Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T17: tamburlaine, persian, cyrus, king, mahomet, arms, mighty, assyrian, thousand, army.
O now Devotion! well appeared thy force, Which binds the earth and opens up the Heaven, In the celestial breasts a deep remorse Was strangely wrought whilst Croesus prayed; for even Whileas the flashing flames, in vain to quench, All men did labour, but could do no good, The clouds were opened and a shower did drench The fiery ashes of the flaming wood. Now whilst that Croesus coming from the fire, Saw ruthless soldiers sacking all the City, To save the same he had a great desire, And spoke to Cyrus melting all in pity. Great Prince, for famous Victories renowned, Who dost in arms all others so surmount, That it contents me much to be uncrowned By one so worthy, and in such account: And since I am constrained your thrall to be, I must conform myself unto my fate, And cannot hold my pace whereas I see Ought to prejudge the greatness of your State, Which ah! is wounded now with your own powers, Whilst this rich City is sacked and o'erthrown, It is not mine no more, no, it is yours, And therefore (Sir) have pity of your own. Yea, though the loss of such a populous Town, That's rich, that's yours, your mind could nothing move, Yet think of this that doth import your Crown; A piece of policy which time will prove. The barbarous Persians borne with stubborn minds, Who but for poverty first followed you, Their matchless worth in arms all Asia finds, Their fear is fallen upon all Nations now. But if you suffer them in such a sort T'enrich themselves with plenteous Lidia's spoil, Not able then their Conquest to support, The Victor of the vanquished gets the foil. For this will make them wealthy out of measure: Wealth to confusion many a Country leads; Whilst feebled with delights, in-vilde with pleasure, No thought of honour harbours in their heads. Then Cyrus straight approving what he spoke, His soldiers from their pillage were restrained, Pretending first the tenth part for to take, As a rich offering for the Gods ordained. Of our distress, this is the ruthful story; A stranger is possessed of this Province; Our King hath with the loss of all his glory Bought breath a while, a poor thing for a Prince. O woeful people! O unhappy King! Our joys are spoiled, his happiness expired, And no new chance can any comfort bring To either now, whose fall the Fates conspired. Go woeful messenger, hold on thy course, For to have heard too much, it irks our ears, We ever must bewail thy sad discourse, Accented with sighs, and pointed with tears. WHat needs me more of my mishap to pause? Though I have tasted of afflictions cup, Yet it may be, the gods for a good cause Have cast me down to raise a thousand up.
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)
O now Deuotion! well appeard thy force, Which bindes the earth and opens vp the Heauen, In the celeſtiall breaſts a deepe remorſe Was ſtrangely wrought whilſt Coeſus prayd; for euen Whileas the flaſhing flames, in vaine to quench, All men did labour, but could do no good, The cloudes were opend and a ſhowre did drench The firie aſhes of the flaming wood. Now whilſt that Croeſus comming from the fire, Saw ruthles ſould'ers ſacking all the Citie, To ſaue the ſame he had a great deſire, And ſpake to Cyrus melting all in pitie. Great Prince, for famous Victories renownd, Who doſt in armes all others ſo ſurmount, That it contents me much to be vncrownd By one ſo worthie, and in ſuch account: And ſince I am conſtraind your thrall to be, I muſt conforme my ſelfe vnto my fate, And cannot hold my pace whereas I ſee Ought to preiudge the greatnes of your State, Which ah! is wounded now with your owne powres, Whilſt this rich Citie is ſackt and o'rethrowne, It is not mine no more, no, it is yours, And therefore (Sir) haue pitie of your owne. Yea, though the loſſe of ſuch a populous Towne, That's rich, that's yours, your mind could nothing moue, Yet thinke of this that doth import your Crowne; A piece of policie which time will proue. The barb'rous Perſians borne with ſtubborne mindes, Who but for pouertie firſt followd you, Their matchleſſe worth in armes all Aſia findes, Their feare is fall'n vpon all Nations now. But if you ſuffer them in ſuch a ſort T'enrich themſelues with plenteous Lidiaes ſpoile, Not able then their Conqueſt to ſupport, The Victor of the vanquiſht gets the foile. For this will make them wealthie out of meaſure: Wealth to confuſion many a Countrie leades; Whilſt feebled with delights, in-vilde with pleaſure, No thought of honour harbours in their heads. Then Cyrus ſtrait approuing what he ſpake, His ſouldiers from their pillage were reſtraind, Pretending firſt the tenth part for to take, As a rich offring for the Gods ordaind. Of our diſtreſſe, this is the ruthfull ſtorie; A ſtranger is poſſeſt of this Prouince; Our King hath with the loſſe of all his glorie Bought breath a while, a poore thing for a Prince. O wofull people! O vnhappy King! Our ioyes are ſpoyld, his happineſſe expyrde, And no new chance can any comfort bring To either now, whoſe fall the Fates conſpyrde. Goe wofull meſſenger, hold on thy courſe, For to haue heard too much, it yrks our eares, We euer muſt bewaile thy ſad diſcourſe, Accented with ſighs, and poynted with teares. WHat needs me more of my miſhap to pauſe? Though I haue taſted of afflictions cup, Yet it may be, the gods for a good cauſe Haue caſt me downe to raiſe a thouſand vp.