Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
How he? were I that enemy, That he would make me: I'd not wish the State More wretched, then to need his preservation. What do you make him, Cato, such a Hercules? An Atlas? A poor petty In- mate. Traitor. He save the State? A Burgesses son of Arpinum. The Gods would rather twenty Rome's should perish, Then have that contumely stuck upon 'em, That he should share with them, in the preserving A shed, or signpost. Peace, thou prodigy. They would be run themselves, again, and lost In the first, rude, and indigested heap; Ere such a wretched name, as Cicero, Should sound with theirs. Away, thou impudent head. Do you all back him? are you silent too? Well, I will leave you Fathers; I will go. But— my fine dainty speaker.— What now Fury? Wilt thou assault me here? Help, aid the Consul. See Fathers, laugh you not? who threatened him? In vain thou dost conceive, ambitious Orator, Hope of so brave a death, as by this hand. Out, of the Court, with the pernicious traitor. There is no title, that this flattering Senate, Nor honour, the base multitude can give thee, Shall make thee worthy Catiline's anger. Stop, Stop that portentous mouth. Or, when it shall, I'll look thee dead. Will none restrain the Monster? Parricide. Butcher, Traitor, leave the Senate. I am gone, to banishment, to please you Fathers. Thrust headlong forth? Still, dost thou murmur, Monster? Since, I am thus put out, and made a.— What? Not guiltier than thou art. I will not burn Without my funeral pile. What says the Fiend? I will have matter, timber. Sing out Screech-owl. It shall be in— Speak thy imperfect thoughts. The common fire, rather than mine own. For fall I will with all, ere fall alone. he's lost, there is no hope of him. Unless He presently take arms; and give a blow, Before the Consul's forces can be leuieed. What is your pleasure, Fathers, shall be done? See, that the Commonwealth receive no loss. Commit the care thereof unto the Consuls. 'tis time. And need. Thanks to this frequent Senate. But what decree they, unto Curius, And Fulvia? What the Consul shall think meet. They must receive reward, though't be not known; Least when a State needs ministers, they ha' none. Yet, Marcus Tullius, do not I believe, but Crassus, and this Caesar here ring hollow. And would appear so, if that we durst prove 'hem. Why dare we not? What honest act is that, The Roman Senate should not dare, and do? Not an unprofitable, dangerous act, To stir too many Serpents up at once. Caesar, and Crassus, if they be ill men, Are mighty ones; and, we must so provide, That, while we take one head, from this foul Hydra, There spring not twenty more. I' prove your Counsel. They shall be watched, and looked too. Till they do Declare themselves, I will not put 'em out By any question. There they stand. I'll make Myself no enemies, nor the State, no traitors.
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)
How he? were I that enemy, That he would make me: Il'd not wish the State More wretched, then to neede his preseruation. What doe you make him, Cato, such a Hercules? An Atlas? A poore petty In- mate. Traitor. He saue the State? A Burgesse sonne of Arpinum. The Gods would rather twenty Romes should perish, Then haue that contumely stucke vpon 'hem, That he should share with them, in the preseruing A shed, or signe-post. Peace, thou prodigie. They would be runne themselues, againe, and lost In the first, rude, and indigested heape; Ere such a wretched name, as Cicero, Should sound with theirs. Away, thou impudent head. Doe you all backe him? are you silent too? Well, I will leaue you Fathers; I will goe. But—my fine dainty speaker.— What now Fury? Wilt thou assault me here? Helpe, aide the Consul. See Fathers, laugh you not? who threatned him? In vaine thou do'st conceiue, ambitious Orator, Hope of so braue a death, as by this hand. Out, of the Court, with the pernicious traytor. There is no title, that this flattering Senate, Nor honor, the base multitude can giue thee, Shall make thee worthy Catilines anger. Stop, Stop that portentous mouth. Or, when it shall, Ile looke thee dead. Will none restraine the Monster? Parricide. Butcher, Traytor, leaue the Senate. I' am gone, to banishment, to please you Fathers. Thrust head-long forth? Stil, dost thou murmure, Monster? Since, I am thus put out, and made a.— What? Not guiltier then thou art. I will not burne Without my funerall pile. What sayes the Fiend? I will haue matter, timber. Sing out Scrich-owle. It shall be in Speake thy imperfect thoughts. The common fire, rather then mine owne. For fall I will with all, ere fall alone. H'is lost, there is no hope of him. Vnlesse He presently take armes; and giue a blow, Before the Consuls forces can be leuie'd. VVhat is your pleasure, Fathers, shall be done? See, that the Common-wealth receiue no losse. Commit the care thereof vnto the Consuls. Tis time. And need. Thanks to this frequent Senate. But what decree they, vnto Curius, And Fuluia? What the Consul shall thinke meete. Tey mst receiue reward, though't be not knowne; when a State needs ministers, they ha' none. Yet, Marcus Tullius, doe not I beleeue, Bu Crassus, and this Caesar here ring hollow. And would appeare so, if that we durst proue 'hem. VVhy dare we not? What honest act is that, The Roman Senate should not dare, and doe? Not an vnprofitable, dangerous act, To stirre too many Serpents vp at once. Caesar, and Crassus, if they be ill men, Are mighty ones; and, we must so prouide, That, while we take one head, from this foule Hydra, There spring not twenty more. I' proue your Counsell. They shall be watch'd, and look'd too. Till they doe Declare themselues, I will not put 'hem out By any question. There they stand. Ile make My selfe no enemies, nor the State, no traitors.