Selected quad for the lemma: kingdom_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
kingdom_n	lord_n	praise_n	sing_v	2,498	5	9.6568	5	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A86261	November the 5. 1605. The quintessence of cruelty, or, master-peice of treachery, the Popish pouder-plot, invented by hellish-malice, prevented by heavenly-mercy. / Truly related, and from the Latine of the learned, religious, and reverend Dr. Herring, translated and very much dilated. By John Vicars.; Pietas pontificia. English.	Herring, Francis, d. 1628.; Vicars, John, 1579 or 80-1652.	1641 (1641)	Wing H1602; Thomason E1100_1; ESTC R203901	60,311	138

he hath cut-down his choisest-vine Because it would not to his word incline Thinkst thou the fruitlesse wilde-Olive shall stand Unprofitably comb'ring his good land O no he 'll make it wither soon and dye Like to our Saviours barren Fig-tree dry And thou whom God hath thus with mercies blest If thanklesse shalt with dangers be distrest Yea multitudes of mischiefs will thee follow And thee in treasons greedy-jawes will swollow Yea troupes of traitors then shall daily strive Of life and liberty thee to deprive Wherfore that thou ô England still maist have Gods friendly favour thee from foes to save Preach and proclame with heart and hearty cheer With thanks praise each hour month yeer This matchlesse-mercy of thy loving Lord And it on marble-pillars aye record Yea teach thy childrens children to rejoyce To sing Gods-prayses with shrill-sounding voyce And every way his name and fame to reare For this so great Deliverance And to beare A zealous hatred deadly detestation To Romes false doctrines base abhomination Thou then the God of our inheritance Thy Sions Saviour strong deliverance Our part our portion buckler staffe and stay Under thy wings preserve us still we pray Make void and frustrate Romes most hatefull pride The cause is thine ô Lord stand on our side Resist their rage for 'gainst thy Church they rave And let thy people thy protection have Revenge the blood of thy distressed Saints And when they grieve relieve their sad complaints O Lord we pray thee blesse and dresse thy Vine Thy Love thy Dove this little-flock of thine Yea Lord at all times in extremest straits Thy sacred arms upon our armies waits Thy help is present and thy presence sweet To foyle our foes and cast them at our feet Thou Lord dost cause the fell Monocerate To beare on 's brow a soveraign-Antidote Wherfore this wond'rous work of thine ô Lord Our voyce our verse for ever shall record Our hearts we will incline thy praise to sing Even thy great name ô our celestiall King In every house Shire City Street and Temple And teach our children this by our ensample Throughout the Kingdom we thy fame will raise While vitall-breath from death prolongs our days And tell this thy great work to every Nation While Sun and Moon shine in their cloudy-station Our singers shall sing Psalms to thee on high O blessed blessed blessed-Trinity FINIS An Epigram to Iesuites the Principall Disturbers of Peace and Unity the Authours and Firebrands of Sedition and Treachery throughout the Christian-world OR The ROMISH WHITE-DIVELL Qui cum Iesu itis non itis cum Iesuitis THe Fatall-Sisters Latine-Poets call Parcae though parcunt nulli they kill all And Latinists the thick-wood Lucus write Ceu nunquàm lucens wherin comes no light And by the same Antiphrasis of late The Jesuites to themselvs appropriate The sacred name of Jesus though their works Declare their lives to be farr worse than Turks Heavens lightnes brightnesse differs not so great From ponderous drossie Earth Nor Southern heat To Northern chilling killing frosts so far Differ Nor th' Artick from th' Antartick star Is more remote than this rank of makes-shifts Whose hatefull lives crafts couzenage subtill drifts To all good-men apparent are unlike To Christ or Jesus Doctrine if you strike Their name out only and their works behold Their best-part then will prove but drosse to gold Do thorns bear grapes do figs on thistles grow Or the tall-palme yeeld pleasant fruite ô no The tree by 's fruit may manifested be On good-trees good on ill bad fruit we see The Jesuites-Doctrine who to know doth list It doth of 5. dees Five dees properly consist In Daunting subjects in Dissimulation To Depose Dispose Kings Realms Devastation Whither the Jesuites come more near to those Which beare the armes of Christ or Mars with blows It is a question but with ease decided As thus Christs souldiers ever are provided Of these blest weapons tears prayers patience These foyl and spoyl their foes with heavenly fence But daggers dags keen-swords poysons deceit Close-fawning treasons wiles to couzen and cheat These are the Jesuites-arms and with these arts Their Pope to deifie they play their parts Nor