Selected quad for the lemma: book_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
book_n	bishop_n	church_n	see_v	3,056	5	3.9474	3	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A89445	A wipe for Iter-Boreale Wilde: or, An infallible cure for the gout.	I. M.	1670 (1670)	Wing M32; ESTC R220526	1,873	1

A WIPE for ITER-BOREALE WILDE OR An Infallible Cure for the Gout GOUT I conjure thee by the pow'rful names Of Monk and Brown and their victorious fames To tell me speak no doubt thou canst speak come A Presbyterian Bishop can't be dumb Why didst thou shackle the Poetick feet Of thy lov'd Master when it was most meet They should be jogging Can Monk and Brown die And Wild be tame not write an Elegie Gout thou' rt ingrateful Hast so soon forgot Who made thee Bishop did he make thee sot See Presbyterian Humility Ev'n their Distempers Governors must be A Gout install'd a Bishop hence we know Who you had rather should be at your toe If thou art Bishop Gout speak what dost ail Bishops the Churches loss use to bewail Gout keep thy place if thou canst live at ease Pity a Bishop should leave 's Diocess Monk Brown die unlamented sad disasters See see how Presbyterians love their Masters You that at Publick Triumphs sowrely look That in your faces ev'n without a book A Let'ny may be read dare you not cry Good Lord deliver's when such men do dy That Conventicles must go down 't is signe When Conventiclers have forgot to whine Shall Englands Trusty Loyal General dye And go to 's grave without a single sigh When Calamy Rebellious Trump'ter shall Whole volleys have discharg'd at 's Funeral This seems not fair play Wild ev'n to us boyes But you like us love them that make most noise Hold Hold this is not all this proud withstander Can't chuse but hate Monk ' cause he was Commander Stay furious Muse Let 's breath a little come We 'll in again by-th ' help of Haw or Hum. Hum Haw nay stay what shall we hold forth next We 'll keep t' our business though we leave our Text. But to the matter Wild 't is wisely done No people yet ador'd the setting Sun To Heath'nish customs Saints cannot conform When we are calmest then 's their Cue to storm We applaud men when they go off the stage They when they enter slighly to engage Them to their party Such perverse Comedians Are all these Crab-like cross-grain'd Presbyterians Monk that one Monosyllable out shines Plantagenets bright name and Constantines They have the art to time things this was wrote When George came newly out of th' arms o' th' Scot. Oh then Wild thought for Kirk he would declare And thought he should b' a niggard did he spare But mark the end George proves an honest man And 's hated by this Presbyterian For did he love him now 's a time to show it Monk's death 's a subject that can make a Poet Wild of that Syllable why now ne're a word The reason 's plain Division it abhorr'd If a recanting Penitent but part With 's errors saying Mines a broken heart ' Gainst him Wild writes Why Lee doth hardnes want He can't be precious if no Adamant If George deserv'd no Elegie from thee Yet shall the Dutchess thus rewarded be She that from top to toe thee cloath'd is 't meet Thou shouldst not give her one poor winding-sheet Canst not be Wild but thou 't be also rude See people Presbyterian Gratitude But stay the Conscientious Sister-hood Perhaps do say Sweet Doctor't cann't be good For to revive a dead Monks memory We think it savours much of Popery Most Sister-like advice Are these your fears Yet sure Brown's name sounds sweet i' th' Sectaries ears This Brown's sure should in thine his Chaplain Wild Hast thou thy Patron of his dues beguil'd A Presbyterian is the greatest cheat He 'll not say Grace where he expects no meat Perhaps these petty things Wild hath forgot He 's thinking what Noncon dare swear what not I dare not swear they 're truly Loyal but When we their Swords have I 'll swear they 'l not cut I dare not swear they love to keep the Laws But I dare swear they 'd run to start the cause Had they but opportunity to do 't And Wild would follow though with limping foot For all his Crack-f brag Our King misled We 'll bite our nails rather then scratch our head Or his We 'll prove more Loyal and more true And give to Caesar and to God his due Wild hath thy Muse no subject doth she want one Let her next prophecy on Doctor Manton And if he stay Wild come and keep his door Hang Conventicles then you 'll ne're be poor Your City-Brethren sure will give you bub And there with one another you may club For whining tones ' gainst Bishops how to rant Rich Wine will make you Doctors loudly cant And when guilt robs you of your sweet repose O' th' Solemn League and Cov'nant take a dose No doubt your hearts with joy it needs must fill To think you suffer Why to please your will There read your Iter Boreale o're And spell that Backward which you wrote before Your silence now says you dissembled then Yet these are the plain dealing honest men Wild vow you 'll ne're praise man more till you know Whether he 'll live and dye your Friend or Foe I. M. LONDON Printed in the YEAR 1670. * Gout so called in his Letter to Calamy * Witness Iter Boreale Iter Boreale