Selected quad for the lemma: friend_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
friend_n	appear_v	love_n	love_v	792	5	6.1776	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A54795	Sportive vvit the muses merriment, a new spring of lusty drollery, joviall fancies, and a la mode lamponnes, on some heroic persons of these late times, never before exposed to the publick view / collected for the publick good by a club of sparkling wits, viz. C.J., B.J., L.M., W.T., cum multis alsis----	Phillips, John, 1631-1706.	1656 (1656)	Wing P2113; ESTC R36677	62,402	221

Musician And in a Pipe delighteth It descends in a close Through the organ of the nose With a rellish that inviteth This makes me sing So-ho-ho so-ho-ho boys Ho boys sound I loudly Earth ne'er did breed such a Iovial weed Whereof to boast so proudly Tobacco is a Lawyer His Pipes do love long Cases When our brains it enters Our feet do make Indentures Which we seal with stamping paces This makes c. Tobacco 's a Physitian Good both for sound and sickly 'T is a hot Perfume That expell● cold Rheum And makes it flow down quickly This makes c. Tobacco is a traveller Come from the Indies hither It pass'd sea and land Ere it came to my hand And scap'd the winde and weather This makes c. Tobacco is a Critick That still old paper turneth Whose labour and care Is as smoak in the air That ascends from a rag when it burneth This makes c. Tobacco 's an Ignis fatuus A fat and firy vapour That leads men about Till the fire be out Consuming like a taper This makes c. Tobacco is a Whiffler And cries Huff snuff with fury His Pipes his Club and Link And Vizor too when he doth drink Thus arm'd I fear not a Jury This makes c. A SONG STay shut the gate T'other quart since 't is not so late As your thinking The stars that you see In the Hemisphere be Are the studs in your cheeks By your drinking The Sun 's gone to tipple all night in the Sea boys To morrow he 'll blush that he 's paler then we boys Give us wine give him water 't is Sack makes us the boys Fill up the Glass To the next merry lad let it pass Come away w' it Come set foot to foot And give your mindes to 't Th' are heretical Sixes That slay wit No Helicon like to the juyce of the wine is For Phoebus had never had wit nor divineness Had his face not been budded as thine is and mine is Drink off your Bowls We 'll enrich both our heads and our souls With Canary A Carbuncle face Saves a tedious race For the Indies about Us we carry Then hang up good faces let 's drink till our noses Give freedom to speak what our fancie disposes Beneath whose protection now under the Rose is This must go round D'off your caps till the pavement be crown'd With your Beavers A Red-coated face Frights a Serjeant and his Mace And a Constable trembles To shivers In state march our faces like those of the Quorum When the whores do fall and the vulgar adore um And their noses like Link-boys run shining before um Call honest Will Hang a long and tedious Bill It disgraces Those Rubies that appear You safely may swear The reckoning 's right By our faces Let the Bar-boys go sleep the Drawer leav roaring Our looks can account without them had we more in When each pimple that rises will save a quart scoring Against Demur in Marriage PRethee friend leave off thy fooling And at last resolve to do VVhat Loves pleasures never cooling Love and beauty prompt thee to Venus cares not for good-will But would have thee doing still Do but view that maid of Mettle How the rose smiles on her cheek The flow'r 's derended by the n●ttle And the rose deserves a pri●k Crop it then before it wither Youth and Love decay together Call thy spirits up and make her Great as ever she can hold Leave her quite or quickly take her Be thou either hot or cold Love and Religion both agree Luke-warm 's as bad as he or she Delays in drinking spoil good Claret Demurs make sick the maidenhead Sipping either doth but mar it Neither pleaseth if once dead Take her then no longer dally Worse then death is Shally shally Courage man to 't touch and take her Maids by hopes are oft beguil'd Dallying big will hardly make her Kisses never got a childe Take her then and leave thy wooing Meaning 's not so good as doing A SONG THere was a Country-lass An Amazon by stature She sate upon the grass To do the deeds of Nature With her A Her back and knee she bow'd Making most hideous faces Her guts do croak aloud And for to ease their cases She hard did croud Now mark ye what fell out A strange deformed creature Twelve inches round about And of a nut-brown feature W'th a snout About this T there stuck Many a broken plum All fritter'd with a fart Which came out of her bum And made it smart It seem'd unto mine eye As if the composition Had been Rost-Beef and Pie Which made the disposition Hot and dry The water that she made It caused such a swidge That no man could invade The t without a bridge Or else must wade An Answer to Full fourty times over HE is a fond lover that doateth on scorn VVho Fortune's neglects hath patiently born He 's proud of abuses if ere he return To prove a fond