Selected quad for the lemma: lord_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
lord_n	baron_n	earl_n	william_n	12,226	5	7.7233	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A54678	Poems by Thomas Philipott ...	Philipot, Thomas, d. 1682.	1646 (1646)	Wing P2000A; ESTC R21078	29,190	64

POEMS BY THOMAS PHILIPOTT Master of Arts Somtimes Of Clare-Hall in Cambridge LONDON Printed by R. A. for Henry Shepheard and William Ley and are to be sold at the Bible in Tower-street and at PAULS Chain neer Doctors Commons M.DC.XLVI TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE As well by the merit of vertue as desert of birth MILDMAY Earle of Westmerland Baron Despenser and Bergherst MY LORD BEE pleased to shed one beame on these tender sprigs of Lawrell which will raise them up to that growth that their shadow will be able to skreen me from the heat of sensure I have through a throng of other businesse pressed so farre as to present them to your view my zeale to be knowne to your Lordship who is knowne to be the publike Assertor of Letters oblig'd me to offer them up to your name and if you think the sacrifice not worthy of the Altar let it be burnt and the flame of it will be so happie as to give me light to see my errour ●hat durst presume to consecrate things of so low an estimate without either sap or verdure to the shelter of so high a Patron so shall I by my humility entitle my selfe to your pity that could not by my Poesie endeare my selfe to your praise for I know my Lord that your mercy and justice are so equally wound up together that you can at once both judge and forgive him who shall aspire to no further happinesse then to be acknowledged The humblest of your Servants Thomas Philipott To the Reader REader thou mayst without affrightment look Within the pages of this guiltlesse Book For here no Satyr masquing in disguise Amongst these leaves in Ambuscado lies No Snake does lurk amongst these flowers to cast Her poyson forth and mens faire honours blast And though some staine the paper when they write And so defile and fully its chaste white With lines of lust that to wipe out that sin It even wants white to do its penance in Yet I no Goats bloud in my ink will spill To make loose lines flow from my tainted Quill No soot or gall I 'll mingle to possesse My words with an invective bitternesse Although perchance to make them seeme more tart I may some salt to season them impart No no the wooll o' th' Lamb I 'll only take And that my principall'st Ingredient make So that what ere my teeming Pen shall vent Shall though not wittie yet be innocent T. P. To the Authour ENCOMIASTICON 'T Is Poetrie thou writ'st Latines call 't Verse Because it turnes off Active smooth and Terse Greeks call 'em Rithme and Metre when in sweet Numbers and measure they do fitly meet These rise and bravely flie Height'ned by Phantasie And make true Poesie Which many misse that trie A Poet as thou art I may be sworne Was not so made but rather so was borne And I may say when I read many a line Grac'd with high influence thou art divine The various style endeares it to us more Embroyd'red with Conceptions amplest store Wits curious Tapestrie Hymnes Past'ralls Elegies Observatives Divinitie Philosophick Scrutinies It may be call'd a FLORILEGE for all That have not time for studies generall Philomusus T. C. POEMS On the beholding his face in a Glasse SVre if this Mirrour has limn'd out to me My faces true and faithfull imagerie My cheeks do yet lye fallow and my brow Is not yet furrow'd with Times rugged plow No haire as yet has cloath'd my naked chin Nor wrinckle rumpell'd or purl'd up my skin Nor has my head one haire by Cares expence White with the powder of Experience But when more yeares shall fit on me and age Shall dresse me with his liverie and engage This structure of my flesh to droop and cares Shall into reverend gray have did my haires And I agen perhaps expose my face To the impartiall censure of my glasse My shadow will enforme me that it beares Like me th' impressions too of many yeares When shivering agues do congeale the bloud And feavers melt again that purple floud When I lye floating in a sea of rheume Being tost with everie melancholy fume This by its wither'd aspect will declare It symptomes does of the same sicknesse weare Nay when sterne death with a rude hand does seek To pluck the Roses out from either cheek To plant his Lillies there and does dispense To everie languishing and vanquish'd sense A chill benumning damp could I then view The sad resemblance of that ashie hue That blasts my cheeks that shadow would put on The same appearance of complexion How brittle and how transitorie then Are all those props that Nature leanes on when I from this faithfull Mirrour can descry My shadow is as permanent as I On the sight of a Clock HOw fruitlesse our designes would prove if we Should be possest with so much vanitie As with our fraile endeavours to assay To stop the winged houres in their way Or fondly seek to chaine up Time and try To make him with our wild desires comply Since leaden plummets hung upon his feet Not clog we see but make his pace more fleet On a Gentlewoman dying in Child-bed of an abortive Daughter WHat neare alliance was between the grave Of this dead infant and the place that gave First life to 't Here was a sad mysterie Work'd up it selfe both Life and Death we see Were Inmates in one house making the womb At once become a Birth-place and a Tomb The mother too as if she meant t' improve In everie fatall circumstance her love When this unpollisht infant di'd her breath Resign'd that she might wait on it in death And in one Monument might sleep by her To whom before she was a Sepulcher On a Gentlewoman much deformed with the small pox WHat hath this prettie Faire misdone That angrie Heaven so soone Mistook the fatall place And buried all her beautie in her face Each hole may be a Sepulcher Now fitly to inter Those whom her coy disdaine And nice contempt has immaturely slaine Yet lest so great a losse should lack It s ceremonious black She weares it in her eyes To mourne at her owne Beauties Obsequies She needs no glosse to veile those scars And those Hebrew Characters Which like letters do display The storie of her Beauties sad decay That moysture shall embalme 'hem I Will powre from either eye So that those scars she weares Shall need no other Ceruse but my teares On Julia throwing snow-balls at him WHilst Iulia did her snow-balls at me hit She did into my bosome too transmit A sudden flame 't is strange that hea● should flow From such a frostie principle as snow Sure those successive glances which did rise From the bright Orbs of her refulgent eyes Made some impression on those balls and so Subverted the cold property of snow Yet as that flame which in my heart did reigne And darted fire from thence on every veine Was caus'd by snow so when I did but rest My