The Bloody Brother (Rollo, Duke of Normandy) · chunk 9 of 39
Fletcher, John / Field, Nathan / Massinger, Philip · published 1639 · first performed or written 1617 [revised 1627-1630] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men T40 Sin, guilt and violent loss within famil typicality 0.72 · 452 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T40: brother, death, life, die, heaven, sin, live, father, blood, soul.
Latorche, he is my brother. The more doubted; For hatred hatched at home is a tame Tiger, May fawn and sport but never leaves his nature; The jars of brothers, two such mighty ones, Is like a small stone thrown into a river, The breach scarce heard, but view the beaten current, And you shall see a thousand angry rings Rise in his face, still swelling and still growing; So jars circling distrusts, distrusts breed dangers, And dangers death, the greatest extreme shadow, Till nothing bound 'em but the shore their graves; There is no manly wisdom, nor no safety In leaning to this league, this pieced patch friendship; This reared up reconcilement on a billow, Which as it tumbles, totters down your fortune; Is't not your own you reach at? Law and Nature Ushering the way before you; is not he Borne and bequeathed your subject? Ha. What fool would give a storm leave to disturb his peace, When he may shut the casement? can that man Has won so much upon your pity, And drawn so high, that like an ominous Comet, He darkens all your light; can this touched Lion (Though now he licks and locks up his fell paws, Craftily humming, like a cat to cozen you) But when ambition whetts him, and time fits him, Leap to his prey, and seized once, suck your heart out? Do you make it conscience? Conscience Latorche, what's that? A fear they tie up fools in, Nature's coward, Pauling the blood, and chilling the full spirit With apprehension of mere clouds and shadows. I know no conscience, nor I fear no shadows. Or if you did; if there were conscience, If the free soul could suffer such a curb To the fiery mind, such puddles to put it out; Must it needs like a rank Vine, run up rudely, And twine about the top of all our happiness Honour and rule, and there sit shaking of us? It shall not, nor it must not; I am satisfied, And once more am myself again: My mother's tears and womanish cold prayers, Farewell, I have forgot you; if there be conscience, Let it not come betwixt a crown and me, Which is my hope of bliss, and I believe it: Otto, our friendship thus I blow to air, A bubble for a boy to play withal; And all the vows my weakness made, like this, Like this poor heartless rush, I rend in pieces: Now you go right, sir, now your eyes are open. My father's last petition's dead as he is, And all the promises I closed his eyes with, In the same grave I bury. Now ye are a man, sir.
seed 43: T37 · seed 44: T36 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Latorch, he is my brother. The more doubted; For hatred hatcht at home is a tame Tiger, May fawne and sport but never leaves his nature; The jarres of brothers, two such mighty ones, Is like a small stone throwne into a river, The breach scarce heard, but view the beaten current, And you shall see a thousand angry rings Rise in his face, still swelling and still growing; So jarres circling distrusts, distrusts breed dangers, And dangers death, the greatest extreme shadow, Till nothing bound 'hem but the shoare their graves; There is no manly wisedome, nor no safety In leaning to this league, this peec'd patch friendship; This reard up reconcilement on a billow, Which as it tumbles, totters downe your fortune; Ist not your owne you reach at? Law and Nature Ushering the way before you; is not hee Borne and bequeathd your subject? Ha. What foole would give a storme leave to disturb his peace When he may shut the casement? can that man Has woon so much upon your pity, And drawne so high, that like an ominous Comet, He darkens all your light; can this toucht Lyon (Though now he licks and locks up his fell pawes, Craftily huming, like a catt to cozen you) But when ambition whetts him, and time fitts him, Leape to his prey, and seizd once, suck your heart out? Doe you make it conscience? Conscience Latorch, what's that? A feare they tye up fooles in, Natures coward, Pauling the blood, and chilling the full spirit With apprehension of meere clouds and shadowes. I know no conscience, nor I feare no shadowes. Or if you did; if there were conscience, If the free soule could suffer such a curbe To the fiery mind, such puddles to put it out; Must it needs like a rank Vine, run up rudely, And twine about the top of all our happinesse Honour and rule, and there sit shaking of us? It shall not, nor it must not; I am satisfied, And once more am my selfe againe: My mothers teares and womanish cold prayers, Farewell, I have forgot you; if there be conscience, Let it not come betwixt a crowne and me, Which is my hope of blisse, and I beleeve it: Otto, our friendship thus I blow to ayre, A buble for a boy to play withall; And all the vowes my weaknesse made, like this, Like this poore heartlesse rush, I rend in peeces: Now you goe right, sir, now your eyes are open. My fathers last petition's dead as he is, And all the promises I closd his eyes with, In the same grave I bury. Now y' are a man, sir.