Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
cause_n	death_n	die_v	life_n	5,110	5	5.0778	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A03755	H. His deuises, for his owne exercise, and his friends pleasure	Howell, Thomas, fl. 1568-1581.	1581 (1581)	STC 13875; ESTC S113292	47,409	104

white Let all of gréene Lawrell bedeck thy Garland Though some distill their teares That wrythed Willow weares Yet fainte not at their feares Séeme not to dread The wisest haue done so The Ualiant wrapt in wo Haue taken ouerthrow By Fancie led Where wyt is constrayned by will to giue place Their songs are of sorrow that ioyes would embrace Sing all of gréene Lawrell Let no deceytfull shewes of Venus bright shine Haue power once to pierce the sounde harte of thine So shall the gréene Lawrell set forth thy garland Waygh not the wauering minde That fléetes with euery winde Tyll thou some stay doe finde Trust not to farre Unto Dame Constancy Bende still thy battery Flye fast from flattery With bewtie make warre So shall thy well lyking not harme thée at all For fayth fixed firmely such fauour will fall That all of gréene Lawrell c. When others in dolor their wrack shall bewayle Thy shyp on the sounde seas in safetie may sayle Where crownde with gréene Lawrel in ioy thou shalt sing ¶ No newe fancies shall alter olde lyking THough Paris prayse Apollos Impe gan stayne When change of choyce his fickle humor fedde And Carthage cryes with strayned voyce complayne On periurde Prince by night that faithlesse fledde Though Iasons heste Medea founde vntrue And others mo there be whose fancye past That skorne the olde still haunting after newe Wythin whose hartes no léeking long may last Yet tyll syr Phebus beames shall lose their light And Ocean Seas doe cease to ebbe and flowe Untill the day shall turne to perfite night And Natures course against her kinde shall goe My fixed fayth vnspotted shall remayne What would you more I vowe I doe not fayne ¶ A Dreame WHen Phebus bright was setled in the West And darknesse dimme the earth had ouerspread When sylent night that moues eche thing to rest With quyet pawse had plaste me in my bed In stombring Dreame me thought I heard a wyght His woes bewayle that grewe through loues despyght Whose wearing wéede and vestures all were gréene Saue that his loynes with black were girded rounde And on his brest a badge of blewe was séene In signe his fayth and truth remayned sounde He sighed oft and said O blisfull hier When hope with hap may ioye in his desier But still to hope and finde therein no fruite To be in bed and restlesse there remayne To séeke to serue and daylie make pursute To such as set but light of weary payne Doth bréede such balefull dole within the brest As quyte bereaues all ioye and quyet rest Though taste of sower deserue the swéete to gayne Yet cruell Fate I sée the same denyes So that desyre and wisdome prooues but vayne Without accorde and fauour of the Skyes But stedfast hope séeme not quoth he to quayle The heauens in tyme may turne to thine auayle Scarse had he thus his wofull spéeche concluded When wake I did and sawe my selfe deluded ¶ The lamentable ende of Iulia Pompeis Wyfe SOre plungde in gréeuous paynes and wofull smarte Bedewed with trickling teares on Death like face Downe trylles the drops on chéekes sighs from hart To heare and sée her husbands dolefull case Thus goes thys spouse the wofull Iulia Besprent with bloud when Pompeis Cote she saw Downe dead she falles in lamentable sounde Of sence bereft so great was sorrowes strayne The chylde conceyude within by deadly wounde Untymely fruite came forth with pinching payne When all was done for loue her lyfe she lost For Pompeis sake shée yéelded vp her Ghost So dead she laye bewaylde with many teares A Matrone wise a famous Ornament O Caesar she had séene full chéerefull yeares If thou with Pompey couldst haue bene content But ciuill warres hath wrought this fatall stryfe To Pompey death to Iulia losse of lyfe ¶ Secrecy for some sorrowes a needefull remedy LIke as the captiue Wight in chayned lincks doth lye And hopes at Sise to be releast is thē condemde to dye Euen so alas my lot by frowning fate doth fall That sought to féede on swéete delight but found most bitter Gall. My restlesse labor lost I iustly may compare To Sisiphus that neuer sleepes and griefe to Titius care For after sundry stormes when calme I thinke to finde More rougher rage a new doth rise to straine my daunted minde And when my quelling cares I seeke by meanes to cure Most deepest dynte of inwarde woe alas I doe