, Whose employment is his plough; what sword whose sharpness Waits but the arm to wield it; or what hope, After the world has blown abroad this weakness, Will move again, or make a wish for Rollo? Are we not friends again by each oath ratified, Our tongues the Heralds to our hearts? Poor hearts then. Our worthier friends. No friends sir, to your honour; Friends to your fall: where is your understanding, The noble vessel that your full soul sailed in, Ribbed round with honours; where is that? 'tis ruined, The tempest of a woman's sighs has sunk it. Friendship, take heed sir, is a smiling harlot That when she kisses, kills, a soldered friendship Pieced out with promises; O painted ruin!
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)
Spoke like Rollo. And to the honour of this reconcilement, Wee all this night will at a publick Feast With choice wines drowne our late feares, and with musick Welcome our comforts. Sure and certaine ones. Did ever such a hopefull businesse end tus? Tis fatall to us all, and yet you Grandpree, Have the least cause to feare. Why; what's my hope? The certainty that you have to be hang'd You know the Chancellours promise. Plague upon you. What think you of a Bath and a Lords daughter To entertaine you? Those desires are off. Frayle thoughts, all friends, no Rollians now, nor Ottoes The sev'rall courtsies of our swords and servants Deferre to after consequence; let's make use Of this nights freedome, a short Parlament to us, In which it will be lawfull to walk freely. Nay, to our drink we shall have meat too, that's No usuall businesse to the men o'th'sword. Drink deep with me to night, we shall to morrow Or whip, or hang the merryer. Lead the way then. VVHy should this trouble you? It does, and must doe till I find ease. Consider then, and quickly; And like a wise man, take the current with you, Which once turn'd head, will sinke you; blest occasion Offers her selfe in thousand safeties to you; Time standing still to point you out your purpose, And resolution (the true child of Vertue) Readie to execute: what dull cold weaknesse Has crept into your bosome, whose meere thoughts Like tempests, plowing up the sayling Forrests, Even with their swing were wont to shake downe hazards. What is't, your mothers teares? Pry thee be patient. Her hands held up? her prayers, or her curses? Oh power of paper dropt through by a woman! Take heed the ouldiers see it not; 'tis miserable, In Rollo below miserable; take heed your friends, The sinewes of your cause, the strength you stirre by, Take heed, I say, they find it not: take heed Your owne repentance (like a passing-bell) Too late, and too loud, tell the world y'are perisht: What noble spirit, eager of advancement, Whose imployment is his plough; what sword whose sharpnesse Waits but the arme to weild it; or what hope, After the world has blowne abroad this weaknesse, Will move againe, or make a wish for Rollo? Are we not friends againe by each oath ratified, Our tongues the Heralds to our hearts? Poore hearts then. Our worthier friends. No friends sir, to your honor; Friends to your fall: where is your understanding, The noble vessell that your full soule sayld in, Ribb'd round with honours; where is that? 'tis ruind, The tempest of a womans sighs has sunk it. Friendship, take heed sir, is a smiling harlot That when shee kisses, kills, a soderd friendship Peec'd out with promises; O painted ruine!