Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
Or of Cethegus. In, my fair Aurelia, And think upon these arts: They must not see, How far you are trusted with these privacies; Though, by their shoulders, necks, & heads you rise. IT is, me thinks, a Morning, full of Fate. It riseth slowly, as her sullen car Had all the weights of sleep, and death hung at it. She is not rosy-fingerd, but swollen black. Her face is like a water, turned to blood, And her sick head is bound about with clouds, As if she threatened night, ere noon of day. It does not look, as it would have a Hail Or Health, wished in it, as on other Morn's. Why, all the fitter, Lentulus: Our coming Is not for salutation, we have business. Said nobly, brave Cethegus. Where's Autronius? Is he not come? Not here. Nor Vargunteius? Neither. A fire in their beds, and bosoms, That so will serve their sloth, rather than virtue. They are no Romans, and at such high need As now. Both they, Longinus, Lecca, Curius, Fuluius, Gabinius, gave me word, last night, By Lucius Bestia, they would all be here, And early. Yes. As you, had I not called you. Come, we all sleep, and are mere Dormice; Flies, A little less than dead: More dullness hangs On us, then on the Morn. W''re spirit-bound, In ribs of ice; our whole bloods are one stone; And Honour cannot thaw us; nor our wants, Though they burn, hot as fevers, to our states. I muse they would be tardy, at an hour Of so great purpose. If the Gods had called Them, to a purpose, they would just have come With the same Tortoise speed, that are thus slow To such an action, which the Gods will envy. As ask no less means, than all their powers Conjoined, t'effect. I would have seen Rome burnt, By this time; and her ashes in an Urn: The Kingdom of the Senate, rend asunder; And the degenerate, talking Gown, run frighted, Out of the air of Italy. Spirit of men! Thou, heart of our great enterprise! how much I love these voices in thee! O the days Of Sylla's sway, when the free sword took leave To act all that it would! And was familiar With entrails, as our Augurs! Sons killed Fathers, Brothers their Brothers. And had price and praise. All hate had licence given it; all rage raynes. Slaughter bestrid the streets, and stretched himself To seem more huge; whilst to his stained thighs The gore he drew flowed up: and carried down Whole heaps of limbs, and bodies, through his arch. No Age was spared, no Sex. Nay, no Degree. Not Infants, in the porch of life were free. The Sick, the Old, that could but hope a day Longer, by nature's bounty, not let stay. Virgins, and Widows, Matrons, prognant Wives, All died. 'Twas crime enough, that they had lives. To strike but only those, that could do hurt, Was dull, and poor. Some fell to make the number As some the prey.
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)
Or of Cethegus. In, my faire Aurelia, And thinke vpon these artes: They must not see, How farre you are trusted with these priuacies; Though, by their shoulders, necks, & heads you rise. IT is, mee thinkes, a Morning, full of Fate. It riseth slowly, as her sollen carre Had all the weights of sleepe, and death hung at it. She is not rosy-fingerd, but swolne blacke. Her face is like a water, turnd to bloud, And her sicke head is bound about with clouds, As if she threatned night, ere noone of day. It does not looke, as it would haue a Hayle Or Health, wish'd in it, as on other Mornes. Why, all the fitter, Lentulus: Our comming Is not for salutation, we haue businesse. Said nobly, braue Cethegus. Where's Autronius? Is he not come? Not here. Nor Vargunteius? Neither. A fire in their beds, and bosomes, That so will serue their sloth, rather then vertue. They are no Romanes, and at such high neede As now. Both they, Longinus, Lecca, Curius, Fuluius, Gabinius, gaue me word, last night, By Lucius Bestia, they would all be here, And early. Yes. As you, had I not call'd you. Come, we all sleepe, and are meere Dormice; Flies, A little lesse then dead: More dulnesse hangs On vs, then on the Morne. W'are spirit-bound, In ribs of ice; our whole blouds are one stone; And Honour cannot thaw vs; nor our wants, Though they burne, hot as feuers, to our states. I muse they would be tardy, at an houre Of so great purpose. If the Gods had call'd Them, to a purpose, they would iust haue come With the same Tortoyse speed, that are thus slo To such an action, which the Gods will enuie. As asking no lesse meanes, then all their powers Conioyn'd, t'effect. I would haue seene Rome burn't, By this time; and her ashes in an Vrne: The Kingdome of the Senate, rent asunder; And the degenerate, talking Gowne, runne frighted, Out of the ayre of Italy. Spirit of men! Thou, heart of our great enterprise! how much I lou these voyces in thee! O the daies Of Sylla's sway, when the free sword tooke leaue To act all that it would! And was familiar With entrailes, as our Augures! Sonnes kild Fathers, Brothers their Brothers. And had price and praise. All hate had licence giuen it; all rage raynes. Slaughter bestrid the streets, and stretch'd himselfe To seeme more huge; whilst to his stayned thighes The gore he drew flow'd vp: and carried downe Whole heapes of limmes, and bodies, through his arch. No Age was spar'd, no Sexe. Nay, no Degree. Not Infants, in the poch of life were free. The Sicke, the Old, that could but hope a day Longer, by natures bounty, not let stay. Virgins, and Widdowes, Matrons, prognant Wiues, All dyed. 'Twas crime enough, that they had liues. To strike but only those, that could doe hurt, Was dull, and poore. Some fel to make the number As some the prey.