Selected quad for the lemma: glory_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
glory_n	face_n	moses_n	shine_v	2,681	5	9.0852	5	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A61486	Norfolk drollery, or, A compleat collection of the newest songs, jovial poems, and catches, &c. by the author, M. Stevenson.	Stevenson, Matthew, fl. 1654-1685.	1673 (1673)	Wing S5503; ESTC R14222	44,154	142

profound So qualify'd he could prevail Alike with Gown and Coat of Mail. He had a hand would all things sute Either the Sword the Pen or Lute Thus we in one have lost all three Apollo Mars and Mercurie No more then on the question stand The Seas now richer than the Land And we may well say Loyalty Lies in the bottom of the Sea An ELEGY upon the Right Worshipful Sir Thomas Rant LOoks take your leave of smiles let every eye Be drest in sorrows saddest Livery Prepare for newes for news that will depress Your Spirits with a load of Heaviness Where every Mourner cause has to be chief There needs gradation to so great a grief He 's faln he 's faln a Man of that renown The wonder and the glory of the Gown Whom Norfolk call'd that well his learning knew Laws Oracle and Lord Chief Justice too Were cases ne'er so nice he needed not With Alexander cut the Gord●on knot His piercing Eye enlighten'd by his wit What others tore a pieces could unknit Such was his love to Justice too that Might Could never boast the Victory of Right His Poise so just was and his Scales so even Men thought Astrea came again from heaven He still made Peace deliver'd the Oppres● And therefore had the promise to be blest Thus thus he liv'd and went at his decease As a Peace-maker to the Prince of Peace He got enuff and when enuff did know I wou'd all other Lawyers wou'd do so Heaven out of doubt heaven alone knows best In kindness gave him his ouietus est His charity which with the best compares He writ himself in living Charactars He has as it sufficiently is known Provided for more Widows than his own Learned he was and Loyal too if we Mayn't rather say Learning and Loyaltie In summe he such accomplishments engrost 'T is not one Age can say what we have lost Well may we then go weep our fountains dry And leave a deluge for posterity An ELEGY upon Miles Hobart Esque who dy'd the Friday before good Friday WHat time we thought our fasting almost done Another Lent our mourning has begun A Le●t two Fridays hath both dy'd in blood Ah me swe●t Miles the bad forestalls the good And yet please you we 'l both good Fridays ca●l His for himself our Saviour's for us all He left no Widow to bedew his Hearse With fruitless if not hypocritick teares But as an Angel of a nobler Sphear He was in this as all things singular Such was his lofty and prodigious Wit No Jacob's staff could take the height of it And such his candour Titus like he sent None from his presence sad or dis● ontent So just so generous so gentile was he No Man can say h 'as lost an Enemy Coaches and numerous Hor●men have wel-prov'd How much lamented and how much belov'd Who thought it not enuff at home to mourn But many Miles rid weeping to his Urne Where neither Brass nor Marble need be spent Name but Miles Hobart 't is a Monument An Elegy upon the Reverend John Porter D. D. and Prebend of Christ-Church in Norwich A Star is faln an Orb does disappear Was late the glory of our Hemisphear So v●st his Learning this all-knowing Man Was lookt on as a l●ving Vatican For Piety he was so all divine That Moses like his very face did shine His Loyalty I need not here maintain His sufferings show he lov'd his Soveraign But maugre Men and Devils he laid down His head in peace and with a silver Crown Yet liv'd to see his Prince and give God praise For ten illustrious Restauration dayes His Sors all prosper and his Daughters are Like polish● Corners of the Temple fair As if indulgent Heaven intended he Should have amends in his Posteritie For his humility this all Men know Of parts so high ne'er Man had mind more low Vpon a Red Face A Bucket ho He shou'd be of the race Of William Rusus by his rufull face His Nose according to the Heralds rules Powder'd with Ermins is in a field Gules His face else which does so with Rubies shine A Jewellers shop is and his Nose the sign When a black Sute his Taylor does him send He is a Charcole lighted at one end His bow-dye Flag in the Red-squadron pl●●e But he show'd a Fireship by his face He is