The Bloody Brother (Rollo, Duke of Normandy) · chunk 33 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 T48 Addressing a lady: love, desire and inti · 501 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T48: lady, love, heart, fair, eyes, la, lord, tears, fie, face.
Tell what she will i'll lend nor hand nor ear, To whatsoever heaven puts in her power. How strange she is to what she chiefly wishes, Sweet Edith, be not any thought the more Discouraged in thy purpose, but assured Her heart and prayers are thine: and that we two Shall be enough to all we wish to do. Madam myself alone I make no doubt, Will be afforded power enough from heaven To end the Murderer: all I wish of you, Is but some richer ornaments and jewels, Than I am able to provide myself, To help out the defects of my poor beauty, That yet have been enough as now they are, To make his fancy mad with my desire, But you know Madam, women never can, Be too fair to torment an Amorous man; And this man's torments I would heighten still, Till at their highest he were fit to kill. Thou shalt have all my jewels and my mothers, And thou shalt paint too, that his blood's desire, May make him perish in a painted fire. Hast thou been with him yet? Been with him? no; I set that hour back thouhast more his longing, But I have promised to his Instruments, Th'admittance of a Visit at our house, Where yet I would receive him with all luster My sorrow would give leave too, to remove Suspicion of my purpose. Thou shalt have, All I can add, sweet wench, in jewels, tires, I'll be myself thy dresser; nor may I Serve mine own love with an attracted husband, More sweetly nor more amply than mayst thou, Thy forward will with his bewitched affections: Affects thou any personal aid of mine, Mine noblest Edith? Nought but your kind prayers, For full effect and speed of my affair. They're thine (my Edith) as for me mine own, For thou well know'st if blood shed of the best, Should cool and be forgotten, who would fear To shed blood still, or where (alas) were then, The endless love we owe to worthless men. Love of the worthiest ever bless your highness. I never studied my glass till now, 'Tis exceeding well, now leave me cosen, How takes your eye the object. I have learned So much Sir of the Courtier, as to say Your person does become your habit, but Being called unto it by a noble war, Would grace an Armour better. You are still For that great Art, of which you are the master, Yet I must tell you, that to th'encounters We oft attempt, armed only thus we bring As troubled blood, fears mixed with flattering hopes, The danger in the service too as great, As when we are to charge quite through and through The body of an Army. I'll not argue How you may rank the dangers, but will die in't, The ends which they arrive at, are as distant In ev'ry circumstance, as far as honour Is from shame and repentance. You are sour.
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)
Tell what she will ile lend nor hand nor eare, To whatsoever heaven puts in her power. How strange she is to what she chiefly wishes, Sweet Edith, be not any thought the more Discourag'd in thy purpose, but assur'd Her heart and prayers are thine: and that we two Shall be enough to all we wish to doe. Madam my elfe alone I make no doubt, Will be afforded power enough from heaven To end the Murderer: all I wish of you, Is but some richer ornaments and jewels, Then I am able to provide my selfe, To help out the defects of my poore beauty, That yet have beene enough as now they are, To make his fancy mad with my desire, But you know Maddam, women never can, Be too faire to torment an Amorous man; And this mans torments I would heighten still, Till at their highest he were fit to kill. Thou shalt have all my jewells and my mothers, And thou shalt paint too, that his blouds desire, May make him perish in a painted fire. Hast thou been with him yet? Been with him? no; I set that hower back t'hast more his longing, But I have promis'd to his Instruments, Th'admittance of a Visit at our house, Where yet I would receive him with all luster My sorrow would give leave too, to remove Suspition of my purpose. Thou shalt have, All I can adde, sweet wench, in jewels, tires, Ile be my selfe thy dresser; nor may I Serve mine owne love with an attracted husband, More sweetly nor more amptly then maist thou, Thy forward will with his bewich'd affections: Affects thou any personall aide of mine, Mine noblest Edith? Nought but your kind prayers, For full effect and speed of my affaire. They're thine (my Edith) as for me mine owne, For thou well know'st if bloud shed of the best, Should coole and be forgotten, who would feare To shed bloud still, or where (alas) were then, The endlesse love we owe to worthlesse men. Love of the worthiest ever blesse your highnesse. I never studied my glasse till now, 'Tis exceeding well, now leave me cosen, How takes your eye the object. I have learnt So much Sir of the Courtier, as to say Your person does become your habit, bu Being call'd unto it by a noble warre, Would grace an Armour better. You are still For that great Art, of which you are the maister, Yet I must tell you, that to th'encounters We oft attempt, arm'd only thus we bring As troubled bloud, fears mixt with flattering hopes, The danger in the service too as great, As when we are to charge quite through and through The body of an Army. Ile not argue How you may ranke the dangers, but will dye in't, The ends which they arrive at, are as distant In e'ry circumstance, as farre as honour Is from shame and repentance. You are soure.