Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
These flames that burn my breast must once burst out, Your counsel for more quiet minds I leave, And be you still thought wise, so I prove stout, I'll conquer more, or lose the thing I have. YEt am I forced out of afflictions store, To ease my mind a few sad words to strain, And but unload it now to load it more, I empty but mine eyes to fill again. My soul must sound even as my passions strike, Which now are tuned to nothing but mischief, My breast and eyes are both accursed alike, The cabinet of care, the cells of grief. O cruel heaven, fierce star, unhappy fate, Too foul injustice of the divine powers, Whose high disdain towards me with partial hate, The comfort of the world (sad world) devours. Cursed be the day in which I first was borne, When lying tongues affirmed I come to light, A monstrous blasphemy, a mighty scorn, Since 'twas to darkness and a joy-set night. O happy if I then had chanced to smother, That the first hour had been the last to me, Then from one grave t'have gone unto another, I should have died to live, not lived to die. What profited to me my parents joys, That with such pomp did solemnize my birth, When I must be the mirror of annoys, And all my days taste but one dram of mirth? Which served for nothing but to make me know, The height of horror that was to succeed, I was but raised up high to be brought low, That short-lived joys might endless anguish breed. That nothing might for my confusion lack, All my best actions but betrayed my state, My virtues too were guilty of my wrack, And warred against me banded with my fate. For whilst my Virgin-years with praise I passed, Which did (ah that it did) too much import, My modest eye told that my mind was chaste: This gained the warrant of the world's report, And Maids must have a great respect to fame, No greater dowry than an unstained name. Fair beauty's Goddess, thou canst bear record, My offering never made thine altar rich, All such lascivious fancies I abhorred, My freeborn thoughts no folly could bewitch. Till happily (ah so it seemed to some) Ah but unhappy th'event hath proved: All this and more to Atis ears did come, Who straightway liked, and after liking loved: Then to our ears his purpose did impart, Not lip-sick-lover-like with words far sought, His tongue was but the agent of his heart, Yet could not tell the tenth part of his thought. And lest his travels should have seemed to tend To breach my honour, work my fame's decay, He brought his wishes to a lawful end, And by th'effect, th'affection did bewray. Their Iuno precedent of wedlocks vow, And Hymen with his saffron-coloured coat, Our love with sacred customs did allow, Whilst th'ominous Owls no crosses did denote.
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)
Theſe flames that burne my breſt muſt once burſt out, Your counſaile for more quiet minds I leaue, And be you ſtill thought wiſe, ſo I proue ſtout, Ile conquer more, or loſe the thing I haue. YEt am I forc'd out of afflictions ſtore, To eaſe my mind a few ſad words to ſtraine, And but vnlode it now to lode it more, I emptie but mine eyes to fill againe. My ſoule muſt ſound euen as my paſſions ſtrike, Which now are tun'd to nothing but miſchiefe, My breaſt and eyes are both accurſt alike, The cabinet of care, the cells of griefe. O cruell heauen, fierce ſtarre, vnhappie fate, Too foule iniuſtice of the diuine powres, Whoſe high diſdaine t'wards me with partiall hate, The comfort of the world (ſad world) deuoures. Curſt be the day in which I firſt was borne, When lying toungs affirm'd I come to light, A monſtrous blaſphemie, a mightie ſcorne, Since t'was to darkenes and a ioy-ſet night. O happie if I then had chanc'd to ſmother, That the firſt houre had been the laſt to me, Then from one graue t'haue gone vnto another, I ſhould haue dide to liue, not liu'd to die. What profited to me my parents ioyes, That with ſuch pomp did ſolemnize my birth, When I muſt be the mirrour of annoyes, And all my dayes taſte but one dramme of mirth? Which ſeru'd for nothing but to make me know, The height of horrour that was to ſucceed, I was but raiſd vp high to be brought low, That ſhort-liu'd ioyes might endless anguiſh breed. That nothing might for my confuſion lack, All my beſt actions but betray'd my ſtate, My vertues too were guiltie of my wrack, And warr'd againſt me banded with my fate. For whilſt my Virgin-yeares with praiſe I paſt, Which did (ah that it did) too much import, My modeſt eye told that my mind was chaſt: This gain'd the warrant of the worlds report, And Maides muſt haue a great reſpect to fame, No greater dowrie then an vnſtain'd name. Faire beauties Goddeſſe, thou canſt beare record, My offring neuer made thine altar rich, All ſuch laſciuious fancies I abhord, My free-borne thoughts no follie could bewitch. Till happilie (ah ſo it ſeem'd to ſome) Ah but vnhappelie th'euent hath prou'd: All this and more to Atis eares did come, Who ſtraightway likt, and after liking lou'd: Then to our eares his purpoſe did impart, Not lip-ſick-louer-like with words farre ſought, His toong was but the agent of his hart, Yet could not tell the tenth part of his thought. And leſt his trauells ſhould haue ſeem'd to tend To breach my honour, worke my fames decay, He brought his wiſhes to a lawfull end, And by th'effect, th'affection did bewray. Their Iuno preſident of wedlockes vowe, And Hymen with his ſaffron-colour'd cote, Our loue with ſacred cuſtomes did allow, Whilſt th'ominous Owles no croſſes did denote.