Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
But having pacified those present things, I mind to lead my valorous legions forth, To th'oriental realms, adoring kings That can exhibit honours due to worth. Than swim my thoughts in th'Ocean of delight, Whilst on the pillow of soft praise reposed, Those eyes to gaze upon my glory's light, That envy opened, admiration closed. Ah, though your fancies great contentment find, Whilst thus the world your virtue doth advance, Yet a preposterous terror stings my mind, And boasts me with I know not what mischance, My wavering hopes o'erbalanced are with fears, That to my soul sinistrous signs impart, And ominous rumours so assault mine ears, That they almost make breaches in my heart. What, do debattled Pompey's followers strive To recollect their ruins from the dust? Dare they that only by my tolerance live, More to their strength than to my favour trust? Or dost thou fear his sons dejected state, That steals infamous flying through those floods, Which his great father, Admiral of late, Did plant with ships till all their waves seemed woods? Then makes his brother's death his courage more, Since by them straited in a bloody strife, ay, that in all the battles given before, Did fight for victory, then fought for life. Or whilst to march toward Parthia I prepare, Doth a suspicion thus afflict thy sprite, For Crassus' fortune feared that perished there, Th'opprobrious prey of the Barbarians spite? To those same bands that Cassius thence brought back, A place amongst my legions I'll allow, Whose foes shall find whilst they avenge th'old wrack Though the same sheep, another shepherd now. Do not imagine matters to bemoan, For whilst there stands a world, can Caesar fall? Though thousand thousands were conjured in one, ay, and my fortune might confound them all. No, none of those my mind doth miscontent, That undisguised still like themselves remain, Unlooked for harms are hardest to prevent, There is no guard against concealed disdain, But in whom further can your trust repose, Whom danger now over all, by all attends, Where private men but only fear their foes, Oft kings have greatest cause to fear their friends, For since being trusted fittest to betray, Those unto whom ones favour force affords, May for his life the worst ambushments lay, Whilst falsest hearts are hid with fairest words. And some report (though privately) yet plain, That Dolabella and Antonius now, By your destruction do pretend t'obtain, That which you keep by making all men bow. No corpulent sanguinians make me fear, That with more pain their beards than th'enemies strike And do themselves like th'Epicureans bear, To Bacchus, Mars, and Venus borne alike. Their hearts do always in their mouths remain, As streams, whose murmuring shows the course not deep Then still they love to sport, though gross and plain, And never dream of aught but when they sleep. But those high sprites that hold their bodies down, Whose visage lean their restless thoughts records, Whilst they their cares depth in their bosoms drown, Their silence fears me more than th'other's words.
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)
But hauing pacifide thoſe preſent things, I minde to leade my valorous legions forth, To th'orientall realmes, adoring kings That can exhibite honors due to worth. Than ſwimme my thoughts in th'Ocean of delight, Whilſt on the pillow of ſoft praiſe repoſde, Thoſe eies to gaze vpon my glories light, That enuy op'ned, admiration cloſde. Ah, though your fancies great contentment find, Whilſt thus the world your vertue doth aduance, Yet a prepoſtrous terrour ſtings my minde, And boaſts me with I know not what miſchance, My wauering hopes oreballanc'd are with feares, That to my ſoule ſiniſtrous ſignes impart, And ominous rumours ſo aſſault mine eares, That they almoſt make breaches in my heart. What, doe debattelld Pompeys followers ſtriue To recollect their ruines from the duſt? Dare they that only by my tollerance liue, More to their ſtrength than to my fauour truſt? Or doſt thou feare his ſonnes deiected ſtate, That ſteales infamous flying through thoſe floods, Which his great father, Admiral of late, Did plant with ſhips til all their waues ſeemd woods? Then makes his brothers death his courage more, Since by them ſtraited in a bloodie ſtrife, I, that in all the battels giuen before, Did fight for victorie, then fought for life. Or whilſt to march toward Parthia I prepare, Doth a ſuſpition thus afflict thy ſprite, For Craſſus fortune feard that periſht there, Th'opprobrious prey of the Barbarians ſpight? To thoſe ſame bands that Caſsius thence brought back, A place amongſt my legions Ile allow, Whoſe foes ſhall find whilſt they auenge th'olde wracke Though the ſame ſheep, another ſhepheard now. Do not imagine matters to bemone, For whilſt there ſtands a world, can Caeſar fall? Though thouſand thouſands were coniurd in one, I, and my fortune might confound them all. No, none of thoſe my minde doth miſcontent, That vndiſguiſde ſtill like themſelues remaine, Vnlookt for harmes are hardeſt to preuent, There is no guard againſt concealde diſdaine, But in whom further can your truſt repoſe, Whom danger now ouer all, by all attends, Where priuate men but onely feare their foes, Oft kings haue greateſt cauſe to feare their frends, For ſince being truſted fitteſt to betray, Thoſe vnto whom ones fauour force affords, May for his life the worſt ambuſhments lay, Whilſt falſeſt hearts are hid with faireſt words. And ſome report (though priuately) yet plaine, That Dolabella and Antonius now, By your deſtruction do pretend t'obtaine, That which you keepe by making all men bow. No corpulent ſanguinians make me feare, That with more paine their beards than th'enimies ſtrike And doe themſelues like th'epicurians beare, To Bacchus, Mars, and Venus borne alike. Their hearts do alwayes in their mouthes remaine, As ſtreams, whoſe murmuring ſhews the courſe not deep Then ſtill they loue to ſport, though groſſe and plaine, And neuer dreame of ought but when they ſleep. But thoſe high ſprites that hold their bodies downe, Whoſe viſage leane their reſtleſſe thoughts records, Whilſt they their cares depth in their boſoms drowne, Their ſilence feares me more than th'others words.