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	life_n	sin_n	9,880	5	5.5192	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A13797	Alba The months minde of a melancholy louer, diuided into three parts: by R.T. Gentleman. Hereunto is added a most excellent pathetical and passionate letter, sent by Duke D'Epernoun, vnto the late French King, Henry the 3. of that name, when he was commanded from the court, and from his royall companie. Translated into English by the foresaid author.	Tofte, Robert, 1561-1620.; Epernon, Jean-Louis de Nogaret de La Valette, duc d', 1554-1642.	1598 (1598)	STC 24096; ESTC S111433	52,678	150

ride Creator of all Creatures that do liue Whose Loue was such as thou for Man hast dide Though he thee hated skorned and did grieue Vouchsafe to view and rue my desprate state And me once more from sinne regenerate Ah looke vpon me with milde Mercies eye Clense me with purest Water of thy Grace Remember not how I haue gone awry Since I renounce to runne more such a Race Ah glorious Spouse thy Beautie I desire For now to He●uen not Earth my Thoughts aspire Griefe that was once farre off remou'd from me Begins as now for to approach me nere Clad in his Weedes which Black and fearf●ll be And crownde with fatall Cypresse doth appeare With wringing Hands he doth bewaile my ruth And mournes that I haue straide so wide frō Truth Reason the Cochman to my wandring Thought As in a Christall glasse doth shew most plaine My gazing eyes how I haue fondly wrought Spending my Time in Toyes and Fancies vaine He shew'th me now another Nouell LOVE Another path wherein my feete to moue As One who in his Trauaile doth espie By chance a hideous Serpent or foule Snake That long before vnseene did closely lie Behinde some stub where he his Nest did make Shaking his three-forkt hissing tongue apace Quickly himselfe retireth from that place So I by louing wrong vnhappie Wight Hauing amisse straide long time and awrie When I at last of Death had but a sight Although farre off yet backward gan I hie Backward I came with hastie speedie foote Leauing that Course which I at first had tooke Thou w●ndring Spirit to whom Ioue doth commit Of this my Body fraile the gouernment Why gadding thus from Truth so farre dost flit Why are thine eyes with wilfull blindnes pent Why dost not marke what Danger is at hand What damned Death doth at thine elbow stand Ah be not flattred with this poysenous LOVE But call thy former Wits to thee againe Those wicked Thoughts roote out and hence remoue Whilst Life in thee to do it doth remaine What Mortall is by mortall Death suppresse Thy Gaine shall be the more thy Losse the lesse Heauen once thy Mansion was and dwelling place Now Hell thou seekst by running thus astray Vnhappie Soule to be in such a case So wilfully to seeke thine owne Decay Thou woundst thy selfe to God a Rebbell th' art And only striu'st to please the World in Hart. Alas in whom now dost thou put thy trust On whom dost thou relie or hope on now Ah turne and still liue shalt thou with the Iust Ah turne againe and trebble blessed thou Thou then shalt be whereas the Blessed are Pure Soule mongst Soules mongst Stars a brightsome Starre What 's God The Sourse of Goodnes and the Sprin● What is that Goodnes Such a Goodnes sound As aye increaseth without perishing How is it made In frame and fashion Round Like to a Forme that in it doth containe His End and his Beginning in the same This Goodnes first from whence did it proceede Three proper Veines there be that forth do runne Out of one sacred Sea from Heauen decreede Which co●passe doth All what so ere sees Sunne Cannot we see it This ESSENCE most Diuine No Mortall Man hath seene at any time How can it then be if it neere be seene That i● our mindes oft lifteth vp on High As if in Vision we in Heauen had beene It makes vs view such Wonders with Faiths eye With Faith● cleere eye which shines to vs so bright As vnto Heauen it is our Guide and Light What is that Faith A Gift which if Defect In him that firme beleeueth be not found It blindfold leades him yet with steps direct Vnto that place where perfect Ioyes abound Where God the Father Sonne and Holy Ghost Doe raigne in Glorie great of Mightiest most Thou LIFE which Life art calde and yet art Death Thou DEATH which Death art termde and yet art Life Say which of you maintaine my v●tall breath Within thi● wretched Vale of Worldly strife Say which prolongs my Life most of you Twaine Or thou LIFE or thou DEATH say both the same I more then LIFE straight DEATH doth answer make Nay I quoth LIFE farre more then DEATH to me And for this Cause this only Name I take Of LIFE which by my meanes alone can be Because whilst I within thy Body liue Death no way can thee hinder hurt or grieue But I by cutting off DEATH straight replies This slender Thred whereby Men runne their race Bring euery Faithfull soule in friendly wise Where he a better path for aye may trace Making him leade a Life eternallie A LIFE that still doth liue and neuer die Wherefore what ere he be that meanes to ioy This other LIFE that is Celestiall