endure Prometheus pincht with payne nor Ixion whyrlde on wheele More grypes by griefe doe not sustaine then I vnhappy feele The somme of my vnrest yet couert will I keepe And secretly my sorrowes sup when others sounde doe sleepe To ease my pensyue brest a Uearse though here I frame The bursting forth of sorrows mine shal bréed no further blame My sydes shall shryne this smart my hart shall wast with woe Ere I the secrete of my cause bewray to friend or foe Saue onely to the Saint that swayes my lyfe at wyll Whose pittie may prolong the same or crueltie may kyll ¶ The ende of lyfe the begynning of blysse WHy shoulde we feare to dye Or séeke from Death to flye When Death the way doth make Eche worldly woe to slake By whome we passe to ioye Where neuer comes annoye Our tryflying tryumphs héere Though we estéeme them deere Are like to vapours vayne That waste with little rayne Deluding Dreames in déede Whereon our fancies féede What yéelde our pleasures all But swéetenesse mixt with Gall Their pryme of chiefest pride Unwares away doth slide Whose shewe of swéete delight Oft dymmes our perfyte sight Though Ioue in loftie seate Haue placed Princes great With Regall rule to raigne His glory to explaine Yet vades their pompe and powre As doth the wythred Flowre Loe here the surest staye The worlde doth yéelde vs aye Thy dearest friend to daye To morrow falles away Whose wante thou doest bewayle When teares may nought preuayle Sithe lyfe is myserie Uoyde of felicitie Full of anxietie Giuen to impietie The death I happy call That doth bereaue such thrall ¶ They soonest yeelde remedy that haue felt lyke extremetie THe flames of fyre and clowds of cold repugnant in my brest Hath quite exiled me from ioy and rest all quiet rest Yet oft alas in shewe I smile to shade my inwarde smarte When in my laughter waues of woe well nie do burst my harte Whose driery thoughts I would to God were séene so ful to thée As mine afflicted minde in payne doth powre them out on mée So should perhaps thy frozen hart now harde as Flintie stone Within thy brest w t melting teares take ruth on this my mone But as he well cannot discerne what tempest Saylers trye That neuer crost the checking tydes y t surge with waues on hye No more canst thou my cares descry for wante of ryper skill Although in déede the shewes thereof doe pleade for pittie still In vayne therfore my pensiue plaintes by Pen I doe expresse When both

and fall more lowe For Turrets tops that séemes to reach the Skyes By thundring stormes to shieuers smale are shaken The strongest holde where stowtest Souldiours lyes Mauger their might more greater force hath taken The soundest shyp long tost with tempest leakes In Wrastling windes the hugie Cables fayle The brasen péece surchargde with powder breakes And valiant hartes ore whelmde in woe do quayle The craggy Clyftes by floodes are fret at length The hardened stéele obeyes the hammers stroke The stiffest bow still bente doth lose his strength Base Fortunes blowes all ioy likewise doth choke How maye he then possesse a quiet minde That cause of rest doth séelde or neuer finde ¶ H. to himselfe WHom desteny shall denye A happy lyfe to finde Why should he wayling lye With pensiue hart and minde What gaine by mourning got What lost by little care When néeds must light to lot What desteny doth prepare ¶ Written to a most excellent Booke full of rare inuention GOe learned booke and vnto Pallas sing Thy pleasant tunes that swéetely sownde to hie For Pan to reache though Zoylus thée doth sting And lowre at thy lawde set nought thereby Thy makers Muse in spight of enuies chinne For wise deuise deserued praise shall winne Who views thée well and notes thy course aright And syftes eche sence that couched is in thée Must néedes extoll the minde that did thée dight And wishe the Muse may neuer weary bée From whence doth flowe such pithe in filed phrase As worthiest witte may ioy on thée to gase How much they erre thy rare euent bewrayes That stretch their skill the Fates to ouerthrow And how mans wisedome here in vaine seekes wayes To shun high powers that sway our states below Against whose rule although we striue to runne What loue foresets no humaine force may shunne But all to long thou hidste so perfite worke Séest not desyre how faine she seekes to finde Thy light but lost if thou in darknesse lurke Then shewe thy selfe and séeme no more vnkinde Unfolde thy fruite and spread thy maysters praise Whose prime of youth graue déeds of age displaies Go choyce conceits Mineruas Mirrour bright With Rubies ritch yfret