Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T53: crown, king, state, life, lord, lords, live, queen, tullia, prince.
' Has turned his joys into his leprous bosom, And like a King vows execution On all his traitorous passions. Godlike justice! Intends in person presently to beg Forgiveness for his Acts of heaven and you. Heaven pardon him, I shall. Will marry you. umh! marry me? will he turn Bigamist? When, when? Before the morrow Sun hath rode Half his day's journey; will send home his Queen As one that stains his bed, and can produce Nothing but bastard Issue to his Crown: Why how now? lost in wonder and amazement? I am so stored with joy that I can now Strongly wear out more years of misery Than I have lived. You need not: here's the King. Leave us. With pardon, Sir, I will prevent you, And charge upon you first. 'Tis granted, do: But stay, what mean these Emblems of distress? My Picture so defaced! opposed against A holy Cross! room hung in black! and you Dressed like chief Mourner at a Funeral? Look back upon your guilt (dear Sir) and then The cause that now seems strange, explains itself: This, and the Image of my living wrongs Is still confronted by me to beget Grief like my shame, whose length may outlive Time: This Cross, the object of my wounded soul, To which I pray to keep me from despair; That ever as the sight of one throws up Mountains of sorrows on my accursed head: Turning to that, Mercy may check despair, And bind my hands from wilful violence. But who hath played the Tyrant with me thus? And with such dangerous spite abused my picture? The guilt of that lays claim, Sir, to yourself, For being by you ransacked of all my fame, robbed of mine honour, and dear chastity, Made by you act the shame of all my house, The hate of good men, and the scorn of bad, The song of broom-men, and the murdering vulgar, And left alone to bear up all these ills By you begun, my breast was filled with fire, And wrapped in just disdain, and like a woman On that dumb picture wreaked I my passions. And wished it had been I. Pardon me, Sir, My wrongs were great, and my revenge swelled high. I will descend, and cease to be a King, To leave my judging part, freely confessing Thou canst not give thy wrongs too ill a name. And here to make thy apprehension full, And seat thy reason in a sound belief, I vow tomorrow (ere the rising Sun Begin his journey) with all Ceremonies Due to the Church, to seal our nuptials, To prive thy son with full consent of State, Spain's heir Apparent, borne in wedlock vows. And will you swear to this? By this I swear. Oh you have sworn false oaths upon that book. Why then by this. Take heed you print it deeply: How for your Concubine (Bride I cannot say) She stains your bed with black Adultery: And though her fame masks in a fairer shape Than mine to the world's eye, yet (King) you know Mine honour is less strumpeted than hers, However butchered in opinion.
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)
'Has turnd his joyes into his leprous bosome, And like a King vowes execution On all his traiterous passions. God-like Iustice! Intends in person presently to begge Forgivenesse for his Acts of heaven and you. Heaven pardon him, I shall. Will marry you. Vmh! marry me? will he turne Bigamist? When, when? Before the morrow Sunne hath rode Halfe his dayes journey; will send home his Queene As one that staines his bed, and can produce Nothing but bastard Issue to his Crowne: Why how now? lost in wonder and amazement? I am so stor'd with joy that I can now Strongly weare out more yeares of misery Then I have liv'd. You need not: here's the King. Leave us. With pardon, Sir, I will prevent you, And charge upon you first. 'Tis granted, doe: But stay, what meane these Embleames of distresse? My Picture so defac'd! oppos'd against A holy Crosse! roome hung in blacke! and you Drest like chefe Mourner at a Funerall? Looke backe upon your guilt (deare Sir) and then The cause that now seemes strange, explaines it selfe: This, and the Image of my living wrongs Is still confronted by me to beget Griefe like my shame, whose length may outlive Time: This Crosse, the object of my wounded soule, To which I pray to keepe me from despaire; That ever as the sight of one throwes up Mountaines of sorrowes on my accursed head: Turning to that, Mercy may checke despaire, And bind my hands from wilfull violence. But who hath plaid the Tyrant with me thus? And with such dangerous spite abus'd my picture? The guilt of that layes claime, Sir, to your selfe, For being by you ransack'd of all my fame, Rob'd of mine honour, and deare chastity, Made by you act the shame of all my house, The hate of good men, and the scorne of bad, The song of Broome-men, and the murdering vulgar, And left alone to beare up all these ills By you begun, my brest was fill'd with fire, And wrap'd in just disdaine, and like a woman On that dumb picture wreak'd I my passions. And wish'd it had beene I. Pardon me, Sir, My wrongs were great, and my revenge swell'd high. I will descend, and cease to be a King, To leave my judging part, freely confessing Thou canst not give thy wrongs too ill a name. And here to make thy apprehension full, And seat thy reason in a sound beleefe, I vow to morrow (e're the rising Sunne Begin his journey) with all Ceremonies Due to the Church, to seale our nuptials, To prive thy sonne with full consent of State, Spaines heire Apparant, borne in wedlocke vowes. And will you sweare to this? By this I sweare. Oh you have sworne false oathes upon that booke. Why then by this. Take heed you print it deeply: How for your Concubine (Bride I cannot say) She staines your bed with blacke Adultery: And though her fame maskes in a fairer shape Then mine to the worlds eye, yet (King) you know Mine honour is lesse strumpetted than hers, How-ever butcher'd in opinion.