The Bloody Brother (Rollo, Duke of Normandy) · chunk 26 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 T50 Fleets, armies and generals: war by sea · 545 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T50: sea, honour, general, soldiers, men, ship, fight, soldier, king, vittori.
My Lord, (stay soldiers) I do beseech your highness do not lose, Such men for so slight clauses, this is one Hath still been faithful to you, a tried soul In all your father's battles. I have seen him Bestride a friend against a score of foes; And look, he looks as he would kill his hundred For you Sir, were you in danger. Till he kills his Brother, his Chancellor, then his amster, To which he can add nought to equal Nero But killing of his mother. Peace, brave fool, Thou valiant Ass, here's his brother too Sir, A Captain of your Guard hath served you long With the most noble witness of his truth Marked in his face, and every part about him That turns not from an enemy: but view him, And do not grieve him, Sir, if you do mean That he shall hold his place, it is not safe To tempt such spirits, and let 'em wear their swords, You make your Guards your terrors by these Acts, And throw more hearts off from you than you hold, And I must tell you Sir (with my old freedom, And my old faith to boot) you have not lived so, But that your state will need such men, such hands, Of which here's one shall in an hour of trial Do you more certain service with a stroke, Than the whole bundle of your Flatterers, With all th' unsavoury unction of their tongues. Peace talker. One that loves you yet my Lord, And would not see you pull on your own ruins, Mercy becomes a Prince, and guards him best, A weaned affrights they are no ties of love, And when men 'gin to fear the Prince, they hate him. Am I the Prince or you? My Lord, I hope I have not uttered ought should urge that question. Then practise your obedience, see him dead. My Lord. I'll hear no word more. I am sorry then There is no small despair Sir of their safety, Whose ears are blocked up against the truth, Come Captain. I do thank you Sir. For what? For seeing thy brother die a man and honest, Live thou so Captain, I will so, I assure thee, Although I die for't too. Come. Now Latorch, What do you think? That Aubrey's speech and manners Sound somewhat of the boldest. 'tis his custom. It may be so, and yet be worth a fear. If we thought so it should be worth his life, And quickly too. I dare not Sir be author Of what I would, he is so dangerous, But with your highness' favour and your licence. He talks 'tis true, and he is licensed: leave him. We now are Duke alone, Latorch secured, Nothing left standing to obscure our prospect, We look right forth, besides and round about us, And see it ours with pleasure: only one Wished joy there wants to make us so possess it, And that is Edith, Edith, she that got me In blood and tears in such an opposite minute, As had I not at once felt all the flames, And shafts of love shot in me (his whole armoury) I should have thought him as far off as death.
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)
My Lord, (stay souldiers) I doe beseech your highnesse doe not loose, Such men for so sleight clauses, this is one Hath still been faithfull to you, a try'd soule In all your fathers battailes. I have seen him Bestride a friend against a score of foes; And look, he looks as he would kill his hundred For you Sir, were you in danger. Till he kills his Brother, his Chancellour, then his amster, To which he can adde nought to equall Nero But killing of his mother. Peace, brave foole, Thou valiant Asse, here's his brother too Sir, A Captaine of your Guard hath serv'd you long With the most noble witnesse of his truth Mark'd in his face, and ev'ry part about him That turnes not from an enemie but view him, And doe not grieve him, Sir, if you doe meane That he shall hold his place, it is not safe To tempt such spirits, and let 'em weare their swords, You make your Guards your terrours by these Acts, And throw more hearts off from you then you hold, And I must tell you Sir (with my old freedome, And my old faith to boot) you have not liv'd so, But that your state will need such men, such hands, Of which here's one shall in an houre of triall Doe you more crtaine service with a stroke, Then the whole bundle of your Flatterers, With all th' unsavorie unction of their tongues. Peace talker. One that loves you yet my Lord, And would not see you pull on your own ruines, Mercy becomes a Prince, and guards him best, A weand affrights they are no ties of love, And when men 'gin to feare the Prince, they hate him. Am I the Prince or you? My Lord, I hope I have not utter'd ought should urge that question. Then practise your obedience, see him dead. My Lord. Ile heare no word more. I am sorry then There is no small dispaire Sir of their safety, Whose eares are blocked up against the truth, Come Captaine. I doe thank you Sir. For what? For seeing thy brother dye a man and honest, Live thou so Captaine, I will so, I assure thee, Although I die for't too. Come. Now Latorch, What doe you think? That Aubries speech and manners Sound somewhat of the boldest. Tis his custome. It may be so, and yet be worth a feare. If we thought so it should be worth his life, And quickly too. I dare not Sir be author Of what I would, he is so dangerous, But with your highnesse favour and your license. He talkes 'tis true, and he is licens'd: leave him. We now are Duke alone, Latorch secur'd, Nothing left standing to obscure our prospect, We look right forth, besides and round about us, And see it ours with pleasure: only one Wisht joy there wants to make us so possesse it, And that is Edith, Edith, she that got me In bloud and teares in such an opposite minute, As had I not at once felt all the flames, And shafts of love shot in me (his whole armory) I should have thought him as far off as death.