Fisher, Jasper · published 1633 · first performed or written 1625 [c.1611-1633] (Annals) history · at University unassigned nearest T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi · 539 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
Yes noble Nennius, scattered on the shore Thick lay the Latins, and the glutted stream Spews up her dead, whom death hath taught to swim, Though ignorant alive: Their flowing blood Made a new Red Sea. But those few we lost, Sweetly reposed upon their mother's breast, And wounded all before, kept in their face A warlike frown. Where is false Caesar's sword, called Crocea Mors, Which never hurt, but killed: Let it be placed Within my tomb. Here is the fatal Blade. Death like a Parthian flies, and flying kills: In midst of Conquest came my deadly wound. Accursed weapon, more accursed man, Who Serpent-like in poison baths his sting: Tiber doth breed as venomous beasts as Nile: We scorn such cruel craft. But death draws near, A giddy horror seizeth on my brain. Dear Brother, and thou holy Priest of Heaven, Witness my words; I leave my Country free, And die a victor. Thus, with lighter wing My purified soul mounts to her First-best Cause. I long even to behold those glorious Cloisters, Where Brutus, great Dunwallo, and his sons, Thrice noble Spirits walk. Thou mighty Engineer of this wondrous Globe, Protect this I'll, confound all foreign plots: Grant Thames and Tiber never join their channels; But may a natural hate derived from us Live still in our long-trailed progeny. (My eyes do swim in death.) Before this land shall wear the Roman yoke; Let first the adamantine axle crack, Which binds the Ball terrestrial to her poles, And dash the empty air; Let Planets drop Their scalding jelly, and all flame being spent, Entomb the world in everlasting smoke. Come faster, Death: I can behold thy grim, And ugly jaws with quiet mind: Now, now: I hear sweet music; and my spirit flies. His breath is gone: who was his country's prop, And my right hand. Now only doth he crave, To see him laid with honour in the grave. A mind content, Oh, 'tis a mind of pearl, A Mint of golden thoughts, A Heaven on Earth! When eager longer meet full-but their scope, And hopes are actuated beyond hope. So Iason joyed, the golden Fleet obtained: So Hercules joyed, the golden fruit being gained: So Venus joyed, the golden Ball to hold: So Midas joyed, when he turned all to gold. So, and much more rejoiced, the Phrygian swain, When he conveyed the fairest (except mine) Which air did ever kiss: His brazen keel Proud of her burden, sliced the capering brine: The Tritons blew their horns, and Seagods dance, Before, behind, about his Ship they prance: The mermaids skip on high, but to compare Their dangling tresses with her silken hair. These were but shadows of my bliss. A robe Of pure beatitude wraps me round about, Without a speck, or blemish: nor can Invention Wish more unto me, than I have, Landora. I'm rich, free, learned, honoured, all; in this. Who dares conceive against the Female sex, But one base thought? Lo here I stand, their Champion, And will maintain, He is a beast, a devil, Begot between a Bitch-wolf, and an Incubus. Women, all good, all perfect, and all gracious, Men-making creatures, Angels clad in flesh; Let me adore your Name.
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)
Yes noble Nennius, scatter'd on the shoare Thicke lay the Latines, and the glutted streame Spewes vp her dead, whom death hath taught to swimme, Though ignorant aliue: Their flowing blood Made a new Red Sea. But those few we lost, Sweetly repos'd vpon their mothers breast, And wounded all before, kept in their face A warlike frowne. Where is false Caesars sword, call'd Crocea Mors, Which neuer hurt, but kill'd: Let it be plac'd Within my tombe. Heere is the fatall Blade. Death like a Parthian flies, and flying kils: In midst of Conquest came my deadly wound. Accursed weapon, more accursed man, Who Serpent-like in poyson bathes his sting: Tyber doth breed as venemous beasts as Nile: We skorne such cruell craft. But death drawes neere, A giddy horror seazeth on my braine. Deare Brother, and thou holy Priest of Heauen, Witnesse my words; I leaue my Country free, And dye a victour. Thus, with lighter wing My purified soule mounts to her First-best Cause. I long euen to behold those glorious Cloysters, Where Brutus, great Dunwallo, and his sonnes, Thrice noble Spirits walke. Thou mighty Enginer of this wondrous Globe, Protect this Ile, confound all forraine plots: Graunt Thames and Tyber neuer ioyne thair chanells; But may a naturall hate deriv'd from vs Liue still in our long-trailed progeny. (My eyes doe swimme in death.) Before this land shall weare the Romane yoke; Let first the adamantine axell cracke, Which bindes the Ball terrestriall to her poles, And dash the empty aire; Let Planets drop Their scalding gelly, and all flame being spent, Entombe the world in euerlasting smoake. Come faster, Death: I can behold thy grim, And vgly Iawes with quiet mind: Now, now: I heare sweet musick; and my spirit flies. His breath is gone: who was his Countries prop, And my right hand. Now onely doth he craue, To see him laid with honour in the graue. A mind content, Oh, tis a mind of pearle, A Mint of golden thoughts, A Heauen on Earth! When eager longer meete full-but their scope, And hopes are actuated beyond hope. So Iason ioy'd, the golden Fleet obtain'd: So Hercules ioy'd, the golden fruit being gain'd: So Venus ioy'd, the golden Ball to hold: So Mydas ioy'd, when he turnd all to gold. So, and much more reioyc'd, the Phrygian swaine, When he conuaide the fairest (except mine) Which aire did euer kisse: His brazen keele Proud of her burden, slic'd the capering brine: The Tritons blew their hornes, and Sea-gods daunce, Before, behind, about his Ship they praunce: The meare-Maides skip on high, but to compaire Their dangling tresses with her silken haire. These were but shadowes of my blisse. A robe Of pure beatitude wrapes me round about, Without a specke, or blemish: nor can Invention Wish more vnto me, than I haue, Landora. I'me rich, free, learned, honor'd, all; in this. Who dares conceiue against the Female sexe, But one base thought? Lo heere I stand, their Champion, And will maintaine, He is a beast, a deuill, Begot betweene a Bitch-woolfe, and an Incubus. Women, all good, all perfect, and all gracious, Men-making creatures, Angels clad in flesh; Let me adore your Name.