Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
Since Caesar caused him be accused of late, For taking Pompey's part, yet at this hour, He (though absolved) doth still the tyrant hate, For being endangered by his lawless power. Whilst it exasperates thus such great sprites spites, Heaven of our course the progress doth direct, One inspiration all our souls incites, That have advisedly sworn this fact t'effect. So I with Cicero did confer at length, Who I perceive the present state detests, And though that age diminished have his strength, In him a will t'avenge his country rests. That man whose love still towards his country shined, Would willingly the commonwealth restore, Than he I know, though he conceals his mind, None Caesar more dislikes, nor likes us more. Yet to his custody I'll not commit, The secrets of our enterprise so soon, Men may themselves be oftentimes not fit, To do the things that they would wish were done, He still being timorous, and by age grown worse, Might chance to lay our honour in the dust, All cowards must inconstant be of force, With bold designs none fearful breasts can trust. Then some of ours would hold their hands still pure, That ere they be suspected, for a space Amidst the tumult may remain secure, And with the people mediate our peace. But who than Tullius fitter for that turn, Whose eloquence is used t'enchant their ears? His banishment they in black gowns did mourn, Whose age and merits each one reverence bears. Those studious wits that have through dangers gone, Would still be out, ere that they enter in; Who must of many things, resolve of none, And thinking of the end, cannot begin. The mind that looks no further than the eye, And more to Nature trusts, than unto Art, Such doubtful fortunes fittest is to try, A furious actor for a desperate part. We have enough, and of the best degree, Whose hands are to their hearts, their hearts t'us true, And if that we seek more, I fear we be T' act close too many, if disclosed, too few. Let us advise with an industrious care, Now ere the tyrant intercept our minds; The time, the place, the manner, when, and where, That we should trust our treasure to the winds. And since our fortunes in the balance hang, Let every point be circumspectly weighted, A circumstance, or an indifferent thing, May whiles mar all for not being well conveyed. As for the time, none could be wished more fit, Than this that's present to perform our vow, Since all the people must allow of it, Moved by a recent miscontentment now. When represented in his triumph past, Great Cato's mangled entrails made them weep, And desperate Scipio whilst he leapt at last, To seek a Sanctuary amidst the depth. Then all those great men that in several parts, Bent for Rome's freedom Caesar did overthrow, Did by their pictures pierce the people's hearts, And made a piteous (though a pompous) show.
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)
Since Caeſar cauſde him be accuſde of late, For taking Pompeys patt, yet at this houre, He (though abſolu'd) doth ſtill the tyrant hate, For being endangerd by his lawleſſe powre. Whilſt it exaſprates thus ſuch great ſprites ſpites, Heauen of our courſe the progreſſe doth direct, One inſpiration all our ſoules incites, That haue aduiſdly ſworne this fact t'effect. So I with Cicero did conferre at length, Who I perceiue the preſent ſtate deteſts, And though that age deminiſht haue his ſtrength, In him a will t'auenge his country reſts. That man whoſe loue ſtil towards his country ſhind, Would willingly the commonwealth reſtore, Then he I know, though he conceales his minde, None Caeſar more diſlikes, nor likes vs more. Yet to his cuſtodie Ile not commit, The ſecrets of our enterpriſe ſo ſoone, Men may themſelues be oftentimes not fit, To doe the things that they would wiſh were done, He ſtill being timorous, and by age growne worſe, Might chance to lay our honor in the duſt, All cowards muſt inconſtant be of force, With bold deſignes none fearefull breaſts can truſt. Then ſome of ours would holde their hands ſtill pure, That ere they be ſuſpected, for a ſpace Amidſt the tumult may remaine ſecure, And with the people mediate our peace. But who than Tullius fitter for that turne, Whoſe eloquence is vſde t'enchant their eares? His baniſhment they in balcke gownes did mourne, Whoſe age and merites each one reurence beares. Thoſe ſtudious wits that haue through dangers gone, Would ſtill be out, ere that they enter in; Who muſt of many things, reſolue of none, And thinking of the end, cannot beginne. The mind that lookes no further than the eie, And more to Nature truſts, than vnto Art, Such doubtfull fortunes fitteſt is to trie, A furious actor for a deſprate parte. We haue enow, and of the beſt degree, Whoſe hands are to their hearts, their hearts t'vs true, And if that we ſeeke moe, I feare we be T' act cloſe too many, if diſcloſde, too few. Let vs aduiſe with an induſtrious care, Now ere the tyrant intercept our mindes; The time, the place, the manner, when, and where, That we ſhould truſt our treaſure to the windes. And ſince our fortunes in the ballance hing, Let euery point be circumſpectly weight'd, A circumſtance, or an indifferent thing, May whiles marre all for not being well conueigh'd. As for the time, none could be wiſh'd more fit, Than this thats preſent to performe our vow, Since all the people muſt allow of it, Mou'd by a recent miſcontentment now. When repreſented in his triumph paſt, Great Catoes mangled entrailes made them weepe, And deſprate Scipio whilſt he leap'd at laſt, To ſeeke a Sanctuarie amidſt the depth. Then all thoſe great men that in ſeuerall partes, Bent for Romes freedome Caeſar did ouerthrow, Did by their pictures pierce the peoples harts, And made a pitteous (though a pompous) ſhow.