Lover His wit he 'll discover By striving to win A fort where old forces neglected have bin For when a fort we defend from the foe VVe traytors imprison they ne'er come below And her fort is defended by answering No If that will not do it Disdain added to it Your weapon will fall Although you approach you 'll not enter at all They are Lady-birds sure these lovers intend VVhich cannot with wit such a fortress defend VVhilst Hectors their Squibs and their Crackers do spend And vainly come after To conquer with laughter For she hath no wit That spends all her fire in the smoak to be hit Where a fort hath no strength but such as is made By pride and by state such a foe may invade For these are defences for those of the trade You men are so witty Works guard not our city But forces within With which we maintain 't tho the out-works you win These warriors at last with our weapons will fight And if we are 〈◊〉 they 'll come in the night But alas they 're denied our vertues are bright For she that loves honour No parley ere won her To yield up her pow'r For a few slatt'ring words and the sport of an hour A Catch I Met with Ioan of Kent I laid her on the bed And there I got her maidenhead And she was well content The Cloak 's ANSWER to the Poet's FAREWEL MAster if I may do you no wrong Since we have been companions so long Let 's not now part can friends love too long I was your friend in Thirty though But now how proud you Poets grow Was 't so in Noah's days Ah no! For they in times far pas'd from hence With oaken leaves their backs did fence Which made them love that tree ere since As for the Muses I wo'nt flatter They to their breeches ne'er had tatter Which made them always live i' th' water But you that have a cloak to hide What want makes them shew why d'ye

any Cap c. The Sickly cap both plain and wrought The Fudling cap however brought The quilted furr'd the Velvet Sattin For which so many pates learn Latin The Crewel-cap the Fustian pate The Periwig a cap of late And any Cap c. The Souldiers that the Monmouth wear On Castle-tops their Ensignes rear The Saylors with their thrum do stand O● higher place than all the land The Trades-man's cap aloft is born By ' vantage of some say a horn Thus any Cap c. The Physick's cap to dust may bring Without control the greatest King The Lawyers cap hath heav'nly might To make a crooked cause aright Which being round and endless knows To make as endless any cause Thus any Cap c. Both East and West and North and South Where ere the Gospel findes a mouth The Cap divine doth th●ther look The Square like Scholars and their book The rest are round but this is square To shew that they more stable are Thus any Cap c. The Motley man a cap doth wear That makes him fellow for a Peer And 't is no slender part of wit To act a Fool where great men sit But Oh the cap of London-town I wis 't is like the Gyants crown Thus any Cap c. The Sick-man's cap not wrought with silk Is like repentant white as milk When hats in Church drop off in haste This cap ne'er leaves the head uncas't The Sick-mans cap if wrought can tell Though he be ill his state is well Thus any Cap c. The Fudling cap God Bacchus might Turns night to day and day to night Yet Spe●ders it prefers to more By seeing double all their store The furr'd and quilted cap of age Can make a mouldy Proverb sage Thus any Cap c. Though Fustian caps be slender wear The head is of no better gear The Crewel cap is knit like hose For them whose zeal takes cold i' th' nose Whose purity doth judge it meet To clothe alike both head and feet This Cap would fain but cannot be The onely Cap of no Degree The Sattin and the Velvet hive Unto a Bishoprick doth drive Nay when a File of caps you 're seen in A square cap this and then a linen This treble cap may raise some hope If fortune smile to be a Pope Thus any Cap c. The Periwig Oh that declares The rise of flesh though loss of hairs And none but Graduats can proceed In sin so far till this they need Before the Prince none cover'd are But those that to themselves go bare This Cap of all the Caps that be Is now the Signe of high degree A Fancie WHen mortal beauties sheath their radiant light Masking their glory in the clouds of night When Phoebus tumbles into Thetis lap After his traveling to take a nap Then dares each little star open an eye And peep into the world familiarly Which in the lustre of the lightsome day Doth stand eclips'd by a more splendid ray For where the freshest fashion is in place The rest look slovenly and lose their grace So where a richer Fortune hath a suit Vertue and Merit may and must stand mute A SONG T Is not my Ladies face that makes me love her Though beauty there doth rest Enough t' enflame the brest Of those that never did discover The glories of that face before But I that have seen many more See nought in her but what in others are Onely because I think she 's fair she 's fair 'T is not her vertues nor those vast perfections Which croud together in her Engage my heart to win her For those are onely brief collections Of what 's in man in folio writ Which by their