Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
cause_n	good_a	heart_n	see_v	2,559	5	3.3012	3	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A68287	Cynthia VVith certaine sonnets, and the legend of Cassandra.	Barnfield, Richard, 1574-1627.	1595 (1595)	STC 1484; ESTC S104851	17,691	72

his beutie t'haue let in And on this verdict giuen agreed they bin VVherefore because his beauty did allure yee Your Doome is this in teares still to be drowned VVhen his faire forchead with disdain is frowned SONNET II. Beuty and Maiesty are falne at ods Th'one claimes his checke the other claimes his chin Then Vertue comes and puts her title in Quoth she I make him like th'immortall Gods Quoth Maiestie I owne his lookes his Brow His lips quoth Loue his eies his faire is mine And yet quoth Maiesty he is not thine I mixe Disdaine with Loues congealed Snow I but quoth Loue his lockes are mine by right His stately gate is mine quoth Maiestie And mine quoth Vertue is his Modestie Thus as they striue about this heauenly wight Atlast the other two to Vertue yeeld The lists of Loue fought in faire Beauties field SONNET III. The Stoicks thinke and they come neere the truth That vertue is the chiefest good of all The Academicks on Idea call The Epicures in pleasure spend their youth The Perrepatetickes iudge felicitie To be the chiefest good aboue all other One man thinks this that conceaues another So that in one thing very few agree Let Stoicks haue their Vertue if they will And all the rest their chiefe supposed good Let cruell Martialists delight in blood And Mysers ioy their bags with gold to fill My chiefest good my chiefe felicity Is to be gazing on my loues faire eie SONNET IIII. Two stars there are in one faire firmament Of some intitled Ganymedes sweet face VVhich other stars in brightnes doe disgrace As much as Po in clearenes passeth Trent Nor are they common natur'd stars for why These stars whē other shine vaile their pure light And when all other vanish out of sight They adde a glory to the worlds great eie By these two stars my life is onely led In them I place my ioy in them my pleasure Loues piercing Darts Natures precious treasure VVith their sweet foode my fainting soule is fed Then when my sunne is absent from my sight How can it chuse with me but be darke night SONNET V. It is reported of faire Thetis Sonne Achilles famous for his chiualry His noble minde and magnanimity That when the Troian wars were new begun VVhos'euer was deepe-wounded with his speare Could neuer be recured of his maime Nor euer after be made whole againe Except with that speares rust he holpen were Euen so it fareth with my fortune now VVho being wounded with his piercing eie Must either thereby finde a remedy Or els to be releeu'd I know not how Then if thou hast a minde stil to annoy me Kill me with kisses if thou wilt destroy me SONNET VI. Sweet Corrall lips where Natures treasure lies The balme of blisse the soueraigue salue of sorrow The secret touch of loues heart-burning arrow Come quench my thirst or els poore Daphne dies One night I dream'd alas twas but a Dreame That I did feele the sweetnes of the same Where-with inspir'd I young againe became And from my heart a spring of blood did streame But when I wak'e I found it nothing so Saue that my limbs me thought did waxe more strong And I more lusty far far more yong This gift on him rich Nature did bestow Then if in dreaming so I so did speede What should I doe if I did so indeede SONNET VII Sweet Thames I honour thee not for thou art The chiefest Riuer of the fairest Ile Nor for thou dost admirers eies beguile But for thou hold'st the keeper of my heart For on thy waues thy Christal billow'd waues My fairest faire my siluer Swan is swimming Against the sunne his pruned feathers trimming VVhilst Neptune his faire feete with water laues Neptune I feare not thee not yet thine eie And yet alas Apollo lou'd a boy And Cyparissus was Siluanus ioy No no I feare none but faire Thetis I For if she spie my Loue alas aie me My mirth is turn'd to extreame miserie SONNET VIII Sometimes I wish that I his pillow were So might I steale a kisse and yet not seene So might I gaze vpon his sleeping eine Although I did it with a panting feare But when I well consider how vaine my wish is Ah foolish Bees thinke I that doe not lucke His lips for hony but poore flowers doe plucke Which haue no sweet in them when his sole kisses Are able to reuiue a dying soule Kisse him but sting him not for if you doe His angry voice your flying will pursue But when they heare his tongue what can controule Their back returne for then they plaine may see How hony-combs from his lips dropping bee SONNET IX Diana on a time walking the wood To sport herselfe of her faire traine forlorne Chaunc't for to pricke her foote against a thorne And from thence issu'd out a streame of blood