The Bloody Brother (Rollo, Duke of Normandy) · chunk 27 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 T35 Fools, wit and railing · 481 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
My Lord expect a while, your happiness Is nearer than you think it, yet her griefs Are green and fresh, your vigilant Latorch Hath not been idle, I have leave already To visit her and send to her. My life. And if I find not out as speedy ways, And proper instruments to work and bring her To your fruition, that she be not watched Tame to your highness, say you have no servant Is capable of such a trust about you, Or worthy to be— of your delight. O my Latorch, what shall I render thee For all thy travels, care, and love? Sir, one suit, Which I will ever importune till you grant me. About your Mathematicians. Yes to have The scheme of your nativity judged by them. I have't already erected, O my Lord, You do not know the labour of my fears. My doubts for you are such as cannot hope Any security but from the stars, Who being rightly asked can tell man more, Than all power else, there being no power beyond them. All thy petitions still are care of us. Ask for thyself. What more can concern me Then this? Well rise true honest man and go then, We'll study ourselves a means how to reward thee. Your Grace is now inspired, now, now your Highness Begins to live, from this hour count your joys, But Sir, I must have warrants with blank figures To put in names such as I like. You shall. They dare not else Sir offer at your figure, O I shall bring you wonders, there's a friar, Russee an admirable man Another Gentleman, and then La fiske, The mirror of his time, 'twas he that set it, But there's one Norbret, (him I never saw) Has made a mirror, a mere looking-glass In show you'd think't no other, the form oval, As I am given to understand by letter, Which renders you such shapes, & those so differing And some that will be questioned, and give answers, Then has he set it in a frame that wrought Unto the revolutions of the stars, And so compacted by due proportions Unto their harmony doth move alone A true Automicon: Thus Dedalus Statues Or Vulcan's stools— Dost thou believe this? Sir, Why what should stay my faith or turn my sense, He has been about it above twenty years, Three sevens, the powerful and the perfect numbers, And art and time Sir can produce such things, What do we read there, that Hiarba's banquet The great Gymnosophist that had his Butlers And Carvers of pure gold wait at the table: The images of Mercury too, that spoke, The wooden Dove that flew, a Snake of Brass That hist: and Birds of silver that did sing. All these were done Sir by the Mathematics: Without which there's no science nor no truth.
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 expect a while, your happinesse Is ne'rer then you think it, yet her griefes Are greene and fresh, your vigilant Latorch Hath not been idle, I have leave already To visit her and send to her. My life. And if I finde not out as speedy waies, And proper instruments to work and bring her To your fruition, that she be not watch'd Tame to your highnesse, say you have no servant Is capable of such a trust about you, Or worthy to be—of your delight. O my Latorch, what shall I render thee For all thy travells, care, and love? Sir, one sute, Which I will ever importune till you grant me. About your Mathematitians. Yes to have The scheme of your nativity judg'd by them. I hav't already erected, O my Lord, You doe not know the labour of my feares. My doubts for you are such as cannot hope Any security but from the starres, Who being rightly ask'd can tell man more, Then all power else, there being no power beyond them All thy petitions still are care of us. Aske for thy selfe. What more can concerne me Then this? Well rise true honest man and goe then, We'le study our selves a meanes how to reward thee. Your Grace is now inspir'd, now, now your Highnes Begins to live, from this houre count your joyes, But Sir, I must have warrants with blanck figures To put in names such as I like. You shall. They dare not else Sir offer at your figure, O I shall bring you wonders, there's a Fryer, Russee an admirable man Another Gentleman, and then La fiske, The mirrour of his time, 'twas he that set it, But theres one Norbret, (him I never saw) Has made a mirrour, a meere lookin-glasse In show you'd think't no other, the forme ovall, As I am given to understand by letter, Which renders you such shapes, & those soe differing And some that will be question'd, and give answers, Then has he set it in a frame that wrought Vnto the revolutions of the starres, And so compacted by due proportions Vnto their harmony doth move alone A true Automicon: Thus Dedalus Statues Or Vulcans stooles— Do'st thou beleeve this? Sir, Why what should stay my faith or turn my sence, He has been about it above twenty yeares, Three seavens, the powerfull and the perfect numbers, And art and time Sir can produce such things, What doe we read there, that Hiarbaes banqet The great Gymnosophist that had his Butlers And Carvers of pure gold wait at the table: The images of Mercury too, that spoke, The wooden Dove that flew, a Snake of Brasse That hist: and Birds of silver that did sing. All these were done Sir by the Mathematiques: Without which there's no science nor no truth.