an Olivarian and no wonder His precious looks what are they else but plunder For as a Maxim this have I held ever That a red face is sign of a bad Liver Yet to speak truth he has a Snout as fair As rising Sun or Turkey-leather Chair And say no Coals we from Newcastle get His fiery face wou'd roast a Joynt of Meat The Low Estate of the Low-Country Countess of Holland on Her Death-bed with the Advice of her Doctors and Confessors SEe how she lies in poor distressed State Whom all her Doctors now judge desperate Fain would her widen'd arms some comfort clasp But comfort comes too late at the last gasp Her Children and her near Relations run About the Streets and cry undone undone And swear that the Physicians do not come To Cure but send her to her long long home The North-pole Doctor feels her Pulse to be As feeble now as her Authoritie Whose constitution sometimes since so good Had she been temperate she might stil have stood But with her Spice-box she kept such a coile She heat her blood and made it over-boile By which Distemper she a Frenzy gat And said and did at last she knew not what Nay She in this Distemper of her Brain Fancy'd her self sole Soveraign of the Main ' A main mistake indeed like Dreams of baggs Or such wear Robes in sleep but rise in raggs She that on Pictures doted so may here Her self the Picture see of a dear Year Next Doctor to a Surfeit does impute From her devouring too much Spanish Fruit And not digesting Crudities he says Has turn'd the Butter in her Maw to grease He sayes besides her Tongue is very fowl And he is in the right on 't o' my Soul To gargle it in vain ye go about T' will ne'er be clean until it be clean out Nay she the Scurvy has too and in truth This last Sea Fight has drawn out her last tooth Another says 't is a malignant Feaver Sprung from her falser heart and fouler Liver The ferment of her Stomack gives it way And it does on her very Vitals prey Hot-spur whips out his Lance to let her blood E're he her Malady well understood Yet he an able Doctor is although With her he 's no approv'd Physician now Hold quoth a soberer Doctor she 's too old She 's full a hundred and her days are told Her blood is turn'd to a pituitous matter She 's Dropsical and drown'd in her own water She makes it freely but no ease at all Although it overflow the Urinal Next comes a whisl●ing Doctor with a Vomit But that the graver

close Did for an Ivory get a scarlet Nose They that before so great a noise did keep Now slept and in the rightest sense Fox-sleep The Popinjay one Fuddle had before But when these three were there then it had four And while they slept secure in came the Watch And does this pickel'd Congregation Catch Vpon a Dog call'd Fudle turn-spit at the Popinjay in Norwich FVdle why so some Fudle-cap sure came Into the Room and gave him his own name How should he catch a Fox He 'l turn his back Upon Tobacco Beer French-wine or Sack A Bone his Jewel is and he does scorn With Aesop's Cock to wish a Barley-corn There 's not a soberer Dog I know in Norwich What a pox wou'd ye have him drunk with porridg This I confess he goes a round a round A hundred times and never touches ground And in the midle Region of the Aire He draws a Circle like a Conjurer With eagerness he still does forward tend Like Sisyphus whose Journey had no end He is the Soul if Wood has such a thing And living Posie of a wooden Ring He is advanc'd above his Fellowes yet He does not for it the least Envy get He does above the Isle of Doggs commence And wheels th' inferiour Spit by influence This though befalls his more laborious Lot He is the Dog-star and his Days are hot Yet with this comfort there 's no fear of burning Cause all this while ch' industrious wretch is turning Then no more Fudle say Give him no spurns But wreck your tene on one that never turns And call him if a proper Name he lack A Four-foot Hustler or a Living Jack Vpon a Confident Chast Young LADY WHen Jocabella first I saw She seem'd to give her looks no Law Methought her Eyes like Rosia's Haire Frolickt and wanton'd with the Aire The bold and careless Amazon Fronted and fir'd on every one As who should say she meant to try The power of her Chastity She would at Masks and Plays appear As neither slave to place nor sear Presuming she could as she list Those Opportunities resist I know not what to think on 't more She was and she was not a Whore For those bewitching