Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T19: virtue, fortune, virtues, honour, fame, vice, envy, world, pride, great.
The Senators they have this day designed, To show the world how they esteem my worth; Yet do portentous signs perturb my mind, By which the heavens would point my danger forth; The gods from me with indignation gone, Have charactered in every thing my death, And must both heaven and earth conspire in one, To quench a little spark of still-tossed breath? My safety would that I should stay within, Till this disastrous day give darkness place: But honour hunts me forward to begin, To reap the glory of my painful race: And I'll advance in spite of threatened broils, For though the fates effect that which we dream, When death retires from forcing those frail spoils, Though breathless, I'll be breathed over all by fame. WHat fury' is this that fills the breast, With a prodigious rash desire, Which banishing their souls from rest Doth make those live that high aspire, Whilst it within their bosom boils As Salamanders in the fire, Or like to serpents changing spoils Their withered beauties to renew: Like Vipers with unnatural toils, Of such the thoughts themselves pursue, That for all lines themselves do square, Whilst like Chameleons changing hue, They only feed but on the air. To pass ambition monstrous matters brings. And (save contentment) can attain all things. This active passion doth disdain To match with any vulgar mind, As in base breasts where terrors reign, too great a guest to be confined; It doth but lofty thoughts frequent, Where it a spacious field may find, itself with honour to content, Where reverenced fame doth loudest sound: Those at great things that t'aim are bent, (Far lifted from this lumpish round) Would in the sphere of glory move, Whilst lofty thoughts which nought can bind, All rivals live in virtues love: On abject preys as th'Eagle never lights, Ambition poisons but the greatest sprights. And of this restless vulture's brood, If't grow not to too great a flame, A little spark may whiles do good, Which makes great minds affecting fame, To suffer still all kind of pain: There fortune at the bloody game, Who hazard would for hope of gain. Were not burned by a thirst of praise: The learned lo, t'a higher strain, Their wits by emulation raise, As those that hold applauses dear: And what great mind at which men gaze, itself can of ambition clear, Which is being rated at the highest price, A generous error, a heroic vice. But when this frenzy flaming bright Doth so the souls of some surprise, That they can taste of no delight But what from sovereignty doth rise; Then huge affliction it affords, Such must themselves so to disguise, Prove prodigal of courteous words, Give much to some, and promise all, Then servile seem, to be made Lords, Yea first being made to many thrall, Must pity impart if not support, T'all those that crushed by fortune fall, And grieve themselves to please each sort: Are not those wretched that over a dangerous snare
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)
The Senators they haue this day deſignde, To ſhew the world how they eſteeme my worth; Yet do portentuous ſignes perturb my minde, By which the heauens would point my danger forth; The gods from me with indignation gone, Haue charactred in euery thing my death, And muſt both heauen and earth conſpire in one, To quench a little ſparke of ſtill-toſſde breath? My ſaftie would that I ſhould ſtay within, Till this diſaſtrous day giue darkneſſe place: But honor hunts me forward to begin, To reape the glory of my painfull race: And Ile aduance in ſpight of threatned broyles, For though the fates effect that which we dreame, When death retires from forcing thoſe fraile ſpoyles, Though breathleſſe, ile be breath'd ouer all by fame. WHat furie' is this that filles the breaſt, With a prodigious raſh deſire, Which baniſhing their ſoules from reſt Doth make thoſe liue that high aſpire, Whilſt it within their boſome boyles As Salamanders in the fire, Or like to ſerpents changing ſpoiles Their witherd beauties to renew: Like Vipers with vnnaturall toiles, Of ſuch the thoughts themſelues purſue, That for all lynes themſelues do ſquare, Whilſt like Camelions changing hue, They only feed but on the aire. To paſſe ambition monſtrous matters brings. And (ſaue contentment) can attaine all things. This actiue paſsion doth diſdaine To match with any vulgar minde, As in baſe breaſts where terrors raigne, To great a gueſt to be confinde; It doth but loftie thoughts frequent, Where it a ſpatious field may finde, It ſelfe with honor to content, Where reuerenc'd fame doth lowdeſt ſound: Thoſe at great things that t'aime are bent, (Farre lifted from this lumpiſh round) Would in the ſpheare of glory moue, Whilſt loftie thoughts which nought can bind, All riualls liue in vertues loue: On abiect preyes as th'Eagle neuer lights, Ambition poiſons but the greateſt ſprights. And of this reſtles vultures brood, If't grow not to too great a flame, A little ſparke may whyles do good, VVhich makes great minds affecting fame, To ſuffer ſtill all kinde of paine: There fortune at the bloody game, VVho hazard would for hope of gaine. Were not burn'd by a thriſt of praiſe: The learned loe, t'a higher ſtraine, Their wits by emulation raiſe, As thoſe that hold applauſes deare: And what great mind at which men gaze, It ſelfe can of ambition cleare, Which is being rated at the higheſt price, A generous error, a heroicke vice. But when this frenſie flaming bright Doth ſo the ſoules of ſome ſurpriſe, That they can taſte of no delight But what from ſoueraigntie doth riſe; Then huge affliction it affords, Such muſt themſelues ſo to diſguiſe, Prooue prodigall of courteous words, Giue much to ſome, and promiſe all, Then ſeruile ſeeme, to be made Lords, Yea firſt being made to many thrall, Muſt pittie impart if not ſupport, T'all thoſe that cruſh'd by fortune fall, And grieue themſelues to pleaſe each ſort: Are not thoſe wretch'd that ouer a dangerous ſnare