Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T12: iupiter, saturn, iuno, venus, gods, mars, earth, titan, love, fair.
Heaven grant it may. madam all joy that we can hope, or wish, Be with you. I'll go alone into the bedchamber. There expect him,— pray leave me. Good night, I hear him coming. Our Navy victor. The City quiet too I those clouds Which threatened ruin to your Kingdom, all Blown o'er; the sky serene and calm, as if It laughed at your vain fears; the lamps of heaven That now seemed all blown out, are trimmed a new And brighter shine, to lead you to Elysium. To Heaven, Elyzium's poor to what we shall Enjoy tonight. The land of some dull villager Or doughty Poets dreams. The birth of fancy, A thin, fantastic, airy paradise; With which they flatter their weak hopes, but mine Is known to sense; we gather odours there; wealthy In their native sweetness, flowers of a hue As bright as lasting, roses and lilies Blown from their stalks, meet here, and dwell upon Her cheeks, as if there only they were privileged To enjoy an everlasting spring. Ʋrs. Let your Imaginations seed even to a surfeit, your senses Are too too weak, and narrow t'entertain The bounteous flowing of her pleasures: You'll let so much pass by unknown, As if you took but tribute of her blessings: When the whole stock is yours. We'll be her Mars, and meet her in soft skirmish, In amorous duel, where we'll softly yield And let her win: (to raise her to the pride Of a new victory, as much upon ourselves As we have done upon her Country, Then shall she bind us gently in her hair Fetters for Captive lovers, and in scorn Of our trim youth, and temperate blood, when we Begin to faint within her arms, shall then Supply us with new strength from her own eyes; Whence she will dart a soul at every glance Rich as herself, and the blessed smiles 'tis made of; Create an active flame within our breast Able to give old statuas life and motion, Make their stiff marble feet supple as the joints Of love:— oh I'm lost! my Venus Come; lead to my Venus. Your Cynthia,— your Moon With a man in her— there there's Your way, why move you not? How you stand. Ursini, Ha! Seest thou that black thing there? That ugly fiend, I'll out stare thee, devil. Where are you Sir? 'Tis done. Ravished! Calantha's ravished— oh torment! Grim fury post to hell. Pardon me Sir, I've a little business to dispatch first— This for Felicia, thus Alberto fell. Oh I'm wounded. Ha! d'ye know me Prince? Frederico! just heavens. Stay your hand— be innocent in your revenge, Let me bear all the guilt.
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)
Heaven grant it may. Madame all joy that we can hope, or wiſh, Be with you. I'le goe alone into the bed-chamber. There expect him,—pray leave mee. Good night, I heare him coming. Our Navie victour. The City quiet too I thoſe clouds Which threatned ruine to your Kingdome, all Blowne o're; the skie ſerene and calme, as if It laugh't at your vaine feares; the lampes of heaven That now ſeem'd all blowne out, are trimm'd a new And brighter ſhine, to lead you to Elyzium. To Heaven, Elyzium's poore to what wee ſhall Enjoy to night. The land of ſome dull villager Or doughty Poëts dreames. The birth of fancie, A thin, fantaſticke, aierie paradiſe; With which they flatter their weake hopes, but mine Is knowne to ſenſe; we gather odours there; wealthy In their native ſweeteneſſe, flowers of a hew As bright as laſting, roſes and lillies Blowne from their ſtalkes, meete here, and dwell upon Her cheekes, as if there onely they were priviledg'd To enjoy an everlaſting ſpring. Ʋrſ. Let your Imaginations ſeed even to a ſurfet, your ſenſes Are too too weake, and narrow t'entertaine The bounteous flowing of her pleaſures: You'le let ſo much paſſe by unknowne, As if you tooke but tribute of her bleſſings: When the whole ſtocke is yours. We'le be her Mars, and meete her in ſoft skirmiſh, In amorous duell, where we'le ſoftly yeeld And let her winne: (to raiſe her to the pride Of a new victory, as much upon our ſelves As we have done upon her Country, Then ſhall ſhee binde us gently in her haire Fetters for Captive lovers, and in ſcorne Of our trimme youth, and temperate blood, when we Begin to faint within her armes, ſhall then Supply us with new ſtrength from her own eyes; Whence ſhe will dart a ſoule at every glance Rich as her ſelfe, and the bleſt ſmiles t'is made of; Create an active flame within our breaſt Able to give old ſtatua's life and motion, Make their ſtiffe marble feete ſupple as the joynts Of love: — oh I'me loſt! my Venus Come; lead to my Venus. Your Cynthia, —your Moone With a man in her—there there's Your way, why move you not? How you ſtand. Ʋrſini, Ha! Se'ſt thou that blacke thing there? That ugly fiend, I'le out ſtare thee, devill. Where are you Sir? 'Tis done. Raviſh't! Calantha's raviſh't—oh torment! Grim fury poſt to hell. Pardon mee Sir, I've a little bufineſſe to diſpatch firſt — This for Felicia, thus Alberto fell. Oh I'me wounded. Ha! do'e know mee Prince? Frederico! juſt heavens. Stay your hand—be innocent in your revenge, Let me beare all the guilt.