The Bloody Brother (Rollo, Duke of Normandy) · chunk 18 of 39
Fletcher, John / Field, Nathan / Massinger, Philip · published 1640 · first performed or written 1617 [revised 1627-1630] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.70 · 477 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
What will the Butcher do? I will not stir. Stir, and unforced stir, or stir never more. Command her you (grave Beldame) that know better My deadly resolutions, since I drew them From the infective fountain of your own, Or if you have forgot, this fiery prompter Shall fix the fresh impression in your heart. Rise daughter serve his will in what we may, Lest what we may not he enforce the rather. Is this all you command us? This addition Only admitted, that when I endeavour To quit me of this slaughter, you presume not To cross me with a syllable, nor your souls Murmur, nor think against it, but weigh well, It will not help your ill, but help to more; And that my hand wrought thus far to my will Will check at nothing till his circle fill. Fill it so, I consent not, but who soothes it Consents, and who consents to tyranny does it. False Traitoress die then with him. Are you mad To offer at more blood, and make yourself More horrid to your people? I'll proclaim It is not as your instrument will publish. Do, and take that along with you— so nimble: Resign my sword, and dare not for thy soul To offer what thou insolently threatnest, One word proclaiming cross to what Latorch Hath in commission, and intends to publish. Well Sir, not for your threats, but for your good, Since more hurt to you would more hurt your country, And that you must make virtue of the need That now compels you, i'll consent as far As silence argues to your will proclaimed. And since no more sons of your princely Father Survive to rule but you, and that I wish You should rule like your Father, with the love, And zeal of all your subjects, this foul slaughter That now you have committed made ashamed With that fair blessing that in place of plagues Heaven tries our mending disposition with, Take here your sword, which now use like a Prince, And no more like a Tyrant. This sounds well. Live and be gracious with us. O Lord Aubrey. He flatter thus? He temporises fitly. Wonder invades me, do you two think much That he thus wisely and with need consents To what I author for your country's good, You being my Tutor, you my Chancellor? Your Chancellor is not your flatterer Sir. Nor is't your tutor's part to shield such doctrine. Sir first know you, In praise of your pure Oratory that raised me, That when the people who I know by this Are raised out of their rests and hastening hither, To witness what is done here are arrived With our Latorch, you (extempore) Shall fashion an Oration to acquit And justify this forced fact of mine, Or for the proud refusal lose your head.
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 1147–1210 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 18 of 39 in this edition
Length
477 words · 599 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.696 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
What will the Butcher doe? I will not stir. Stir, and unforc't stir, or stir never more. Command her you (grave Beldam) that know better My deadly resolutions, since I drew them From the infective fountaine of your own, Or if you have forgot, this fiery prompter Shall fix the fresh impression in your heart. Rise daughter serve his will in what we may, Lest what we may not he enforce the rather. Is this all you command us? This addition Only admitted, that when I endeavour To quit me of this slaughter, you presume not To crosse me wirh a syllable, nor your soules Murmur, nor think against it, but weigh well, It will not help your ill, but help to more; And that my hand wrought thus far to my will Will check at nothing till his circle fill. Fill it so, I consent not, but who soothes it Consents, and who consents to tyranny does it. False Traiteresse dye then with him. Are you mad To offer at more bloud, and make your selfe More horrid to your people? Ile proclaime It is not as your instrument will publish. Doe, and take that along with you—so nimble: Resigne my sword, and dare not for thy soule To offer what thou insolently threatnest, One word proclaiming crosse to what Latorch Hath in commission, and intends to publish. Well Sir, not for your threats, but for your good, Since more hurt to you would more hurt your countrey, And that you must make vertue of the need That now compells you, ile consent as far As silence argues to your will proclaim'd. And since no more sonnes of your princely Father Survive to rule but you, and that I wish You should rule like your Father, with the love, And zeale of all your subjects, this foule slaughter That now you have committed made asham'd With that faire blessing that in place of plagues Heaven tries our mending disposition with, Take here your sword, which now use like a Prince, And no more like a Tyrant. This sounds well. Live and be gratious with us. O Lord Aubrey. He flatter thus? He temporizes fitly. Wonder invades me, doe you two think much That he thus wisely and with need consents To what I author for your countries good, You being my Tutor, you my Chancellour? Your Chancellour is not your flatterer Sir. Nor ist your Tutors part to shield such doctrine. Sir first know you, In praise of your pure Oratory that rais'd me, That when the people who I know by this Are rais'd out of their rests and hastning hither, To witnesse what is done here are arriv'd With our Latorch, you (extempore) Shall fashion an Oration to acquit And justifie this forced fact of mine, Or for the proud refusall loose your head.