Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
cause_n	woe_n	world_n	worldly_a	27	3	8.7418	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A18737	A generall rehearsall of warres, called Churchyardes choise wherein is fiue hundred seuerall seruices of land and sea as seiges, battailes, skirmiches, and encounters. A thousande gentle mennes names, of the beste sorte of warriours. A praise and true honour of soldiours. A proofe of perfite nobilitie. A triall and first erection of heraldes. A discourse of calamitie. And ioyned to the same some tragedies & epitaphes, as many as was necessarie for this firste booke. All which workes are dedicated to the hounourable sir Christopher Hatton knight, ... Written by Thomas Churchyard Gent. 1579.	Churchyard, Thomas, 1520?-1604.	1579 (1579)	STC 5235.2; ESTC S107881	144,193	246

And straitly looke vnto my doyngs heere And like a Iudge in tremblyng conscience sitte I am condempd there serus ne force nor witte Out is my Lampe the oile hath loste his light And my faire daie is tornd to foule blacke night The searchyng hedds that sifts my maners throwe Will shrinke a side when I drawe neere their vewe The wievly daems that seeth my blotted browe In my behalfe will blushe and chaunge their hewe The gentill harts that others harms doeth rewe Will muche lament my life so leawdly ronne And cleane vntwiste the threede good name hath sponne The baseste dame whose faults are borne in breste Will scorne to heare my follie blasde abrode The fromppyng flocke at me will make a ieste The spitfull swarme will poult and swell like Tode My giltie mynde that bears moste heauie lode Will sinke doune right when worlde shall talke of grace And shame her self will slubber all my face The sober sorte that setts by noble brute Will shake their hedds as thei my boldnesse spie The clappyng tongs will neuer sure be mute Shreawd people all will shewe alowryng eye But still I feare the Lorde that sitts on hye Will looke more straunge on me so late disgraste Then all the worlde that here beneath are plaste The Churche wherein bothe faithe and hande I gaue Shall witnesse beare of breache of promes due The spousall bedde and marrage daie so braue Shall make me cald forsworne and moste vntrue The holie booke the old lawe and the newe Against my soule shall sure sharpe sentence giue In other worlde where sprite desiers to liue Let matrons chaste and modest wiues eche one That falshed haets and lou's their trothe to keepe In furie come and flyng at me a stone And let no wight my death bewaile nor weepe Let daies vnrest and dreadfull dreams in sleepe Pursue me still and bryng me to my graue Since God and man I so offended haue The stepps I tread shall tell me my offence The feelds I walke shall bryng my fault to minde The harms I did in worlde shall haste me hence The wealthe I wishe shall waste and weare with winde The fame I seeke shall flyng me farre behinde And all good things that vertues wiues enioye At my moste neede shall tourne to myne anoye The wise that waies my wiells in ballance right Shall see my witte want weight and be but bace The foole hymself shall finde my iudgement light In makyng choise to chopp and chaunge my cace The poore shall point at me in eurie place The riche and those that swaie and rule doeth beare With curbe of Lawe shall bryng leawde life in feare The freends I had shall frowne and shunne my sight The foes I haue shall followe me with shame The neighbour loue that pleasd me daie and night Shall now drawe backe and looke on losse of name The merrie mate and homely countrey dame And all the toune and soi●e where I was borne In Parishe Churche shall laugh my life to scorne The bande once broke that God hymself hath bleste Bryngs worldly woe and cursses in by swarmes The marrage marde that God made for mans reste Turns vpside doune from happie helpe to harmes The Bridall bedde defield with lothsome charmes Breeds wicked smoke and smothryng sclanders blase On whose foule fume a worlde of people gase The knotte of loue vnknitt by hatefull cause Caulls greeffs to count and cries to clouds for aied The leuwd contempt and breache of sacred lawes Maeks eurie howre offendour sore afraied The fickle faithe that is with skurges paied Bidds falshed flie the plague that is preparde For those who looks to life with small regarde No rofflyng troupe that swashe and swill vp wine Can ward the blowes that wrathe of God sends doune No cunnyng knacks nor knackyng fetches fine Can conquer trothe and thrust hym out of toune No treasons traine can take waie true renoune No cloud can cloke the crafte that all men findes No salue but grace can heale infected mindes My hollowe harte