wrought by the wise Pur●●ed with Pearle and decked with delight Where pleasure with profite both in their guise Discourse of Louers and such as solde shéepe Whose sawes well mixed shrowds misteries déepe Goe yet I say with spéede thy charge delyuer Thou néedst not blushe nor feare the foyle of blame The worthy Countesse sée thou follow euer Tyll Fates doe fayle maintaine her Noble name Attend her wyll if she vouchsafe to call Stoope to her state downe flat before her fall And euer thanke thou him that fyrst such fruite did frame By whome thy prayse shall liue to thy immortall fame ¶ Where Sorrowe is setled delyght is banished THe Sable sadde be wrapped hath my lymmes A sute most fyt for one repleat with griefe Whose strayned hart in sowrce of sorrowe swymmes Where wrackfull woes at no tyme finde reliefe Whose foode is feare whose drinke is dolor déepe Whose sawce is sighes whose tast sharpe passions are Whose rest is ruthe where sorrowes neuer sléepe Whose comfort clipsed is with clowds of care Whose helpe is frozen whose hap hath hard euente Whose hope is queld with clogge of colde dispayre Whose trust is tyerd whose toyle in vaine is spente Whose pensiue plaintes but beate the barreyn ayre Where nought I finde but drugges of bitter taste Whose dolefull dayes in darke annoye do waste ¶ The complainte of a sorrowfull wight founde languishing in a Forrest WHen spring in lyuely gréene eche fielde hath deckt anewe And strowde the soyle with flowers swéete of sundry kinds of hewe What time the chéerefull buds blossoms braue in fight Inuites the weary dulled minde abroad to take delight Then I by fancie led a tyme to sporte and play To Forrest fayre of pleasant ayre began to take the way And as I past through out a Ualley fayre and gréene Where sundrye swéete rare delights I earst had heard séene All whuste I found it tho such silence was there kept As if it midnight then had béene and all thing sounde had stept Whereat amazde I stoode and listning long might heare At last a dolefull sounding voyce with lowe lamenting cheare In shrubs hard shrowded by a wofull wight there lay Whose corps through care lingering griefe was welny worne away Where powring out his plainte he curst the tyme and when That fyrst on earth he placed was to lead his lyfe with men Whose selfeloue séemth so swéete that friendship yéeldes no tast And double dealing gaines such price that plainenesse is displast Alas quoth he the Babes one wombe brought forth and bare Will nowe obiect what are we bounde the one to others care Whereas good nature bids go méete thy friends distresse And beare some parte of his mishap that he may beare the lesse If friend to friend thus doe who faster friend should bee Then he alas in thy distresse that nought will doe for thée Ah wofull man he sayth thy lotte hath falne thée so That sowrce of sorrowes thée besets with waues of wailful wo. When he where fauour most thou shouldst by nature finde Doth causelesse shake thée of in care shewes himselfe vnkinde O wretch in dolor drencht O minde with mone opprest O gulfe of griefe O sea of sighes that straine the pensiue brest If wel by Pen thou couldst thy present passions showe The harl that hardned nowe remaines woulde soone relente I knowe But sith my hap is such as reape may no redresse Come forth you Forrest Driads all your mournefull Tunes expresse Drawe néere you Satyrs fower and straine your dolefull cryes To wayle the woes of him alas in languor déepe that lyes Be witnesse woodes and Fields ye Trées recorde my bale You Naides eke that haunt the Springs repeate my wofull tale And say vnto the wight that bydes vnfriendly bente How death would be so swéete to me as ioy to his contente For better twere of bothe then restlesse still remayne By ending quyte my lothed lyfe to ende my lingering payne Here sparing further spéeche aside he cast his eye And fynding me as one dismayde away he sought to flye Whose will when I perceaude to shunne my sight full bente I to him stept and askte the cause that moude him to lamente Wherto no worde he gaue but stands like one amazde And with a strange and gastly looke long tyme on me he gazde His face was thinne and leane his collour dim as leade His chéeks were wanne his body weake his eyes déepe sunck in head His hart straynde his minde tost his wyt with woe nere worne A rufull thing it was alas to viewe him so forlorne With déepe fet sighe from brest sent forth by inwarde payne His féeble voice and foltring tongue he gan at last to strayne And thus to me he sayde O what art thou in wo Me Myser wretche that