Selected quad for the lemma: earth_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
earth_n	birth_n	force_v	great_a	40	3	2.1033	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A39709	Epigrams of all sorts written by Richard Flecknoe.	Flecknoe, Richard, d. 1678?	1669 (1669)	Wing F1217; ESTC R23744	16,246	53

address 'T was made for you and has the Ambition To owe its Acting unto you alone All other Courtship and address is poor T is pure Moliere I need to say no more Prologue For the Revival of his Damoiselles a-la-mode THis Play of ours just like some Vest or Jupe Worn twice or thrice was carefully laid up And after a little while it so had lain Is now brought forth as good as new again For having the Honour of our Master's sight And happiness of giving him delight Our Author thought his business was done But great part of our business is to come He only looks after the pleasure of it But we must look as well unto our profit He car'd but for an Audience or two But if we cou'd wee 'd every day have new And to conclude he had his end agen In pleasing those who only saw it then But we must please you now or wee 'd be sorry Since only for that end w 'ave kept it for ye On Sir Critick WHilst thou on every one so fast dost spend Thy Judgment as t wou'd never have an end Prithee take heed thou spend it not so fast To leave thy self no Judgment at the last On the same T Is but a Cruel sport for men to go To th' Theater as to Bear-bayting they do And Bandog-like to fall upon the Play Worry the Poet and then go away As they some great and mighty Act had done When every day Dogs do as great an one On the Play of Periocles Prince of Tyre ARs longa vita brevis as they say But who Inverst that saying made this Play On the Dutchess of Newcastles Closet VVHat place is this looks like some sacred Cell Where holy Hermits antiently did dwell And never left Importunating Heaven Till some great Blessing unto Earth was given Is this a Lady's Closet it can't be For nothing here of vanity we see Nothing of Curiosity or pride As most of Lady's Closets have beside Scarcely a Glass or Mirrour in 't you find Excepting Books the Mirrours of the mind Nor is 't a Library but only as she Makes each place where she comes a Library Here she 's in Rapture here in Extasie With studying high and deep Philosophy Here those cleer lights descend into her mind Which by reflexion in her Books we find And those high Notions and Idea's too Which but her self no Woman ever knew Whence she 's her Sex's Ornament and Grace And Glory of her Time hail Sacred place To which the World in after-Times shall come As unto Homer's shrine or Virgil's Tomb Honouring the Walls in which she made abode The air she breath'd and ground on which she trod So Fame rewards the Arts and so agen The Arts reward all those who honour them Whilst who in any other hopes do trust Shall after Death lye in forgotten dust To Mr. Henry Jermin on occasion of some demanding why he had no higher Titles STill Noble Gallant Generous and brave What more of Titles wou'd these people have Or what can they imagine more to express How great thou art that wou'd not make thee less He who is proud of other Titles is Proud of a thing that 's Fortun 's none of his A thing that 's but the Title-page ot'h Book On which your Ignorant Vulgar only look Or garnishment of dishes not to eat But only better to set off the meat Thou envy'st none their honours but woud'st be Sorry they shou'd deserve them more than thee And 't were in thee but vain Ambition To seek by other Titles to be known When Harry Iermin's name alone affords As great and loud a sound as any Lords Be still Thy self then and let others be High as they list in place what 's that to thee Their worth 's without but Thine is all within And man t is fills the place but worth fills him The Title of a worthy person 's more Than all the rest the World does so adore And there 's no Office we may greater call Than doing of Good offices to all This is Thy Office these Thy Titles are Let who 'se will take the rest thou dost not care In one who standered a fair and vertuous Lady THou Enemy of all that 's fair and bright As fowls of darkness are unto the Light Monster of Monsters Basilick of spite Who kill'st with Tongue as t'other does with sight Slanderer of Ladies and of them the best Th' ast done an Art which all men must detest Beauty 's a thing Divine and he that wou'd Wrong that wou'd wrong Divinity if he cou'd Whence th' art not only highly injurious But impious too in slandring of her thus Who takes our wealth does but as Robbers do Who takes our Farms robbs us and kills us too And 's worse than he who does another slay He takes but Life thou life of life away The Soul of honour and with poisnous breath Woud'st if thou coud'st even kill them after death But I mistake it is no infamy To be calumniated by such as thee Thou rather praisest her against thy will As he who cur'd by chance whom he wou'd kill For 't is the same thing rightly understood To be disprais'd by th' bad as prais'd by th' good On Mistress Stuart STuart a Royal name that springs From Race of Calidonian Kings Whose Vertuous mind and Beauteous Frame Adds honour to that Royal name What praises can I worthy find To celebtate thy Form and mind The greatest power that is on earth Is given to Princes by their Birth But there 's no power in Earth nor Heaven More great than what 's to Beauty given Thât makes not only men relent When unto Rage and Fury bent But Lyons tame and Tygers mild All fierceness from their breasts exil'd Such wonders yet cou'd ne're be done By beauties force and power alone Without the power and force to boot O● excellent goodness added to 't For just as Jewels we behold More brightly shine when set in Gold So Beauty shines far brighter yet In Goodness and in Vertue set Continue then but what you are So Excellently Good and Fair Let Princes by their birth-rights sway You 'l have a power as great as they On Mistress Stuarts dancing in Whitehall all shining with Iewels SO Citherea in th' Olympick Hall And rest o th' Starrs dance their Celestial Ball As Stuart with the rest ot'h Nimphs does here The brightest Glories of the British sphere Who wou'd not think her Heaven to see her thus All shine with Starry Jewels as she does Or somwhat more than Heaven to see her Eyes Out-shine the Starry Jewels of the Skies Only their splendor's so exceeding bright Th' Excess confounds and blinds us with the sight Just as the Sun who 's bright to that degree Nothing is more nothing less seen than he Mean time the rapid motion of the Sphears Is not so sweet and ravishing as hers Nor is 't the Harmony makes her dance but she In dancing 't is that