No sooner shee was vanisht out of sight But loues faire Queen came there away by chāce And hauing of this hap a glym'ring glance She put the blood into a christall bright When being now comne vnto mount Rhodope With her faire hands she formes a shape of Snow And blends it with this blood from whence doth grow A louely creature brighter then the Dey And being christned in faire Paphos shrine She call'd him Ganymede as all diuine SONNET X. Thus was my loue thus was my Ganymed Heauens ioy worlds wonder natures fairest work In whose aspect Hope and Dispaire doe lurke Made of pure blood in whitest snow yshed And for sweete Venus only form'd his face And his each member delicately framed And last of all faire Ganymede him named His limbs as their Creatrix her imbrace But as for his pure spotles vertuous minde Because it sprung of chaste Dianaes blood Goddesse of Maides directresse of all good Hit wholy is to chastity inclinde And thus it is as far as I can proue He loues to be belou'd but not to loue SONNET XI Sighing and sadly sitting by my Loue He ask't the cause of my hearts sorrowing Coniuring me by heauens eternall King To tell the cause which me so much did moue Compell'd quoth I to thee I will confesse Loue is the cause and onely loue it is That doth depriue me of my heauenly blisse Loue is the paine that doth my heart oppresse And what is she quoth he whō thou do'st loue Looke in this glasse quoth I there shalt thou see The perfect for me of my faelicitie When thinking that it would strāge Magique proue He open'd it and taking off the couer He straight perceau'd himselfe to be my Louer SONNET XII Some talke of Ganymede th' Idalian Boy And some offaire Adonis make their boast Some talke of him whom louely Lada lost And some of Ecchoes loue that was so coy They speake by heere-say 1 of perfect truth They partially commend the persons named And for them sweete Encomions haue framed I onely t'him haue sacrifiz'd my youth As for those wonders of antiquitie And those

Album is the only meane Farre be it from my thought duinest Maid To haue relation to thy heauenly hew In whose sweet voice the Muses are imbaid No pen can paint thy commendations due Saue only that pen which no pen can be An Angels quill to make a pen for thee But to returne to these vnhappie Louers Sleeping securely in each others armes VVhose sugred ioies nights sable mantle couers Little regarding their ensuing harmes VVhich afterward they iointhe both repented Fate is fore-seene but neuer is preuented VVhich saying to be true this lucklesse Dame Approued in the sequele of her story Now waxing pale now blushing red for shame Shee seales her lips with silence womens glory Till Agamemnon vrging her replies Thus of his death she truely prophecies The day shall come quoth she ô dismall daie When thou by false Aegistus shalt be slaine Heere could she tell no more but made a stay From further speech as willing to refraine Not knowing then nor little did she thinke That she with him of that same cup must drinke But what fond man he laughes her skil to scorne And icsteth at her diuination Ah to what vnbeliefe are Princes borne The onely ouer-throw of many a Nation And so it did befall this lucklesse Prince Whom all the world hath much lamented since Insteede of teares he smileth at hertale Insteede of griese he makes great shew of gladnes But after blisse there euer followes bale And after mirth there alwaiys commeth sadnes But gladnesse blisse and mirth had so possest him That sadnes bale griefe could not molest him Oh cruell Parcoe quoth Cassandra then Why are you Parce yet not mou'd with praier Oh small security of mortall men That liue on earth and breathe this vitall aire When we laugh most then are we next to sorrow The Birds feede vs to day we them to morrow But if the first did little moue his minde Her later speeches lesse with him preuailed Who being wholy bent to selfe-will inclinde Deemes her weake braine with lunacy assailed And still the more shee councels him to stay The more he striueth to make haste away How on the Seas he seap'd stormes rocks sholes Seas that enuide the conquest he had wone Gaping like hell to swallow Greekish soules I heere omit onely suppose it done His storm-tyrde Barke safely brings him to shore His whole Fleete els or suncke or lost before Lift vp thy head thou ashie-cyndred Troy See the commaunder of thy traitor foes That made thy last nights woe his first daies ioie Now gins his night of ioy and daie of wees His fall be thy d light thine was his pride As he thee then so now thou him deride He and Cassandra now are set on shore VVhich he salutes with ioy she greetes with teares Currors are sent that poast to Court before Whose tidings hll ●h'adultrous Queene with feares Who with Aegistus in a lost staind bed Her selfe her King her state dishonored Shee wakes the lecher with