hath loste the hope I had What dropps in now doeth doubt and daunger bryng In housbands ears I spake that made me glad With newfounde freends I talke that mak's me wryng The first good will from vertuous loue did spryng The laste delite and all that since fell out Began on luste and needs must ende in doubt Now open streats by Oule flight must I walke And secret nouks and shifts must shadowe sleight Except I care not what the worlde doeth talke And minde to frame a crooked matter streight And then though pride holds hedde a wonders height Shame plucks doune harte and mak's me blushe at laste But well awaie that signe of grace is paste Though in the teeth I haue the bridell gote And that I run beyond my riders reache I dare not syng in quere to hye a note For feare of checke and tuter doe me teache I plaie boe peepe least people me appeache I seem a sainct when deulishe thyngs I meane Yet muche adoe I haue to carrie cleane O wretched change that bryngs repentaunce ofte O bitter sweete whose taste deceiues vs all O poisoned luste that puff's vp pride a lofte O graclesse game full farcst with sugred gall O trippyng trust that swiftly giu's a fall O spitfull sport that spends thy youth in shame And bryngs thine age in horrour and deffame O greedie will that gaines but greef of minde O gnawyng worme that fretts the conscience still O wicked arte that striks the senses blinde O madde deuice that tourns from good to ill O leawd desire more hotte then Eathna hill O beastly blisse begun on balde confaite And doeth bewitche them all that bites the baite O paultryng plaie and pinishe pastyme vaine O slidyng ioye that sincks where suertie swims O perlous toye and pleasure mixt with paine O Peacocke proude that still fonde feathers trims O lustie bloud naye wanton lothsome lims That stoups to filthe and costly carrein gaie That giu's ▪ badd gold and stealls good name awaie My merrie maetts and minsyng minions fine Speaks faire a while to winne their leawd desire But wilely worlde can let me starue and pine And for reward can giue a floute or flire So lead me on and leaue me in the mire And blabb all out that hath been closly wrought O pranks of youth O painted thyng of nought O puddell foule that seems at first full faire O cause of care and source of sorrowe sowre O deadly hope and grounde of deepe despaire O pleasaunt weede and stinckyng rotten flowre O rauenyng Wolues that doeth poore wiues deuoure O smilyng theeues that robbs the chastest harte O traiterous tongs that can plaie Iudas parte You laied your trains as Foulars laies his nette You bosome Snak's your styng hath me vndoen By louyng you at length what shall I gette When you me lothe where shall the caste of ron Wo worth that wight that woyng first begon Curste be the craft that causeth clamours ●yes And

her name Come Countrey youth come noble courtly Dame. And marke my woords whose woorks in wondryng daies With double blotte redounds to my dispraies From tender yeres till twentie twoo were paste I nourisht was at pompe and pleasures papps But who can tell how long our ioye shall laste For greatest calmes comes ofte to Thonder clapps And sweetest hopes doe chaunge to sowrest happs O tickle tyme that wanders swift as winde With heare before and bare and balde behinde No gripe nor hande can take sure holde on thee Thou flittst so faste and leaues the worlde at worst Looke what tyme bryngs tyme takes awaie you see Good tyme is blest badd tyme wee holde accorst Tyme hurtes them oft that tyme did helpe at forst Looke what we haue when youth is moste in prime That shall wee want in age by course of tyme. My freashe delites doe fall and fade like flowre The blossomes gaie from beauties budds are gone Our state of life doeth alter euery howre As pleasures passe come sorowes pasyng on The worlde it self is like a rowlyng stone And on suche wheeles our tomblyng happs doe ronne Thei slide as swifte as shadowe in the Sonne Whiles carelesse witte doeth carry youth about To sportes and plaies that doeth from pasty meries The merrie mynde is voyde of feare and doubt And all the powres are glad to please the eyes But when wilde hedde or wanton waxeth wise The weightie thoughtes that deepe foresight retains Bryngs troubled sleepes and breakes the quiet brains In childishe daies I made no counte of chaunce When freends tooke care to matche me to their will So hopyng long good happ would me aduaunce I kept me free from wedlocks boudage still But parents wise that had good worldly skill With open checks rebukt the causes cheef The more thei sturde the greater grewe my greef As when a sore is rubbde and handled harde The lesse it heales because ye touche it neere O