Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
Well, all is worthy of us, were it more, Who with our riots, pride, and civil hate, have so provoked the justice of the gods. We, that (within these fourscore years) were borne Free, equal lords of the triumphed world, And knew no masters, but affections, To which betraying first our liberties, We since became the slaves to one man's lusts; And now to many: every ministering spy That will accuse, and swear, is lord of you, Of me, of all, our fortunes, and our lives. Our looks are called to question, and our words, How innocent soever, are made crimes; We shall not shortly dare to tell our dreams, Or think, but 'twill be reason. tyrants arts Are to give flatterers, grace; accusers, power; That those may seem to kill whom they devour. Now good CREMUTIUS CORDUS. Hail, to your lordship. Who's that salutes your cousin? 'Tis one CORDUS, A gentleman of Rome: one, that has writ annals of late, they say, and very well. annals? of what times? I think of POMPEI'S, And CAIUS Caesar's; and so down to these. How stands h'affected to the present state? Is he or Drusian? or Germanican? Or ours or neutral? I know him not so far. Those times are somewhat queasy to be touched. have you or seen or heard part of his work? Not I, he means they shall be public shortly. O. CORDUS do you call him? I. But these our times Are not the same, Arruntius. Times? the men, The men are not the same: 'tis we are base, Poor, and degenerate from th'exalted strain Of our great fathers. Where is now the soul Of godlike CATO? he, that durst be good, When CAESAR durst be evil; and had power, As not to live his slave, to die his master. Or where the constant BRUTUS, that (being proof Against all charm of benefits) did strike So brave a blow into the monster's heart That sought unkindly to captive his country? O, they are fled the light. Those mighty spirits Lie raked up, with their ashes in their urns, And not a spark of their eternal fire Glows in a present bosom. All's but blaze, Flashes, and smoke, wherewith we labour so, There's nothing Roman in us; nothing good, Gallant, or great: 'Tis true, that CORDUS says, Brave CASSIUS was the last of all that race. Stand by, lord Drusus. Th'emperor's son, give place. I like the prince well. A riotous youth, There's little hope of him. That fault his age Will, as it grows, correct. methinks, he bears Himself, each day, more nobly than other: And wins no less on men's affections, Then doth his father lose. Believe me, I love him; And chiefly for opposing to Sejanus. And I, for gracing his young kinsmen so, The sons of Prince Germanicus: It shows A gallant clearness in him, a straight mind, That envies not, in them, their father's name. His name was, while he lived, above all envy; And being dead, without it. O, that man! If there were seeds of the old virtue left, They lived in him.
seed 43: T1 · seed 44: T2 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Well, all is worthy of vs, were it more, Who with our ryots, pride, and ciuill hate, Haue so prouok'd the iustice of the gods. We, that (within these fourescore yeeres) were borne Free, equall lords of the triumphed world, And knew no masters, but affections, To which betraying first our liberties, We since became the slaues to one mans lusts; And now to many: euery ministring spie That will accuse, and sweare, is lord of you, Of me, of all, our fortunes, and our liues. Our lookes are call'd to question, and our wordes, How innocent soeuer, are made crimes; We shall not shortly dare to tell our dreames, Or thinke, but 'twill be reason. "Tyrannes artes "Are to giue flatterers, grace; accusers, power; "That those may seeme to kill whom they deuoure. Now good CREMVTIVS CORDVS. Haile, to your lordship. Who's that salutes your cousin? 'Tis one CORDVS, A gentleman of Rome: one, that has writ Annal's of late, they say, and very well. Annal's? of what times? I thinke of POMPEI'S, And CAIVS CAESARS; and so downe to these. How stands h'affected to the present state? Is he or Drusian? or Germanican? Or ours or neutrall? I know him not so far. Those times are somewhat queasie to be toucht. Haue you or seene or heard part of his worke? Not I, he meanes they shall be publike shortly. O. CORDVS do you cal him? I. But these our times Are not the same, ARRVNTIVS. Times? the men, The men are not the same: 'tis we are base▪ Poore, and degenerate from th'exalted streine Of our great fathers. Where is now the soule Of god-like CATO? he, that durst be good, When CAESAR durst be euill; and had power, As not to liue his slaue, to dye his master. Or where the constant BRVTVS, that (being proofe Against all charme of benefits) did strike So braue a blow into the monsters heart That sought vnkindly to captiue his countrie? O, they are fled the light. Those mightie spirits Lye rak'd vp, with their ashes in their vrnes, And not a sparke of their eternall fire Glowes in a present bosome. All's but blaze, Flashes, and smoke, wherewith we labour so, There's nothing Romane in vs; nothing good, Gallant, or great: 'Tis true, that CORDVS say's, Braue CASSIVS was the last of all that race. Stand by, lord DRVSVS. Th'Emp'rours son, giue place. I like the prince well. A riotous youth, There's little hope of him. That fault his age Will, as it growes, correct. Me thinkes, he beares Himselfe, each day, more nobly then other: And wins no lesse on mens affections, Then doth his father lose. Beleeue me, I loue him; And chiefly for opposing to SEIANVS. And I, for gracing his yong kinsmen so, The sonnes of Prince GERMANICVS: It shewes A gallant cleerenesse in him, a streight minde, That enuies not, in them, their fathers name. His name was, while he liu'd, aboue all enuie; And being dead, without it. O, that man! If there were seedes of the old vertue left, They liu'd in him.