The Bloody Brother (Rollo, Duke of Normandy) · chunk 33 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 0.84 · 474 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Edith, he is forgot, for any son Borne of my mother, or to me a brother. For should we still perform our rights to him We should partake his wrongs, and as foul be In blood and damned parricide as he. And therefore tell the happy means that heaven Puts in thy hand, for all our longed for freedom From so abhorred and impious a monster. Tell what she will, I'll lend nor hand nor ear To whatsoever heaven puts in her power. How strange she is to what she chiefly wishes? Sweet Edith be not any thought the more Discouraged in thy purpose, but assured Her heart and prayers are thine; and that we two Shall be enough to all we wish to do. Madam, myself alone, I make no doubt Shall be afforded power enough from heaven To end the murderer: all I wish of you, Is but some richer ornaments and Jewels Than I am able to provide myself, To help out the defects of my poor beauty; That yet hath been enough, as now it is, To make his fancy mad with my desire? But you know, Madam, women never can, Be too fair to torment an amorous man; And this man's torments I would heighten still, Till at their highest he be fit to kill. Thou shalt have all my Jewels and my mothers, And thou shalt paint too, that his blood's desire May make him perish in a painted fire; Hast thou been with him yet? Been with him? no; I set that hour back to haste more his longing But I have promised to his instruments, The admittance of a visit at our house, Where yet I would receive him with all lustre My sorrow would give leave to, to remove Suspicion of my purpose. Thou shalt have All I can add, sweet wench, in Jewels, tyres● I'll be myself thy dresser, nor may I Serve my own love with a contracted husband More sweetly, nor more amply than mayst thou Thy forward will with his bewitched affections: Affects thou any personal aid of mine My noblest Edith? Naught but your kind prayers For full effect and speed of my affair. They are thine, my Edith, as for me, my own; For thou well knowst, if blood shed of the best Should cool and be forgotten, who would fear To shed blood still? or where (alas) were then The endless love we owe to worthy men? Love of the worthiest ever bless your highness. I never studied my glass till now, It is exceeding well; now leave me; cousin, How takes your eye the object? I have learned So much sir of the Courtier, as to say Your person does become your habit; But being called unto it by a noble war, Would grace an armour better.
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 2056–2117 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 33 of 39 in this edition
Length
474 words · 590 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.843 (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)
Edith, he is forgot, for any son Borne of my mother, or to me a brother. For should we still performe our rights to him We should partake his wrongs, and as foule be In blood and damned paricide as he. And therefore tell the happy meanes that heaven Puts in thy hand, for all our long'd for freedome From so abhorr'd and impious a monster. Tell what she will, I'le lend nor hand nor eare To whatsoever heaven puts in her power. How strange she is to what she chiefly wishes? Sweet Edith be not any thought the more Discourag'd in thy purpose, but assured Her heart and prayers are thine; and that we two Shall be enough to all we wish to doe. Madam, my selfe alone, I make no doubt Shall be afforded power enough from heaven To end the murtherer: all I wish of you, Is but some richer ornaments and Jewels Than I am able to provide my selfe, To helpe out the defects of my poore beauty; That yet hath been enough, as now it is, To make his fancy mad with my desire? But you know, Madam, women never can, Be too faire to torment an amorous man; And this mans torments I would heighten still, Till at their highest he be fit to kill. Thou shalt have all my Jewels and my mothers, And thou shalt paint too, that his bloods desire May make him perish in a painted fire; Hast thou been with him yet? Beene with him? no; I set that houre backe to haste more his longing But I have promis'd to his instruments, The admittance of a visit at our house, Where yet I would receive him with all lustre My sorrow would give leave to, to remove Suspition of my purpose. Thou shalt have All I can adde, sweet wench, in Jewels, tyres I'le be my selfe thy dresser, nor may I Serve my owne love with a contracted husband More sweetly, nor more amply than maist thou Thy forward will with his bewitch'd affections: Affects thou any personall ayde of mine My noblest Edith? Naught but your kinde prayers For full effect and speed of my affaire. They are thine, my Edith, as for me, my own; For thou well know'st, if blood shed of the best Should coole and be forgotten, who would feare To shed blood still? or where (alas) were then The endlesse love we owe to worthy men? Love of the worthiest ever blesse your highnesse. I never studied my glasse till now, It is exceeding well; now leave me; cozen, How takes your eye the object? I have learn'd So much sir of the Courtier, as to say Your person do's become your habit; But being called unto it by a noble warre, Would grace an armour better.