Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
With lively hearts my trumpeters, exalt your tubal sound. And now my soldiers in your hearts, let courage eke be found. Come let us go the gods for us, shall make an easy way, Spare none alive for I am bent, to seek their great decay. A lack what heaps of mischiefs great, me silly wight torment. Now is the time fall me upon, which I thought to prevent Yet best I seek my life to save, perhaps he will me here, A lack revengement he doth crave, for slaying his father dear. If any spark of mother's blood, remained within thy breast, Oh gracious child let now thine ears, unto my words be priest Pardon I crave Horestes mine, save now my corpses from death Let no man say that thou wast cause, I yielded up my breath, I have offended I do confess, yet save my life I pray, And to they mother this request, o knight do not denay. For to repent this fact of thine, now that it is to late, Can not be thought a recompense, for killing of thy mate. Go have her hence therefore with speed, & see her surely kept, And for the fact afore thou didst, thou surly shouldst have wept Nay, far you well, in faith you have an answer, get you hence. 'ounds of me I would not be, in her coat for forty pence. Nay nay, a way far well a dew, now now, it is to late. When stead is stolen for you in sooth, to shut the stable gate. She should have wept when first she went, the king about to slay, It makes no matter she foul well, did breed her own decay 'ounds of me what mean you man, begin you now to faint Iesu god how still he sits, I think he be a saint. Ooooo, you care not for me, nay soon I have done I warrant ye By all the gods my heart did fail, my mother for to see, From high estate for to be brought, to so great misery. That all most I had granted life, to her had not this be, My father's death whose death in sooth, chief causer of was she. even as you say but hark at hand, Aegisthus draweth nigh. Who purposeth the chance of war, Horestes for to try. And by the gods I purpose eke, my honour to defend, Come on my men keep your array, for now we do pretend. either to be the conquerer, or else to die in field, life up your hearts and let us see, how ye your blow can yield. Like manley men address yourselves, to get immortal fame, If ye do fly lo what doth rest, behind but foul defame. Strike up your drums let trumpets sound, your banners eke display, And I myself as captain, to you will lead the way.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
With lyuely hartes my troumpeters, exault your tubal ſound. And now my ſodyers in your harts, let courrage eke be found. Com let vs go the godes for vs, ſhall make an eaſey waye, Spare none a lyue for I am bent, to ſeke their great decaye. A lack what heaps of myſchefes great, me ſelly wight torment. Now is the tyme falune me vpon, which I thought to preuent Yet beſt I ſeke my lyfe to ſaue, perhappes he will me here, A lacke reuengment he dothe craue, for ſlaying his father dere. Yf aney ſparke of mothers bloud, remaynd within thy breſte, Oh gratious child let now thine eares, vnto my words be preſt Pardon I craue Horeſtes myne, ſaue now my corpes frō death Let no man ſaye that thou waſt cauſe, I yeldyd vp my breath, I haue offendyd I do confeſſe, yet ſaue my lyfe I praye, And to they mother this requeſt, o knight do not denaye. For to repent this facte of thyne, now that it is to late, Can not be thought a recompence, for kylling of thy mate. Go haue her hence therfore with ſpede, & ſe her ſureley kepte, And for ye fact a fore thou dydeſt, thou ſurley ſhouldſt haue wept Nay, far you wel, in fayth you haue an aunſwer, get you hence. Oundes of me I would not be, in her cote for forty pence. Nay nay, a way far well a dew, now now, it is to late. When ſtede is ſtollen for you in ſouth, to ſhut the ſtable gate. She ſhould haue wept whē firſt ſhe went, ye king about to ſlay, It makes no matter ſhe foull well, dyd brede her owne decaye Ounds of me what meane you man, begyn you now to faynt Ieſu god how ſtyll he ſyttes, I thinke he be a ſaynt. Ooooo, you care not for me, nay ſone I haue don I warrant ye By all the godes my hart dyd fayle, my mother for to ſe, From hye eſtate for to be brought, to ſo great myſerey. That all moſt I had graunted lyfe, to her had not this be, My fathers death whoſe death in ſouth, chefe cauſer of was ſhe. Euen as you ſaye but harke at hand, Egiſtus draweth nye. Who purpoſieth the chaunce of war, Horeſtes for to trye. And by the godes I purpoſe eke, my honour to defend, Com on my men kepe your araye, for now we do pretend. Eather to be the conqerer, or elles to dye in felde, Lyft vp your hartes and let vs ſe, how ye your bloſe can yeld. Lyke manley men adreſſe your ſelues, to get immortall fame, Yf ye do flye lo what doth reſt, behynde but foull defame. Strike vp your drūs let trūpets ſoūd, your baners eke diſplay, And I my ſelfe as captayne, to you wyll lead the waye.