Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
cause_n	believe_v	hear_v	word_n	1,549	5	4.7559	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A49928	Lucius Junius Brutus, father of his country a tragedy : acted at the Duke's Theater, by their royal highnesses servants / written by Nath. Lee.	Lee, Nathaniel, 1653?-1692.; Scudéry, Madeleine de, 1607-1701. Clélie. English.	1681 (1681)	Wing L852; ESTC R10844	46,327	84

the expected joys Warm for my bed and rushing to my arms So loving too alas as we did love Granted in hast in heat in flame of passion He knew not what himself and so Subscrib'd But now Sir now my Lord behold a wonder Behold a Miracle to move your Soul Tho in my arms just in the grasps of pleasure His noble heart strook with the thoughts of Brutus Of what he promis'd you till then forgot Leapt in his brest and dash'd him from enjoyment He shriek'd y' immortal Gods what have I done No Teraminta let us rather perish Divide for ever with whole Seas betwixt us Rather than Sin against so good a Father Tho he before had barr'd your life and Fortune Yet would not trust the Traytors with the safety Of him he call'd tho Image of the Gods Val. O Saint-like Virtue of a Roman Wife O Eloquence Divine now all the arts Of Womens tongues the Rhetoric of the Gods Inspire thy soft and tender Soul to move him Ter. On this he rouz'd Swore by the Powers Divine He would fetch back the Paper that he gave Or leave his life amongst 'em kept his word And came to challenge it but oh too late For in the mid'st of all his Piety His strong perswasions to swift repentance His vows to lay their horrid Treasons open His execration of the barbarous Priests How he abhor'd that bloody Sacrament As much as you and curs'd the conjuration Vinditius came that had before alarm'd The wise Valerius who with all the Guards Found Titus here believ'd him like the rest And seiz'd him too as guilty of the Treason Val. But by the Gods my Soul does now acquit him Blest be thy tongue blest the auspicious Gods That sent thee O true pattern of perfection To plead his bleeding Cause There needs no more I see his Father 's mov'd Behold a joy A watry comfort rising in his eyes That sayes 'T is more than half a Heav'n to hear thee Bru. Hast O Valerius hast and send for Titus Ter. For Titus Oh that is a word too distant Say for your Son for your beloved Son The Darling of the World the joy of Heav'n The hope of Earth your eyes not dearer to you Your Soul's best wish and comfort of your age Enter Titus with Valerius Tit. Ah Sir Oh whither shall I run to hide me Where shall I lower fall how shall I lye More groveling in your View and howl for mercy Yet 't is some comfort to my wild despair Some joy in death that I may kiss your feet And swear upon 'em by these streaming tears Black as I am with all my guilt upon me I never harbor'd ought against your person Ev'n in the height of my full fraught distraction Your life my Lord was Sacred ever dear And ever pretious to unhappy Titus Bru. Rise Titus rise my Son Tit. Alas I dare not I have not strength to see the Majesty Which I have brav'd if thus far I aspire If on your knees I hang and vent my groans It is too much too much for thousand lives Bru. I pity thee my Son and I forgive thee And that thou may'st believe my mercy true I take thee in my arms Tit. O all the Gods Bru. Now rise I charge thee on my blessing rise Ter. Ah! See Sir see against his will behold He does obey tho he would choose to kneel An Age before you see how he stands and trembles Now by my hopes of mercy he 's so lost His heart 's so full brimful of tenderness The Sence of what you 've done has strook him Speechless Nor can be thank you now but with his tears Bru. My dear Valerius let me now intreat thee Withdraw a while with gentle Teraminta And leave us to our our selves Ter. Ah Sir I fear you now Nor can I leave you with the humble Titus Unless you promise me you will not chide Nor fall again to anger Do not Sir Do not upbraid his soft and melting temper With what is past Behold he sighs again Now by the Gods that hitherto have blest us My heart forebodes a storm I know not why But say my Lord give me your God-like word You 'l not be cruel and I 'll not trust my heart How e're it leaps and fills me with new horror Bru I promise thee Ter. Why then I thank you Sir Ev'n from my Soul I thank you for this goodness The great good gracious Gods reward and bless you Ah Titus ah my Soul 's eternal treasure I fear I leave thee with a hard Usurer But I perforce must trust thee Oh Farewell Exit with Val. Bru. Well Titus speak how is it with thee now I would attend awhile this mighty motion Wait till the Tempest were quite o'verblown That I might take thee in the Calm of Nature With all thy gentler Virtues brooding on thee So hush'd a stilness as if all the Gods Look'd down and listn'd to what we were saying Speak then and tell me O my best belov'd My Son my Titus is all well again Tit. So well that saying how must make it nothing So well that I could wish to dye this moment For so my heart with pow'erful throbs perswades me That were indeed to make you reparation That were my Lord to thank you home to dye And that for Titus too would be most happy Bru. How 's that my Son would death for thee be happy Tit. Most certain Sir for in my Grave I scape All those affronts which I in life must look for All those reproaches which the eyes and fingers And tongues of Rome will daily cast upon me From whom to a Soul so sensible as mine Each single Scorn would be far worse than dying Besides I scape the stings of my own Conscience Which will for ever Rack me with remembrance Haunt me by day and torture me by night Casting my blotted honor in the way Where e're my melancholy thoughts shall guide me Bru. But is not death a very dreadful thing Tit. Not to a mind resolv'd No Sir to me It seems as natural as to be born Groans and Convulsions and discolour'd faces Friends weeping round us blacks and obsequies Make it a dreadful thing the Pomp of death Is far more terrible than Death it self Yes Sir I call the Powers of Heav'n to witness Titus dares dye if so you have Decreed Nay he shall dye with joy to honor Brutus To make your Justice famous through the World And six the Liberty of Rome for ever Not but I must confess my weakness too Yet it is great thus to resolve against it To have the frailty of a mortal man But the Security of th' immortal Gods Bru. O Titus Oh thou absolute young man Thou flatt'ring Mirror of thy Father's Image Where I behold my self at such advantage Thou perfect Glory of the Iunian Race Let me indear thee once more to my bosom Groan an eternal Farewel to thy Soul Instead of tears weep blood if possible Blood