Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
cause_n	cold_a	heat_n	hot_a	2,925	5	7.7399	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A10411	Poems with the Muses looking-glasse: and Amyntas· By Thomas Randolph Master of Arts, and late fellow of Trinity Colledge in Cambridge.	Randolph, Thomas, 1605-1635.; Randolph, Robert, 1612 or 13-1671.	1638 (1638)	STC 20694; ESTC S115618	150,754	394

through his eares A madnesse to distemper all the braine Then I another pipe will take And Dorique musique make To Civilize with graver notes our wits againe An answer to Mr Iohnso●…'s Ode●…o perswade him not to leave the stage BEn doe not leave the stage Cause 't is a loath some age For Pride and Impudence will grow too bold When they shall heare it told They frighted thee stand high as is thy cause Their hisse is thy applause More just were thy disdaine Had they appov'd thy vaine So thou for them and they for thee were borne They to incense and thou as much to scorne Wilt thou engrosse thy store Of wheat and powre no more Because their Bacon-braines have such a tast As more delight in mast No set'em forth a board of dainties full As thy best Muse can cull While they the while doe pine And thirst midst all their wine What greater plague can hell it selfe devise Then to be willing thus to tantalize Thou canst not find them stuffe That will be bad enough To please their pallats let 'em thine refuse For some Pye-corner Muse Shee is to faire an hostesse 't were a finne For them to like thine Inne 'T was made to entertaine Guests of a nobler straine Yet if they will have any of thy store Give 'em some scraps and send them from thy dore And let those things in plush Till they be taught to blush Like what they will and more contented bee With what Broome swept from thee I know thy worth and that thy lofty straines Write not to clothes but Braines But thy great spleene doth rise Cause moles will have no eyes This only in my Ben I faulty find He 's angry they ' le not see him that are blind Why should the Scene be Mute Cause thou canst touch a Lute And string thy Horace let each Muse of nine Claime thee and say thou art mine 'T wer fond to let all other flames expire To sitt by Pindar's fire For by so strange neglect I should my selfe suspect The Palsie were as well thy braines disease If they could shake thy Muse which way they please And though thou well canst sing The glories of thy King And on the wings of verse his chariot beare To heaven and fixe it there Yet let thy Muse as well some raptures raise To please him as to praise I would not have thee choose Only a treble Muse But have this envious ignorant Age to know Thou that canst sing so high canst reach as low A Dialogue Thirsis Lalage Th. MY Lalage when I behold So great a cold And not a spark of heat in thy desire I wonder what strange power of thine Kindles in mine So bright a flame and such a burning fire Lalag Can Thirsis in Philosophy A truant bee And not have learn'd the power of the Sun How he to sublunary things A favour brings Yet in himselfe is subject unto none Th. But why within thy eyes appeare Never a teare That cause from mine perpetuall showres to fall La. Foole 't is the power of fire you know To melt the snow Yet has no moisture in it selfe at all Th. How can I be deare Virgin show Both fire and snow Doe you that are the cause the reason tell More then miracle to me It seemes to be That so much heate with so much cold should dwell La. The reason I will render thee Why both should bee Audacious Thirsis in thy love too bold 'Cause thy sawcinesse durst aspire To such a fire Thy love is hot but 't is thy hope is cold Th. Let pitty move thy gentle brest To one opprest This way or that give ease to my desire And either let Loves fire be lost In hopes cold frost Or hopes cold frost be warm'd in loves quick fire La. O neither Boy neither of these Shall worke thy ease I ' le pay thy rashnesse with immortall paine As hope doth strive to freeze thy flame Love melts the same Th. As Love doth melt it Hope doth freez't again Come gentle swaines lend me a groane To ease my moane Chorus Ah cruell Love how great a power is thine Vnder the Poles although we lye Thou mak'st us frye And thou canst make us freeze beneath the line A Dialogue betwixt a Nymph and a Shepheard Nymp. WHy sigh you swain this passion is not cōmon I' st for your kids or Lambkins Sh For a woman Nymp. How ●…aire is shee that on so sage a brow Prints lowring looks Shep Iust such a toy as thou Nymp. Is shee a maid Sh what man can answer that Nymp. Or widdow Sh No. Nym what then Sh I know not Saint-like shee lookes a Syren if shee sing Her eyes are starres her mind is every thing Nymp. If shee be fickle Shepheard leave to wooe Or fancy mee Sh No tho●… art woman too Nymp. But I am constant Sh Then thou art not faire Nymp. Bright as the morning Sh Wavering as the Ayre Nymp. What grows upon this cheeke Sh A pure Carnation Nym. Come tast a kisse Sh. O sweet ô sweet Temptation Cho. Ah Love and canst thou never loose the feild Where Cupid layes a seige the towne must yeild Hee warmes the chiller blood with glowing fire And thaws the Icy frost of cold desire A Pastorall Ode COy Coelia dost thou see Yon hollow mountaine tottering o're the plaine O're which a fatall Tree With treacherous shade betrayes the sleepy swaine Beneath it is a Cell As full of horrour as my brest of care Ruine therein might dwell As a fit roome for guilt and black dispaire Thence will I headlong throw This wretched weight this heape of misery And in the dust below Bury my Carcasse and the thought of thee Which when I finish'd have O hate me dead as thou hast done alive And come not neare my grave Least I take heat from thee and so revive A Song MVsick thou Queene of soules get up and string Thy pow'rful Lute and some sad requiem sing Till Rocks requite thy Eccho with a groane And the dull clifts repeate the duller tone Then on a suddaine with a nimble hand Runnne gently o're the Chordes and so command The Pine to dance the Oake his Roots forgoe The holme and aged Elme to foot it too Mirtles shall caper lofty Cedars runne And call the Courtly Palme to make up one Then in the midst of all their Iolly traine Strike a sad note and fixe 'em Trees againe The Song of Discord LEt Linus and Amphions lute With Orpheus●…itterne ●…itterne now be mute The harshest voice the sweetest note The Raven has the choicest throate A set of Frogs a quire for mee The Mandrake shall the Chaunter bee Where neither voice nor tunes agree This is discords Harmonie Thus had Orpheus learn'd to play The following Trees had run away To one Overhearing his private discourse I Wonder not my Laeda farre can see Since for her eyes shee might an Eagle bee And dare the Sun but that shee heares so well