imitating wit VVomen like apes and children strive to do But we that have the substance flight the show 'T is not her birth her friends nor yet her treasure My free-born soul can hold For chains are chains though gold Nor do I court her for my pleasure Nor for that old mortality Do I love her 'cause she loves me For that 's but onely gratitude and all Loves that from Fortune rise with Fortune fall If either birth or friends created love withi● me Then Princes I 'd adore And onely scorn the poor If vertues or good parts could win me I 'd turn Platonick and ne'er vex My soul with difference of sex And he that loves his Lady 'cause she 's fair Delights his eye so loves himself not her Wit and Discretion are to Love High-treason Nor doth he truely love Whose flames are not above And far beyond his wit and reason Then ask no reason for my fires They 're infinite like my desires Something there is makes me to love and I Do know I love but know not how or why A Medly I Prethee sweet Rose pull up thy cloaths And let me see thy Fortune my foe why didst thou frown on Green sleeves and Pudding-pies And wot you not where The Cripple of Cornwal surnam'd was He slept under an old hollow Barnaby where hast thou been Drunk ore-night and dry again in the days of Old Simon the King With a thred-bare coat and a Malmsey nose Sing Heigh For a lusty lively lad Heigh for a lad lacks kissing Heigh for a lad that 's seldom sad But when he 's dead and laid in his grave The passengers by will say There was A jovial Turk dwelt in the town of Turvey And he could tune a kettle well but his humour was scurvy Still did he cry Tara tink tara tink boys Room for Cuckolds here comes As pretty a Nymph as I have seen Her age was not above fifteen For grief of heart complained she I slept not since the Conquest A SONG When Phoebus first did Daphne love And could no way her fancy move He crav'd the cause The cause quoth she Is I have vow'd Virginity Then Phoebus raging swore and said 'Bove fifteen none should die a maid If maidens then perchance are sped Ere they can scarcely dress their head Yet pardon them for they are loath To make Apollo break his oath And better 't is a childe were born Than that a god should be forsworn Yet silly they when all is done Complain our wits their hearts have won When 't is for fear that they should be With Daphne turn'd into a tree And who would so her self abuse To be a tree if she could ch●se A Lampoun 1. THimble 's wife is fair Wherefore he vows to sting her And ever when they toy she cries Oh Thimble you wring my finger 2. Moor 's wife is chaste Which makes all men to wonder The reason is that Moor himself Doth always keep her under 3. Bell 's wife is good metal Besides she 's very dapper And when the peal is rung she cries O Bell how fares your clapper 4. Lichfield's wife is lustful And given to excess Because she is a Printers wife And loves to be in Press 5. Crosse 's wi●e is ugly Besides she 's very

but yesterday Oh quoth the devil and that I will see And he pull'd her hose beneath her knee And looking upwards from the ground There he spy'd a most grievous wound Oh quoth the devil now I see He was nothing cunning that gelded thee For when he had cut off thy stones clean He should have sow'd up the holes again He call'd the little Devil to him anon And bid him look to that same man While he did go to some private place To get some salve in a little space The Devil was no sooner gone his way But upon her belly there crep't a flea The little Devil soon espied that He up with his paw and gave it a pat The woman for fear began to start And out she thrust a most horrible fart Hoop hoop quoth the little devil come again I say Here 's another hole broke hard by by my fay Baker quoth the devil thou canst not be ●ound That smellest so sore above the ground Thy life and days it cannot be long Thy breath it savours so horrible strong The hole is broke so near the bone There will no salve well stick upon Therefore Baker hie thee away And in this place no longer stay Charing Cross UNdone undone you Lawyers are That wander about the Town And can't finde the way to Westminster Now Charing-Cross is down At the end of the Strand they make a stand Swearing they 're at a loss And chasing say That 's not the way They must go by Charing-Cross The Committees they said Verily To Pop'ry it was bent For ought I know it might be so To Church it never went What with and other Laws The Kingdom doth begin To think you 'll leave them ne'er a Cross Without doors nor within For neither man woman nor childe Can say I 'm confident That ere they heard it speak a word Against the Parliament 'T had Letters about it found some say Or else it had been freed 'Fore George I 'll take my oath of it 'T could neither write nor read The Maids Portion 1. NOw all my friends are dead and gone Alas what shall betide me For I poore maid am left alone Without a house to hide me Yet still I le be of merry cheer And have kind welcome every where Though I have but a Mark a year And that my mother gave me 2. I scorn to think of Poverty Or want of food or