He mu●● not scorne to scape from worlds annoy Nor thinke it much to come when DEATH shall call For DEATH no● LIFE doth help vs at the end LIFE is our Foe but DEATH our dearest Friend All fraile most happie Day in blessed wise A Day of Griefe yet Honorable Day In which the Father did for Sacrifise Offer his Sonne to saue Man from decay Clensing our Soules defilde with sinfull mind With Innocent with pure and pretious Blood Vpon that Crosse now sacred then Prophane He ●ide for vs who could not dye indeede Whilst closing his fayre eyes for Mortals gaine He opened all the Gates of Heauen with speede Restoring them that Kingdome we had lost VVhich nothing Vs but Him too dearly cost Not his but our Due was it for to Die Those Torments which he meekly did endure His Crowne of Thornes his Wounds done spitefully That Cursed Scourge that spilt his Blood so pure All these to Vs and not to him did long Yet for our sakes our Christ himselfe did wrong Then if for pitie Graues do open wide Hils cleaue and Marble pillars rent in twaine If Heauens themselues their Lights for griefe do hide And if the Sunne for sorow clipst remaine VVhat Mortall hart is there that doth not breake VVhen he but thinks or of this Day doth speake That Vertue through whose power rulde is my soule Only through Vertuous Loue from Loue set free Takes force afresh as one that would controule And finding strong himselfe within to bee Vnbridled Will he seekes to bridle now And tries to breake what fore he scarce could bow New Lords new Lawes New Customes breake the Olde And where before a dark and mistie clowde My minde as in a prison did infolde Now is it loosde from out that gloomie shrowde My Hart doth iump euen iust with his desire And by their Eye know both what to require My watchfull Soule recouered hath well nie The former state in which he liued in And being free doth call to memorie VVhat bound he did forget through wretched sin VVhil●● for his life repentant he attends Immortally to liue for his amends Not any part there is of Bodie mine But filled is with true not false Delight Yet doth it grieue

doe Nor Loue obtaine in vaine t is then to sue Deare to my Soule for Deare I may thee call Since thou farre dearer then my selfe I holde When wilt thou rid me from this loathed thrall In which I am through Fancies bandes enrold When wilt thou keepe thy promise vnto mee Whereof no deedes but words I yet can see Why doubtfull still doest thou my ioyes prolong And driuste me of in dalliance without cause Me and thy selfe why doest thou double wrong To keepe thy word why so long doest thou pause Thus for to lo●e thy golden ●ime t is sin Which once being past againe thou canst not win Matters of state we vse to politize Procrastinating for aduantage great LOVE lingring hates and lothes to temporize Delaie's too ●olde for his orewarmed heate Ah doe not driue me of thus still in vaine Still for to lose t is much once let me gaine Dearer to me then th'apple of mine eyes Let word and deede but once for all agree Not any can in face thee equalize If but a little more thou kinde wouldst be Then with allusiue Sightes feede not me still But graunt at last for to performe my will Ye luke warme Teares which from my nere dride eyes Streame downe amaine like fountaines day and night Wende to my Lady in most humble wise And shew to her my most vnhappie plight Wende vnto her who outwardly in shew Seemes pittifull but inward is not so Weepe you ●o her and say I st possible A Creature that so courteous seemes to all Shoulde haue a hart more cruell and more fell Then Tiger harder then a stony wall Ah why seemes she not inwardly as kinde As she doth outward shew the world to blinde This my Icarian soaring boue my reach Though Beautie serenising fals my Hart How I ore bolde my headlong fall doth teach Whilest LOVE doth play gainst me a subtile part Yet Beauties Birth I am by her I breath Though liue against her fauour and her leaue Wilde fire with milke is quencht rigor with teares Yet naught her stubborne minde can mollifie Vnto my prayers she stops her deafened eares And with Despayre requites my Courtesie Thus am I still starre crossed in my Loue As one bewitcht with whom no good doth proue How long shall I diue in this vastie Sea To finde this Perle this Orient MARGARITE How long this bottome founding shall I be Yet nere attaine this precious Iewell bright My labors like to Hercules abound Who more he did the more to doe stil found I am too weake with Ospraies eyes to looke Against the fierie beames of this faire Sun Too great a Burthen haue I fondly tooke For my weake shoulders long since ouercome The more I seeke the farther I to finde Like to the wretch that of his sight is blinde My brused Bulwarke is not strong enough For to resist this beautious Batterie My yoke too small to draw so huge a plough Mine eyes too dimme such Brightnes to descries This sh●wes that as vnluckie I was borne To die vnfortunate I must not scorne Yet I le not leaue to intercessionate To her hard Breast for my too gentle Hart That if her Rigor she 'le not mitigate At