Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T51: esau, iacob, father, son, isaac, god, love, birthright, parents, thing.
lest saying more, that more may make thee stay. Yet let me speak: It may be 'tis the last That ever I shall speak to thee my Son. Do Mother's use to part in such post-haste? What, must I end when I have scarce begun? Ah no (dear heart,) 'tis no such slender twine Wherewith the knot is tied twixt thee and me. That blood within thy veins came out of mine, Parting from thee, I part from part of me: And therefore I must speak. Yet what? O son. Here more she would, when more she could not say. Sorrow rebounding back whence it begun, Filled up the passage, and quite stopped the way: When sweet Caesario with a princely sprite, (Though comfortless himself) did comfort give; With mildest words, persuading her to bear it. And as for him, she should not need to grieve. And I (with protestations of my part,) Swore by that faith, (which sworn I did deceive) That I would use all care, all wit and art To see him safe; And so we took our leave. Scarce had we travailed to our journeys end, When Caesar having knowledge of our way, His Agents after us with speed doth send To labour me, Caesario to betray. Who-with rewards, and promises so large. Assailed me then, that I grew soon content; And back to Rhodes did reconvey my charge, Pretending that Octavius for him sent, To make him King of Egypt presently. And thither come, seeing himself betrayed, And in the hands of death through treachery, Wailing his state, thus to himself he said. Lo here brought back by subtle train to death, Betrayed by tutor's faith, or Traitors rather: My fault my blood, and mine offence my birth, For being son of such a mighty Father. From INDIA, (whither sent by Mother's care, To be reserved from Egypt's common wrack,) To Rhodes, (so long the arms of Tyrants are,) I am by Caesar's subtle reach brought back. Here to be made th' oblation for his fears, (him: Who doubts the poor revenge these hands may do Respecting neither blood, nor youth, nor years, Or how small safety can my death be to him. And is this all the good of being borne great? Then wretched greatness, proud rich misery, Pompous distress, glittering calamity. Is it for this th'ambitious Fathers sweat, To purchase blood and death for them and theirs? Is this the issue that their glories get, To leave a sure destruction to their heirs? O how far better had it been for me, From low descent, derived of humble birth, To' have eat the sweet-sour bread of poverty, And drunk of Nilus' stream in Nilus' earth: Under the covering of some quiet Cottage, Free from the wrath of heaven, secure in mind, Untouched when sad events of PRINCE's dotage, Confounds whatever mighty it doth find. And not t'have stood in their way, whose condition, Is to have all made dear, and all thing plain,
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)
Least saying more, that more may make thee stay. Yet let mee speake: It may be tis the last That euer I shall speake to thee my Sonne. Doe Mothers vse to parte in such post-hast? VVhat, must I ende when I haue scarce begun? Ah no (deere hart,) tis no such slender twine VVhere-with the knot is tyde twixt thee and mee. That blood within thy vaines came out of mine, Parting from thee, I part from part of mee: And therefore I must speake. Yet what? O sonne. Here more she wold, whē more she could not say. Sorrow rebounding backe whence it begun, Fild vp the passage, and quite stopt the way: VVhen sweet Caesario with a princely sp'rite, (Though comfortlesse himselfe) did comfort giue; VVith mildest words, perswading her to beare it. And as for him, shee should not neede to grieue. And I (with protestations of my part,) Swore by that faith, (which sworne I did deceaue) That I would vse all care, all wit and arte To see hym safe; And so we tooke our leaue. Scarce had wee trauail'd to our iourneyes end, VVhen Caesar hauing knowledge of our way, His Agents after vs with speed doth send To labour mee, Caesario to betray. VVho-with rewards, and promises so large. Assaild mee then, that I grew soone content; And backe to Rhodes dyd reconuay my charge, Pretending that Octauius for him sent, To make hym King of Egipt presently. And thither come, seeing himselfe betrayd, And in the hands of death through trecherie, VVayling his state, thus to himselfe he sayd. Loe heere brought back by subtile traine to death, Betrayde by Tutors fayth, or Traytors rather: My faulte my blood, and mine offence my birth, For beeing sonne of such a mightie Father. From INDIA, (whither sent by Mothers care, To be reseru'd from Egypts common wracke,) To Rhodes, (so long the armes of Tyrants are,) I am by Caesars subtile reach brought back. Heere to be made th' oblation for his feares, (him: Who doubts the poore reuenge these handes may doe Respecting neyther blood, nor youth, nor yeeres, Or how small safety can my death be to him. And is this all the good of beeing borne great? Then wretched greatnes, proud ritch misery, Pompous distresse, glittering calamity. Is it for this th'ambitious Fathers sweat, To purchase blood and death for them and theirs? Is this the issue that theyr glories get, To leaue a sure destruction to theyr heyres? O how farre better had it beene for mee, From low discent, deriu'd of humble birth, To'haue eate the sweet-sowre bread of pouerty, And drunke of Nilus streame in Nilus earth: Vnder the cou'ring of some quiet Cottage, Free from the wrath of heauen, secure in minde, Vntoucht when sad euents of Princes dotage, Confounds what euer mighty it dooth find. And not t'haue stoode in theyr way, whose condition, Is to haue all made deere, and all thing plaine,