faith nor piety their followers have For divellishly 'gainst truth they rage and rave How fit those armes Loiola's-brats beseem Britane can witnesse and the whole-world deem I 'll passe-by other-slights all in this one In this foule pouder-plot they all are shown Blush blush ô Jesuites England knows too well Your counsell furthered most this worke of Hell Yea impious Garnet for the traitors pray'd Prick't pusht-forward those he might have staid Being accessary to this damn'd intent Which with one-word this Jesuite might prevent Such barbarous traitours and strange treachery To hide and silence is grosse villany Gentem auferte perfidam c. But ô with orisons God to implore To grant successe ô speak was ere before In all the world like wickednesse ere known In any age such monsters seen or shown Which with religious shows shelter foule-crimes With vertues cloake hiding them oft oft-times And then ô then I tremble to declare Calling the Lord of Heaven with them to share In this foule-fact nor yet heerwith content To offer heaven this high disparagement But that they 'll act more grosse impiety If any can be worse t' heavens Deity These sacrilegious traitors falsly think No surer bands themselves to tie and link To secrecy and resolution strong Than therunto blasphemously to wrong Our Saviours glorious body and blood also To their eternall and infernall woe And who so impious so audacious bold In 's wretched hands the Eucharist to hold Who was so godlesse who so gracelesse trow So rich a pearle unto such swines to throw Who but a Priest of this Society Wouldst know his name t was Gerrard certainly Perswade your selves ye holy fathers all This is a truth which you a lye will call For nought is said against you but most right Then blush for shame hide your selvs from sight O heavens ô earth ô treachers times and season Degenerous minds and hard-hearts void of reason Truly t is doubtfull difficult to tell Whether of these two mischiefs did excell At one-blow bloodily so to confound A King and Queen three Kingdomes so renownd Nobles and Senate thus to strike and stroy By pouder them to spoyle with great annoy Or that Christs glorious sacred body and blood His holy yea most holy Supper shou'd By such damn'd unbidden guests be ' taminated So base a band to be conglutinated And link't thereby with such vile vehemence To perpetrate that Stygian foule offence The Pristine Poets us'd in verse to sing The noble Gests of every Prince and King But now t is needfull in this weedfull age Wherin impiety and vice do rage Yea and all too-too little to declare The hatefull times and crimes which most rife are Whose monstrousnes to paint to publike sight The true relation

Lord Harrington by Dunchurch-heath Together with the Princesse Mary fair And having got this royall female-pair Elizabeth they would their Queen proclaime And on her person sequell projects frame At Dunchurch therfore they 'd a hunt pretend And friends there meeting might that businesse end Lastly they all consult and take advice What forrein Prince they heerto might intice What English Lords and Noble-men to save Who of this Kingdome should possession have Of these and all these circumstances they Firmly resolv'd against the pointed-day Each thing thus hapning to them passing-well To Fauks whom we not man but hagg of hell May justly term a title best befitted The finall fatall-blow was then committed This gastly ghostlike-monster night by night To th' Cellar went all things to order right Which Cellar now they filled had complete With firkins barrels and with hoggs-heads great Thirty and six with gun-pouder all stuft Which should earths intrals to the skies have puft Lord what a puffe what a combustious flame What motion what commotion by the same Had from the Earth into the ayre bin rais'd Hels stoutest furies to have made amaz'd And yet to make the blow more strangely fierce More desp'rately the corps to pash and pierce Upon the barrels they had laid also Great crowes of iron to increase the blow And massie-stones and logs had plac't theron Right underneath the Kings and Princes throne And to prevent the danger of suspect That none those Stygian engines might detect These traiterous hell-hounds with Medaea's guile Great store of billets therupon did pile And fagots so the gun-pouder to hide That it could not without great search be spide Thus having fram'd this Chaos of confusion This seven-fold heated fornace For conclusion Of Englands fatall-doome they now expect The long-wisht day their purpose to effect The happy hoped-day Novembers-fift To drive all head-long with a horrid drift Thus Fauks that ravening-Wolf with hungry-jaws Greedily gap'd to gripe us in his pawes Thus thus he stood prepar'd to perpetrate With more than barbarous most inhumane hate A treason passing Catelines