Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
cause_n	woman_n	yield_v	young_a	38	3	5.8629	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A76610	The batchelors ballad. Or a remedy against love Thou little peevish God! whom heretofore, the blinder world, so highly did adore; bor [sic] whom the loving fools a quiver found, fows [sic], arrows, wings; nay more, pow'r to wou[ld] know, I defie thee, boy; not all thy art, can reach my eye, much-less enslave my heart: if thon [sic] hast any, come and shew thy skill, fain would I love one hour against my will; alas poor God! men will no longer now, to thee, thy mother, or thy minions bow; your pow'r & fame which has so long been gre[at] upon examination proves a cheat. To a pleasant new tune: or, The Duke of Monmouth's jig. With allowance, by R. L'Estrang[e].		1677 (1677)	Wing B257A; ESTC R232405	1,353	1

The Batchelors Ballad Or ' a Remedy against Love Thou little Peevish God! whom heretofore The Blinder World so highly did adore Bor whom the loving Fools a Quiver found Fows Arrows Wings nay more Pow'r to wou●● Know I defie thee boy not all thy art Can reach my eye much-less enslave my heart If thou hast any come and shew thy skill Fain would I love one hour against my will Alas poor God! men will no longer now To thee thy mother or thy Minions bow Your pow'r fame which has so long been gre●● Upon Examination proves a Cheat. To a Pleasant New Tune Or The Duke of Monmouth's Jig With Allowance By R. L'Estrang● NO more silly Cupid will I pine and complain What slave is so stupid To suffer the plague Of an amorous League To be laught at in vain No more silly Cupid I le court a coy Mistress no more He 's a Sot and more blind Who to one is confin'd VVhen there 's hope for a score VVhen I meet with a beauty that 's loving and kind I le pay her my duty And when i 've enjoy'd her O then I 'le recruit me VVith love and brisk wine No more I 'le adore her When once I have got my desire She then may refuse me But cannot abuse me For then I defie her The amorous Cully Whom love has undone Protesteth as fully To e'ry complaint That he makes to his Saint As a mortifi'd Nun. Alas for the Cully How poor the reward of his Love is Then let him deceive her And manfully leave her Or else he 's a novice For why should a Bubble Whom passion ensnares Be put to the trouble In spight of his sences And other defences To marry his cares Yet who 's such a bubble If honey and sweetness you bring But his reason and conscience Will tell him 't is nonsense To play with the sting They say when a Negre Wou'd Elephants win To make e'm more eager The female entices With lustful devices And wheadles 'em in A Woman 's a Negre And works by the arts I have told ye But were we advised They 'd all be despised And quickly grow mouldy For tho' they are wary and stoutly defend They love not to tarry But ' cause 't is the fashion They 'l stifle their passion And yeild in the end For tho' they are wary Yet try 'em a Sennight or more If still they deny And refuse to comply I 'me the Son of a Whore Perswade the young Ninny that boils in his blood To part with a Guinny His amarous rage He may quickly assuage And 't will do him much good For ask the young Ninny They heat of whose passion is over If he tells you his mind I le be hang'd if you find Him so zealous a Lover Vnhappy the wretch is that 's yok'd to a mate His conscience he stretches To tell you more Lies Than old Argus had eyes Of his blessed estate Vnhappy the wretch is Be warn'd by another man's harm For the Boys in the River That chatter and shiver Will tell you 't is warm A curse on those Noddies Dull-rhiming complaints Who cringing their bodies In all their caresses And tedious addresses Turn Women to Saints A curse on such Noddies By whom we in general suffer But before I 'le be rul'd Any longer or fool'd By a woman I 'le huff her Then females adieu t' ye Your reign 's at an end A fig for your beauty Your painting and patches In hopes of good matches In vain you may spend Adieu silly Females Go find out new arts to delude But if you expose 'em I faith I 'le disclose 'em And so I conclude Printed for Phillip Brooksby at the Golden-Ball in West-smith's-field