The Bloody Brother (Rollo, Duke of Normandy) · chunk 28 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 T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 492 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
You are in your own sphere (Latorch) & rather Than I'll contend with you for it, I'll believe you. Yo' have won upon me that I wish to see My fate before me now, whate'er it be. And I'll endeavour you shall know't with speed, For which I should have one of trust go with me, If you please, Hamond, that I may by him Send you my first dispatches: after I Shall bring you more, as they come more, And accurate forth from them. Take your way, Choose your own means, and be it prosperous to us. Come bear up Sirs, we shall have better days, Mine Almanac tells me. What's that, your rump. It never itched in vain yet; slid La Fiske, Throw off thy sluggish face, I cannot abide To see thee look like a poor jade i'th' pound, That saw no meat these three days. 'Slight to me, It seems thirteen days since I saw any. How? I cannot remember that I ever saw Or meat or money, you may talk of both, To open a man's Stomach or his purse, But feed 'em still with air. friar, I fear You do not say your office well adays, I cannot hear your beads knack. Pox, he feeds With lechery, and lives upon th'exchange Of his two eggs and puddings, with the market-women. And what do you sir with the advocate's wife, That you persuade upon your Doctoral bed, To take the Mathematical trance so often? Come we are stark nought all; bad's the best on's, four of the seven deadly spots we are, Besides our lechery we are envious And most, most gluttonous when we have it thus, Most covetous now we want it: than our boy, He is a fift spot, sloth, and he undoes us. 'tis true the child was wont to be industrious, And now and then send in a Merchant's wife Sick o'th' husband, or a swearing Butler That missed one of his Boles; a crying maid Had lost a silver spoon: the Currycomb Sometimes was wanting, there was something gotten But now— What now, did I not yester-morning Bring you in a cardecue there from the Peasant, Whose Ass I had driven aside and hid that you Might conjure for him? and then last night Six sauce from the cook's wife, ye shared among ye To set a figure for the pestle I stole, It is not at home yet. These things my masters, In a hard time they would be thought on, you Talk o'your Lands, and Castles in the air O'your twelve houses there, but it is I That bring you in your rents for'em, 'tis Pipeau That is your bird called. Faith he does well, And cuts through the Element for us, I must needs say In a fine dextrous line. But not as he did At first, then he would sail with any wind Int' every creek and corner.
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)
You are in your own sphere (Latorch) & rather Then Ile contend with you for it, Ile beleeve you. Yo' have woon upon me that I wish to see My fate before me now, what ere it be. And Ile endeavour you shall know't with speed, For which I should have one of trust goe with me, If you please, Hamond, that I may by him Send you my first dispatches: after I Shall bring you more, as they come more, And accurate forth from them. Take your way, Choose your own meanes, and be it prosperous to us. Come beare up Sirs, we shall have better daies, Mine Almanack tells mee. Whats that, your rumpe. It never itch't in vaine yet; slid La Fiske, Throw off thy sluggish face, I cannot abide To see thee look like a poore Iade i'th pound, That saw no meat these three daies. S'light to me, It seemes thirteen daies since I saw any. How? I cannot remember that I ever saw Or meat or mony, you may talke of both, To open a mans Stomack or his purse, But feed 'em still with aire. Fryer, I feare You doe not say your office well adaies, I cannot heare your beads knack. Pox, he feeds With lechery, and lives upon th'exchange Of his two eggs and puddings, with the market-women. And what doe you sir with the Advocates wife, That you perswade upon your Doctorall bed, To take the Mathematicall trane so often? Come we are starke nought all; bad's the best on's, Foure of the Seaven deadly spots we are, Besides our lechery we are envious And most, most gluttinous when we have it thus, Most covetous now we want it: then our boy, He is a fift spot, sloth, and he undoes us. Tis true the child was wont to be industrious, And now and then send in a Merchants wife Sick o'th husband, or a swearing Butler That mist one of his Boles; a crying maid Had lost a silver spoone: the Curry-combe Sometimes was wanting, there was something gotten But now — What now, did I not yester-morning Bring you in a Cardicue there from the Peasant, Whose Asse I had driven aside and hid that you Might conjure for him? and then last night Six souse from the Cookes wife, yee shard among yee To set a figure for the pestle I stole, It is not at home yet. These things my maisters, In a hard time they would be thought on, you Talke o'your Lands, and Castles in the aire O'your twelve houses there, but it is I That bring you in your rents for'em, tis Pipeau That is your bird cal'd. Faith he does well, And cuts through the Element for us, I must needs say In a fine dextrous line. But not as he did At first, then he would saile with any winde Int' ev'ry creek and corner.