The Bloody Brother (Rollo, Duke of Normandy) · chunk 10 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 T41 Household service: masters, doors and po · 521 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
Otto, thou showst my winding sheet before me, Which ere I put it on, like heaven's blessed fire In my descent I'll make it blush in blood; A Crown, A Crown, Oh sacred Rule, now fire me; Nor shall the pity of thy youth, false brother, Although a thousand Virgins kneel before me, And every drooping eye a court of mercy, The same blood with me, nor the reverence Due to my mother's blessed womb that bred us, Redeem thee from my doubts: thou art a wolf here, Fed with my fears, and I must cut thee from me: A Crown, A Crown; Oh sacred Rule, now fire me: No safety else. But be not too much stirred, Sir, nor to high In your execution: swallowing waters Run deep and silent, till they are satisfied, And smile in thousand Curls, to gild their craft; Let your sword sleep, and let my two edged wit work This happy feast, the full joy of your friendships Shall be his last. How my Latorche? Why thus, sir; I'll presently go dive into the Officers That minister at Table: gold and goodness, With promise upon promise, and time necessary, I'll pour into them. Canst thou do it neatly? Let me alone, and such a bait it shall be, Shall take off all suspicion. Go, and prosper. Walk in then, and your smoothest face put on sir. A Hot day, a hot day, vengeance hot day boyes● Give me some drink, this fire's a plaguy fretter: Body of me, I'm dry still; give me the Iack boy; This wooden Skiffe holds nothing. And faith master, what brave new meats? for here will be old eating. Old and young, boy, let 'em all eat, I have it; I have ballast for their bellies, if they eat a gods name, Let them have ten tire of teeth a piece, I care not; But what new rare munition? Pish, a thousand; I'll make you pigs speak French at table, and a fat swan Come sailing out of England with a challenge; I'll make you a dish of calves-feets dance the Canaries, And a consort of crammed capons fiddle to 'em; A calf's head speak an Oracle, and a dozen of Larks Rise from the dish, and sing all supper time; 'tis nothing boys: I have framed a fortification Out of Rye paste, which is impregnable, And against that, for two long hours together, Two dozen of marrowbones shall play continually: For fish, I'll make you a standing lake of white broth, And pikes come ploughing up the plums before them; Arion, like a Dolphin, playing Lachrymae, And brave king Herring with his oil and onion Crowned with a Limon pill, his way prepared With his strong Guard of Pilchers. I marry master. All these are nothing: I'll make you a stubble Goose Turn o'th' toe thrice, do a cross point presently, And sit down again, and cry come eat me: These are for mirth. Now sir, for matter of mourning, I'll bring you in the Lady Loin of Veal, With the long love she bore the Prince of Orange.
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)
Otto, thou shewst my winding sheet before me, Which ere I put it on, like heavens blest fire In my descent Ile make it blush in blood; A Crowne, A Crowne, Oh sacred Rule, now fire mee; Nor shall the pitty of thy youth, false brother, Although a thousand Virgins kneele before mee, And every droping eye a court of mercy, The same blood with me, nor the reverence Due to my mothers blest womb that bred us, Redeeme thee from my doubts: thou art a wolfe here, Fed with my feares, and I must cut thee from me: A Crowne, A Crowne; Oh sacred Rule, now fire me: No safety else. But be not too much stird, Sir, nor to high In your execution: swallowing waters Run deep and silent, till they are satisfied, And smile in thousand Curles, to guild their craft; Let your sword sleep, and let my two edgd witt work This happy feast, the full joy of your friendships Shall be his last. How my Latorch? Why thus, sir; Ile presently go dive into the Officers That minister at Table gold and goodnesse, With promise upon promise, and time necessary, Ile poure into them. Canst thou doe it neatly? Let me alone, and such a bait it shall be, Shall take off all suspicion. Goe, and prosper. Walk in then, and your smoothest face put on sir. A Hot day, a hot day, vengeance hot day boyes Give me some drink, this fire's a plaguy fretter Body of me, I'm dry still; give me the Iack boy; This woodden Skiffe holds nothing. And faith master, what brave new meats? for here will be old eating. Old and young, boy, let 'em all eat, I have it; I have ballasse for their bellies, if they eate a gods name, Let them have ten tire of teeth a peice, I care not; But what new rare munition? Pish, a thousand; Ile make you piggs speake French at table, and a fat swan Come sayling out of England with a challenge; Ile make you a dish of calves-feet dance the Canaries, And a consort of cramm'd capons fiddle to 'hem; A calves head speak an Oracle, and a dozen of Larks Rise from the dish, and sing all supper time; Tis nothing boyes: I have framed a fortification Out of Rye paste, which is impregnable, And against that, for two long houres together, Two dozen of marrow-bones shall play continually: For fish, Ile make you a standing lake of white broth, And pikes come ploughing up the plums before them; Arion, like a Dolphin, playing Lachrymae, And brave king Herring with his oyle and onyon Crownd with a Limon pill, his way prepard With his strong Guard of Pilchers. I marry master. All these are nothing: Ile make you a stubble Goose Turne o'th' toe thrice, doe a crosse point presently, And sit downe agen, and cry come eat me: These are for mirth. Now sir, for matter of mourning, Ile bring you in the Lady Loyne of Veale, With the long love she bore the Prince of Orenge.