looks of hers Made many Hearts Adulterers Sometimes she 'd Vizor-Mask her Face And Sakers in the Port-holes plac● Which maugre great Achilles Shield Like Basilisks as distance kill●d So Venus with her na●ed Breast Could Mars himself in Armes decrest I often pitty'd her and said Alas 't is too much for a Maid The Fly that wantons with the Flame Betrays its VVings wnto the same And She for all her Prouess may Too soon be caught in her own Play And justly fall a Sacrifice To the Man-slaughter of her Eyes To the thrice Lovely Guiana GViana's like a Cedar streight Purely proportion'd as to height She wears a Crown of Maiden-haire No Chaplet half so rich so rare Her Fore-head fair is smooth and high A Throne befitting Majesty Two Rainbowes arch her Orient Eyes VVhich them again with beams supplies On her fair Cheeks enamel'd are The Armes of York and Lancaster Indeed there 's nothing in her Face But is a glory to the Place GVIANA is Rhetoricall And has a ready Wit withall Like Sappho whom in former Ages Plato admir'd and all the Sages Her quick and quaint delivery such is As She out-vies the Northern Dutches. She has the Common wealth of Wit VVhich makes so great a dearth of it If possible her Tongue wou'd grace Beyond the Rhetorick of her Face Guiana in Her Morning Dress Trips like a sprightly Sheppardess She dances if She will or no As if her Feet did measures know So even so sweet are Her advances That if She do but walk She dances ' Her motions Planet like are made Traverse Oblique and Retrograde Her trips so smooth are and so sweet The Ground grows proud to kiss her Feet Guiana if She please to sing Vrania strait her Lute does bring And hearing then so sweet a noise Sets down and tunes it at her Voice Where e're her pleasant accents come The Syrens of the Groves are dumb Her Tongue indeed is tun'd with blish Who wou'd not such a Consort wish For Person Parts for Dance or Voice All are so sweet there is no choice Vpon Guiana's Farewell to Sharington FArewell a pretty story faith if I No better fare I need not Roast-meat cry Farewell impossible Can I farewell When she has raz'd and sackt my Citadell Well Go Guiana and be happy too What ever Sharington or Norwich do Ah sweet ah fair but since there 's no relief April shall help us to shower out our grief Me thought I saw just as she bad God by The drooping flowers hang down their heads dy Her hast was hence so speedy as there was No Rose or L●lly blown but in her Face Only the Violet and that grace she deigns Packt up its Purple in her purer Veines Yet j●st as she was going out of Town Peeps a gay Tulip and presents a Crown The Citizens of the Aire their Anthems sing To my Guiana Goddess of the Spring She folds her fairer Lips and at her call Comes Blackbird Linit Alph Thrush Nightingal Melodious warblers with her Coach they move And make the hedges and high-ways a Grove Thus flowers thus birds thus al must with her go See see what those magnetick Eyes can do And yet severer stars my self I find Wou'd be most forward am the most-behind What then adds this to me where 's my relief This speaks her tryumph but alass my grief Endymion's Miss observes her monthly wane And with full Face repairs her Orb again The Summer Solstice comes as Winter goes Day follows Night and ebbs succeed their flowes The Swallow woodcock Stork and C●cco too Know their Returns as well as their Adieu But ah she bids farewell and hopeless I Must with the Swan sing my own Dirge and die O how she packt her spoils more captive hear●s Than Argus e're had Eyes or Cupid Darts Thus beauty plays the chief fair Rachel stole Her Fathers Gods Guiana fair my Soul VVhich I cou'd be content to let her do Were she so kind to take my Body too But since her stay is subject to no spell Let me be miserable so she fare-well Vixque valed●xi pleno singultibus ore To my Honoured Friend Mr. J. W. Student in Lincolns Inne Vpon the Death of his dear Wife Mrs. A. W. COngratulate I cannot nor complain My Theme is equal as to loss or gain True a dear Wife yet not her bereaven Where wou'd you lay up treasure but in Heaven Thus half in Heaven and half on Earth you are You keep poss●ssion here She has it there Nor is she dead though Earth her earth still keep Sinners are said to dye but Saints to sleep No she now only lives and tryumphs where Her Workhouse like her Works must follow her This may within your sorrows Circle fall You want a Copie of th'