Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
But now the fatal time draws near, Wherein the error and th' offence Of Imperial will appear, To trust the slave he did incense, And to encourage him to act What he once thought a heinous fact. But may there not be some excuse? At least to mitigate his fault? That he could not expect a truce, And that he found his own life sought: It hath been counted justice still, Rather than to be killed, to kill. there's no excuse can purge the guilt That murder brings; we must not take Our own revenge, blood by us spilled, Will our whole offspring guilty make: Then let's not blame heaven's justice, when Great plagues do light on virtuous men. we see there is small hope that gentle sleep Can find admittance to his troubled thoughts, While rage distracts them; he's no sooner laid To rest upon his couch, but up he starts. The wise Iustinian means this night to bring Some curious music, that may rock his senses Into a slumber by sweet harmony, Working on his affections, we are all Eternally obliged to that good man; Who though he be with hearty sorrow moved To see his friend in such necessity, Ev'n of his help, yet is resolved t' employ His constant care, nor will he ever think His debt of friendship paid by my labour. What will become of us if he miscarry? We are his kinsmen, and have no subsistence But by his only bounty; I received A deadly wound in the deplored death Of his dear son, who oft was pleased to bid me Throw all my care on him, and now I find My hopeful venture sunk in that brave ship. To lose out friends and fortunes I confess, Is that which needs must shake the firmest minds, But when there is no hope for us t' increase Our own affliction, and to lose our spirits, Is an infirmity beneath a man: Why should we doubt his safe recovery? Since passion as we see, doth but disturb His reason, not destroy't; when he's at worst, He'll harken to the counsel of his friend. How earnestly he begs, that he may speak With Imperial, and it seems Iustinian Already condescends to his request; methinks that should not be, since he suspects Him to be privy to Francisco's death; No doubt, Iustinian understands what's fit; Perchance if once he shall his mind unburden His passions may remit, or he may seem To promise, cause he would not have him crossed, These things we wholly must commit to him, Whose judgement's not inferior to his love: He wished us but withdraw awhile, we must Not be far off, lest he should chance to call, For whatsoe'er occasion they should have there's none but we t'assist: Sango the slave Hath taken liberty to go abroad, At his own pleasure, who would think the Villain Durst venture to be absent at this time? I have observed a wondrous league of late Between him and his cousin slave; howe'er Their Lords are far asunder, they are near.
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)
But now the fatall time drawes neere, Wherein the errour and th' offence Of Imperiale will appeare, To truſt the ſlave he did incenſe, And to encourage him to act What he once thought a heynous fact. But may there not be ſome excuſe? At leaſt to mitigate his fault? That he could not expect a truce, And that he found his owne life ſought: It hath bin counted Iuſtice ſtill, Rather then to be kil'd, to kill. Ther's no excuſe can purge the guilt That murther brings; we muſt not take Our owne revenge, bloud by us ſpilt, Will our whole off-ſpring guilty make: Then let's not blame heavens juſtice, when Great plagues doe light on vertuous men. VVEe ſee there is ſmall hope that gentle ſleepe Can find admittance to his troubled thoughts, While rage diſtracts them; he's no ſooner laid To reſt upon his couch, but up he ſtarts. The wiſe Iuſtinian meanes this night to bring Some curious muſicke, that may rocke his ſenſes Into a ſlumber by ſweet harmony, Working on his affections, we are all Eternally oblig'd to that good man; Who though he be with hearty ſorrow mov'd To ſee his friend in ſuch neceſſity, Ev'n of his helpe, yet is reſolv'd t' employ His conſtant care, nor will he ever thinke His debt of friendſhip paid by my labour. What will become of us if he miſcarry? We are his kinſmen, and have no ſubſiſtence But by his onely bounty; I receiv'd A deadly wound in the deplored death Of his deare ſon, who oft was pleas'd to bid me Throw all my care on him, and now I finde My hopefull venture ſunke in that brave ſhip. To loſe out friends and fortunes I confeſſe, Is that which needs muſt ſhake the firmeſt mindes, But when there is no hope for us t' encreaſe Our owne affliction, and to loſe our ſpirits, Is an infirmity beneath a man: Why ſhould we doubt his ſafe recovery? Since paſſion as we ſee, doth but diſturbe His reaſon, not deſtroy't; when he's at worſt, He'l hearken to the counfell of his friend. How earneſtly he begs, that he may ſpeake With Imperiale, and it ſeemes Iuſtinian Already condiſcends to his requeſt; Me thinks that ſhould not be, ſince he ſuſpects Him to be privy to Franciſcoes death; No doubt, Iuſtinian underſtands what's fit; Perchance if once he ſhall his mind unburden His paſſions may remit, or he may ſeeme To promiſe, cauſe he would not have him croſt, Theſe things we wholly muſt commit to him, Whoſe Iudgement's not inferior to his love: He wiſh'd us but withdraw awhile, we muſt Not be farre off, leaſt he ſhould chance to call, For what ſoe'r occaſion they ſhould have Ther's none but we t'aſſiſt: Sango the ſlave Hath taken liberty to go abroad, At his owne pleaſure, who would thinke the Villain Durſt venture to be abſent at this time? I have obſerv'd a wondrous league of late Betweene him and his Cozen ſlave; how ere Their Lords are far aſunder, they are neere.