Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
Are we not now made one such fears o'ercome, Though I would fly myself my self do fetter, And if that I would fly, from whom? to whom? I can love none so well, none loves me better. Have pity of those peerless (sweet eyes souls pleasures) Lest they presage what thou would not have done, The heavens had not given me those precious treasures Of such perfections to be spoiled so soon. THose that domine above, High precedents of heaven, By whom all things do move As they have order given: What worldling can arise Against them to repine? Whilst castled in the skies With providence divine They force th'inferior round Their judgements to confess, And in their wrath confound Proud mortals that transgress The covenant they made With Nature in heavens stead. Base brood of earth, vain man, Why brag'st thou of thy might? The heavens thy courses scan, Thou walkst still in their sight, Ere thou wast borne, thy deeds Their registers dilate, And think that none exceeds The compass of his fate. What heavens would have thee to Though they thy ways abhor, That thou of force must do, And thou may do no more. This reason would fulfil, Their work should serve their will. Are we not heirs of death, In whom there is no trust, Who tossed with circling breath, Are but a dram of dust? Yet fools whenas we err And do th'heavens wrath contract, If they a while defer A just revenge t'exact, Pride in our bosom creeps, And misinforms us thus, That the Eternal sleeps, Or takes no care of us. No, th'eye of heaven beholds All what our heart enfolds. The gods digest no crime Though they continue long, And in th'offenders time Seem to neglect their wrong, Till others of their race Fill up the cup of wrath, Whom ruin and disgrace Long time attended hath, And Gyges' fault we fear To Croesus' charge be laid, Which love will not forbear Though it be long delayed: For o sometime the gods Must plague sin with sharp rods. And lo how Croesus still Tormented in his mind, Like a reed on a hill, Is shivering with each wind. Each step a terror brings, Dreams do by night afflict him, And by day many things, All his thoughts do convict him: He his star would control, This makes evil not the worst Whilst he wounds his own soul With th'apprehension first: Man may his fate foresee, But not shun heavens decree. CAn heaven behold hands stained with blood ofttimes, And to the Stygian streams not headlongs hurled? Can th'earth support one burdened with such crimes, As may provoke the wrath of all the world? Why sends not Ioue t'have my cursed course confined, A death-denouncing flash of rumbling thunder, Or a tempestuous terror-breeding wind, With violence to tear me all asunder.
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)
Are we not now made one ſuch feares o'recome, Though I would flie my ſelfe my ſelfe do fetter, And if that I would flie, from whom? to whome? I can loue none ſo well, none loues me better. Haue pittie of thoſe peareles (ſweete eyes ſoules pleaſures) Leſt they preſage what thou would not haue done, The heau'ns had not giu'n me thoſe pretious treaſures Of ſuch perfections to be ſpoyl'd ſo ſoone. THoſe that domine aboue, High preſidents of heauen, By whom all things do moue As they haue order giuen: What worldling can ariſe Againſt them to repine? Whilſt caſtel'd in the skies With prouidence diuine They force th'inferior round Their iudgements to confeſſe, And in their wrath confound Prowd mortals that tranſgreſſe The couenant they made With Nature in heauens ſtead. Baſe brood of earth, vaine man, Why bragſt thou of thy might? The heauens thy courſes ſcan, Thou walkſt ſtill in their ſight, Ere thou waſt borne, thy deedes Their registers dilate, And thinke that none exceedes The compaſſe of his fate. What heauens would haue thee to Though they thy wayes abhorre, That thou of force muſt do, And thou may do no more. This reaſon would fulfill, Their worke ſhould ſerue their will. Are we not heires of death, In whom there is no truſt, Who toſſd with circkling breath, Are but a dramme of duſt? Yet fooles when as we erre And do th'heauens wrath contract, If they a while deferre A iuſt reuenge t'exact, Pride in our boſome creepes, And miſ-informes vs thus, That the Eternall ſleepes, Or takes no care of vs. No, th'eye of heauen beholds All what our hart enfolds. The gods digeſt no crime Though they continue long, And in th'offenders time Seeme to neglect their wrong, Till others of their race Fill vp the cup of wrath, Whom ruine and diſgrace Long time attended hath, And Giges fault we feare To Croeſus charge be layd, Which loue will not forbeare Though it be long delayd: For ô ſometime the gods Muſt plague ſinne with ſharp rods. And lo how Croeſus ſtill Tormented in his mind, Like a reed on a hill, Is ſhiuering with each wind. Each ſtep a terrour brings, Dreames do by night afflict him, And by day many things, All his thoughts do conuict him: He his ſtarre would controule, This makes euill not the worſt Whilſt he wounds his owne ſoule With th'apprehenſion friſt: Man may his fate foreſee, But not ſhun heauens decree. CAn heauen behold hands ſtaind with bloud ofttimes, And to the Stigian ſtreames not headlongs hurld? Can th'earth ſupport one burden'd with ſuch crimes, As may prouoke the wrath of all the world? Why ſends not Ioue t'haue my curſs'd courſe confind, A death-denouncing flaſh of rumbling thunder, Or a tempeſtuous terrour-breeding wind, With violence to teare me all aſunder.