The Bloody Brother (Rollo, Duke of Normandy) · chunk 14 of 39
Fletcher, John / Field, Nathan / Massinger, Philip · published 1640 · first performed or written 1617 [revised 1627-1630] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.81 · 459 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Excuse yourself sir, Come 'tis your fear, & not your fever brother, And you have done me a most worthy kindness. My Royal mother, and my noble Lords, Hear, for it now concerns me to speak boldly, What faith can be expected from such vows, From his dissembling smiles, what fruit of friendship, From all his full embraces, what blessed issue, When he shall brand me here with 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, Indeed your loving 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, whether flies your goodness? Because the right hand has the power of cutting, Shall the left presently cry out, he's 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 and 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 bent 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 to patient. Why should your grace think him a poisoner? Has he no more respect to piety, And but he has by oath tyde 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 wildfire through the Dukedom. Latorch, if thou be'st honest or a man, Contain thyself. Go to, no more, by heaven You'll find you have played the fool else, Not a word more. Prithee sweet son. Let him alone sweet mother, and my Lords To make you understand how much I honour This sacred peace, and next my innocence, And to avoid all future difference Discourse may draw on, to a way of danger, I quit my place, and take my leave for this night, Wishing a general joy may dwell among ye. Shall we wait upon your Grace? I dare not break ye, La Torch. Do you now perceive your brother's sweetness?
Fletcher, John / Field, Nathan / Massinger, Philip
Publication year (edition)
1640
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 1115 · TCP A00959 · DEEP 936
Edition role
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 866–928 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 14 of 39 in this edition
Length
459 words · 586 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T0 — Court life: dukes, favour and honourcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.811 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
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)
Excuse your selfe sir, Come tis your feare, & not your feaver brother, And you have done me a most worthy kindnesse. My Royall mother, and my noble Lords, Heare, for it now concernes me to speak boldly, What faith can be expected from such vowes, From his dissembling smiles, what fruit of friendship, From all his full embraces, what blest issue, When he shall brand me here with base suspition? He takes me for a poysoner. Gods defend it sonne. For a foule knave, a villaine, and so feares mee I could say something too. You must not so sir, Without your great forgetfulnesse of virtue. This is your brother and your honour'd brother, Indeed your loving brother. If he please so. One noble Father with as noble thoughts, Begot your minds and bodies, one care rockt you, And one truth to you both was ever sacred; Now fye my Otto, whether flyes your goodnesse? Because the right hand has the power of cutting, Shall the left presently cry out, hee's maymde? 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 Counsailors then doubts and feares, They strangle nature, and disperse themselves If once beleev'd, into such foggs and errors, That the bright truth her selfe can never sever. Your brother is a Royall gentleman, Full of him selfe honour and honesty, And take heed Sir, how nature bent to goodnesse, (So straight a Cedar to himselfe) uprightnesse Be wrested from his true use, prove not dangerous. Nay my good brother knowes I am to patient. Why should your grace think him a poysner? Has he no more respect to piety, And but he has by oath tyde up his fury, Who durst but think 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 cōtain thy tongue, thy poysonous tongue, That with her burning Venome will infect all, And once more blow a wildfire through the Dukedome. Latorch, if thou bee'st honest or a man, Containe thy selfe. Goe to, no more, by heaven You'l finde you have plaid the foole else, Not a word more. Prethee sweet sonne. Let him alone sweet mother, and my Lords To make you understand how much I honour This sacred peace, and next my innocence, And to avoid all future difference Discourse may draw on, to a way of danger, I quit my place, and take my leave for this night, Wishing a generall joy may dwell among yee. Shall we waite upon your Grace? I dare not break yee, La Torch. Doe you now perceive your brothers sweetnesse?