Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
You are deceived Sir. No, 'tis you are so: Poor, misled men. Your states are yet worth pity, If you would hear, and change your savage minds. Leave to be mad; forsake your purposes Of Treason, Rapine, Murder, Fire, and Horror: The common wealth hath eyes, that wake as sharply Over her life, as yours do for her ruin. Be not deceived, to think her lenity Will be perpetual; or, if Men be wanting, The Gods will be, to such a calling cause. Consider your attempts, and while there's time, Repent you of 'hem. It doth make me tremble There should those spirits yet breath, that when they cannot Live honestly, would rather perish basely. You talk to much to 'em, Marcus, theyare lost. Go forth, and apprehend 'hem. If you prove This practice; what should let the Commonwealth To take due vengeance? Let us shift, away. The darkness hath concealed us, yet: we'll say Some have abused our names. Deny it all. Quintus, what guards ha' you? Call the Tribunes aid▪ And raise the City. Consul, you are too mild, The foulness of some facts takes thence all mercy: Report it to the Senate. Hear: The Gods Grow angry with your patience." 'tis their care, And must be yours, that guilty men escape not. As crimes do grow, justice should rouse itself. WHat is it, Heavens, you prepare With so much swiftness, and so sudden rising? There are no Sons of earth, that dare, Again, rebellion: or the Gods surprising? The World doth shake, and Nature fears, Yet is the tumult, and the horror greater Within our minds, then in our ears, So much Rome's faults (now grown her Fate) do threat her. The Priests, and People run about, Each Order, Age, and Sex amazed at other; And, at the ports, all thronging out, As if their safety were to quit their Mother: Yet find they the same dangers there, From which they make such haste to be preserved; For guilty States do ever bear The plagues about them, which they have deserved. And, till those plagues do get above The mountain of our faults, and there do sit; We see 'em not. Thus, still we love th'evil we do, until we suffer it. But, most, ambition, that near vice To virtue, hath the fate of Rome provoked; And made, that now Rome's self no price, To free her from the death, wherewith she's yoked. That restless Ill, that still doth build Upon success; and ends not in aspiring: But there begins. And near is filled, While ought remains that seems but worth desiring. Where in the Thought, unlike the Eye, To which things far, seem smaller than they are, deems all contentment placed on high: And thinks there's nothing great, but what is far. O, that in time, Rome did not cast Her errors up, this fortune to prevent; T'have seen her crimes'ere they were passed: And felt her faults, before her punishment.
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)
You are deceau'd Sir. No, 'tis you are so▪ Poore, misled men. Your states are yet worth pitty, If you would heare, and change your sauage minds. Leaue to be mad; forsake your purposes Of Treason, Rapine, Murder, Fire, and Horror: The common wealth hath eyes, that wake as sharply Ouer her life, as yours doe for her ruine. Be not deceiu'd, to thinke her lenity Will be perpetuall; or, if Men be wanting, The Gods will be, to such a calling cause. Consider your attempts, and while there's time, Repent you of 'hem. It doth make me tremble There should those spirits yet breath, that when they cannot Liue honestly, would rather perish basely. You talke to much to 'hem, Marcus, They'are lost. Goe forth, and apprehend 'hem. If you proue This practise; what should let the Common-wealth To take due vengeance? Let vs shift, away. The darkenesse hath conceal'd vs, yet: Wee'll say Some haue abus'd our names. Denie it all. Quintus, what guards ha' you? Call the Tribunes aide▪ And raise the City. Consul, you are too mild, " The foulenesse of some facts takes thence all mercy: Report it to the Senate. Heare: The Gods Grow angry with your patience. " Tis their care, " And must be yours, that guilty men escape not. " As crimes doe grow, Iustice should rouse it selfe. WHat is it, Heauens, you prepare VVith so much swiftnesse, and so sodaine rising? There are no Sonnes of earth, that dare, Againe, rebellion: or the Gods surprising? The World doth shake, and Nature feares, Yet is the tumult, nd the horror greater VVithin our minds, then in our eares, So much Romes faults (now growne her Fate) doe threat her. The Priests, and People runne about, Each Order, Age, and Sexe amaz'd at other; And, at the ports, all thronging out, As if their safety were to quit their Mother: Yet finde they the same dangers there, From which they make such hast to be preserued; For guilty States doe euer beare The plagues about them, which they haue deserued. And, till those plagues doe get aboue The mountaine of our faults, and there doe sit; VVe see 'hem not. Thus, still we loue The'euill we doe, vntill we suffer it. But, most, ambition, that neare vice To vertue, hath the fate of Rome prouoked; And made, that now Rome's selfe no price, To free her from the death, wherewith she's yoked. That restlesse Ill, that still doth build Vpon successe; and endes not in aspiring: But there beginnes. And nere is fill'd, Whil ought remaines that seemes but worth desiring. VVhere in the Thought, vnlike the Eye, To which things farre, seeme smaller then they are, Deemes all contentment plac'd on high: And thinks there's nothing great, but what is farre. O, that in time, Rome did not cast Her errors vp, this fortune to preuent; T'haue seene her crimes'ere they were past: And felt her faults, before her punishment.