The Bloody Brother (Rollo, Duke of Normandy) · chunk 28 of 39
Fletcher, John / Field, Nathan / Massinger, Philip · published 1639 · first performed or written 1617 [revised 1627-1630] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men T15 Friars and holy orders in plot typicality 0.83 · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T15: friar, lord, holy, friars, robin, peggy, lacie, angelo, love, nun.
You are in your sphere, Latorche: and rather Than I'll contend wi'ye for it, I'll believe it. Y'have won upon me that I wish to see My fate before me now, what ere it be. And I'll endeavour, you shall know with speed, For which I should have one of trust go with me, If you please, Hamond, that I may by him Send you my first dispatches; after I Shall bring you more, and as they come still more, Take your way, Choose your own means, and be it prosperous to us. Come, bear up Sirs, we shall have better days, My Almanac tells me. What is that? your rump? It never itched in vain yet, slide la Fiske Throw off thy sluggish face, I cannot abide To see thee took like a poor Jade i'th' pound, That saw no meat these three days. 'Slight, to me It seems thirteen days since I saw any. How? I can't remember that I ever saw Or meat or money, you may talk of both To open a man's stomach or his purse, But feed'em still with air. Friar, I fear You do not say your Office well a days. Pox, he feeds With lechery, and lives upon th'exchange Of his two Eggs and Puddings with the market women. And what do you Sir, with the Advocats wife, Whom you persuade, upon your Doctoral bed, To take the Mathematical trance so often? Come, we are stark naught all, bad's the boast of us, Four of the seven deadly spots we are; Besides our Lechery, we are envious, And most, most gluttonous when we have it thus, Most covetous now we want it; then our Boy He is a fifth spot, sloth and he undoes us. 'Tis true, the child was wont to be industrious, And now and then sent to a Merchant's wife Sick of the husband, or a swearing Butler That missed of his Bowls, a crying Maid Had lost a silver spoon; the Curry come Somtims was wanting; there was something gotten● But now— What now? Did not I yester-morning Bring you in a Cardecu there from the Peasant, Whosse 〈◊〉 I had driven aside, and hid, that you Might conjure for him? and then last night, Six Souz from the Cook's wife, you shared among you To set a figure for the 〈◊〉 I stole, It is not at home yet; these things, my Masters, In a hard time, they would be thought on, you Talk of your lands and Castles in the air, Of your twelve houses there: but it is I That bring you in your rents for'em, 'tis Pippeau That is your bird-call. Faith he does well, And cuts through the Elements for us, I must needs say In a fine dextrous line. But not as he did At first, than he would sail with any wind Int' every Creek and Corner.
seed 43: T19 · seed 44: T20 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
You are in your spheare, Latorch: and rather Than Ile contend w'yee for it, Ile beleeve it. Y'have won upon me that I wish to see My fate before me now, what ere it bee. And Ile endeavour, you shall know with speed, For which I should have one of trust goe with mee, If you please, Hamond, that I may by him Send you my first dispatches; after I Shall bring you more, and as they come still more, Take your way, Choose your owne meanes, and be it prosperous to us. Come, beare up Sirs, we shall have better dayes, My Almanack tels me. What is that? your rumpe? It never itch'd in vaine yet, slide la Fiske Throw off thy luggish face, I cannot abide To see thee tooke like a poore Jade i'th' pound, That saw no meat these three dayes. Slight, to me It seemes thirteene dayes since I saw any. How? I can't remember that I ever saw Or meat or money, you may talke of both To open a mans stomack or his purse, But feed'em still with ayre. Fryar, I feare You do not say your Office well a dayes. Pox, he feedes With leachery, and lives upon th'exchange Of his two Eggs and Puddings with the market women. And what do you Sir, with the Advocats wife, Whom you perswade, upon your Doctorall bed, To take the Mathematicall trance so often? Come, we are starke naught all, bad's the bost of us, Foure of the seven deadly spots we are; Besides our Lechery, we are envious, And most, most gluttonous when we have it thus, Most covetous now we want it; then our Boy He is a fift spot, sloth and he undoes us. 'Tis true, the child was wont to be industrious, And now and then sent to a Merchants wife Sicke of the husband, or a swearing Butler That mist of his Bowles, a crying Maid Had lost a silver spoon; the Curry come Somtims was wanting; there was somthing gotten But now— What now? Did not I yester-morning Bring you in a Cardecu there from the Pesant, Whosse I had driven aside, and hid, that you Might conjure for him? and then last night, Six Souz from the Cooks wife, you shar'd among you To set a figure for the I stole, It is not at home yet; these things, my Masters, In a hard time, they would be thought on, you Talke of your lands and Castles in the ayre, Of your twelve houses there: but it is I That bring you in your rents for'em, 'tis Pippe That is your bird-call. Faith he does wll, And cuts through the Elements for us, I must needs say In a fine dextrous line. But not as he did At first, then he would sayle with any wind Int' every Creek and Corner.