a loud-straind shrike Loue-toies they leaue now doth loment begin Ile flie quoth he our she doth that mislike Guilt vnto guilt and sinne she ad to sinne Shee meanes to kill immodest loue to couer A kingly husband for a caytiue louer The peoples ioies conceiued at his returne Their thronging multitudes their gladsome cries Their gleeful hymnes whiles piles of incense burne Their publique shewes kept at solemnities We passe and tell how King Queene did meet Where he with zeale she him with guile did greet He noble Lord fearelesse of hidden treason Sweetely salutes this weeping Crocodile Excusing euery cause with instant reason That kept him from her sight so long a while Shee faintly pardons him smiling by Art For life was in her lookes death in her hart For pledge that I am pleas'd receiue quoth shee This rich wrought robe thy Clytemnestraes toile Her ten yeeres worke this day shall honour thee For ten yeeres war and one daies glorious spoile Whil'st thou contendedst there I heere did this Weare it my loue my life my ioy my blisse Searce had the Syren said what I haue writ But he kind Prince by her milde words misled Receiu'd the robe to trie if it were fit The robe that had no issue for his head Which whil'st he vainly hoped to haue found Aegistaes pierst him with a mortal wound Oh how the Troyan Damzell was amazed To see so fell and bloudy a Tragedie Performed in one Act she naught but gazed Vpon the picture whom she dead did see Before her face whose body she emballms With brennish teares and sudden deadly qualms Faine would she haue fled backe on her swift horse But Clytemnestra bad her be content Her time was com'n now bootelesse vs'd she force Against so many whom this Tygresse sent To apprehene her who within one hower Brought backe againe was lockt within a Tower Now is she ioylesse friendlesse and in fine VVithout all hope of further libertie In steed of cates cold water was her wine And Agamemnons corps her meate must be Or els she must for hunger starue poore sole What could she do but make great mone dole So darke the dungeon was wherein she was That neither Sunne by day nor Mone by night Did shew themselues and thus it came to passe The Sunne denide to lend his glorious light To such a periur'd wight or to be seene What neede shee light that ouer-light had bin Now silent night drew on when all things sleepe Saue theeues cares now stil mid-night came VVhen sad Cassandra did naught els but weepe Oft calling on her Agamemnons name But seeing that the dead did not replie Thus she begins to mourne lament and crie Oh cruell Fortune mother of dispaire Well art thou christen'd with a cruell name Since thou regardest not the wise or faire But do'st bestow thy riches to thy shame On fooles lowly swaines that care not for thee And yet I weepe and yet thou do'st abhorre me Fie on ambition fie on filthy pride The roote of ill the cause of all my woe On whose fraile yee my youth first slipt aside And falling downe receru'd a fatall blow Ah who hath liu'd to see such miserie As I haue done and yet I cannot die I liu'd quoth she to see Troy set a fire I liu'd to see renowmed Hector slaine I liu'd to see the shame of my desire And yet I liue to feele more grienous paine Let all young maides example take by me To keepe their oathes and spotlesse chastity Happy are they that neuer liu'd to know What t'is to liue in this world happily Happy are they which neuer yet felt woe Happy are they that die in infancie Whose sins are cancell'd in their mothers wombe Whose cradle is their graue whose lap their tomb Here ended shee then her teares began That Chorus-like at euery word downe rained VVhich like a paire of christall fountaines ran A long her louely cheekes with roses stained VVhich as they wither still for want of raine Those siluer showers water them againe Now had the poore-mans clock shrili chauntcleare Twice giuen notice of the Mornes approach That then began in glorie to appeare Drawne in her stately colour'd saffron-Coach VVhen shee poore Lady almost turn'd to teares Began to teare and rend her golden haires Lie there quoth shee the workers of my woes You trifling toies which my liues staine haue bin You by whose meanes our coines chiefly growes Clothing the backe with pride the soule with sin Lie there quoth shee the causers of my care This said her robes shee all in peeces tare Here-with as weary of her wretched life VVhich shee inioy'd with small faelicitie Thee ends her fortune with a fatall knife First day of ioy last day of miserie Then why is death accounted Natures foe Since death indeed is but the end of woe For as by death her bodie was released From that strong prison made of lime and stone Euen so by death her purest soule was cased From bodies prison and from endlesse mone VVhere now shee walkes in sweete Elysium The place for wrongful Death and Martirdum FINIS