Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
king's may indeed deprive their Senate-house Of some pretence, and may (let others prate) Conceal affairs belonging to the State. If hell afforded such a menstruous rag I'd reconcile the error of my sense; But, now may reckon up some woeful verse For solid passion Poets best rehearse. A poet's rapture Kings have wished to feel Which some despise because uncapable. The Muses make my brain their banquet-house, And thus with Lucan will we frame our song Of dreaded horror, whose inhuman rage Blew direful tempest through the Tharsal plain Of laws neglected, and a stubborn age Whose blood & black-deeds did their country stain Of civil discord, and a hapless breach In kingdoms covenant, which did sore impeach The world's whole Confines, and their Public-weal we sing, and sternly treat how every deal Standards met Standards, Ensigns were alike, Bows threatened Bows, and nimble spears the Pike. (Romans) what madness may we term this strife? Be your own blades let loose, against your life? That Nations far remote should see and smile At your wide gaping wounds, and Rome revile? And must your hot encounters careless boil, When Babylon should perish in the spoil Of her victorious Trophies? when the Ghost Of unrevenged Crassius here stood tossed Above ground? then must warlike humours breathe Which wanting triumph, want a worthy wreath. O and alas! what Kingdoms, what renown This blood might have obtained? some temptive Crown, Where beauteous Titan sleeps, and heavy night Exempts the joyful harbingers of light: Else where the sweltering noonday scalds with heat, Else where continual Winter takes her seat: Where Scythic Pontus pierced with crazy cold Lies bedrid on a cripple corner-mould, Ceres might conquered been, Araxes yoked Had not domestic war such broils provoked. If (Rome) thy battles thou esteem such bliss Subdue all Kings, then were it not amiss To combat with thyself; meanwhile break of, For multitude of foes may freely scoff. Our King hath tasted juice of Helicon. Tasted? no fool, the Muses do entrance My dear imagination, I will swim Through each sweet stream of ravished eloquence Of Passion, Satire, Eclogue, Epigram Of Sonnets, Imprecations, Epitaphs, And by them all admonish Mighty Kings To keep their bosom locked; for friendship stings. Go fetch a Garland from the Muses- grove For I will sit amongst the Shepherd Swains Upon some pretty tust or pleasant hill Hung (in my honour) with fresh hallowed bay, And echo forth an Alphabet of lays: My Queen, poor Queen, bereft of beauty's pride Shall in our fancy sit and touch our side, Grieve not, she was my daughter (gracious King)
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)
Kings may indeed depriue their Senate-house Of some pretence, and may (let others prate) Conceale affaires belonging to the State. If hell affoorded such a menstruous ragge I'de re-conclile the error of my sence; But, now may reckon vp some woe-full verse For solid passion Poets best reherse. A Poets rapture Kings haue wish'd to feele Which some despise because vncapable. The Muses make my braine their banquet-house, And thus with Lucan will wee frame our song Of dreaded horror, whose in-human rage Blew dire-full tempest through the Tharsall plaine Of lawes neglected, and a stubborne age Whose bloud & black-deeds did their country staine Of ciuill discord, and a haplesse breach In Kingdomes couenant, which did sore impeach The worlds whole Confines, and their Publicke-weale Wee sing, and sternely treat how euery deale Standards met Standards, Ensignes were a-like, Bowes threatned Bowes, and nimble speares the Pike. (Romans) what madnesse may wee terme this strife? Be your owne blades let loose, against your life? That Nations farre remote should see and smile At your wide gaping wounds, and reuile? And must your hot encounters carlesse boyle, When Babylon should perish in the spoyle Of her victorious Trophies? when the Ghost Of vnreuenged Crassius heere stood toss'd Aboue ground? then must war-like humors breath Which wanting triumph, want a worthy wreath. O and alas! what Kingdomes, what renowne This bloud might haue obtain'd? some temptiue Crowne, Where beautious Titan sleepes, and heauy night Exempts the ioyfull harbengers of light: Else where the sweltring noone-day scalds with heate, Else where continuall Winter takes her seate: Where Scythicke Potus pierc'd with czy cold Lyes bed-red on a cripple corner-moul'd, Ceres might conquer'd beene, Araxes yoak'd Had not domesticke warre such broiles prouok'd. If (Rome) thy battailes thou esteeme such blisse Subdue all Kings, then were it not amisse To combat with thy selfe; meane while breake of, For multitude of foes may freely scoffe. Our King hath tasted iuice of Helicon. Tasted? no foole, the Muses do entraunse My deere imagination, I will swim Through each sweete streame of rauish'd eloquence Of Passion, Satyre, Aeglogue, Epigram Of Sonets, Imprecations, Epitaphes, And by them all admonish Mighty Kings To keepe their bosome lockt; for friendship stings. Go fetch a Garland from the -groue For I will sit amongst the Sheep-heard Swaines Vpon some pretty tust or pleasant hill Hung (in my honour) with fresh hallowed baies, And eccho forth an Alphabet of layes: My Queene, poore Queene, berest of beauties pride Shall in our fancy sit and touch our side, Grieue not, she was my daughter (gratious King)