Selected quad for the lemma: book_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
book_n	good_a	read_v	scripture_n	3,013	5	5.7839	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A01909	Eglogs epytaphes, and sonettes. Newly written by Barnabe Googe: 1563. 15. Marche	Googe, Barnabe, 1540-1594.; Blundeston, Laurence.	1563 (1563)	STC 12048; ESTC S106441	40,386	170

and happy choyse In sacred Scoles thy luckye yeares to trayne By whiche thou hast obtaynde O happy thyng To learne to lyue whyle other wander wyde And by thy lyfe to please the immortall kyng Then whiche so good nothyng can be applyed Lawe gyues the gayne and Physycke fyls the Purse Promotions hye gyues Artes to many one But this is it by whiche we scape the Curse And haue the blys of God when we be gone Is this but onely Scriptures for to reade No no. Not talke but lyfe gyues this in deade ¶ To Doctor Bale GOod aged Bale that with thy hoary heares Doste yet persyste to turne the paynefull Booke O happye man that hast obtaynde suche yeares And leavst not yet on Papers pale to looke Gyue ouer now to beate thy weryed brayns And rest thy Pen that long hath laboured soore For aged men vnfyt sure is suche paine And the beseems to laboure now no more But thou I thynke Don Platoes part will playe With Booke in hand to haue thy dyeng daye ¶ Finis ¶ To M. Edwarde Cobham OLde Socrates whose wysdome dyd excell And past the reache of wysest in his tyme Surmounted all that on the earth dyd dwell That Craggye Hyls of vertue hye dyd clyme That Socrates my Cobham dyd allowe Eche man in youth hym selfe in Glasse to vew And wyld them oft to vse the same but how Not to delyght in forme of fadyng hew Nor to be proude therof as many be But for to stryue by beautie of the mynde For to adourne the beautie he doth se If warlyke forme Dame Nature hym assygnde By vertuous lyfe than coūtenaūce for to get That shall deface the fayrest of them all Suche Beautie as no age nor yeares wyll fret That flyes with fame whan fyckle forme doth fayle Thus muche I saye that here to the present My wordes a Glasse for the to looke vpon To the whom God in tender yeares hath lent A towardenes that maye be mused vpon Suche towardenes as in more grauer yeares Doth sure a hope of greater thyngs pretende Thy noble mynde that to thy frendes appeare Doth showe the blud wherof thou doste descende The gentlenes thou vsest vnto all suche As smallye haue deserued good wyll of the Doth showe the grace thou hast that sure is muche As euer yet in any I dyd se Thy wyt as rype as Nature well can gyue Declares a greater hope than all the rest That shall remayne to the whilst thou doste lyue In desperate yls a Medycyne euer prest The good behauyour of thy selfe in place Whersoeuer that thou chauncest for to lyght So much both beautie mynde and wyt doth grace As well can be requyred of any wyght What resteth now but onely God to prayse Of whom thou hast receaued these Gyftes of thyns So shalt thou long lyue heare with happye dayes And after Death the starrye Skyes shalt clyme Let noughtye men saye what they lyst to the Trade thou thy selfe in seruyng hym aboue No sweter seruyce can deuysed be Whom yf thou fearst and faythfully doste loue Be sure no thyng on earth shall the annoye Be sure he wyll the from eche harme defende Be sure thou shalt long tyme thy lyfe enioye And after many yeares to haue a blessed ende ¶ Finis ¶ Of Edwardes of the Chappell DEuyne Camenes that w t your sacred food Haue fed and fosterde vp from tender yeares A happye man that in your fauour stoode Edvvards in Courte that can not fynde his feares Your names be blest that in this present age So fyne a head by Arte haue framed out Whom some hereafter helpt by Poets rage Perchaunce maye matche but none shall passe no doubt O Plautus yf thou wert alyue agayne That Comedies so fynely dydste endyte Or Terence thou that with thy plesaunt brayne The hearers mynde on stage dydst much delyght What wold you say syrs if you should beholde As I haue done the doyngs of this man No word at all to sweare I durst be bolde But burne with teares that which with myrth began I meane your bookes by which you gate your name To be forgot you wolde commit to flame Alas I wolde Edvvards more tell thy prayse But at thy name my muse amased stayes To L. Blundeston SOme men be counted wyse that well can talke And some because they can eche man begyle Some for because they know well chese from chalke And can be sure weepe who so lyst to smyle But Blundston hym I call the wysest wyght Whom God gyues grace to rule affections ryght· The Aunswere of L. Blundeston to the same AFfections seekes hygh honours frayle estate Affections doth the golden meane reproue Affections tourns the frendly hart to hate Affections breede with out discretion Loue Both wyse and happye Googe he maye be hyght Whom God gyues grace to rule affections ryght ¶ To Alexander Neuell THe lytell Fysh that in the streme doth fleet With brode forth stretched Fyns for his disporte When as he spyes the Fysshes bayte so swete In haste he hyes fearynge to com to shorte But all to soone alas his gredy mynde By rash attempt doth bryng hym to his bane for where he thought a great relyefe to fynde By hydden hooke the symple fole is tane So fareth man that wanders here and theare Thynkyng no hurt to happen hym therbye He ronnes amayne to gase on Beauties cheare Takes all for golde that glysters in the eye And neuer leaues to feade by lookyng long On Beauties Bayte where Bondage lyes enwrapt Bondage that makes hym synge an other song And makes hym curse the bayte that hym entrapte Neuell to the that louest their wanton lookes Feade on the bayte but pet beware the Hookes Alexander Neuells Answere to the same IT is not cursed Cupids Dart Nor Venus cancred Spyght It is not vengea●ce of the Gods That wretched harts doth smyght With restlesse rage of carefull Loue. No No thy Force alone Aff●ct●on fond doth styr these flames Thou causest vs to mone And waile curs our wretched stats Our thryse vnhappy plights Our sighes powdred sobs w t tears Our greuous gronyng Sprights Thy hateful Malice doth procure O Fancye flamyng Feend Of Hel. For thou in outwarde shape And colour of a frende Dost by thy Snares slymed Hooks entrap the wounded Harts From whence these Hellike torments spryng euer greauyng Smarts Whence ●ripe of minde w t chaunged chere Whēce face be smeard w t teares Whēce thousād mischiefs more wher w t suche Mysers liues outweares Our gasyng eyes on Bewties bayt do worke out endles bane Our eyes I say doo woorke our woo Our eyes procure our paine These are the Traps to vexed mynds Here Gyns and Snares do lye Here fyre flames by Fancie framde In brest doo broyle and frye O Goo●e the Bayte sone spyed is Soone vewd their wanton lookes Wheron to feede and yet to shun The priuy lurkyng hookes Their pain Their toile Their labour is There There lyes endles strife O happye