least she 'le somewhat ease me of this Smart I onely craue if she 'le not yeelde reliefe T'adiourne my paine and to proroge my Griefe Thrise trebble blessed BRACELET rich in prise I enuie not thy perlie fret nor golde But fortune thine because in happie wise The place of perfect pleasure thou dost holde About that wrist thou turnst and windst so oft More white then Snow then thistle down more soft Base mindes loue Golde t is not thy Golde I steeme For this I onely value thee at much Because an Ornament th' art to be seene Of her white Hand yclept of right NONESVCH NONESVCH indeede whose Beautie is so rare As nere the like attainde the perfects Faire This is the cause so highlie I thee rate As all the golden Mines of Indian ground Nor Seas of Pearle can counteruaile thy state Wherein thou art this present to be found And if that trueth I shall confesse inde●●e The wealth of all the world thou dost exceede But when I marke how by strange cunning Art Faire louelie Haires with Pearle and Golde conioyne A pleasing ioy doth seaze vpon my Heart Whilest with strange pleasures Fancie feeds my mind So as sweete BRACELET thou dost rightly proue To be th' enchantment of bewitching LOVE Liue Louely Fame which when thou first didst take Possession of my Heart wert stony colde And bashfull but when entrance thou didst make Then as Triumphant thou didst keepe thy holde Changing both Thought state that where before Colde chillie Yee was hot Desire burnt sore If I thee honor worship serue and loue He knowes who guides the restles Globe on high But enuious Fates on me their force doe proue And me from thee haue banisht spitefully So that more paine I doe each houre abide Then if that thousands sorts of deaths I dide But fore that peereles matchles shape of thine The better part wherein my Soule doth rest Shall out of minde or memory of mine Whereby I only happy liue and blest All things shall chaunce impossible that be My selfe forget my selfe will I fore thee The Sunne shall lose his power and darke become The Skies shall melt and into horror fall The earth shall sinke the world be quite vndone And fore this chance all strange things happen shall Though now thou bidste in Albions fruitfull land And I where Mantuan Duke his Court doth stand Mantua Such as do liggen in Delight and ioy And haue what Hart can wish or Thought deuise Spending their time withouten dire Annoy Liuing amongst their friends in iocondwise And who with Loue of Ladies theirs are blest May in Eternam Requiem happie rest Me sillie Trauailer a pilgrim poore Who through hard hap these blessings all do misse Care doth become since want I do endure Of Countrie Friends and Loue my chiefest blisse And yet this CARE not Ill but well with mee Obseruing still Decorum doth agree A Trauailer farre from his Natiue coast With Care doth rise with Care him downe doth lay And though from piller tost he be to poste When All him leaue yet Care with him doth stay Not like vaine pleasure who away doth p●ake When he his Bark through want perceiues to leake Thanks then to Care of Poore the comfort chiefe The best companion that we Strangers finde In Countries strange forlorne without reliefe Who quiet gentle patient is and kinde Then constant CARE not Comfort I do craue And might I chuse I CARE with L. would haue This Tower this Castle this huge Prison strong Begirt with high and double fenced Wall Where I to be kept prisoner thus haue wrong Can neuer hurt nor do me harme at all Since I was pent here I am nothing changde But as before when I abrode still rangde This place restraines my Bodies libertie But

alwaies swim And as a froward Tortoys backeward goe Not Night but Light giue me with those faire Eyes Fierce Serpents not milde Doues enuenomise To thee Deare Faire that mak'st me fare amisse To thee my Goddesse I my prayers make And prostrate fall before thy Shrine of Blisse Crauing of thee that them in worth thou take Whilest I to thee my Hart in humble wise Vpon thy beautious Altar sacrifise Peruse with kindenes this my sad complaint Since I with pacience doe abide the paine And but thy willing eare herewith acquaint So thy remembrance not forget the same Thy hart gainst me not still induratize But my sad thoughts in me retranquillize I will not leaue vntill I leaue to loue And leaue to loue I will not till I die But thy hard flintie Breast I le somewhat moue To moane my Griefe the cause I alwaies crie Crie will I to thee till my Voyce be ho●rse And neuer leaue thee till thou take remorse From thy faire eyes the Sunnes Pr●cursors bright This fire hath sprung which all my parts doth burne No Art-Enammeld lines that I do write No praies nor praiers to Mercie th●e ●an turne Yet come the worst the Age to come shall say I bare the prize for Constancie away Burnham Now earthly Goddesse haue thou some regarde To me thy seruant crauing what is iust Though long at last yeelde to me some rewarde Since I relie on thee and wholy trust Thinke on the pennance sore I doe endure Which to my Soule thine Absence doth procure Support my feeble Thoughts that scarse can moue For