Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
In dearest affection to his virtuous will He then a night appointed to fulfil Hymen's blest-rites, and to convey away His loves fair person, to which peerless pray I was acquainted made, and when the hour Of her escape drew on, than lust did power Enraged appetite through all my veins. And base desires in me let loose the reins To my licentious will, and that black night When my friend should have had his chaste delight, I feigned his presence, and by her, thought him robbed that fair virgin of her honours gem: For which most heinous, crime upon each tree I write this story that men's eyes may see, None but a damned one would have done like me. Is Albert then become so penitent, As in these deserts to deplore his facts, Which his unfeigned repentance seems to clear: How good man is, when he laments his ill? Who would not pardon now that man's misdeeds, Whose griefs bewail them thus, could I now live, I'd remit thy fault with Carracus: But death no longer will afford reprieve Of my abundant woes: wronged Carracus farewell, Live, and forgive thy wrongs, for the repentance Of him that caused them, so deserves from thee; And since my eyes do witness Albert's grief, I pardon Albert in my wrongs the chief. How pardon me, O sound Angelical, But see! she faints, O heavens now show your power, That these distilled waters made in grief, May add some comfort to affliction: Look up fair youth, and see a remedy. O who disturbs me, I was hand in hand, Walking with death unto the house of rest. Let death walk by himself, if a want company, There's many thousands boy, whose aged years Have ta'en a surfeit of earth's vanities, They will go with him, when he please to call, To drink my boy thy pleasing tender youth Cannot deserve to die, no, it is for us, Whose years are laden by our often sins, Singing the last part of our blessed repentance, Are fit for death, and none but such as we, Death ought to claim; for when a snatcheth youth, It shows him but a tyrant; but when age, Then is a just, and not composed of rage. How fares my lad? Like one embracing death with all his parts, Reaching at life but with one little finger; His mind so firmly knit unto the first, That unto him the latter seems to be What may be pointed at, but not possessed. O but thou shalt possess it. If thou didst fear thy death but as I do, Thou wouldst take pity, though not of thyself, Yet of my aged years; trust me my boy, thou'st struck such deep compassion in my breast, That all the moisture which prolongs my life, Will from my eyes gush forth, if now thou leav'st me.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
In deareſt affection to his vertuous will He then a night appointed to fulfill Hymens bleſt-rites, and to conuey away His loues faire perſon, to which peereleſſe pray I was acquainted made, and when the hower Of her eſcape drew on, then luſt did power Inraged appetite through all my veines. And baſe deſires in me let looſe the reines To my licentious will, and that blacke night When my friend ſhould haue had his chaſt delight, I fain'd his preſence, and by her, thought him Rob'd that faire virgin of her honors Iem: For which moſt heynous, crime vpon each tree I write this ſtory that mens eyes may ſee, None but a damn'd one would haue done like me. Is Albert then become ſo penitent, As in theſe deſarts to deplore his facts, Which his vnfain'd repentance ſeemes to cleere: How good man is, when he laments his ill? VVho would not pardon now that mans miſdeeds, Whoſe griefes bewaile them thus, could I now liue, I'de remit thy fault with Carracus: But death no longer will afford repreeue Of my aboundant woes: wrong'd Carracus farewell, Liue, and forgiue thy wrongs, for the repentance Of him that eauſ'd them, ſo deſerues from thee; And ſince my eyes do witneſſe Alberts griefe, I pardon Albert in my wrongs the chiefe. How pardon me, O ſound Angelicall, But ſee! ſhee faints, O heauens now ſhew your power, That theſe diſtilled waters made in griefe, May ad ſome comfort to affliction: Looke vp faire youth, and ſee a remedy. O who diſturbs me, I was hand in hand, VValking with death vnto the houſe of reſt. Let death walke by himſelfe, if a want company, Theres many thouſands boy, whoſe aged yeeres Haue tane a ſurfet of earths vanities, They will goe with him, when he pleaſe to call, To drinke my boy thy pleaſing tender youth Cannot deſerue to dye, no, it is for vs, VVhoſe yeeres are laden by our often ſinnes, Singing the laſt part of our bleſt repentance, Are fit for death, and none but ſuch as we, Death ought to claime; for when a ſnatcheth youth, It ſhewes him but a tyrant; but when age, Then is a iuſt, and not compoſ'd of rage. How fares my lad? Like one imbracing death withall his parts, Reaching at life but with one little finger; His minde ſo firmely knit vnto the firſt, That vnto him the latter ſeemes to be VVhat may be pointed at, but not poſſeſt. O but thou ſhalt poſſeſſe it. If thou didſt feare thy death but as I doe, Thou wouldſt take pitty, though not of thy ſelfe, Yet of my aged yeeres; truſt me my boy, Tha'ſt ſtrucke ſuch deepe compaſſion in my breaſt, That all the moiſture which prolongs my life, VVill from my eyes guſh forth, if now thou leau'ſt me.