Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T60: caesar, rome, emperor, empire, honour, lord, lucius, great, palsgrave, kings.
Can malice narrow eyes, See anything yet more it can traduce. His long continued taxes I forbear, In which he chiefly showed him to be Prince, His robbing Altars, sale of Holy things, The Antique Goblets of adored rust, And sacred gifts of Kings, and people sold. Nor was the spoil more odious, than the use, They were employed on, spent on shame, and lust Which still have been so endless in their change, And made us know a diverse servitude. But that he hath been suffered so long, And prospered, as you say: for that, to thee O Heaven, I turn myself, and cry; No God Hath care of us, yet have we our revenge, As much as Earth may be revenged on Heaven; Their divine honour Nero shall usurp, And prayers, and feasts, and adoration have, As well as Iupiter. Away blaspheming tongue Be ever silent for thy bitterness, What could cause thee, Forgetful of my benefits, and thy oath, To seek my life. Nero, I hated thee; Nor was there any of thy soldiers More faithful, while thou faith deserved'st than I, Together did I leave to be a subject, And thou a Prince, Caesar was now become A player on the Stage, a Waggoner, A burner of our houses, and of us, A Parricide of Wife, and Mother. Villain dost know where, & of whom thou speakst? Have you but one death for him, let it be A feeling one (Tigellinus) be't Thy charge, and let me see thee witty in't. Come sirrah we'll see how stoutly you'll stretch out your neck. would thou durst strike as stoutly, And what's he there? One that in whispering o'erheard What pity 'twas, my Lord, that Piso died. And why was't pity sirrah, Piso died? My Lord 'twas pity he deserved to die. How much this youth, my Otho doth resemble; Otho, my first, my best love, who is now (Under pretext of governing) exiled To Lucitania, honourably banished. Well, if you be so passionate, I'll make you spend your pity on your Prince, And good men, not on traitors. The Gods forbid my Prince should pity need. Somewhat, the sad remembrance did me stir Oath frail and weak condition of our kind, Somewhat his greatness; than whom yesterday, The world, but Caesar could show nothing higher; Besides, some virtues, and some worth he had, That might excuse my pity, to an end So cruel, and unripe. I know not how this stranger moves my mind, His face methinks is not like other men's, Nor do they speak thus; Oh, his words invade My weakened senses, and overcome my heart. Your pity shows, your favour and your will Which side you are inclined too, had your power, You can but pity, else should Caesar fear, Your ill affection then shall punished be. Take him to execution, he shall die, That the death pities of mine enemy.
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)
Can malice narrow eyes, See anything yet more it can traduce. His long continued taxes I forbeare, In which he chiefely ſhowed him to be Prince, His robbing Alters, ſale of Holy things, The Antique Goblets of adored ruſt, And ſacred gifts of Kings, and people ſold. Nor was the ſpoile more odious, then the vſe, They were imployd on, ſpent on ſhame, and luſt Which ſtill haue bin ſo endleſſe in their change, And made vs know a diuers ſeruitude. But that he hath bin ſuffered ſo long, And proſpered, as you ſay: for that, to thee O Heauen, I turne my ſelfe, and cry; No God Hath care of vs, yet haue we our reuenge, As much as Earth may be reueng'd on Heauen; Their diuine honour Nero ſhall vſurpe, And prayers, and feaſts, and adoration haue, As well as Iupiter. Away blaſpheming tongue Be euer ſilent for thy bitterneſſe, What could cauſe thee, Forgetfull of my benefits, and thy oath, To ſeeke my life. Nero, I hated thee; Nor was there any of thy ſouldiers More faithfull, while thou faith deſeru'dſt then I, Together did I leaue to be a ſubiect, And thou a Prince, Caeſar was now become A player on the Stage, a Waggoner, A burner of our houſes, and of vs, A Paracide of Wife, and Mother. Villaine doſt know where, & of whom thou ſpeakſt? Haue you but one death for him, let it bee A feeling one (Tigellinus) bee't Thy charge, and let me ſee thee witty in't. Come ſirrah Weele ſee how ſtoutly you'le ſtretch out your necke. Wold thou durſt ſtrike as ſtoutly, And what's hee thre? One that in whiſpering oreheard What pitie 'twas, my Lord, that Piſo died. And why waſt pitie ſirrah, Piſo died? My Lord 'twas pitie he deſeru'd to die. How much this youth, my Otho doth reſemble; Otho, my firſt, my beſt loue, who is now (Vnder pretext of gouerning) exyl'd To Lucitania, honourably baniſht. Well, if you be ſo paſsionate, Ile make you ſpend your pitie on your Prince, And good men, not on traytors. The Gods forbid my Prince ſhould pitie need. Somewhat, the ſad remembrance did me ſtirre Oth fraile and weake condition of our kind, Somewhat his greatneſſe; then whom yeſterday, The world, but Caeſar could ſhew nothing higher; Beſides, ſome vertues, and ſome worth he had, That might excuſe my pitie, to an end So cruell, and vnripe. I know not how this ſtranger moues my mind, His face me thinkes is not like other mens, Nor doe they ſpeake thus; Oh, his words inuade My weakned ſenſes, and ouercome my heart. Your pitie ſhewes, your fauour and your will Which ſide you are inclinde too, had your power, You can but pitie, elſe ſhould Caeſar feare, Your ill affection then ſhall puniſht bee. Take him to execution, he ſhall die, That the death pities of mine enemie.