cloathing I le be maintained gallantly And all my life want nothing A frolique mind● Il● alwayes beare My poverty shall not appeare Though I have but c. 3. Though I am but a silly wench Of Country Education Yet I am woo'd by Dutch and French And almost every nation Both Spaniards and Italians sweare That with their hearts they love me dear● Yet I have but a Mark a yeare And that my mother c. 4. The Welch the Irish and the Scot Since I came to the Citty In love to me are wondrous hot They tell me I am Pretty Therefore to live I will not feare For I am sought both farre and near Yet I have but c. 5. This London is a gallant place To raise a Lasses fortune For I that came of simple race Brave roarers doe importune I little thought in Dorchester To find such high preferment here For I have but a Mark a yeare Which my good mother c. 6. One gives to me perfumed Gloves The best that he can buy me Live where I will I have the Ioves Of all that doe live ●●gh me If any new toyes I will weare I le have them cost they ne're so dear Though I have but c. 7. My fashion with the Moone I change As though I were a Lady All quaint conceits both new and strange I le have as soon as may be Your Courtly Ladyes I can jeare In cloath but few to me come neere Yet I have but c. 8. French Gowns with sleeves like pudding baggs I have at my requesting Now I forget my Country ragg● And scorn such plaine investing My old acquaintance I casheere And of my kin I hate to hear Though I have but c. 9. My petticoats of Scarlet brave Of Velvet Silk and Sattin Some Students of my love do crave That speak both Greek and Latin The Soldiers for me domineere And put the rest into great feare All this is is for a mark a year And that my mother c. 10. The Precisian sincerely vowes And doth protest he loves me He tires me out with yea's and no's And to impatience moves me Although an oath he will not swear To lye at no time he doth farre All this is for a mark a year And that my mother c. 11. My Coach drawn with four Flanders Mares Each day attend my pleasure The Water-men will leave their fares To wait upon my leisure Two Lacqueys labour every where And at my word run here and there Though I have but c. 12. Now if my friends were living still I would them all abandon Though I confesse they lov'd me well Yet I so like of London That farewell Dad and Mammy dear And all my friends in Dorcetshire I live well with a mark a yeare And that my mother c. 13. I would my sister Sue at home Knew how I live in fashion That she might up t●London come And learn this Ocupation For I live like a Lady here I weare good clothes and eat good cheare Yet I have but c. 14. Now blessed be that happy day That I came to the Citty And for the Carrier will I pray Before I end my Ditty You maidens that this Ditty heare Though means be short yet never feare For I live with a mark a year Which my old mother gave me VVat's A la mort. 1. IF mourn I may in time so glad Or mingle joyes with ditty sad Lend your eares lend Wa● your eyes And look you where she ●o●abed lies Two simple fee● alas containes The last which late oer Downs and Plaines Made Horse and Hound and Horn to blow Why Wat where art So ho so ho 2. Where is this view and cunning sent Which so much blood and breath ha●t spent This subtile traines thy Courses strong Thy Capers high thy Dances long Thy envious leannest and thy Muse As perfect as a Maidens Scuce Thy tract in snow like widdowes we Why Wat c 3. Oh! where is now thy flight so fleet Thy jealous brow thy nimble feet Thy magick frisks thy Circles round Thy Jugling feats to mock the hound Who sees thee now in covert creep To sit and hark or stand and weep Or coole thy foot to foyle thy foe Why Wat c. 4. Why didst thou not then flye this fate And from this forme thrust forth thy Mate As some good Wife when Death 's at dore Shee 'l thrust her good Man forth before Why didst thou not this doome to scape Upon thee take some Wizards shape Or shrowd thy selfe in Cottage low Why

Wat c. 5. But should we think Wat was more wise Then Iowlers nose or Ioundells cries Or Ladies lips since Wat alone Must needs by many be or ' ethrown Yet as I mourn thy life so short So will I sing thy royall sport And guiltlesse game of all I know Why Wat c. 6. O sad the fair young son of myrrh Forsook the boar and follow'd her Or had Action hunted Wat When he saw Dyna's you know what Or had the young man lov'd this life Who slew for Deer his dearest wife They all had known no other wo Save Wat where art so ho so ho A Question WHy are women said their husbands to deceive Since the keyes of their wickets with their husbands they leave The Answer is made to this Question so put That that doore which will open by chance will not shut The Game at Shittle-cock MY Mistress is a Shittle-cock compos'd of cork and feather Each battledore playes with her dock and beats upon her leather When one will not suffice her will She flies unto another still On the Beard THe beard thick or thin On the lip or the chin Doth dwell so near the tongue That her silence In the beard's defence Would doe her neighbour