The Bloody Brother (Rollo, Duke of Normandy) · chunk 14 of 39
Fletcher, John / Field, Nathan / Massinger, Philip · published 1639 · first performed or written 1617 [revised 1627-1630] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.74 · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Or that. You put us out of heart man, come, these baked meats Were ever your best diet. None, I thank you. Are you well, noble child? Yes, gracious mother. Give him a cup of wine, then, pledge the health, drink it to me, I'll give it to my mother. Do, my best ehilde. I must not, my best mother, Indeed I dare not: for of late, my body Has been much weakened by excess of diet; The promise of a fever hanging on me. And even now ready, if not by abstinence And will you keep it in this general freedom; A little health preferred before our friendship. I pray you excuse me, sir. Excuse yourself sir, Come 'tis your fear, and not your favour brother, And you have done me a most worthy kindness My Royal mother, and you noble Lords; Here, for it now concerns me to speak boldly; What faith can be expected from his vows, From his dissembling smiles, what fruit of friendship From all his dull embraces, what blessed issue, When he shall brand me here for base suspicion, He takes me for a poisoner. Gods defend it son. For a foul knave, a villain, and so fears me. I could say something too. You must not so sir, Without your great forgetfulness of virtue; This is your brother, and your honoured brother. If he please so. One noble father, with as noble thoughts, begot your minds and bodies: one care rocked you, and one truth to you both was ever sacred; Now fie my Otto, whither flies your goodness, Because the right hand has the power of cutting, Shall the left presently cry out 'tis maimed? They are one my child, one power, and one performance, And joined together thus, one love, one body. I do beseech your grace, take to your thoughts More certain counsellors than doubts or fears, They strangle nature, and disperse themselves (If once believed) into such fogs and errors That the bright truth herself can never sever: Your brother is a royal gentleman Full of himself, honour, and honesty, And take heed sir, how nature bend to goodness, (So straight a Cedar to himself) uprightness Be wrested from his true use, prove not dangerous Nay my good brother knows I am too patient. Why should your Grace think him a poisoner Has hem no more respect to piety! And but he has by oath tied up his fury Who durst but think that thought. Away thou firebrand. If men of his sort, of his power, and place The eldest son in honour to this Dukedom. For shame contain thy tongue, thy poisonous tongue That with her burning venom will infect all, And once more blow a wild fire through the dukedom. Latorche, if thou beest honest, or a man, Contain thyself. Go too, no more, by heaven You'll find y'have played the fool else, not a word more. Prithee sweet son.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T0 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Or that. You put us out of heart man, come, these bak't meats Were ever your best dyet. None, I thank you. Are you well, noble childe? Yes, gratious mother. Give him a cup of wine, then, pledge the health, drink it to mee, Ile give it to my mother. Doe, my best ehilde. I must not, my best mother, Indeed I dare not: for of late, my body Has been much weakned by excesse of dyet; The promise of a feaver hanging on mee. And even now ready, if not by abstinence And will you keep it in this generall freedome; A little health preferrd before our friendship. I pray you excuse mee, sir. Excuse your selfe sir, Come tis your feare, and not your favour brother, And you have done me a most worthy kindnesse My Royall mother, and you noble Lords; Here, for it now concernes me to speake boldly; What faith can be expected from his vowes, From his dissembling smiles, what fruite of friendship From all his dull embraces, what blest issue, When he shall brand me here for base suspition, He takes me for a poysoner. Gods defend it sonne. For a foule knave, a villaine, and so feares me. I could say something too. You must not so sir, Without your great forgetfulnesse of vertue; This is your brother, and your honour'd brother. If he please so. One noble father, with as noble thoughts, got your mindes and bodies: one care rockt you nd one truth to you both was ever sacred; Now fye my Otto, whither flyes your goodnesse, Because the right hand has the power of cutting, Shall the left presently cry out tis maymed? They are one my childe, one power, and one performance, And joyn'd together thus, one love, one body. I doe beseech your grace, take to your thoughts More certaine counsellors than doubts or feares, They strangle nature, and disperse themselves (If once beleev'd) into such fogges and errours That the bright truth her selfe can never seer: Your brother is a royall gentleman Full of himselfe, honour, and honesty, And take heede sir, how nature bent to goodnesse, (So streight a Cedar to himselfe) uprightnesse Be wrested from his true use, prove not dangerous Nay my good brother knownes I am too patient. Why should your Grace thinke him a poysoner Has hē no more respect to piety! And but he has by oath ty'de up his fury Who durst but thinke that thought. Away thou firebrand. If men of his sort, of his power, and place The eldest sonne in honour to this Dukedome. For shame containe thy tongue, thy poysonous tongue That with her burning venome will infect all, And once more blow a wilde fire through the dukedome. Latorche, if thou be'st honest, or a man, Containe thy selfe. Goe too, no more, by heaven Youle finde y'have playd the foole else, not a word more. Prithee sweete sonne.