Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
cause_n	great_a	king_n	see_v	4,869	5	3.5371	3	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A84924	The friers lamenting, for his not repenting. Being a relation of the life and death of Francis Colewort a frier, who related a little before his death a threefold plot of treason. With his conversion to the Protestant religion, at Hungerford in Barkshire.	Taylor, John, 1580-1653, attributed name.	1641 (1641)	Wing F2209; Thomason E168_3; ESTC R5905	2,843	8

The Friers LAMENTING For his not REPENTING Being a Relation of the life and death of Francis Colewort a Frier who related a little before his death a threefold Plot of Treason With his Conversion to the Protestant Religion at Hungerford in Barkshire IN DOMINO CONFIDO Printed at London 1641. THE LIFE AND DEATH OF Francis Colevvort A French Frier who related a little before his death a threefold plot of Treason COuntrymen this Papist that made this dolefull Lamentation was a long time a Frier in France yet borne in England by name Francis Colewort his father was a very honest poor man living in the Towne of Hungerford in Barkshire and a Shoomaker by his Trade this Francis Colewort was brought up to school till he was fit to go to Oxford but his father being not able to maintain him there he waited upon Sir Edward Bristowe son and heir into France now he being a youth of a very pregnant wit and a pretty scholar he commenced his two Degrees of Bachelour and Master of Arts in Paris and it hapned that it pleased God to give him over to himselfe that he became a Frier and so continued for the space of twelve yeeres at the last it pleased God to open his eyes that he saw the pit he was fallen into he became a true Protestant and came for his owne Countrey where with griefe for the Religion he had so long been blinded with he even blinded himselfe with tears relating the plots of these Papisticall Caterpillers which they had pretended against this Kingdom for a long time He lived sixty and seven yeeres and a little before his death he unfolded many treasons which I shall after relate The Treasons against our State which Francis Colewort a French Frier after he was converted to the Truth related FIrst he reported that the Pope of Rome wrote his Letters to the two great Monarchs F. S. that hee might incense them against this our State for whilest we were in safety he pretended he was not at any quiet Secondly he viz. the Pope also wrote Letters to the Emperour that he would joyne with the two great Monarchs that he might be sure to see or at least to hear of the utter subversion of our State Thirdly he said that there were above three hundred Jesuits and Friers in this Kingdom all which had taken the Sacrament to do some bloudy Designe From this may you see the continuall Plots which have been hatched against this our State yet ●●re ever ●ame to any good and how are we bourd to praise our God for these Deliverances I beseech you that ye would ●ll rejoyce with me and praise the great Jehovah who is the beginning and the end A Friers lamenting For his not repenting LIke to the Porpose tempest foot-post I Do play before my storme of misery Or like the Swan who sings just at his death So do I caroll out my latest breath Quavers are sighs and semiquavers teares Griefe is the drapason my song beares When first the wanton windes of peare and rest Play'd with my sailes then did my thoughts worke best I set such wheeles of treasons round that I Thought sure the world drown'd in my Tragcedy A powder-plot I had which all the earth Though it had striv'd could not have stopt its birth Yet the all-seeing Eye of Heaven saw How much abuse was offered to his Law He cropt my bud of Treason and the stocke Wither'd and strait became my stumbling blocke Thus low I lie without all hope to rise Look here and see griefe doth eclipse mine eyes Whole showres of teares stand ready at the brinke And seas of sorrow cause me here to sinke I was a man that alwayes thought it good To swim to my desires through seas of blood But see my downfall I am fallen there Where I but late had fixt a subtle snare I like to Haman built a lofty tree Which men thought best t'allot to none but me Ye dolefull feares which do surround my heart Which pinch my soul and to my further smart Confound my senses swadling me in thrall To make me hated here in generall Which to my frozen lips have utterance given Speake O speake the command ye bring from Heaven Thus much I graspe and this I understand The latest day is now ev'n now at hand What shall I do I will confesse my sin Thence may you reade the griefe I labour in O I was one which liv'd under suspence I nothing studied but to please my sence I trimm'd a glorious out side whilest within I nourisht nought but propagated sin What dar'd I not I often drencht my soul In Pluto's Lethe in red murthers boule I durst attempt to pull Iove from his throne I did no lesse I pull'd at Caesar's Crowne Caesars said I nay here is now more ods I threatned heaven and the thundring gods Seas were at my command and thence did I Threatned Religion presse with misery But now behold my crescent hornes are chang'd And I could wish that I had never rang'd My sun of glorie 's set and I returne Downe to my humble grave my peacefull Urne I have no hope my ebbe will never flow But I must stoop to fortune at one blow My Genius tels me I have done great wrong A grievous burthen to any dolefull song 'T is my ill deeds that now doth blast my praise My star doth fall without a star-like blaze I once did scorne pity I had in store Now none will pity because my worth is poor But I deserve it I did alwayes prey Upon Religion both night and day Just like the Asse clad in a Lions skin Thus did I act and enact each dayes sin When I look on my fatall misery My thoughts begin to scale the starry sky T' invoke great Iove hope doth me strait wayes spurne Decreeing fates have clapt me in my Urne Thus may you see what 't is to bow and creep To idle idols how most men do leap To see my downefall and I must confesse That in their joy consists my happinesse For those that suffer here below I 'le prove Have lesse to answer fore our God above Lord grant me patience now I come to thee No Saint shall now once intercede for me Forgive me Lord for those sins which are past I 'le leave the Pope and come to thee at last And on my knees I beg from thee O God That thou would'st spareit by all revenging rod I 'le kneel no more to Saints not I not I I feel the smart I 'me grip'd with misery But now I sue for this same very thing That I may have pardon from my earthly King He whom I hated cause he was too good To live among us O my soul for food Doth almost faint pray for my safety all Although you laugh to see a sinner fall So shall ye have my prayers to great Iove That the great King of kings would shew you love Postscript VVHat do yee spit forth Verse or pisse out Prose Or drop conceits from forth your fruitfull nose That thus you sell a Copy for a boord Nay by Apollo first give 't for a Each verse I make makes me to twist my face To picke my nailes almost an houres space Before invention can to me present The forming of one pleasing complement And faith before this Stump-foot silly Gull Shall rake my braines to spend upon a Trull I 'le throw my inke away and make my braines Forswear to write such under-prized straines I 'le take my leave and do what you shall please If you take counsell 't will be for your ease Go downe to th' Parliament with your new print book Let them your good intentions quite orelook O 't was bravely done to set downe your owne praise But then by way to shorten your dayes Your Mercuries forsake you so do your Hawkers Take heed of medling with any more Walkers FINIS