wrong Now a beard is a thing That commands in a King Be his Scepter nere so faire When it beares sway The people obey And are ruled to a haire 'T is a Princely sight And a great delight That adorns both young and old A well thatch'd face Is a comely grace And a shelter from the cold When the piercing North Comes fiercely forth Let the barren face beware For a trick it will finde With a razor of winde To shave the cheek that is bare But there 's many nice And strange device That doth the beard disgrace But he that brings in Such a foolish thing Is a traytor to his face But of beards there be Such a company Of fashions such a throug That it is very hard To handle the beard Though it be nere so long The Roman T In its bravery Doth first its self disclose But so high it turns Many times that it burns With the flames of a torrid nose The picked beard Is makes me afeard It is so sharp beneath For he that doth place A dagger in his face What doth he in his sheath But methinks I do itch To go thorough stitch And the needle beard to mend Which without any wrong I may call too long For a man can see no end The Soldier's beard Doth march in the heard In figure like a spade With which he doth make His enemies quake To think that their Graves are made The grim stubble eke On the Justice's cheek Must not my verse despise Which were more fit For a Nutmeg but it Doth grate poore prisoners eyes A Beard doth invest The Bishops brest With much white spreading haire Which an Embleme may be Of the integrity That doth inhabite there But O let us tarry For the beard of King Harry That growes upon the chin In his bushie pride With a grave on each side And a Champion ground between Next the clowne doth out rush With his beard of bush Which may be well endur'd For though his face Lyes in a rude case Yet his land is well manur'd 1 A song on a Tenement IF any man doth want a house Be he Prince Baronet● or ' Squire Or Peasant hardly worth a louse I can fit his desire I have a tenement the which I know will fit them all 'T is seated near a stinking ditch They call it Cunny-hall 2. It doth lye beyond bonny ground At the foot of Belly-hill This house is easie to be found By whosoever will For terme of life or years or dayes I le let this pleasant bowre Nay ' rather than a tenant want I le let it for an houre 3. About it growes a lofty Wood To shade you from the Sun Well water'd 't is for thorow it A pleasant stream doth run If hot you there may coole your selfe If cold you 'le there finde hear For greatest 't is not too little For least 't is not too great 4. My house I must confesse 't is dark Be it by night or day But if you once be got therein You cannot misse your way But when y●'re in make boldly of As fast as are you can But if you come to th' end thereof You come where nere did man 5. Thus if you like my Cunny-hall Your house-rent shall be good For such a temper as you please Burn neither coale nor wood But if it rain or freez or snow To speak I dare be bold If you keep your nose within dore You nere shall be a cold I Am that lofty Swaine That never car'd to love None of Diana's traine Could ever my fancy move Kad Cupit from above Could never conquer me Since Peggy it is thee I love And thy Captive I will be 7. Since Peggy it is sure That I doe love thee best Then put aside delayes And grant me my request Come good or evill hap Come wealth or poverty I le set thee in my lap And I le smuggle thee hand somly 8. Vlisses did commend Constant Penelope Pigmalion lov'd his friend Why may not I love thee Though great Achilles was The God of Victory He lov'd a Trojan Lasse And smuggl'd her handsomly 9. Though Vulcan grim and black Faire Venus did imbrace Of him she thought no lack For all his dirty face Though he were crook'● d●kin And Iglerd ore the eye Yet Venus lov'd him well And he smuggl'd her handsomly Matheglin ale and beer Plump clarret wine and sherry Shall not be wanting here If'● may but make thee merry When ended is the feast With mirth and merry glee I take thee to the bed And Il● smuggle thee handsomely Lydford Law A Song 1. I Oft have heard of Lydford-Law How in the morne they hang end draw And sit in judgement after At first I wondred at it much But since I finde the reason such That it deserves no laughter 2. There stands a Castle on a hill I took it for an old Windmill The Van 's blown off with weather To lye therein one night 't is guess'd 'T were better to be hang'd or press'd Or drownd now chus● you whether 3. The Prince an hundred pound hath sent To mend the leads and plankings rent Within this living tombe Some forty five pounds more had paid The debts of all that sh●ll be laid There till the Day of Doome 4. One lyes there for a peck of salt Another for three pecks of malt Two sureties for a noble If this be true or else fals● newes You may goe ask of Master Cruse Iohn Vaughan or Iohn Doble 5. Though debts and Debters are but poor The Courts and Causes are the more So many Tynners made That Lawyers and Attourneys all Which in these Courts doe sco●de and brawle Doe finde it a gainfull trade 6. Nere to these men that