The Bloody Brother (Rollo, Duke of Normandy) · chunk 17 of 39
Fletcher, John / Field, Nathan / Massinger, Philip · published 1639 · first performed or written 1617 [revised 1627-1630] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.82 · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Play not two parts, Treacher and coward both; but yield a sword, And let thy arming thee be odds enough Against my naked bosom. Lose his hold. Forbear base murderer. Forsake our mother. Mother, dost thou name me, and puttest off nature thus? Forsake her traitor. Or by the spouse of nature through hers, This leads unto thy heart. Hold. Hold me still. For twenty hearts and lives I will not hazard One drop of blood in yours. Oh thou art lost then. Protect my innocence, heaven. Call out murder. Be murdered all, but save him. Murder, murther. Cannot I reach you yet. No fiend. Latorche, rescue, I'm down. Up then, your sword cools sir, Ply it i'th' flame, and work your ends out. Ha, have at you there sir. Author of prodigies, what sights are these? Oh give me a weapon, Aubrey. Oh part'em, part'em. For heaven's sake no more. No more resist his fury, no rage can Add to his mischief done. Take spirit my Otto, Heaven will not see thee dye thus. He is dead, and nothing lives but death of every goodness. Oh he hath slain his brother, curse him heaven. Curse and be cursed, it is the fruit of cursing, Latorche, take off here, bring too, of that blood To colour o'er my shirt, then raise the Court And give it out how he atempted us In our bed naked, shall the name of brother Forbid us to enlarge our state and powers? Or place affects of blood above our reason? That tells us all things good against another, Are good in the same line against a brother. What affairs inform these out-cries? See and grieve. Prince Otto slain I Oh execrable slaughter I What hand hath authored it? Your Scholars, Baldwin. Unjustly urged, Lord Aubrey, as if I, For being his Schoolmaster, must own this doctrine, You are his Counselors, did you advise him To this foul parricide? If rule affect this licence, who would live To worse, than die in force of his obedience? Heaven's cold and lingering spirit to punish sin, And humane blood so fiery to commit it, One so outgoes the other, it will never Be turned to fit obedience. Burst it then With his full swing given, where it brooks no bound, Complaints of it are vain; and all that rests To be our refuge (since our powers are strengthless) Is to conform our wills to suffer freely, What with our murmurs we can never master; Ladies, be pleased with what heavens pleasure suffers, Erect your princely countenances and spirits, And to redress the mischiefs now resistless, Sooth it in show, rather than curse or cross it; Which all amends, and vow to it your best, But till you may perform it, let it rest. Those temporize are too dull and servile, To breathe the free air of a manly soul, Which shall in me expire in execrations, Before, for any life I soothe a murderer.
Fletcher, John / Field, Nathan / Massinger, Philip
Publication year (edition)
1639
First performance / composition (Annals)
1617 [revised 1627-1630]
First performance (BritDrama)
1617 [1617-1620]
Company (BritDrama)
King's Men
Genre (British Drama)
tragedy
Play type
Adult Professional;Professional
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 1114 · TCP A00958 · DEEP 935
Edition role
Representative edition — used in the analysis
Position
nodes 1018–1094 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 17 of 39 in this edition
Length
497 words · 666 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.816 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T7 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Play not two parts, Treacher and coward both; but yeeld a sword, And let thy arming thee be oddes enough Against my naked bosome. Loose his hold. Forbeare base murtherer. Forsake our mother. Mother, dost thou name me, and put'st off nature thus? Forsake her traytour. Or by the spouse of nature through hers, This leads unto thy heart. Hold. Hold me still. For twenty hearts and lives I will not hazard One drop of blood in yours. Oh thou art lost then. Protect my innocence, heaven. Call out murther. Be murthered all, but save him. Murther, murther Cannot I reach you yet. No fiend. Latorche, rescue, I'me downe. Vp then, your sword cooles sir, Ply it i'th' flame, and worke your ends out. Ha, have at you there sir. Author of prodigies, what sightes are these? Oh give me a weapon, Aubrey. Oh part'em, part'em. For heavens sake no more. No more resist his fury, no rage can Adde to his mischiefe done. Take spirit my Otto, Heaven will not see thee dye thus. He is dead, and nothing lives but death of every goodnesse. Oh he hath slaine his brother, curse him heaven. Curse and be cursed, it is the fruite of cursing Latorche, take off here, bring too, of that blood To colour ore my shirt, then rayse the Court And give it out how he atempted us In our bed naked, shall the name of brother Forbid us to inlarge our state and powers? Or place affects of blood above our reason? That tells us all things good against another, Are good in the same line against a brother. What affaires informe these out-cries? See and grieve. Prince Otto slaine I Oh execrable slaughter I What hand hath author'd it? Your Schollers, Baldwin. Vnjustly urg'd, Lord Aubrey, as if I, For being his Schoolemaster, must owne this doctrine, You are his Counsellours, did you advise him To this foule parracide? If rule affect this licence, who would live To worse, than dye in force of his obedience? Heavens cold and lingring spirit to punish sinne, And humane blood so fiery to commit it, One so outgoes the other, it will never Be turn'd to fit obedience. Burst it then With his full swing given, where it brookes no bound, Complaints of it are vaine; and all that rests To be our refuge (since our powers are strengthlesse) Is to conforme our wills to suffer freely, What with our murmurs we can never master; Ladyes, be pleased with what heavens pleasure suffers, Erect your princely countenances and spirits, And to redresse the mischiefes now resistlesse, Sooth it in shew, rather than curse or crosse it; Which all amends, and vow to it your best, But till you may performe it, let it rest. Those temporizings are too dull and servile, To breath the free ayre of a manly soule, Which shall in me expire in execrations, Before, for any life I sooth a mrtherer.