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	great_a	king_n	2,913	5	3.6168	3	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A53298	Satyrs upon the Jesuits written in the year 1679, upon occasion of the plot, together with the Satyr against vertue, and some other pieces by the same hand.	Oldham, John, 1653-1683.	1681 (1681)	Wing O244; ESTC R3124	42,552	166

late reigning Witch th' Enchantment broke It shall again Hell and I say 't have ye But courage to make good the Prophesie Not Fate it self shall hinder Too sparing was the time too mild the day When our great Mary bore the English sway Unqueen-like pity marr'd her Royal Pow'r Nor was her Purple dy'd enough in Gore Four or five hundred such-like petty sum Might fall perhaps a Sacrifice to Rome Scarce worth the naming had I had the Pow'r Or bin thought fit t' have bin her Councellor She should have rais'd it to a nobler score Big Bonfires should have blaz'd and shone each day To tell our Triumphs and make bright our way And when 't was dark in every Lane and Street Thick flaming Hereticks should serve to light And save the needless Charge of Links by night Smithfield should still have kept a constant fire Which never should be quench'd never expire But with the lives of all the miscreant rout Till the last gasping breath had blown it out So Nero did such was the prudent course Taken by all his mighty successours To tame like Hereticks of old by force They scorn'd dull reason and pedantick rules To conquer and reduce the harden'd Fools Racks gibbets halters were their arguments Which did most undeniably convince Grave bearded Lions manag'd the dispute And reverend Bears their doctrins did confute And all who would stand out in stiff defence They gently claw'd and worried into sence Better than all our Sorbon dotards now Who would by dint of words our Foes subdue This was the riged discipline of old Which modern sots for Persecution hold Of which dull Annalists in story tell Strange legends and huge bulky volumus swell With Martyr'd Fools that lost their way to hell From these our Church's glorious Ancestours We 've learnt our arts made their methods ours Nor have we come behind the least degree In acts of rough and manly cruelty Converting faggots and the pow'rful stake And Sword resistless our Apostles make This heretofore Bohemia felt and thus Were all the num'rous proselites of Huss Crush'd with their head So Waldo's cursed rout And those of Wickliff here were rooted out Their names scarce left Sure were the means we chose And wrought prevailingly Fire purg'd the dross Of those foul heresies and soveraign Steel Lopt off th' infected limbs the Church to heal Renown'd was that French Brave renown'd his deed A deed for which the day deserves its red Far more than for a paltry Saint that died How goodly was the Sight how fine the Show When Paris saw through all its Channels flow The blood of Huguenots when the full Sein Swell'd with the flood its Banks with joy o'reran He scorn'd like common Murderers to deal By parcels and piecemeal he scorn'd Retail I' th' Trade of Death whole Myriads died by th' great Soon as one single life so quick their Fate Their very Pray'rs and Wishes came too late This a King did and great and mighty 't was Worthy his high Degree and Pow'r and Place And worthy our Religion and our Cause Unmatch'd 't had bin had not Mac-quire arose The bold Mac-quire who read in modern Fame Can be a Stranger to his Worth and Name Born to outsin a Monarch born to Reign In Guilt and all Competitors disdain Dread Memory whose each mention still can make Pale Hereticks with trembling Horrour quake T' undo a Kingdom to atchieve a crime Like his who would not fall and die like him Never had Rome a nobler service done Never had Hell each day came thronging down Vast shoals of Ghosts and mine was pleas'd glad And smil'd when it the brave revenge survey'd Nor do I mention these great Instances For bounds and limits to your wickedness Dare you beyond something out of the road Of all example where none yet have trod Nor shall hereafter what mad Catiline Durst never think nor 's madder Poet feign Make the poor baffled Pagan Fool confess How much a Christian Crime can conquer his How far in gallant mischief overcome The old must yield to new and modern Rome Mix Ills past present future in one act One high one brave one great one glorious Fact Which Hell and very I may envy Such as a God himself might wish to be A Complice in the mighty villany And barter's heaven and vouchsafe to die Nor let Delay the bane of Enterprize Marr yours or make the great importance miss This fact has wak'd your Enemies and their fear Let it your vigour too your haste and care Be swift and let your deeds forestall intent Forestall even wishes ere they can take vent Nor give the Fates the leisure to prevent Let the full Clouds which a long time did wrap Your gath'ring thunder now with sudden clap Break out upon your Foes dash and confound And scatter wide destruction all around Let the fir'd City to your Plot give light You raz'd it half before now raze it quite Do 't more effectually I 'd see it glow In flames unquenchable as those below I 'd see the Miscreants with their houses burn And all together into ashes turn Bend next your fury to the curst Divan That damn'd Committee whom the Fates ordain Of all our well-laid Plots to be the bane Unkennel those State-Foxes where they ly Working your speedy fate and destiny Lug by the ears the doting Prelates thence Dash Heresie together with their Brains Out of their shatter'd heads Lop off the Lords And Commons at one stroke and let your Swords Adjourn 'em all to th' other world Would I were blest with flesh and bloud again But to be Actor in that happy Scene Yet thus I will be by and glut my view Revenge shall take its fill in state I 'le go With captive Ghosts t' attend me down below Let these the Handsells of your vengeance be Yet stop not here nor flag in cruelty Kill like a Plague or Inquisition spare No Age Degree or Sex onely to wear A Soul onely to own a Life be here Thought crime enough to lose 't no time nor place Be Sanctuary from your outrages Spare not in Churches kneeling Priests at pray'r Though interceding for you slay ev'n there Spare not young Infants smiling at the brest Who from relenting Fools their mercy wrest Rip teeming Wombs tear out the hated Brood From thence drown 'em in their Mothers bloud Pity not Virgins nor their tender cries Though prostrate at your feet with melting eyes All drown'd in tears strike home as 't were in lust And force their begging hands to guide the thrust Ravish at th' Altar kill when you have done Make them your Rapes the Victims to attone Nor let gray hoary hairs protection give To Age just crawling on the verge of Life Snatch from its leaning hands the weak support And with it knock't into the grave with sport Brain the poor Cripple with his Crutch then cry You 've kindly rid him of his misery Seal up your ears to mercy lest