Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
A Midst my slumber, circumvolved with doubt, In this thick midnight darkness, now all sense Securely lies enchained; now potent dreams, With unresisted awe, rule the dead lump Of man's poor fabric; now all human flesh, Kings, and the stern-browed Tyrants do submit Their majesty to Sleeps Imperial feet. Now, not long since I dreamed, and could with ease, Utter the subject, how a misshapen hag, His hair full horrid black, huge were his eyes, Big, like a bowl encompassed with bone, Thrice did the Imp appear, did vanish thrice, Three massy Crowns, of worth inestimate, (Had they enjoyed a worth substantial:) Thrice did he show, and thrice again withdraw The hallowed objects, than apace proclaim Quod libet, licet, and away departs. I then awaked, struck with extreme amazement, And nimbly leaping from a secûre couch, Came to expel this ominous affright. Reading, or whatsoever can avail The vigour of temptation, to withstand, we should perhibit (though against our will.) here's an aspiring Poet, whose proud touch, May elevate some brain above the flight Of nimble apprehension; I'll unclasp Thy sacred volume, Lucan: I'll content My roving fancy with full argument. He writes of withered skulls, of mutiny, Ominous apparitions of the dead, Of Caesar, Pompey, and Imperial state, Of combats foreign, of domestic broils, Of dire invasion, of ambitious war, (Whatever makes us noble) fortitude, Of expert undertaking, of event: O he's a fellow able to inflame The frosty stomach of a starveling youth, Who wholly feeds on rheumish winter-plums. An Author of commanding Altitude, And such a man give me; a man of worth, Who makes the reader rub his paled brow, Makes idle nature melt away in fume, Gives breath and courage to out-puff the Cannon: Such Authors you may feel at finger's end, They gallop in your blood, provoke each vein, To give them passage without violence, Bella per aemathios plusquam civilia campos Insque datum scelert canimus populumque potentem: quenquam nunc ferre potest, Caesar-ve priorem Pompeius-ve parem: quis justus induit arma Scire nefas: magno se judice quisque tuetur. Ah Pompei, Pompey, if thy hallowed acts, Once more might flourish, I would emulate Those bold encounters; o most happy men, Whom Fate enrols to be victorious: They conquer, spoil, subvert, and edify Turn Dukes, nay Kings to common Parasites, And make the proudest flatter to win life: Yet Kings are mighty: yes and equal too; (Though weak, although base cowards by the law Of natural endowment) yet the name Doth yield them equal; nay above the fame Which often doth enrich a conqueror. What may we hence collect? a principle, A maxim of no vulgar consequence: Subjects are base, and to acknowledge one Superior, doth note servility: O what a most perpetual slave is man, If not the chiefest in predominance? Let obscûre politicians be content As chief in Parish; or some petty Town, I'd make Dominions tremble with a frown: Make every subject, high and low observe The heavy danger of our discontent, Or make a precious forfeit of each life. Woe to that King where subjects be inflamed With greater zeal of eminence than he: There must invasion triumph, timeless death, Rapes, murder, all iniquity of age:
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)
A Midst my slumber, circumvolu'd with doubt, In this thicke midnight darkenesse, now all sence Securely lyes inchain'd; now potent dreames, With vnresisted awe, rule the dead lumpe Of mans poore fabricke; now all humane flesh, Kings, and the sterne-brow'd Tyrants doe submit Their maiesty to Sleepes Imperiall feet. Now, not long since I dream'd, and could with ease, Vtter the subiect, how a mishapen hag, His haire full horrid blacke, huge were his eyes, Bigge, like a bowle encompassed with bone, Thrice did the Impe appeare, did vanish thrice, Three massy Crownes, of worth inaestimate, (Had they enioy'd a worth substantiall:) Thrice did hee shew, and thrice againe withdraw The hallowed obiects, then a pace proclaime Quod libet, liet, and away departs. I then awak't, strooke with extreme amazemnt, And nimbly leaping from a secûre couch, Came to expell this ominous affright. Reading, or whatsoeuer can auaile The vigor of temptation, to withstand, Wee should perhibite (though against our will.) Heer's an aspiring Poet, whose proud touch, May eleuate some braine aboue the flight Of nimble apprehension; Il'e vnclaspe Thy sacred volume, Lucan: Il'e content My rouing fancy with full argument. He writes of witherd sculs, of mutiny, Ominous apparitions of the dead, Of Caesar, Pompei, and Imperiall state, Of combats forreigne, of domesticke broyles, Of dire inuasion, of ambitious warre, (What-euer makes vs noble) fortitude, Of expert vndertaking, of euent: O hee's a fellow able to inflame The frosty stomacke of a staru'ling youth, Who wholly feeds on rheumish winter-plums. An Author of commanding Altitude, And such a man giue me; a man of worth, Who makes the reader rub his paled brow, Makes idle nature melt away in fume, Giues breath and courage to out-puffe the Cannon: Such Authors you may feele at fingers end, They gallop in your bloud, prouoke each veine, To giue them passage without violence, Bellaper aemathios plusquam ciuili campos Ins que datum scelert canimus populum que potentm: Ne quenquamnuc ferre potest, Caesar-ve priorem Pompeis-ve parem: quis istùs induit arma Scire nefas: magno se idice quisque tutur. Ah Pomp, Pompei, if thy hallowed acts, Once more might flourish, I would aemulate Those bold incounters; ô most happy men, Whom Fate enroules to bee victorious: They conquer, spoyle, subuert, and aedifie Turne Dukes, nay Kings to common Parafites, And make the proudest flatter to winne life: Yet Kings are mighty: yes and aequall too; (Though weake, although base cowards by the law Of naturall indowment) yet the name Doth yeeld them aequall; nay aboue the fame Which often doth enrich a conquerour. What may we hence collect? a principle, A maxime of no vulgar consequence: Subiects are base, and to acknowledge one Superiour, doth note seruility: O what a most perpetuall slaue is man, If not the chiefest in praedominance? Let obscûre polititians be content As chiefe in Parish; or some petty Towne, I'de make Dominions tremble with a frowne: Make euery subiect, high and low obserue The heauy danger of our discontent, Or make a precious forfeit of each life. Woe to that King where subiects be inflam'd With greater zeale of eminence then hee: There must inuasion triumph, timelesse death, Rapes, murther, all iniquity of age: