Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T48: lady, love, heart, fair, eyes, la, lord, tears, fie, face.
Well Cleopatra, fear not, thou shalt find What favour thou desir'st, or canst expect: For Caesar never yet was found but kind To such as yield, and can themselves subject. And therefore give thou comfort to thy mind; Relieve thy soul thus overcharged with care, How well I will entreat thee thou shalt find, So soon as some affairs dispatched are. Till when farewell. Cl. Thanks thrice-renowned Caesar, Poor Cleopatra rests thine own for ever. No marvel Caesar though our greatest spirits, Have to the power of such a charming beauty, Been brought to yield the honour of their merits: Forgetting all respect of other duty. Then whilst the glory of her youth remained The wondering object to each wanton eye: Before her full of sweet (with sorrow waned,) Came to the period of this misery. If still, even in the midst of death and horror, Such beauty shines, thorough clouds of age & sorrow, If even those sweet decays seem to plead for her, Which from affliction, moving graces borrow; If in calamity she could thus move, What could she do adorned with youth & love? What could she do then, whenas spreading wide The pomp of beauty, in her glory dight? When armed with wonder, she could use beside, Th' engines of her love, Hope and Delight? Beauty daughter of Marvel, o see how Thou canst disgracing sorrows sweetly grace? What power thou show'st in a distressed brow, That mak'st affliction fair, giv'st tears their grace. What can untressed locks, can torn rent hair, A weeping eye, a wailing face be fair? I see then, artless feature can content, And that true beauty needs no ornament. What in a passion Dolabella? what? take heed: Let others fresh examples be thy warning; What mischiefs these, so idle humours breed, Whilst error keeps us from a true discerning. Indeed, I saw she laboured to impart Her sweetest graces in her saddest cheer: Presuming on the face that knew the art To move with what aspect so e'er it were. But all in vain, she takes her aim amiss, The ground and mark, her level much deceives; Time now hath altered all, for neither is She as she was, nor we as she conceives. And therefore now, 'twere best she left such badness, Folly in youth is sin, in age, 'tis madness. And for my part, I seek but t'entertain In her some feeding hope to draw her forth; The greatest Trophy that my travails gain, Is to bring home a prizal of such worth. And now, sith that she seems so well content To be disposed by us, without more stay She with her children shall to Rome be sent, Whilst I by Syria thither take my way.
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)
Well Cleopatra, feare not, thou shalt finde What fauour thou desir'st, or canst expect: For Caesar neuer yet was found but kinde To such as yeeld, and can themselues subiect. And therefore giue thou comfort to thy minde; Relieue thy soule thus ouer-charg'd with care, How well I will intreate thee thou shalt find, So soone as some affayres dispatched are. Til whē farewel. Cl. Thanks thrise-renowned Caesar, Poore Cleopatra rests thine owne for euer. No meruaile Caesar though our greatest sp'rits, Haue to the powre of such a charming beautie, Beene brought to yeeld the honour of their merits: Forgetting all respect of other dutie. Then whilst the glory of her youth remain'd The wondring obiect to each wanton eye: Before her full of sweet (with sorrow wain'd,) Came to the period of this misery. If still, euen in the midst of death and horror, Such beauty shines, thorow clowds of age & sorow, If euen those sweet decayes seeme to plead for her, Which from affliction, mouing graces borrow; If in calamity shee could thus moue, What could she do adorn'd with youth & loue? VVhat could she do then, when as spreading wide The pompe of beauty, in her glory dight? When arm'd with wonder, shee could vse beside, Th' engines of her loue, Hope and Delight? Beauty daughter of Meruaile, ô see how Thou canst disgracing sorrowes sweetly grace? VVhat power thou shew'st in a distressed brow, That mak'st affliction faire, giu'st teares their grace. VVhat can vntressed locks, can torne rent haire, A weeping eye, a wailing face be faire? I see then, artlesse feature can content, And that true beauty needes no ornament. What in a passion Dolabella? what? take heede: Let others fresh examples be thy warning; What mischiefes these, so idle humors breed, VVhilst error keepes vs from a true discerning. Indeed, I saw shee labour'd to impart Her sweetest graces in her saddest cheere: Presuming on the face that knew the arte To moue with what aspect so eu'r it were. But all in vaine, shee takes her ayme amisse, The ground and marke, her leuel much deceiues; Time now hath altred all, for neither is Shee as shee was, nor wee as shee conceiues. And therefore now, twere best she left such badnes, Folly in youth is sinne, in age, tis madnes. And for my part, I seeke but t'entertaine In her some feeding hope to draw her forth; The greatest Trophey that my trauailes gaine, Is to bring home a prizall of such worth. And now, sith that shee seemes so well content To be dispos'd by vs, without more stay Shee with her chyldren shall to Rome be sent, Whilst I by Syria thither take my way.