thou wert wont such better to commend Who would persist more loyall in their Loue And perseuere vnto the latest end Then those who whē Loues course they gan to run Would giue it ore before halfe way were done I cannot doe so for my longing Hart Is knit in thine in such perfection strange That Death these twaine in sunder cannot part Nor length of Time nor Places distance change Thy Be●utious Vertue Vertuous Beautie ti● That makes me ioy in noy take Bale for blis Ah where art thou kinde Friendship that of yore Still with thy cheerefull smile didst comfort mee And sweetely wouldst with me my state deplore When heauie sad and grieu'd thou didst me see Ah where are those Alcinoi daies as now I Metamorphosde am I know not how Cleere shines the Sonne yet shines it not on me Faire is the Morne yet dark●ned is my Light Others the Spring I Fall of leafe doe see Whilest I enioy no Day but gloomy Night Thou art the cause sweete ALBA for thy Loue In absence thine these bitter-Brunts I proue Whilest thou like Princesse entertained art By thy kinde Tenants in most dutious wise Seeking to shew the zeale of their pure Hart By all the pleasing meanes they can deuise Striuing who shall thee better entertaine Signes of thy welcome home to them againe I here am left alone all poste alone As LOVES true Pledge that lies for Faith to Pawne Onely to waite thy parture and to mone Whilest my Conceits on Sorrowes Tent are drawne Like to the Bird on solitarie branch Wailing his Mates sowre losse through hard mischāce Then louely thou my Harts deare Treasurer Let me obtaine this Fauour at thy Grace That tho● delay no longer nor defer But daine me once more see thy heauenly face Else here I vow if so thou come not soone Me shalt thou not see thou shalt see my Foome Now that my weary spirits do runne their race To those transplendent Lamps of ALBA faire And gazing there in vaine do plead for grace Leauing their ancient lodging nakte and bare She as their Foe stands on her Brauerie And passage to their Entrance doth denie They finding shut fast close milde Pities gate And seeing in what danger I remaine With haste returne from whence they came of late Retiring to their wonted Home againe Where they repose of Hope quite dispossest And there with Feare and Care together rest Disdaine those eyes spoyles that before were bright And fierce Desire that to reuenge hath minde Increaseth still in hart to worke me spite Deuising how to make her more vnkinde The or● the Bellowes vnto Furie blowes The other Slaue to wrathfull Anger showes But though to me she seemes as pitilesse Seeking my Death without cause to conspire Yet wi●● I beare with all wrongs nere the lesse Resolu'd to bide the vtmost of her Ire Against her wrath I le true and Humble be For Faith 's my Fence my Shield's Humilitie Poore Meleager being in disdaine With furious Altea cruell mother his She flang his fatall Brand in firie flame Long time kept by her as her chiefest blis So as through fire it did consumde decay His wretched life did peece-meale waste away Altea mine ALBA is Meleager I The fatall Brand where bides my life her Loue No longer then she keepes this happely For me no longer may my spirits moue Long time Affection kept it but as now She flings it in the flame with angrie brow Anger 's the Fire Suspect kindles the Flame Conceit 's the Bel●owes wherewith she doth blow Haste was the hand which flung it in the same The Coles Vnkindnes that did burne it so Ah but one drop of Water of her Grace If so I had t would quencht be in small space Thus do I burne and burning breathe my last And breathing last to naught consume away Like to that Lampe whose Oyle when it doth waste By lesser light and lesser doth decay Yet in this Fire I crie still for to moue her Ah pi●ie me th' vnhappiest loyall Louer Thou solitarie Mountaine Mount of Mone Pleasing to me mine only solace chiefe How like are we we two seeme but as One Since thou shewst sad and I still to haue Griefe Thou with wilde sauadge Woods art compast round And in my Breast sharp austere Thoughts are found The huger Hill in bignes thou dost show The more All thee vncouth and sauadge deeme The more that I in yeares in Loue do grow The more deformed Creature I do seeme Water from thee from euery side doth come And teares from out mine eyes as Fountaines run Thou dost abide the blustring furious winde The paine of skalding sighs perforce I feele Tempests and stormes to thee are oft vnkinde But worse to me is ALBAS Hart of steele Tho●●rooken art by Ioues sire from aboue And I am blasted with Lightning of Loue. Thou wantest Fruit and I am without Hart Only in this my Griefes do thine exceede That where as thou insensible still art I liuing feele too well the Brunt indeede Yet wert thou worse I like in thee to stay Since that my Pearle mine ALBA's gone her way O that I might my Griefes set downe at large And to the world make knowne mine Iniurie But I not dare the Cruell giues in charge Them to keepe close and This beare patientlie Being so grieuous as but part to know Would make the flintiest Hart to split for woe