Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
Either for peace or war. The Queen my Mistress now is armed for both, For like a virtuous Princess, and a Mother o'er us her loving subjects, and her sons, She knowing a king's security rests, In the true love, and welfare of her people, Raised this hostility for to guard herself, Not to offend, but to defend her own, Her Secretary Sicill now attends On the like embassy for Edinburgh, Whither yourself shall safely be convoyed. You are an honourable foe. Will the Queen, Lay by her nicety, rough filed phrase, And not articulate too much with England? For by the power of war ere two suns rise we'll mount the walls of Leith, and sacrifice, Her guilded Towers, and her French insulters; In flames of fire; we vow to hazard lives, And honours in the enterprise. Softly, softly; fie on your creaking shoes, what noise they make; shut the Doors close, it does not hear us a jot, look well to the Darneicke Hangings, that it play not the Court Page with us. here's not so much as a shadow to affright us, for mine own part neither Incubus nor Sucubus can do't; I fear not what a quick thing can do, and I think your dead things are too quiet to say any harm Yet all is clear, no frightful vision Nor Ghostly apparition haunts me yet; Yonder's thy father, good powers assist me, That I may gain his patience to hear me, And I am heartily satisfied. Pygmalion doted on the piece he made, So do not I upon thy portraiture. I do but hang thy fair resemblance here To tell me of my immortality. How sensible young Cedars are o'th' wind, whenas the aged Oak affronts all storms 'Tis death, and nature's fault, for the Diamond, Of blooming youth, despise decaying age. He might have ta'en thee else, and left thee boy. Whom talks he too? my life Coz, he has a ghost too! Yet I see nothing. How now Hyena; why cam'st thou hither? Com'st thou again to gibe my miseries? Has thy maligning hearted father sent thee To scoff my sorrows? keep of I charge thee, Thou didst bewitch my poor boy with a Kiss, Thy breath is sure infectious, and I fear Their's something in thee smells of sorcery. Stand at distance. Good sir, use patience, That in extremity is sovereign Balm, Tears be my witness I come to comfort you, Yet I see nothing. Tears? 'tis impossible! Marble will drop, and melt against the rain, And from the craggy Rocks, Fountainous Floods Oft get enforced issues; but to gain Relenting tears from thy obdurate heart 'Tis impossible, as to force Fire from snow Water from flint, say the Sun shall not shine, As well upon the beggar as the King, That is alike indifferent to all. Good sir remember, Forgiveness is an Attribute of Heaven. She has a hearty sorrow for her sins, And comes to make atonement, if you please.
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)
Eyther for peace or warre. The Queene my Mistris now is arm'd for both, For like a vertuons Princesse, and a Mother O're us her loving subjects, and her sons, She knowing a Kings security rests, In the true love, and welfare of her people, Rais'd this hostility for to guard her selfe, Not to offend, but to defend her owne, Her Secretary Sicill now attends On the like Embasy for Edenburgh, Whither your selfe shall safely be convoy'de. You are an honourable foe. Will the Queene, Lay by her nicety, rough fil'd phrase, And not articulate too much with England? For by the power of warr e're two suns rise Weele mount the walls of Leith, and sacrifize, Her guilded Towres, and her French insulters; In flames of fire; we vow to hazard lives, And honours in the enterprize. Softly, softly; fie on your creaking shooes, what noise they make; shut the Dores close, it does not here us a jot, looke well to the Darneicke Hangings, that it play not the Court Page with us. Heer's not so much as a shaddow to affright us, for mine owne part neyther Incubus nor Sucubus can do't; I feare not what a quicke thing can doe, and I thinke y'ore dead things are too quiet to say any harme Yet all is cleere, no frightfull vision Nor Ghostly apparition hauntes me yet; Yonders thy father, good powres assist me, That I may gaine his patience to heare me, And I am hartily satisfied. Pigmalion doated on the peece he made, So doe not I upon thy pourtraiture. I doe but hang thy faire resemblance here To tell me of my immortality. How sensible young Cedars are o'th winde, When as the aged Oake affronts all stormes 'Tis death, and natures fault, for the Diamond, Of blooming youth, despise decaying age. He might have tane thee el'ce, and left thee boy. Whom talkes he too? my life Coz, he has a ghost too! Yet I see nothing. How now Hyena; why camst thou hyther? Com'st thou againe to gybe my miseries? Has thy maligneing harted father sent thee To scoffe my sorowes? keepe of I charge thee, Thou did'st bewitch my poore boy with a Kisse, Thy breath is sure infectious, and I feare Their's something in thee smells of sorcery. Stand at distance. Good sir, use patience, That in extremity is soveraigne Balme, Teares be my witnes I come to comfort you, Yet I see nothing. Teares? 'tis impossible! Marble will drop, and melt against the raine, And from the cragy Rocks, Fountainous Flouds Oft get inforced issues; but to gaine Relenting teares from thy obdurate harte 'Tis impossible, as to force Fire from snow Water from flint, say the Sun shall not shine, As well upon the begger as the King, That is alike indifferent to all. Good sir remember, Forgivenes is an Atribute of Heaven. She has a harty sorrow for her sinnes, And comes to make attonement, if you please.