Selected quad for the lemma: friend_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
friend_n	enemy_n	true_a	zeal_n	759	5	10.9440	5	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A20977	The miracle of the peace in Fraunce Celebrated by the ghost of the diuine Du Bartas. / Translated, by Iosuah Sylvester.; Miracle de la paix en France. English.	Du Nesme, Jean.; Du Bartas, Guillaume de Salluste, seigneur, 1544-1590.; Sylvester, Josuah, 1563-1618.	1599 (1599)	STC 7353.5; ESTC S105425	13,633	72

brands For when we arme vs brother against brother O then how ready are our hearts and hands And wits awake to ruine one another But come to counter-min ' gainst secret treason Or force the forces of a stranger foe Alas how shallow are we then in reason How cold in courage and in camping slow Franunce only striues to triumph ouer Fraunce With selfe-kill swords to cut each others throat What swarmes of soldiers euery where doe float To spend and spoyle a kingdomes maintenance But said I soldiers ah I blush for shame To giue base the eues the noble soldiers name SONNET I st not an endles scandall to our daies If possible our heires can credit it That th' holy name of PEACE so worthy praise Hath been our watch-word for a fault vnfit That the pure Lillie our owne natiue flower Hath been an odious obiect in our eyes That kingly Name kings heaun'-stablisht power Hath been with vs a marke of trecheries T' haue banisht hence the godly and the wise Whose sound direction kept the State frō danger Yea made their bodies bloody sacrifice And to conclude seeking to serue a stranger T' haue flab'd our own but O Muse keep that in The fault 's so foule to speake it were a sinne SONNET I waile not I so much warres wastfull rigours Nor all thy ruines make me halfe so sorie As thy lost honour France which most disfigures Loosing thy loyaltie thy natiue glorie From Moores to Moscouites O cursed change The French are called Faith-les Parricides Th'erst-most-prince-loyall people ô most strāge Are now Prince-treachers more then all besides With vs massacres passe for Pietie Theft rape wrong for iust-attaind possessions Reuolt for Merit Rage for Equitie Alas must we needs borrow the transgressions And imperfections of all other nations Earst onely blamed for inconstant fashions SONNET Not without reason hath it oft been spoken That through faire concord little things augmēt And opposite that mightiest things are broken Through th' vgly discord of the discontent When many tunes doe sweetly symphonize It conquers hearts kindly them compound When many hearts doe gently sympathize In sacred friendship there all blisse abounds Alas if longer we deuide this Realme Loosing to euery Partizan a part Farewell our Lillies and our Diadem For though it seeme to breath now some what peart Our sinnes I feare will worke worse after-claps And there 's most danger in are-relaps SONNET O how I hate these partializing wordes Which show how we are in the faith diuised I st possible to whet so many swordes And light such flames 'mong th'In-one-Christ baptizedt Christians to Christians to be brute and bloodie Altars to Altars to be opposite Parting the limmes of such a perfect Bodie While Turkes with Turkes doe better farre vnite We our Truth find doubts whēce follow scismes They whose fond Law doth all of lies consist Abide confirm'd in their vaine Paganismes One nought beleeues another what him list One ouer-creeds another Creeds too-short Each makes his Church rather his Sect a part SONNET Put off deare French all secret grudge and gall And all keen stings of vengeance on all parts For if you would haue PEACE proclaim'd to all It must be first faire printed in your harts Henry the mildest of all Conquerers Your perfect glasse for Princely clemencie He to appease and calme the state from iarres For his friends sake hath sau'de his enemie Let 's all be French all subiects to one Lord Let Fraunce from henceforth be one onely state Let 's all for Gods sake be of one accord So through true zeale Christs praise to propagate May the most Christian King with prosperous power On Sion walls be-plant our Lillie-flower SONNET O Christian corsiue That the Mahomite With hundred thousands in Vienna Plaine His Mooned standards hath already pight Prest to ioyne Austrich to his Thracian raigne Malth Corfu Candie his proud threats disdaine And all our Europe trembles in disinay While striuing Christians by each other slaine Each other weak'ning make him easie way Rhodes Belgrade Cyprus the Realmes of Greece Thral'd to his barbarous yoke yet fresh-declare That while two striue a third obtaines the fleece Though name of Christian be a title faire If but for Earth they all this while haue striu'n They may haue Earth but others shal haue heau'n SONNET May I not one day see in France againe Some new Martellus full of stout actiuitie To snatch the scepter from the Saracen That holds the Holy Land in strait captiuity May I not see the selfe-weale-wounding launce Of our braue bloods earst one another goring Turn'd with more valour on the Musulmans A higher pitch of happie prowesse soaring But who deare Fraunce of all thy men-at-armes Shall so farre hence renew thine ancient Laurels Sith here they plot thine and their propher harms I rather feare that through these fatall quarrels That hate-Christ Tyrant will in time become The Lord and Soueraigne of all Christendome SONNET ' Mid all these mischiefes while the frend-foe strāgers With vs against vs had intelligence Henry our King our father voides our dangers And O heau'ns wonder plāteth PEACE in France Thou Iudge that sitt'st on the supernall Throne O quench thy furie keepe vs from hostilitie With eyes of mercie looke thou still vpon Our PEACE and found it on a firme stabilitie Sith in despight of discord thou alone Inward and outward hast thus salu'd vs Lord Keepe still our France or rather Lord thine own Let Princes loue and liue in iust accord Disarme them Lord or if armes busie them Be it alone for thy Ierusalem A Dialogue vpon the Troubles past BETWEENE HERACLITVS and the laughing Philosophers Heraclitus A Las thou laugh'st perhaps not feeling well The painfull torments of this mortall hell Ah canst thou teare-les in this iron Age See men massacred monsters borne to rage Democritus Ha but why weep'st thou wherefore in this sort Doest thou lament amid this merrie sport Ha canst thou choose but laugh to see the state Of mens now-sollies and the freakes of fate Heraclitus He hath no heart that melts not all in teares To see the treasons murders massacres Sackes sacriledges losses and alarmes Of those that perish by their proper armes Democritus Who all-dismayed swoundeth soddainly To heare or see some fained Tragedie held in these dayes on euery stage as common Is but a heart-les man or but a woman Heraclitus O would to God our Countries tragicke ruth Were but a fable no effected truth My soule then should not sigh to angry heau'n Nor for her plagues my tender heart be riu'n Democritus I take the world to be but as a stage Where not-maskt men dee play their personage 'T is but a mummerie and a pleasant show Sith ouer all strange vanities doe flow Heraclitus Those vanities I haue in detestation As cursed causes of Gods indignation Which makes me alwayes weepe sith on the earth I see no obiect for the meanest mirth Democritus Thus from one