Selected quad for the lemma: heaven_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
heaven_n	day_n	earth_n	great_a	11,067	5	3.2684	3	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A91914	A very heroical epistle from my Lord All-pride to Dol-common. The argument. Dol-common being forsaken by my Lord All-pride, and having written him a most lamentable letter, his Lordship sends her the following answer.	Rochester, John Wilmot, Earl of, 1647-1680.; Scroope, Carr, Sir, 1649-1680.	1679 (1679)	Wing R1761B; ESTC R202737	1,466	1

A Very Heroical EPISTLE FROM MY Lord ALL-PRIDE to DOL-COMMON The ARGUMENT Dol-Common being forsaken by my Lord All-pride and having written him a most lamentable Letter his Lordship sends her the following answer IF you 're deceived it is not by my cheat For all disguises are below the great What Man or Woman upon earth can say I ever us'd 'em well above a day How is it then that I inconstant am He changes not who alwayes is the same In my dear self I center every thing My Servants Friends my Mistress and my King Nay Heaven and earth to that one point I bring Well-manner'd honest generous and stout Names by dull Fools to plague mankind found out Should I regard I must my self constrain And 't is my maxim to avoid all pain You fondly look for what none e're could find Deceive your self and then call me unkind And by false reasons would my falshood prove For 't is as natural to change as Love You may as justly at the Sun repine Because alike it does not alwayes shine No glorious thing was ever made to stay My Blazing Star but visits and away As Fatal too it shines as those i' th' skies 'T is never seen but some great Lady dies The boasted favour you so precious hold To me 's no more than changing of my gold What e're you gave I paid you back in bliss Then where 's the obligation pray of this If heretofore you found grace in my eyes Be thankful for it and let that suffice But Women Beggarlike still haunt the door Where they 've receiv'd a Charity before O happy Sultan whom we barbarous call How much refin'd art thou above us all Who envies not the joys of thy Serrail Thee like some God the trembling crowd adore Each man 's thy slave and Woman-kind thy Whore Methinks I see thee underneath the shade Of golden Canopies supinely laid Thy crowching slaves all silent as the night But at thy nod all active as the light Secure in solid Sloath thou there dost raign And feel'st the joys of love without th● pain Each Female courts thee with a wishing eye While thou with awful pride walk'st careless by Till thy kind pledge at last mark 's out the Dame Thou fanciest most to quench thy present flame Then from thy bed submissive she retires And thankful for th● grace no more requires No loud reproach nor fond unwelcome sound Of Womens tongues thy sacred ear dares wound If any do a nimble Mute straight tye's The true love knot and stops her foolish cries Thou fear'st no injur'd Kinsman's threatning blade Nor Midnight ambushes by Rivals laid While here with aking hearts our joys we taste Disturb'd by Swords like Damocles his feast Epigram upon my Lord All-pride Bursting with pride the loath'd Impostu●e swel's Prick him he shed's his venom straight and smel 's But is so lewd a Scribler that he writes With as much force to nature as he fights Harden'd in shame 't is such a baffled Fop That every School-boy whips him like a Top. And with his arm and heart his brain 's so weak That his starv'd fancy is compell'd to rake Among the excrements of others wit To make a stinking meal of what they shit So Swine for nasty meat to dunghills run And toss their gruntling Snouts up when they 've done Against his stars the Coxcomb ever strives And to be something they forbid contrives With a red Nose splay-foot and goggle eye A plowman's looby meen face all awry A filthy breath and every loathsome mark The Punchinello set's up for a Spark With equal self-conceit he takes up arms But with such vile successe his part perform's That he burlesque's the trade and what is best In others turn's like Harlequin tojest So have I seen at Smithfield's wondrous fair When all his Brother Monsters flourish there A lubbard Elephant divert the Town With making legs and shooting off a gun Go where he will he never find's a Friend Shame and derision all his steps attend Alike abroad at home i' th Camp and Court This Knight o' th' burning pestle makes us sport Printed in the Year 1679.