The Bloody Brother (Rollo, Duke of Normandy) · chunk 7 of 39
Fletcher, John / Field, Nathan / Massinger, Philip · published 1640 · first performed or written 1617 [revised 1627-1630] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T40 Sin, guilt and violent loss within famil · 473 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T40: brother, death, life, die, heaven, sin, live, father, blood, soul.
How this works in both! Prince Rollo's eyes have lost their fire. And anger, that but ev'n now wholly possessed Good Otto, hath given place to pity. End not thus Madam, But perfect what's so well begun. I see in both fair signs of reconcilement Make them sure proofs they are so: the fates offer To your free choice, either to live examples Of piety or wickedness, if the latter Blinds so your understanding that you cannot Pierce through her painted outside, and discover That she is all deformity within, Boldly transcend all precedents of mischief, And let the last and the worst act of tyrannies, The murder of a Mother but begin The Scene of blood; you after are to heighten; But if that virtue and her sure rewards Can win you to accept her for your guide, To lead you up to heaven and there fix you The fairest star in the bright sphere of honour, Make me the parent of a hundred sons All brought into the world with joy not sorrow, And every one a Father to his country In being now made mother of your concord. Such and so good loud fame for ever speak you. ay, now they meet like brothers. My heart's joy Flows through my eyes. May never woman's tongue Hereafter be accused, for this one's goodness. If we contend, from this hour it shall be How to o'ercome in brotherly affection. Otto is Rollo now, and Rollo Otto, Or as they have one mind, rather one name, From this atonement let our lives begin, Be all the rest forgotten. Spoke like Rollo. And to the honour of this reconcilement We all this night will at a public feast With choice wines drown our late fears, And with Music welcome our comforts. Sure and certain ones. Supported thus I am secure o sons, This is your Mother's triumph. You deserve it. Did ever such a hoped for business end thus? 'tis fatal to us all, and yet you Granpree Have the least cause to fear, Why, what's my hope? The certainty that you have to be hanged; You know the Chancellors promise. Plague upon you. What think you of a bath, and a lord's daughter To entertain you? Those desires are of frail thoughts: All friends, no Rollions now, nor Ottoes, The several courtesies of our swords and servants Defer till apter consequence: let's make use Of this night's freedom, a short Parliament to us, In which it will be lawful to walk freely, Nay to our drink we shall have meat too, and that's No usual business to the men o'th' sword. Drink deep with me tonight, we shall tomorrow Or whip or hang the merrier. Lead the way then. Why should this trouble you? It does and must do, Till I find ease.
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)
How this workes in both! Prince Rolloes eyes have lost their fire. And anger, that but ev'n now wholly possessed Good Otto, hath given place to pitty. End not thus Madam, But perfect whats so well begun. I see in both faire signes of reconcilement Make them sure proofes they are so: the fates offer To your free choice, either to live examples Of piety or wickednesse, if the latter Blinds so your understanding that you cannot Pierce through her painted outside, and discover That she is all deformitie within, Boldly transcend all presidents of mischiefe, And let the last and the worst act of tyrannies, The murther of a Mother but begin The Scene of bloud; you after are to heighten; But if that vertue and her sure rewards Can win you to accept her for your guide, To lead you up to heaven and there fix you The fairest starre in the bright sphere of honour, Make me the parent of a hundred sonnes All brought into the world with joy not sorrow, And every one a Father to his countrey In being now made mother of your concord. Such and so good loud fame for ever speak you. I, now they meet like brothers. My hearts joy Flowes through my eyes. May never womans tongue Hereafter be accus'd, for this ones goodnesse. If we contend, from this houre it shall be How to orecome in brotherly affection. Otto is Rollo now, and Rollo Otto, Or as they have one minde, rather one name, From this attonement let our lives begin, Be all the rest forgotten. Spoke like Rollo. And to the honour of this reconcilement We all this night will at a publique feast With choice wines drowne our late feares, And with Musick welcome our comforts. Sure and certaine ones. Supported thus I am secure o sonnes, This is your Mothers triumph. You deserve it. Did ever such a hop'd for businesse end thus? Tis fatall to us all, and yet you Granpree Have the least cause to feare, Why, what's my hope? The certainty that you have to be hang'd; You know the Chancellours promise. Plague upon you. What think you of a bath, and a Lords daughter To entertaine you? Those desires are of fraile thoughts: All friends, no Rollions now, nor Ottoes, The severall curtesies of our swords and servants Deferr till apter consequence: let's make use Of this nights freedome, a short Parliament to us, In which it will be lawfull to walk freely, Nay to our drink we shall have meat too, and thats No usuall business to the men 'oth sword. Drink deep with me tonight, we shall to morrow Or whip or hang the merrier. Lead the way then. Why should this trouble you? It does and must doe, Till I finde ease.