Selected quad for the lemma: friend_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
friend_n	ask_v	see_v	tell_v	899	5	4.5492	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A47404	Ben. Johnson's poems, elegies, paradoxes, and sonnets; Selections. 1700	King, Henry, 1592-1669.	1700 (1700)	Wing K497; ESTC R17230	44,767	174

worst acts of my life incinerate He shall in story fill a glorious room Whose ashes and whose sins sleep in one Tomb. If now to my cold hearse thou deign to bring Some melting sighs as thy last offering My peacefull exequies are crown'd Nor shall I ask more honour at my Funerall Thou wilt more richly balm me with thy tears Then all the Nard fragrant Arabia bears And as the Paphian Queen by her griefs show'r Brought up her dead Loves Spirit in a flow'r So by those precious drops rain'd from thine eies Out of my dust O may some vertue rise And like thy better Genius thee attend Till thou in my dark Period shalt end Lastly my constant truth let me commend To him thou choosest next to be thy friend For witness all things good I would not have Thy Youth and Beauty married to my grave 'T would shew thou didst repent the style of wife Should'st thou relapse into a single life They with preposterous grief the world delude Who mourn for their lost Mates in solitude Since Widdowhood more strongly doth enforce The much lamented lot of their divorce Themselves then of their losses guilty are Who may yet will not suffer a repaire Those were Barbarian wives that did invent Weeping to death at th'Husbands Monument But in more civil Rites She doth approve Her first who ventures on a second Love For else it may be thought if She refrain She sped so ill Shee durst not trie again Up them my Love and choose some worthler one Who may supply my room when I am gone So will the stock of our affection thrive No less in death then were I still alive And in my urne I shall rejoyce that I Am both Testatour thus and Legacie The short Wooing LIke an Oblation set before a Shrine Fair One I offer up this heart of mine Whether the Saint accept my Gift or no He neither fear nor doubt before I know For he whose faint distrust prevents reply Doth his own suits denial prophecy Your will the sentence is Who free as Fate Can bid my love proceed or else retreat And from short views that verdict is decreed Which seldom doth one audience exceed Love asks no dull probation but like light Conveyes his nimble influence at first sight I need not therefore importune or press This were t'extort unwilling happiness And much against affection might I sin To tire and weary what I seek to win Towns which by lingring siege enforced be Oft make both sides repent the victorie Be Mistriss of yourself and let me thrive Or suffer by your own prerogative Yet stay since you are Judge who in one breath Bear uncontrolled power of Life and Death Remember Sweet pity doth best become Those lips which must pronounce a Suitors doome If I find that my spark of chast desire Shall kindle into Hymens holy fire Else like sad flowers will these verses prove To stick the Coffin of rejected Love St. Valentines day NOw that each feather'd Chorister doth sing The glad approches of the welcome Spring Now Phoebus darts forth his more early beam And dips it later in the curled stream I should to custome prove a retrograde Did I still dote upon my sullen shade Oft have the seasons finisht and begun Dayes into Months those into years have run Since my cross Starres and inauspicious fate Doom'd me to linger here without my Mate Whose loss ere since befrosting my desire Left me an Altar without Gift or Fire I therefore could have wisht for your own sake That Fortune had design'd a nobler stake For you to draw then one whose fading day Like to a dedicated Taper lay Within a Tomb and long burnt ou● in 〈◊〉 Since nothing there saw better by the flame Yet since you like your Chance I must not try To marre it through my incapacity I here make title to it and proclaime How much you honour me to wear my name Who can no form of gratitude devise But offer up my self your sacrifice Hall then my worthy Lot and may each Morn Successive springs of joy to you be born May your content ne're wane untill my heart Grown Bankrupt wants good wishes to impart Henceforth I need not make the dust my Shrine Nor search the Grave for my lost Valentine To his unconstant Friend BUt say thou very woman why to me This fit of weakness and inconstancie What forfeit have I made of word or vow That I am rack't on thy displeasure now If I have done a fault I do not shame To cite it from thy lips give it a name I ask the banes stand forth and tell me why We should not in our wonted loves comply Did thy cloy'd appetite urge thee to trie If any other man could love as I I see friends are like clothes lad up whil'st new But after wearing cast though nere so true Or did thy fierce ambition long to make Some Lover turn a martyr for thy sake Thinking thy beauty had deserv'd no name Unless some one do perish in that flame Upon whose loving dust this sentence lies Here 's one was murther'd by his Mistriss eyes Or was 't because my love to thee was such I could not choose but blab it swear how much I was thy slave and doting let thee know I better could my self then thee forgo Hearken ye men that ere shall love like me He give you counsel gratis if you be Possest of what you like let your fair friend Lodge in your bosom but no secrets send To seek their lodging in a female brest For so much is abated of your rest The Steed that comes to understand his strength Growes wild and casts his manager at length And that tame Lover who unlocks his heart Into his Mistriss teaches her an art To plague himself shews her the secret way How She may tyrannize another day And now my fair unkindness thus to thee Mark how wise Passion and I agree Hear and be sorry for 't I will not die To expiate thy crime of levitie 〈◊〉 walk not cross-arm'd neither ear and live ●ea live to pity thy neglect not grieve That thou art from thy faith and promise gone Nor envy him who by my loss hath won Thou shalt perceive thy changing Moon-like fits Have not infected me or turn'd my wits To Lunacie I do not mean to weep When I should eat or sigh when I should sleep I will not fall upon my pointed quill Bleed ink and Poems or invention spill To contrive Ballads or weave Elegies For Nurses wearing when the infant cries Nor like th'enamour'd Tristrams of the time Despair in prose and hang my self in rhime Nor thither run upon my verses feet Where I shall none but fools or mad-men meet Who mid'st the silent shades and Myrtle walks Pule and do penance for their Mistress faults I 'm none of those poetick male-contents Born to make paper dear with my laments Or wild Orlando that will rail and vex And for thy sake fall out with