Selected quad for the lemma: heaven_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
heaven_n	gain_v	good_a	kind_a	2,607	5	13.8900	5	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A43089	A satyre against seperatists, or, The conviction of chamber-preachers and other chismatickes contrary to the discipline of this our Protestant profession by A. C. Generosus.	Hausted, Peter, d. 1645.; Cowley, Abraham, 1618-1667.	1642 (1642)	Wing H1157; ESTC R21706	4,116	8

A SATYRE AGAINST SEPERATISTS OR THE CONVICTION OF Chamber-Preachers and other Chismatickes contrary to the Discipline of this our Protestant Profession By A. C. GENEROSUS LONDON Printed for A. C. 1642. A SATYRE Against Seperatists I Have beene where so many Round-heads dwell ●hat there are only more of them in Hell Where silenc'd Ministers enow were met To make a Synod And may make one yet Their blessed liberty they 've found at last And talk'd for all those yeares of silence past Like some halfe-pin'd and hunger starved man Who when he next gets victells surfets than Each Country of the World sen● us back some Like severall winds which from all quarters come To make a storme As 't haps its Sunday too And the chiefe Rabbies preach To Church I 'le goe Where ●hat we men more patiently may heare Nonsence to Heaven at first hee speakes it there He hummes then whispers strait and next does roare Now drawes his long words and now leaps them o're So various tones that I admir'd and said Sure all the Congregation in him praid 'T was the most teadious Soule the dullest he That ever came to Doctrines twenty three And nineteene uses How he drawes his Humme And quarters Haw talkes Poppy and Opium No feaver a mans eyes could open keepe All Argus body hee 'd have preach'd a sleepe In halfe an houre The Wauld O Lawd he cries Lukewarmenesse And this melts the Womens eyes They sob aloud and straite aloud I snore Till a kind Psalme tells me the dangers o're Fles'd here with this escape bouldly toth'hall I venture where I meete the brethren all First there to the grave Clergie I am led By whatsoever stile distinguished Whether most reverend batchelors they be Of Art or reverend Sophes of no degree Next stand the walleyed Sisters in a row Nay their scaldheaded children they come too And mingled 'mongst these stood a gaping there Those few laymen that not 'o th Clergy were Now they discourse some stories here relate Of bloudy Popish plots against the State Which by the spirit and providence no doubt The man that made hath found most strangely out Some blame the King others more modest say Hee 's a good Man himselfe but led away The woemen rip old wounds and with their teares Recount the losse of the three worthies Eares Away you fooles 't was for the good o' th men They nere were perfect Round-heads untill then But against Bishops they all raile But I Said bouldly I 'de defend the Hierarchy Toth' Hierarchy they meant no harme at all But roote and branch 'bout Bishops too t wee fall I like a foole with reason and those men With wrested Scripture a flie Deacon then Thrust in his Eares so speakes th' Apostle too How speakes he friend not i' the nose like you Straite a Shee-zealot raging to me came And said o' th what d'you call it part I am Bishops are limbes of Antichrist she cries Repent quoth I good woman and be wise The Devill will have you ells that I can tell Beleiv't and poach those eges o' your eyes in hell An hidious storme was ready to begin When by most blessed fate the meate came in But then so long so long a grace is sed That a good Christian when he goes to bed Would be contented with a shorter Prayer Oh how the Saints enjoy'd the creatures there Three Pasties in the minute of an houre Large and well wrought they roote and branch devour As glibly as they 'd swallow'd down Church land In vai●e the lesser Pies hope to withstand On Geese and Capons with what zeale they feed And wondering crie A goodly bird indeed Their spirits thus warn●d all the jests from them came Upon the names of Land Duck Wren and Lambe Cannons and Bishops Seas And one most wise I like this innocent mirth at dinner cries Which now by one is done and grace by two The Bells ring and againe to Church we goe And now the Christian Bajaset begins The suffering Pulpit groanes for Israels sinnes Sinnes which in number many though they be And crying ones are yet lesse loud then he His stretchd-out voyce sedition spreds a farre Nor does he only teach but act a warre A sweats against the state Church learning sence Resolving to gaine hell with Violence Down down as low as earth must all things goe There was some hope the Pulpit would downe too Worke on worke on good zeale but still I say Law forbids thrashing on the Sabbath Day An houre lasts the two handed Prayer and yet Not a kinde sillable can heaven get Till to the Parliament he comes at last Just at that blessed word his furie 's past And here he thankes God in a loving tone But Laurd and then he mounts All is not done No would it were thinke I for much I feare That all will not be done this two houres here For now he comes too t As you shall finde it writ Repeats his text and takes his leave of it And strait to 's Sermon in such furious wise He'as made it what 't is calld an exercise The Pulpit 's his hot bath the brethren's cheere Rost-beife Mince-py and Capon reeke out heere Oh how he whips about six yeares agoe When superstitious decency did growe So much in fashion Now he whets his fist Against the name of Altar and of Priest The very name in his outragious heat Poore innocent Vox ad placitum he beate Next he cuffs out set Prayer even the Lords And binds the spirit he sayes as 't were with cords Yea with whipcords Next must authority goe Authoritie's a kind of binder too First then he intends to breath himselfe upon Church Government have at the King anon The thing 's don straight in poore six minutes space Titus and Timothy have lost their place Nay with th' Apostles too it eene went hard All their authority two thumps more had mard Paul and St. Peter might expect their doome Knew but this frantick foole they 'd bin at Rome Now to the State he comes talkes an alarm And ath' malignant party flings his arme Defies the King and thinkes his Pulpit full As safe a place for 't as the Knight at Hull What though no Magazeen laid in here be Scarce all the Guns can make more noice then he Plots plots he cries ther 's jelousies and feares The politick Saints shake their misterious eares Till time long time which doth consume and wast All things t'an end his Sermon brought at last What would you have good soule a reformation Oh by all meanes but how o' th newest fashion A prety slight religion cheape and free I know not how but you may furnisht be At Ipswich Amsterdame 's a Kingdome neere Though to say truth you paid for that too deare No matter what it costs wee 'l reforme though The Prentizes themselves will have it so They 'le roote out popery here what 's ' ever come It is decreed nor shall thy fate O Rome