Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T19: virtue, fortune, virtues, honour, fame, vice, envy, world, pride, great.
AH, ah, though man since th'image of great Ioue, And th' only creature that gives Reason place, Made to make faith below of powers above, Should seek his heavenly progeny to prove, By still resembling most th'immortal kind, Yet makes the world our better part so blind, That we the clouds of vanity embrace, And from our first excellency decline. This doth extinguish that celestial grace, Which should make souls to burn with virtues love, Whose fancies vice luxuriously now feasts, Vice is the Circe that enchants the mind, And doth transform her followers all in swine: Whilst poisoned pleasures so corrupt our tastes, That of halfgods we make ourselves whole-beasts. And yet of ruthless Pluto's raging host, The vice that doth transport presumptuous hearts, And makes men from the gods to differ most. 'tis cruelty, that to the sufferers cost And actors both, must oftentimes b'appeased. The gods delight to give, and to forgive, By pardoning more than by plaguing pleased. And why should men excogitate strange arts, T'extend their tyranny as those that strive To feed on mischief still, though th' Author smarts Oft for the deed of which himself did boast, Whilst whence the blow first come the grief doth turn, For that by which the mind at first was eased, May it in end the greatest burden give. Oft those whose cruelty makes many mourn, Do by the fires that they first kindled burn: Of th'other tyrants that extort the mind, With pleasure some delight it in such sort, That first the honey, than the gall we find; And others, though from honour's court declined Some comfort yield, though base by hope of gain: And though some make us to be loathed of one, We by their means another's love obtain. But cruelty, with which none can comport, Makes th'author hated when the deed is gone. Oft even by those whom it did most support, As that which alienates men from kind, And as humanity the mind enchants, So savage souls that from the same refrain, More fierce than fiercest beasts are loved of none. With barbarous beasts one with less danger haunts, Than with the man whose mind all mercy wants; Yet though the mind of man, as strong, and rude, Be ravished, whiles with violent desire, And must, if sired with rage, be quenched with blood. How can this tender sex whose glory stood In having hearts inclined to pity still, Delight itself by any barbarous deed? For Nature seems in this t'have used her skill, In making women's minds, though weak, entire, That weakness might love, and devotion breed, To which their thoughts, if pure, might best aspire, As aptest for th'impression of all good: But from the best to worst all things do wear, Since cruelties from feeble minds proceed: In breasts where courage fails, spite, shame, and fear Make envy, hate, and rigour rule to bear. Our Queen Olimpias, that was once so great,
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)
AH, ah, though man ſince th'image of great Ioue, And th only creature that giues Reaſon place, Made to make faith below of powres aboue, Should ſeeke his heauenlie progenie to proue, By ſtill reſembling most th'immortall kinde, Yet makes the world our better part ſo blinde, That we the cloudes of vanitie imbrace, And from our firſt excellencie decline. This doth extinguiſh that celestiall grace, Which ſhould make ſoules to burne with vertues loue, Whoſe fancies vice luxuriouſly now feastes, Vice is the Circe that inchaunts the minde, And doth transforme her followers all in ſwine: Whilst poiſond pleaſures ſo corrupt our tates, That of halfe-gods we make our ſelues whole-beasts. And yet of ruthleſſe Plutoes raging hoste, The vice that doth tranſport preſumptuous hearts, And makes men from the gods to differ moſt. T'is crueltie, that to the ſufferers cost And actors both, must oftentimes b'appeaſd. The gods delight to giue, and to forgiue, By pardoning more than by plaging pleaſde. And why ſhould men excogitate ſtrange artes, T'extend their tyrannie as thoſe that ſtriue To feede on miſchiefe ſtill, though th' Author ſmarts Oft for the deede of which himſelfe did boast, Whilſt whence the blow firſt come the griefe doth turne, For that by which the minde at first was eaſde, May it in end the greatest burden giue. Oft thoſe whoſe crueltie makes many mourne, Do by the fires that they firſt kindled burne: Of th'other tyrants that extort the minde, With pleaſure ſome delight it in ſuch ſort, That first the honnie, then the gall we finde; And others, though from Honours court declinde Some comfort yielde, though baſe by hope of gaine: And though ſome make vs to be loath'd of one, We by their meanes anothers loue obtaine. But crueltie, with which none can comport, Makes th'author hated when the deede is gone. Oft euen by thoſe whom it did most ſupport, As that which alienates men from kinde, And as humanitie the minde inchants, So ſauage ſoules that from the ſame reſraine, More fierce than fiercest beasts are lou'd of none. With barbarous beasts one with leſſe danger hants, Than with the man whoſe mind all mercie wants; Yet though the mind of man, as ſtrong, and rude, Be raniſh'd, whiles with violent deſire, And must, if ſir'd with rage, be quench with blood. How can this tender ſex whoſe glorie ſtoode In hauing hearts iuclinde to pittie ſtill, Delight it ſelfe by any barbarous deede? For Nature ſeemes in this t'haue vſde her skill, In making womens mindes, though weake, entire, That weakeneſſe might loue, and deuotion breede, To which their thoughts, if pure, might best aſpire, As aptest for th'impreſsion of all good: But from the beſt to worſt all things do weare, Since cruelties from feeble mindes proceed: In breaſts where courage failes, ſpite, ſhame, and feare Make enuie, hate, and rigour rule to beare. Our Queene Olimpias, that was once ſo great,