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	king_n	time_n	3,385	5	3.4149	3	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A64600	Urania's temple, or, A satyr upon the silent-poets		1695 (1695)	Wing U126; ESTC R23170	4,741	12

but only dropt Sometimes for Oracles yet more profound A titillating Sonnet's handed round Some Abdication-Damon Madrigal His own sowr Pens too overflowing Gall. I must confess in pure poetick Rage Bowd down to the old Moloch of that Age His strange bigotted Muse our wonder saw Tun'd to the late great Court-Tarantula What though worn out in Pleasures old and stale the reverend Outly sculkt within the Pale It was enough like the old Mahomet's Pidgeon He lured to Bread and maskt into Religion Had that now silent Muse been but so kind As to this Funeral Dirge her Numbers join'd On that great Theme what Wonders had he told For though the Bard the Quill is not grown old Writes young Apollo still with his whole Rayes Encircled and enricht though not his Bays Thus when the WREATH so long so justly due The Great MECENAS from those Brows withdrew With pain he saw such Merit sunk so far Shame'd that the Dragons-Tail swept down the Star Not that the Conscience-shackle tied so hard But had he been the Prophet as the Bard Prognostick'd the diminitive slender Birth His Sev'n-hill'd Mountain-labour has brought forth His fore-seen Precipice that Thought alone Had stopt his Fall secur'd him all our own Free from his Hypocondriack Dreams he had slept And still his unsold Esau's Birthright kept 'T is thus we see him lost thus mourn his Fall That single Teint alone has sullied All. So have I in the Muses Garden seen the spreading Rose or blooming Jassimine Once from whose Bosome the whole Hybla-train Th' industrious Treasurers of the rich Plain Those wingred Foragers for their fragrant Prey On loaded Thighs bore thousand Sweets away Now shaded by a sullen venom'd Guest Cankerd and sooted o're t' a Spider's Nest His Sweets thus sowr'd what melancholy Change What an ill-natur'd Lour a Face so strange His Life one whole long Scene of all Unrest And airy Hopes his thin Cameleon-Feast Pleas'd only with the Pride of being preferr'd The ecchoed Voice to his own listning Herd A Magisterial Belweather Tupe The Lordly Leader of his Bleating Troop Methinks I hear ev'n his young Pupils cry We write a Junior MARY's Elegy For full Third Days and Claps good store and hearty Our Work 's to trim not disoblige a Party What shall we draw our Pens engage our Quills In such a Cause and drink our Dish at Will 's We dare no more hang out no more display A blazing Rhime that does but light that way Than he a Candle on a King WILL 's Day For Poetry alas on this occasion Is ten times worse than an Illumination 'T is downright to bewray our Nests meer Nonsense Like Clodpates Fidler sing against our Conscience 'T is true out of meer shame we rig in Blacks The modish Whitehall Livery on our Backs But let not that dark Badge make the Court-tools Think they have Converts of us No poor fools To tell the truth we wear this sable Dress For good old Luxemburgh not young Queen Bess But now I talk of Wills pray do not think That we come there for sober Coffee drink 'T is true we sup our Dish But how We take The Turkish Liquor for the Turkish sake Lewis and Mahomet in Leagues Divine Are th' only Gemini in our Zodiack shine Party per pale alone our Coat adorns We own no Cross but what the Crescent horns However should we feel an Itch of Verse To hang some Couplets on that Royal Herse On such a subject Death What can we say You know our Genius lies another way Religion and grave Sanctity All Phlegme Virtue and Piety are not Our Theme The saturnine dull Features of a SAINT Are what our airyer Pencils nere can paint True we have seen that shining Presence warm The Theatre and the Spectators charm The Stage has felt her influencing Pow'r Nay some of Us perhaps at some kind Hour Have caught the Goddess in a Golden showr A Royal Grace of that obliging Kind As leaves us all those vast Arrears behind But to that Charmer we must stop our Ears For Gratitude our Rubrick never bears Besides Great MART in the Box our Wit Can no more reach Our Talent lies more fit For little Jenny Cromwel in the Pit For Sonnets to some Phyllis of the Grove Convey'd by that kind Vehicle of Love Some soft She-sinner melting Miss ay marry Our Pegasus can swoop at such a Quarry These Doctrines our young Sullenists preach round The Texts which their poetick Silence found But why the Doctor of their Chair why Thou their great Rabbinick Voice thus silent too Cou'd Noll's once meteor Glories blaze so fair to make Thee that all prostrate Zealot there Strange that that Fiery Nose cou'd boast that Charm Thy Muse with those Seraphick-raptures warm And our fair ALBION Star to shine so bleak HER radiant Influence so chill so weak Gorg'd with His riotous Festival of Fame Cou'd thy weak stomach pule at MARY's Name Or was thy Junior pallate more canine And now in years grows squeamish and more fine Fy peivish Niggard with thy flowing store To play the churl Excuse thy shame no more WIT 's a free Denison of the whole World Claims Pasport every where with sails unfurld Like the fam'd Drake's once Universal round Shoud range the Globe and know no Check nor Bound The Muses too woud Meanly be reproacht By wretched Faction or poor Spight deboacht Rowze then nor let such empty phantoms fright But take thy generous Pen sit down and write And if the sullen Thing be still too stout Play thy own Exorcist and drive him out Not that th' unjust imposing World would ask From thy kind Hands unreasonable Task For though Her Altars do not just with thine thou hast Theme enough besides and all Divine Draw but Her BEAUTY paint each lovely Grace There 's not one Heretick-Line in that whole FACE A Face that ev'n All Churches reconciles No Faith but what must own those Angel-Smiles From Her bright Eyes survey Her Brighter MIND The Leading Virtue of Her whole fair Kind Her Goodness Mercy Charity Her whole Rich Treasury the Hoard of that Fair Soul The fragrant perfumes those kind Odours breath But above All Her sweeter NUPTIAL Wreath Her bright Ascendant MORALS Subjects more Than Wit can reach Heights where no pen can soar Those dear Domestick Menials of Her Reign Abstracted from Her loftier Temple-Train Nay not to give thy own dear Rome the Lye Her warm Devotion so much Piety A Piety though Her mistaken Guide A Zeal so high if on the Erring Side Has Beauties ev'n for whole charm'd Worlds t' admire A Theme enough the nicest Mose t' inspire Though SHE knelt only to a Vestal Fire FINIS