Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T53: crown, king, state, life, lord, lords, live, queen, tullia, prince.
Stint this pious strife, I have been too much woman, and betrayed My name to infamy, in this tame passion: Possess me a just anger, a spirit great And noble as my birth; that I may shake, And rouse this sleepy Prince, from his dull lethargy; Who's wholly lost, in the bewitching flatteries Of that bad man;— alas this is a danger Too potent for your stars to free you from; Henceforth I'll be your destinies: for since This calm brings nothing but a certain fall, A storm shall either save, or ruin all. Contemn our pardon. Return your favours too With so much scorn. Better they'd played with lightning, Or hugged a thunderbolt. Justice is slow Of pace, and if not led by fury, Seldom o'ertakes the crime, let your return Of punishment be quick, and active, delay is worse Than pity, and more dangerous: Valenzo Is popular, and who knows, but he had rather, Owe his life to the people's mutiny, than your pardon, And therefore slighted it. Oh the state of Princes! How far are we from that security, we dreamt of in th'expectance of our crown? Were foreign dangers nothing, yet we nourish Our ruin in our bosom: Valenzo is a traitor, So is Piero too; and who is not in this age? It is unsafe not to suspect ourself. To torture with 'em; be noble in thy justice:— Here draw a warrant for their execution;— We'll sign't with our own signer;— hence pity, Post from our breast; we banish thee our bosom thouart a disease bred there to ruin Majesty: And sink us below our subjects scotue.— Our Princely cousin, welcome to Court; thou hast Been too long absent, (I must chide thee for't,) And envied us the boast of virtue. Virtue! Some malicious devil now, or other, Has enticed her from her beads; To undo me, and my plots, she carries anger In her brow:— this I must mitigate, or I am Lost.— Thou art so eager after heaven, Thou wilt o'er-buy thy happiness. Never fear't Sir. But thy devotion's seasoned with so much charity, Thou pil'st a stock of merit up for us At Court. I believe you'd need on't. As long as we live here we shall;— So wicked! Ha! what frown's that, whence these clouds, Charintha? So rises the blushing morn, as thou wert wont To smile, when thou appearedst, we owe Our day unto thy eyes; and if thou think'st Thy beauty's worn too cheap, we'll become tributaries To thee for light; chase hence this sullen darkness, Thy absence has already made too long A night. No Sir; 'twas your black deeds. How's this? doye know me, who I am? Not well. Your King. A Tyrant Of big, and grorious impieties, A regal monster, the true head of that Beast you rule, the multitude: more cruel Than enraged lions, or robbed bears; who both Will spare the innocent, and humble.
seed 43: T57 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Stint this pious ſtrife, I have bin too much woman, and betrai'd My name to infamy, in this tame paſſion: Poſſeſſe mee a juſt anger, a ſpirit great And noble as my birth; that I may ſhake, And rowze this ſleepy Prince, from his dull lethargie; Who's wholy loſt, in the bewitching flatteries Of that bad man;— alas this is a danger Too potent for your ſtarres to free you from; Henceforth I'le be your deſtinies: for ſince This calme brings nothing but a certaine fall, A ſtorme ſhall either ſave, or ruine all. Contemne our pardon. Returne your favours too With ſo much ſcorne. Better they'd play'd with lightning, Or hugg'd a thunderbolt. Juſtice is ſlow Of pace, and if not led by furie, Seldome o'retakes the crime, let your returne Of puniſhment be quicke, and active, delay is worſe Than pitty, and more dangerous: Valenzo Is popular, and who knowes, but hee had rather, Owe his life to the peoples mutiny, than your pardon, And therefore ſlighted it. Oh the ſtate of Princes! How farre are we from that ſecuritie, Wee dream't of in th'en pectance of our crowne? Were forraine dangers nothing, yet we nouriſh Our ruine in our boſome: Valenzo is a traytour, So is Piero too; and who is not in this age? It is unſafe not to ſuſpect our ſelfe. To torture with 'em; be noble in thy juſtice:— Here draw a warrant for their execution; — We'le ſign't with our owne ſigner;—hence pitty, Poſt from our breaſt; we baniſh thee our boſome Th'art a diſeaſe bred there to ruine Majeſtie: And ſink us below our ſubjects ſcotue.— Our Princely couſin, welcome to Court; thou haſt Beene too long abſent, (I muſt chide thee for't,) And envy'd us the boaſt of vertue. Vertue! Some malicious devill now, or other, Has intic'd her from her beads; To undoe mee, and my plots, ſhee carries anger In her brow: — this I muſt mitigate, or I am Loſt. — Thou art ſo eager after heaven, Thou woo't o're-buy thy happineſſe. Never fear't Sir. But thy devotion's ſeaſon'd with ſo much charity, Thou pil'ſt a ſtocke of merit up for us At Court. I beleeve y'had need on't. As long as we live here we ſhall; — So wicked! Ha! what frowne's that, whence theſe clouds, Charintha? So riſes the bluſhing morne, as thou wert wont To ſmile, when thou appear'dſt, we owe Our day unto thy eyes; and if thou think'ſt Thy beautie's worne too cheape, we'le become tributaries To thee for light; chaſe hence this ſullen darkneſſe, Thy abſence has already made too long A night. No Sir; 'twas your blacke deeds▪ How's this? Do'e know mee, who I am? Not well. Your King. A Tyrant Of bigge, and grorious impietic's, A regall monſter, the true head of that Beaſt you rule, the multitude: more cruell Than enrag'd lyons, or robb'd beares; who both Will ſpare the innocent, and humble.