fathers graue if that you tooke regarde How that with checks you vse your children deere Or in your moodes you would some reason heere Thei should bee ioynde where thei greate ioye should haue And you of them enioye the thyng you craue But wilfull men that wealth maie wrest awrie Will force poore babes to marrie or to morne What father will the child maie not denie He hurts his shins against the pricke shall sporne When matche is made it is paste tyme to torne When sillie Lambe is to the slaughter ledde The Butchar braggs the simple Sheepe is dedde And yet in deede t were better childern smarte And matche in tyme as cause and matter moues Then childrens choyse should breake the fathers harte Or breede debate as wilfull marrage proues Short is the ioye of them that longest loues When want comes on and woe beginnes to wryng For lacke is thrall and slaue to euery thyng Loue is not now as loue hath been of old A game some babe to dandle on the knee Loue cares for nought but lande and baggs of gold That keepes bothe man and horse in stable free Thei haue no witte that other louers bee Wealthe maister is and porter of the gate That lettes in loue when want shall come to late Well as it was my freends could doe no good My Fortune bore the swaie and ruled all And I full long on will and freedome stoode Till fleshe and blood must needes to fancie fall And then though happe and worldly wealth was small I lighted where I likte and loued well And where I voude for terme of life to dwell My choise was likte for many giftes of grace He had though wealth somtyme was not at will And for his sake in many a noble place I welcome was and purchast fauour still My candell blasde like torche on toppe of hill And for content of minde where loue doeth reste Myne owne poore choise might passe emong the beste Long liu'de we thus at home and eke abroad When kindred cleane in deede forsooke vs bothe What burthen fell I helpt to beare the loade And glad in worlde to taste how Fortune gothe The minde I had to God and sacred othe Made me refuse no trauaill for his sake Whom of free will I choose to bee my make The seas wee sailde the lande wee rode about The Court wee sawe the Toune wee dwelt long in The feeldes we walke the gardains gaie throughout Wee went vnto where many a feast hath bin Wee could not sincke for happe helde vp the chin He prosperde well and looke what God had sent With louyng wise at home the same he spent He tooke greate paines to come by that he had And trauailde sore through many a forraine soile To bryng that home that makes the housholde glad And keepe the wife and housholde folke from foile And I tooke care that nothyng went to spoile And looke in deede what thyngs that I did lacke Was seen in face or founde vpon my backe The worlde might see I went in garmentes good Though small I brought to hym as I confesse I spent hym muche and at greate charge he stoode Whiche bryngs strong harts somtyme to greate distresse But neuer that might make his loue the lesse For looke how he his likyng first beganne In fine for trothe he proude the self same manne I could not sleepe but where in bedde he laie I could not eate but where he satte at boorde I could not laugh when likyng was awaie I silent satte gaue he but halfe a woorde Ill newes of hym strake me with mortall sworde His minde and myne did drawe so in one yoke The self same fitts he felt where of I spoke Full seuen yeres this constant course wee kept Though often tymes there happened housholde iarrs And trattlyng tales that in betweene vs crept Made many wounds where yet remaines the skarrs Yet alwaies peace tooke vp our braulyng warrs And wee did seeke to salue eche others sore And passe old greefes and thinke thereon no more Sweete is that peace that patcheth vp greate harmes Sharpe is the warre that teares a house in twaine Wo worthe those words that brings in braules by swarms Darke be those cloudes that alwaies threatens raine Curste bee the cause that breedeth woe and paine And dampde in hell those subtell spirits shal be That councell gaue to parte my choise from me Well as our chaunce together was to ioyne And dwell long while as here in breef you harde So happe came on through hope of wealth or coyne And drewe my choise where he might bee prefarde To warrs and I that had a greate regarde To hym that tyme when I his mynde did knowe Gaue my consent that he to warrs should goe With sighes and sobbs and bitter tears emong Wee parted tho with promes suerly paste That one should here from other ere t were long And sadly soe wee seured at the laste His goods his gold his freends bothe firme and faste He lefte me then to comfort me with all But nere a child