Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T51: esau, iacob, father, son, isaac, god, love, birthright, parents, thing.
I've missed my boy out of his bed tonight Heavens grant that he be well, for in his eyes Sad discontentment sits! till yesterday I never saw him so propense to sorrow. Nor deeply touched with distemperature, When I began to tell him of his mistress Which I in violence of words branded With damned perjury; as Heaven knows She has consumed her goodness; then would he Sit by, and sigh, and with salt tears trilling Down his cheeks, entreat me not to name her, Curse her I must not I then would he steal to bed, As full of mournful sorrows as a sinner. 'tis almost morn and I suspect him here Hovering about this house! oft would he say He wooed her underneath a plum-tree, And underneath that Tree he vowed to sit, And tell his sorrows to the gummy boughs Though she disdained to hear them? protect me! Good Angels guard me, what heavy sight is this That like a sullen sadness reaves my sense, Prove false mine eyes that this may prove untrue? Better you never had seen then to see this. Leave your slimy cisterns, and drop out; 'tis he, 'tis he, would I could tell a lie The falsest one that e'er was told by man That this might prove untrue; but 'tis in vain To dark the Sun, or wrestle 'gainst the truth Murderers look out, i'll rouse the thunderer, To rouse you from your sleeps! false fiends come out, And see a deed, the day willbe ashamed of Caused by your perjuries. who's that which calls With horrid terror, and such affrightments As when skath fires devast our villages, Look this way monster see thou adulteress Behold the miserablest Map of woe That ever father mourned for; my poor boy hard-hearted fate that brought thee to this end, Hated Vipers they that were the causers, How dar'st thou Bateman come upon my ground Cursed be thy ground, and cursed be all trees That brings forth such abortive fruit as this. Ha, ha, has— he hanged himself, and saved justice a labor! I never looked for better end of him, he had a malevolent aspect in his looks, ha, ha, ha! Laughst thou Crocodile? Are miseries lamented with contempts? The books of fate are not so closely shut, But they may open, and record the scorns Dwelling in every Region of thy face? A fixed decree may be set down for thine, And thou mayst Swanlike sing a Funeral ode, Who then shall laugh at thee? I laugh to see, how well sorrow becomes thee.
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)
I've miss'd my boy out of his bed to night Heavens grant that he be well, for in his eyes Sad discontentment sits! till yesterday I never saw him so propense to sorrow. Nor deepely touch'd with distemperature, When I began to tell him of his mistris Which I in violence of wordes branded With damned perjury; as Heaven knowes She has consum'd her goodnes; then would he Sit by, and sigh, and with salt teares trilling Downe his cheekes, entreat me not to name her, Curse her I must not I then would he steale to bed, As full of mournfull sorrowes as a sinner. Tis almost morne and I suspect him here Hovering about this house! oft would he say He woo'd her underneath a Plume-Tree, And underneath that Tree he vow'd to sit, And tell his sorrowes to the gummy boughes Though she disdaind to here them? protect me! Good Angells guard me, what heavy sight is this That like a sullen sadnes reaves my sense, Prove false mine eies that this may prove untrue? Better you never had seene then to see this. Leave your slimy cesternes, and drop out; Tis he, tis he, would I could tell a ly The falsest one that e're was tould by man That this might prove untrue; but tis in vaine To darke the Sunne, or wrastle 'gainst the truth Murtherers looke out, i'le rowze the thunderer, To rowze you from your sleepes! false feinds come out, And see a deede, the day wilbe asham'd of Caus'd by your perjuries. Whoes that which calls With horrid terrour, and such affrightments As when skath fires devast our vilages, Looke this way monster see thou adultresse Behold the miserablest Map of woe That ever father mourn'd for; my poore boy Hard-harted fate that brought thee to this end, Hated Vipers they that were the causers, How darst thou Bateman come upon my ground Curs'd be thy ground, and curs'd be all trees That brings forth such a bortive fruit as this. Ha, ha, has—he hang'd himselfe, and sav'd justice alabor! I never look'd for better end of him, he had a malevolent aspect in his lookes, ha, ha, ha! Laughst thou Crocadile? Are miseries lamented with contempts? The bookes of fate are not so closely shut, But they may open, and record the scornes Dwelling in every Region of thy face? A fixt decree may be set downe for thine, And thou maist Swan-like sing a Funerall O'de, Who then shall laugh at thee? I laugh to see, how well sorrow becomes thee.