Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
True sir, his rising passions at your name, Like a tumultuous multitude, at sight Of a grave judge, were for the time appeased; See where he comes, I pray observe, he vents His passions often in poetic rage. Ye Furies, active ministers of hell, That have your heads environed with Snakes, And in your cruel hands be are fiery scourges, Lend me your bloody torches to find out, And punish th'author of my dear son murder, Assist Megaera with a new revenge, Such as even thou wouldst fear to execute: Let a vast sea of blood o'erflow his house, And never ebb till I shall pity him; Ease now th'infernal ghosts, remove the stone From th' Attic thief, and lay it on his shoulders, Let the swift stream deceive his endless thirst, And let his hands wind the unquiet wheel, That hourly tortures the Thessalian King: Let Vultures tire upon his growing Liver, But let'em ne'er be tired; and since there is One of the fifty Danaan sisters wanting, Let them admit that man into her room, And with their Pitchers only load his arms; How am I sure 'tis he? or if it be? It is the law of Retribution, And is but just, my conscience tells me so: Hence childish conscience, shall I live his scorn? And the whole Cities Pasquill? I abhor it, Were he protected by the thunderer, I'd snatch him from his bosom, and in spite Of his revengeful thunder, throw him quick Into the throat of the infernal dog; Or if that monster be not yet released, Since great Alcides dragged him in a chain, Through th' amazed towns of Greece, Enceladus That with his earth-bred flames affrighteth heaven, Rather than he shall scape, shall fire the world: But I delay, and wear away the time With empty words, why do I call for Furies? That bear in mine own breast a greater fury Than Acheron and night did ever hatch; I'll dart myself like winged lightning on him; Have I no friend? Yes, one that dares assist you In a more valiant act, to crush that Fury, And to restore brave Spinola to himself. O faithful soul, my dear Francisco's murdered. A heavy fate, yet such as should be borne Without so strange a tumult, what you give T'unbridled rage, you take from your revenge. Wilt thou allow me to take vengeance, speak, But speak Iustinian with thy wonted faith. Yes, such as law and justice shall allow. I have no skill in Law, and as for justice, Your learned Stoics make it but a fool, A very animal. 'Tis now not seasonable To tell you whether justice, Fortitude, And th'other virtues may be called creatures; But I must tell you, that no creature can Be happy, wanting them; whereof that man Deprives himself, that subjugates his reason, On which they all depend, to brutish passion; Could you but be persuaded to reflect Upon yourself, to see as in a glass, What a deformity this vice hath brought Upon your soul, although you hated me, You would embrace my counsel.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
True ſir, his riſing paſſions at your name, Like a tumultuous multitude, at ſight Of a grave Iudge, were for the time appeas'd; See where he comes, I pray obſerve, he vents His paſſions often in poeticke rage. YEe Furies, active miniſters of hell, That have your heads invironed with Snakes, And in your cruell hands be are fiery ſcourges, Lend me your bloudy torches to finde out, And puniſh th'author of my deare ſonne murther, Aſſiſt Megaera with a new revenge, Such as even thou would'ſt feare to execute: Let a vaſt ſea of bloud o're-flow his houſe, And never ebbe till I ſhall pitty him; Eaſe now th'infernall ghoſts, remove the ſtone From th' Attick thiefe, and lay it on his ſhoulders, Let the ſwift ſtreame deceive his endleſſe thirſt, And let his hands winde the unquiet wheele, That hourely tortures the Theſſalian King: Let Vultures tire upon his growing Liver, But let'um ne're be tir'd; and fince there is One of the fifty Danaan ſiſters wanting, Let them admit that man into her roome, And with their Pitchers onely load his armes; How am Iſure 'tis he? or if it be? It is the law of Retribution, And is but juſt, my conſcience tels me ſo: Hence childiſh conſcience, ſhall I live his ſcorne? And the whole Cities Paſquill? I abhor it, Were he protected by the thunderer, I'de ſnatch him from his boſome, and in ſpite Of his revengefull thunder, throw him quicke Into the throat of the infernall dog; Or if that monſter be not yet releaſt, Since great Alcides drag'd him in a chaine, Through th' amaz'd townes of Greece, Enceladus That with his earth-bred flames affrighteth heaven, Rather then he ſhall ſcape, ſhall fire the world: But I delay, and weare away the time With empty words, why doe I call for Furies? That beare in mine owne breaſt a greater fury Then Acheron and night did ever hatch; I'le dart my ſelfe like winged lightning on him; Have I no friend? Yes, one that dares aſſiſt you In a more valiant act, to cruſh that Fury, And to reſtore brave Spinola to himſelfe. O faithfull ſoule, my deare Franciſco's murder'd. A heavy fate, yet ſuch as ſhould be borne Without ſo ſtrange a tumult, what you give T'unbridled rage, you take from your revenge. Wilt thou allow me to take vengeance, ſpeake, But ſpeake Iuſtinian with thy wonted faith. Yes, ſuch as law and Iuſtice ſhall allow. I have no skill in Law, and as for Iuſtice, Your learned Stoickes make it but a foole, A very animal. 'Tis now not ſeaſonable To tell you whether Iuſtice, Fortitude, And th'other vertues may be called creatures; But I muſt tell you, that no creature can Be happy, wanting them; whereof that man Deprives himſelfe, that ſubjugates his reaſon, On which they all depend, to brutiſh paſſion; Could you but be perſwaded to reflect Vpon your ſelfe, to ſee as in a glaſſe, What a deformity this vice hath brought Vpon your ſoule, although you hated me, You would embrace my counſell.