Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T25: feare, kings, power, princes, lawes, loue, state, downe, honor, men.
For proofe: Behold in Solyman that feare, Which Torrid Zones of Tyrannie must beare. For who hath lost mans Nature in his passion, Can neuer see the World in better fashion: But credit giues to limitlesse Suspition, Which vnto all vice giueth one Condition, Confusions Orbe; where men may hate their owne, Nature, and Reason there being ouerthrowne. Hence goe out Mandates of conspiracie 'Gainst Mustapha, who must not guiltlesse be In such a Father, and a Monarchs eyes, As will see nothing, but destruction, wise. Hence Mustapha, from like dreames of the heart, Sees his destruction wrought by Tyrants Art, And yet yeelds things to names; his right to passion; Which misplac'd duties helpe Power to disfashion. Nay, hence Mankinde, by crafty power opprest, Where it hath giuen part, still giues the rest; And thinking Thrones in all their practise true, Dare not of their owne Creatures aske their due: But rather, like milde Earth with Weedes or'egrowne, Yeelds to be plough'd, manur'd, and ouerthrowne. Lastly, thus Scepters fall with their owne weight, When climing Power, once risen to her height, Descends to make distinction in her lust, Which grants that absolute may be vniust; And so subiects to censure what should raigne; Steppes to bring Power to People backe againe. Whence I conclude: Mankinde is both the Forme, And Matter, wherewith Tyrannies transforme: For Power can neither see, worke, or deuise, Without the Peoples hands, hearts, wit, and eyes: So that were Man not by himselfe opprest, Kings would not, Tyrants could not make him beast. O wearysome Obedience, Wax to Power! Shall I in vaine be Mustapha's accuser? Shall any Iustice equall him and me? Is Loue so open-ear'd; my power so weake, As ought against me to my Lord dare speake? " Sands shall be numbred first and Motion fixt, The Sea exchange her channell with the fire, " Before my will, or reason stand in awe Of God, or Nature, common Peoples law. Rossa! whence growes this strange vnquiet motion? Gouerne your thoughts. What want you to content you, That haue the King of Kings at your deuotion? Content? O poore estate of Womans Wit! The latitude of Princes is Desire, Which all, it hath enioy'd, still carries higher. Say you the World is left to my deuotion? Who question'd am both in my State, and Fame, Must lose my Will, and cannot lose my Shame: For Mustapha, long since condemn'd to die, Now liues againe. To boast of mariage then what ground haue I? Conclude not now: For Thoughts that be offended. Are seldome with their present visions mended. Rage sees too much; Securitie too little; Affections are, like glassy metall brittle. Ah seruile Sex! must Yokes our honor be, To make our owne loues our captiuity? No Rossa, no: looke not in Languisht Wit, For none can stand on Fortunes steepe with it. " Thinke Innocencie harme; Vertue dishonor; Wound Truth; and ouerweigh the scale of Right: Sexes haue wayes apart; States haue their fashions: The vertues of Authoritie are Passions.
seed 43: T25 · seed 44: T6 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
For proofe: Behold in Solyman that feare, Which Torrid Zones of Tyrannie must beare. For who hath lost mans Nature in his passion, Can neuer see the World in better fashion: But credit giues to limitlesse Suspition, Which vnto all vice giueth one Condition, Confusions Orbe; where men may hate their owne, Nature, and Reason there being ouerthrowne. Hence goe out Mandates of conspiracie 'Gainst Mustapha, who must not guiltlesse be In such a Father, and a Monarchs eyes, As will see nothing, but destruction, wise. Hence Mustapha, from like dreames of the heart, Sees his destruction wrought by Tyrants Art, And yet yeelds things to names; his right to passion; Which misplac'd duties helpe Power to disfashion. Nay, hence Mankinde, by crafty power opprest, Where it hath giuen part, still giues the rest; And thinking Thrones in all their practise true, Dare not of their owne Creatures aske their due: But rather, like milde Earth with Weedes or'egrowne, Yeelds to be plough'd, manur'd, and ouerthrowne. Lastly, thus Scepters fall with their owne weight, When climing Power, once risen to her height, Descends to make distinction in her lust, Which grants that absolute may be vniust; And so subiects to censure what should raigne; Steppes to bring Power to People backe againe. Whence I conclude: Mankinde is both the Forme, And Matter, wherewith Tyrannies transforme: For Power can neither see, worke, or deuise, Without the Peoples hands, hearts, wit, and eyes: So that were Man not by himselfe opprest, Kings would not, Tyrants could not make him beast. O wearysome Obedience, Wax to Power! Shall I in vaine be Mustapha's accuser? Shall any Iustice equall him and me? Is Loue so open-ear'd; my power so weake, As ought against me to my Lord dare speake? " Sands shall be numbred first and Motion fixt, " The Sea exchange her channell with the fire, " Before my will, or reason stand in awe " Of God, or Nature, common Peoples law. Rossa! whence growes this strange vnquiet motion? Gouerne your thoughts. What want you to content you, That haue the King of Kings at your deuotion? Content? O poore estate of Womans Wit! The latitude of Princes is Desire, Which all, it hath enioy'd, still carries higher. Say you the World is left to my deuotion? Who question'd am both in my State, and Fame, Must lose my Will, and cannot lose my Shame: For Mustapha, long since condemn'd to die, Now liues againe. To boast of mariage then what ground haue I? Conclude not now: For Thoughts that be offended. Are seldome with their present visions mended. Rage sees too much; Securitie too little; Affections are, like glassy metall brittle. Ah seruile Sex! must Yokes our honor be, To make our owne loues our captiuity? No Rossa, no: looke not in Languisht Wit, For none can stand on Fortunes steepe with it. " Thinke Innocencie harme; Vertue dishonor; " Wound Truth; and ouerweigh the scale of Right: Sexes haue wayes apart; States haue their fashions: The vertues of Authoritie are Passions.