The Bloody Brother (Rollo, Duke of Normandy) · chunk 19 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 T1 Death, grief and revenge · 478 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
I fashion an oration to acquit you? Sir know you then that 'tis a thing less easy T'excuse a parricide then to commit it. I do not wish you Sir to excuse me, But to accuse my brother as the cause Of his own slaughter, by attempting mine. Not for the world, I should pour blood on blood, It were another murder to ase Him that fell innocent. Away with him, Hence, hail him straight to execution. Far fly such rigor your amendful hand. He perishes with him that speaks for him. Guard do your office on him, on your lives pain. Tyrant 'twill haste thine own death. Let it wing it, He threatens me, villains tear him piecemeal hence. Avaunt Sir. Dispatch him Captain, And bring me instant word he is dispatched, And how his Rhetoric takes it. I'll not fail sir. Captain besides, remember this in chief, That being executed you deny To all his friends the Rites of funeral, And cast his carcase out to dogs and fowls. 'tis done my Lord. Upon your life not fail. What impious daring is there here of heaven! Sir now prepare yourself, against the people Make here their entry to discharge the Oration He hath denied my will. For fear of death, Ha, ha, ha. Is death ridiculous with you? Works misery of age this, or thy judgement? judgement false Tyrant? You'll make no Oration then. Not to excuse But aggravate thy murder if thou wilt, Which I will so enforce, i'll make thee wreck it (With hate of what thou winnest by't) on thyself With such another justly merited murder. I'll answer you anon. The Citizens Are hasting Sir in heaps, all full resolved By my persuasions of your brother's treasons. Honest Latorch. See Sir Gisbert's head. Good speed, was't with a sword? An axe my Lord. An axe, 'twas vilely done: I would have had Mine own fine headsman done it with a sword, Go, take this dotard here, and take his head Off with a sword. Your Schoolmaster? Even he. For teaching thee no better, 'tis the best Of all thy damned justices, away Captain, i'll follow. O stay there Duke, And in the midst of all thy blood and fury Hear a Poor maids petitions, hear a daughter The only daughter of a wretched father, O stay your haste, as you shall need this mercy. Away with this fond woman. You must hear me: If there be any spark of pity in you, If sweet humanity and mercy rule you. I do confess you are a Prince, your anger As great as you, your execution greater. Away with him. O Captain by thy manhood By her soft soul that bore thee:— I do confess sir, Your doom of justice on your foes most righteous; Good noble Prince look on me. Take her from me.
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)
I fashion an oration to acquit you? Sir know you then that 'tis a thing lesse easy T'excuse a parricide then to commit it. I doe not wish you Sir to excuse me, But to accuse my brother as the cause Of his owne slaughter, by attempting mine. Not for the world, hould powre bloud on bloud, It were another murder to ase Him that fell innocent. Away with him, Hence, haile him straight to execution. Far fly such rigor your amendfull hand. He perishes with him that speaks for him. Guard doe your office on him, on your lives paine. Tyrant 'twill hast thine own death. Let it wing it, He threatens mee, villaines teare him peece-meale hence. Avant Sir. Dispatch him Captaine, And bring me instant word he is dispatch't, And how his Rhetorique takes it. Ile not faile sir. Captaine besides, remember this in chiefe, That being executed you deny To all his friends the Rites of funerall, And cast his carcase out to doggs and fowles. Tis done my Lord. Vpon your life not faile. What impious dareing is there here of heaven Sir now prepare your selfe, against the people Make here their entry to discharge the Oration He hath denyde my will. For feare of death Ha, ha, ha. Is death ridiculous with you? Workes misery of age this, or thy Iudgement? Iudgement false Tyrant? You'l make no Oration then. Not to excuse But agravate thy murther if thou wilt, Which I will so inforce, ile make thee wreack it (With hate of what thou win'st by't) on thy self With such another justly merited murther. Ile answer you anon. The Citizens Are hasting Sir in heapes, all full resolv'd By my perswasions of your brothers treasons. Honest Latorch. See Sir Gisberts head. Good speed, wast with a sword? An axe my Lord. An axe, twas vilely done: I would have had Mine own fine headsman done it with a sword, Goe, take this dotard here, and take his head Off with a sword. Your Schoolemaster? Even he. For teaching thee no better, 'tis the best Of all thy damned Iustices, away Captaine, ile follow. O stay there Duke, And in the midst of all thy bloud and fury Heare a Poore maids petitions, heare a daughter The only daughter of a wretehed father, O stay your hast, as you shall need this mercy. Away with this fond woman. You must heare mee: If there be any sparke of pitty in you, If sweet humanity and mercy rule you. I doe confesse you are a Prince, your anger As great as you, your execution greater. Away with him. O Captaine by thy man-hood By her soft soule that bare thee:—I doe confesse sir, Your doome of justice on your foes most righteous; Good noble Prince looke on me. Take her from me.