Selected quad for the lemma: heart_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
heart_n	drink_v	root_n	wine_n	2,867	5	10.6715	5	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A51900	The sixth volume of letters writ by a Turkish spy who lived five and forty years undiscover'd at Paris : giving an impartial account to the Divan at Constantinople of the most remarkable transactions of Europe, and discovering several intrigues and secrets of the Christian courts (especially of that of France) continued from the year 1659 to the year 1682 / written originally in Arabick, translated into Italian, and from thence into English by the translator of the first volume.	Marana, Giovanni Paolo, 1642-1693.; Bradshaw, William, fl. 1700.; Midgley, Robert, 1655?-1723.	1694 (1694)	Wing M565DA; ESTC R36909	159,714	389

of Egyptian Kings hugg Daemons in my Arms and run the Gerit with Hobgoblins and all the Spirits of the Night round the Tomb of Cheops or up and down the dismal Galleries or in the Nest of Bats Screech-Owls Harpies and the rest of the Winged Monsters the Excrementitious Spawn of Humane Souls or at least the Superfetation of pickled Carcasses reposited there for Eternal Mummies some of them before Noah's Flood and the Rest after if the Story be true God knows whether it be or no That 's Nothing to me But I have a strong Inclination to try what I can find in those Antique Monuments after all the Search of so many Travellers I have a Specifick Sort of Melancholy upon me which cannot be vented any other Way than by keeping Company with the Dead or having Ten Hundred Thousand ugly rampant Spirits dancing their Infernal Measures about me and grinning like Babboons of Hell Oh God! How 't would set me a Laughing An Entertainment of this Nature would ease my Spleen and restore me to a Good Humour Are there no Beings extant but those which are every Day expos'd to our Senses Or is Nature Poorer than the Imagination of a Mortal which can form the Idea's of an Infinity of Creatures that he never saw I am cloy'd with the Crambe of Objects and Joys which these Narrow Elements afford and therefore would fain grope out some New and Untry'd World to find Refreshment in But oh my Mehemet when I look toward the Heavens and behold the Moon and Stars when my Eye is lost in the Boundless Firmament and my Soul can find no Limits to the Vniverse then I sink into my self full of Humility and Confusion because I have injuriously reproach'd the Omnipotent and cast Obloquies on his Works For all Things appear admirably Beautiful and Perfect and the least Atome is large enough to afford Apartments for a Thousand Souls Every Thing in Nature is pregnant and full of pleasing Wonders Yet I cannot be free from these Hypochondriack Fits at certain Seasons I am sometimes the saddest and most Melancholy Man in the World I take all things by the wrong Handle look on them through false Opticks and yet persuade my self I am in the Right and see them in their true Complexion Such is the Fatal Sophistry of this black and sullen Passion It takes away the Gust and Relish of the sweetest Enjoyments And if the Contagion could possibly find Admittance among the Bless'd Above surely 't would renber their Paradise a Hell and would afford some Ground for the Fiction of the Ancient Poets who brought up the Use of Nepenthe among the Gods to appease their Choler and put 'em in a good Humour I know not what that Drink was But I tell thee my Nepenthe is a Glass of good Languedoc Wine which is as Rich and far more Delicious than the Wines of Tenedos and Mitylene I once could boast of another Method to subdue my Melancholy by giving Battle to my Thoughts in open Field but now I am fain to have Recourse to Stratagems and Ambuscades trepanning the ugly hideous Monsters out of their strong Retrenchments and Fastnesses in the Spleen by Generous Frolicks with Wine Women and Musick I bury all Care in profound Sleep the Effect of brisk and free Drinking And then I awake as merry as a Lark as young as if I 'd been in Medea's Cauldron What signifies it to pretend Sanctity in our Words and Exteriour Carriage whilst at the same Time we are ready to burst with Malice Pride Ambition Avarice and a Thousand more Vices Whereas Wine seasonably drank cures all these Distempers of the Soul makes a Miser Liberal a Cruel Man Tender a Spightful Fellow Kind melts Stiff and Haughty Spirits into a Wonderful Softness and Complaisance In fine it makes a Lamb of a Lion and changes a Vultur to a Dove purifying and transforming Souls into a Temper wholly Divine Why then should we be ty'd to Laws of Morality never practis'd by those who made them All the Philosophers were boon Companions and our Holy Prophet himself privately drank the Juice of the Grape Our Emperours and Grandees do the same The only Reason why they forbid it to their Subjects is lest they should grow too Wise and strive to shake off the Yoke For Wine elevates the Spirits emboldens the Heart and transforms a Slave to a Lord in his own Conceit For want of this Liquor all Nations where the Vine grows not have found out one Beverage or another as efficacious to relieve Melancholy and drive away Sorrow from the Heart The Chinese make Wine of Rice In my Country they have another Intoxicating Drink compounded with certain Roots The same is used in some Parts of Persia In these Western Provinces they brew divers Sorts of Strong Liquors of Wheat Barley Honey Molossa's and other Ingredients And they make Wine of Apples Pears Cherries Currans and most Fruits that grow I tell thee my Friend there 's no living unless we sometimes give Nature a New Ferment to rouze her from her Lees. Yet let us practise a due Mediocrity remembring that God gave us these Things for our Health and Refreshment and not for our Bane In a Word Mehemet let us be Merry and Wise Paris 26th of the 8th Moon of the Year 1660. LETTER XI To Hamet Reis Effendi Principal Secretary of the Ottoman Empire I Have taken some Pains turn'd over a great many Memoirs of Old Courtiers and convers'd with not a few now living who can remember the Days of Henry IV. that so I may comply with thy order and oblige thee with some Remarks on the Life of that Prince who tho' he had but a little Body yet like another Alexander had so vast a Soul and perform'd such illustrious Actions as deservedly fasten'd on him the Title of Great and made him be esteem'd the Arbiter of all Europe It is observ'd of him that he was always Unfortunate in his Wives yet they relate a pretty Passage of his First Wife Margaret of Valois which seems to contradict that Remark He was then a Protestant and only King of Navarre when the Famous Massacre of Paris was committed with Design to Murder him among the Rest of his Religion But being aware of this when he heard the Assassins making toward his Chamber where he sate with the Queen he hid himself under her Garments as she sate in a Chair The Villains rushing in ask'd for the King She with a great Assurance of Spirit told 'em He went out from her in a Passion They seeming satisfy'd went away without doing any farther Hurt Which occasion'd a Common Jest That Queen Margaret 's Smock sav'd King Henry 's Life This Woman was call'd the Minerva and Venus of France on the Score of her Learning and Amours never denying any Thing to her Lovers and being seldom without Men of Science in her Company In a Word King Henry look'd on himself as a Noted Cuckold and so gave