compact Against old Rome with hot Cethegus backt Ambitious Hamans arrogant proud thought Against the Jewes could no such ruth have wrought Inferiour farre to this transcendent treason Was Paris massacre with most just reason And that Sicilian wofull Even-song Came farre behinde this proiect And among The best Chronographers thou canst not finde A fact so foule so cruell and unkinde Not barbarous Scythia nor Tartaria wild Did ever heare or see a plot so vilde Much lesse ere dreame the like to enterprize Than which a worse Pluto could not devise Nor such a palpable Aegyptian-fogg Have rais'd to rear Romes faithlesse Synagogue Wherin they hopt a kingdome to devoure At once with one blow in lesse than one houre Like unresistible remorslesse waves To make the open-ayre the tombes and graves Of our dread King the Queen the Prince our joy Of Englands peerlesse Peers with dire annoy Of all our choice and chief Nobility Of Levies-Sons props of the Prelacy Lycurgus-Sons our Justices and Judges To whom their Romish foes bare secret grudges The flower of gentry creame of Common-weale Her skilfull Surgeons countries sores to heale Her most accomplisht Knights the bravest part And prudent Burgesses had felt that smart Most of the soundest Lawyers of the Land Had altogether perisht out of hand All These I say thus marked-out to die Had not heavens fore-sight given their wrath the lie Smother'd in smoake and dust to th' Ayr blown-up Had drunke full-drafts of deaths most direfull cup Their bodies batterd shatterd torne and rent Arms heads and legs flying i th' firmament Dismembred bodies all besmeard with gore A sight which very Scythians might deplore Yea roare to see and seeing curse the hearts Of all such barbarous Actors of such parts Thus thus I say those pious Patriots had Been All ingulft in death and dolour sad By this most woefull fearfull Stygean Act Likest it-selfe paralel'd by no fact O mischief murther massacre most strange New snare base ware brought forth from hels exchange O Popish cruell-crue inhumane quite Monsters in Gods monsters in all mens sight O wretched work to which all woes are due Great wrack more great than may beheld for true Who present saw All noted All he saw To trust All seen his Own-eyes scarce could draw With such fierce flames of quick Sulphurious scath Doth Rome promove approve her Cath'lick Faith Nay not these reasonable-souls alone Had in that roaring-thunder up bin blown Without distinction or least difference Of mean or mighty people or of Prince Of Majesty or honour sex or age Such was the horrour of Romes wrath rage But many senslesse-creatures they had ment To make partakers of that hideous rent Both those most ancient famous houses fair Of Parliament the springs of laws most rare Westminster-hall fair Englands judgement-seat Yea doubtlesse White-hall had to dust bin beat The Church wherin Kings had their coronation All turn'd to ashes by that conflagration That Church I say wherin the tombes most rare Of former famous Kings and Princes are With precious curious cost and care erected From age to age most gorgeously protected As endlesse trophies of triumphant raign All these had faln dasht into dust again Yea all the marks of Britanes royall-Grace The Crown of England Scepter Sword and Mace Records and Charters which appropriate To all their portion honour right and state O wofull ruthfull these had bin Romes prey In this sulphurious-furious dark doomes-day So horrid and exorbitant a plot So foul a stain so black an ugly-spot Doubtlesse mans tongue before did never tell His eyes behold or in his heart could dwell Nay all the furies of th'infernall-pit Could never surely such foule poyson spit So rare a King so rare a Queen to kill So rare a Prince so rare a Race to ill So rare a State to stab with cruelty So rare a Realm to bring to misery Whom all the world admir'd belov'd of all Whom none but Pope and Papists wisht to fall If a mean-man to slay be detestable Then how much more had this bin execrable If to shed-bloud be cal'd a crying-sin How much more monstrous had this murther bin This mo●● than crying yea this roaring-crime Unparalell'd unpattern'd by all time For these destroy'd what were a Realm but dead A most dismembred corps without a head And as a silly Hare feare laid aside Securely thinks within his form to 'bide Whom when the Country-man asleep doth finde With his plow-staffe he kils with eager minde Even so Romes cruell bloody-dragon had Obliterated Englands fame and clad Her glorious beauty glist'ring name and nation In sable mourning wo and lamentation So huge a throat had this wilde wolf of Rome Christs stocke at once to swollow and consume Who thus at one indeed deep Cath'like blow Had not heaven-only therunto said no Had Nero's most inhumane wish effected Namely all Englands