The Bloody Brother (Rollo, Duke of Normandy) · chunk 20 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 T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 481 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
A curse upon his life that hinders me, May father's blessing never fall upon him, May heaven never hear his prayers. I beseech you, O Sir, these tears beseech you, these chaste hands woe you That never yet were heaved but to things holy, Things like yourself, you are a God above us, Be as a God then, full of saving mercy, Mercy, O mercy sir, for his sake mercy, That when your stout heart weeps, shall give you pity. Here I must grow. By heaven I'll strike thee woman. Most willingly, let all thy anger seize me, All the most studied torments, so this good man, This old man, and this innocent escape thee. Carry him away I say. Now blessing on thee: o sweet pity I see it in thy eyes. I charge ye soldiers, Even by the PRINCE's power release my Father, The Prince is merciful, why do ye hold him? The Prince forgets his fury, why do ye tug him? He is old, why do ye hurt him? speak O speak sir, Speak as you are a man, a man's life hangs sir, A friend's life and a foster life upon you. 'Tis but a word, but mercy, quickly spoke sir, O speak Prince speak. Will no man here obey me? Have I no rule yet? as I live he dies That does not execute my will and suddenly. All thou canst do takes but one short hour from me. Hew off her hands. Lady hold off. No, hew 'em, Hew off my innocent hands as he commands you, They'll hang the faster on for death's convulsion. Thou seed of rocks, will nothing move thee then, Are all my tears lost, all my righteous prayers Drowned in thy drunken wrath? I stand up thus then, Thus boldly bloody Tyrant, And to thy face in heavens high name defy thee, And may sweet mercy when thy soul sighs for it, When under thy black mischiefs thy flesh trembles, When neither strength nor youth, nor friends nor gold, Can stay one hour, when thy most wretched conscience Waked from her dream of death, like fire shall melt thee, When all thy mother's tears, thy brother's wounds, Thy people's fears and curses, and my loss, My aged father's loss shall stand before thee— Save him I say, run save him, save her Father, Fly and redeem his head. May then that pity, That comfort thou expectest from heaven, that mercy Be locked up from thee, fly thee, howlings find thee, Despair, O my sweet father! storms of terrors, Blood, till thou burst again. O fair sweet anger! I came too late Sir, 'twas dispatched before, His head is here. And my heart there go bury him, Give him fair rites of funeral decent honours. Wilt thou not take me monster? high heaven, Give him a punishment fit for his mischief.
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)
A curse upon his life that hinders me, May fathers blessing never fall upon him, May heaven never heare his prayers. I beseech you, O Sir, these teares beseech you, these chast hands woe you That never yet were heav'd but to things holy, Things like your selfe, you are a God above us, Be as a God then, full of saving mercy, Mercy, O mercy sir, for is sake mercy, That when your stout heart weepes, shall give you pitty. Here I must growe. By heaven Ile strike thee woman. Most willingly, let all thy anger seize mee, All the most studyed torments, so this good man, This old man, and this innocent escape thee. Carry him away I say. Now blessing on thee: ô sweet pitty I see it in thy eyes. I charge ye souldiers, Even by the Princes power release my Father, The Prince is mercifull, why doe ye hold him? The Prince forgets his fury, why doe ye tug him? He is old, why doe ye hurt him? speak O speak sir, Speak as you are a man, a mans life hangs sir, A friends life and a foster life upon you. 'Tis but a word, but mercy, quickly spoke sir, O speake Prince speake. Will no man here obay mee? Have I no rule yet? as I live he dies That does not execute my will and suddenly. All thou canst doe takes but one short houre frō me. Hew off her hands. Lady hold off. No, hew 'em, Hew off my innocent hands as he commands you, Theyle hang the faster on for deaths convulsion. Tho seed of rocks, will nothing move thee then, Are all my teares lost, all my righteous prayers Drown'd in thy drunken wrath? I stand up thus then, Thus boldly bloudy Tyrant, And to thy face in heavens high name defy thee, And may sweet mercy when thy soule sighs for it, When under thy black mischiefes thy flesh trembles, When neither strength nor youth, nor friends nor gold, Can stay one hower, when thy mot wretched conscience Wak'd from her dreame of death, like fire shall melt thee, When all thy mothers teares, thy brothers wounds, Thy peoples feares and curses, and my losse, My aged fathers losse shall stand before thee— Save him I say, run save him, save her Father Fly and redeeme his head. May then that pitty, That comfort thou expect'st from heaven, that mercy Be lockt up from thee, ly thee, howlings finde thee, Dispaire, O my sweet father stormes of terrors, Bloud, till thou burst againe. O faire sweet anger! I came too late Sir, 'twas dispatch't before, His head is heere. And my heart there goe bury him, Give him faire rites of funerall decent honours. Wilt thou not take mee monster? high heaven, Give him a punishment fit for his mischiefe.