Selected quad for the lemma: lord_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
lord_n	day_n	know_v	let_v	10,191	5	4.1835	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A57165	The ramble an anti-heroick poem : together with some terrestrial hymms and carnal ejaculations / by Alexander Radcliffe ...	Radcliffe, Alexander, fl. 1669-1696.	1682 (1682)	Wing R129; ESTC R11420	29,412	143

Sighs and Prayers would be her sport Exalted she so long maintains her Fort. But when Diviner Sack hath fir'd thy Bloud Creating Flames which cannot be withstood To which is added Confidence as great As his that aim'd at Joves Celestial Seat Boldly march on not granting her the leisure Of Parly 't is the Speed augments the Pleasure If she cry out with Kisses stop her Breath She cannot wish to die a better Death Tell her the pleasant passages between The God of War and Loves more gentle Queen When feeble Vulcan came and in a fear Lest they wou'd not continue longer there He chain'd 'em to the sport with an intent To keep such Lovers for a Precedent Glad to behold a tempting pleasure that His weak Endeavours never could create Then stroke her Breasts those Mountains of Delight Whose very Touch would fire an Anchorite Next let thy wanton Palm a little stray And dip thy Fingers in the Milky Way Thus having raiz'd her gently let her fall Loves Trumpets sound Now Mortal have at all A happy end thus made of all your sport Lead her where every Lover shou'd resort Where Madam Sack 's enthron'd the tempting'st Lass That e'er was seated in a Venice Glass Last that this sense of Pleasure may remain Cast away Thought and fall to Drink again Drink off the Glasses swallow every Bowl And pity him that sighs away his Soul For that poor trifle Woman who is mine With one small Gallon of Immortal Wine To get a Mistress Drinking is the knack Love's grand existence is Almighty Sack What are you mad I 'LL mount my thoughts to Giant height I 'm Constellation in conceit I 'll pluck down Sol and mount his Sphere Then sullen Daphne shall appear And seeing me grasp Phoebus Rays Shall cringe and crown me with her Bays I 'll rape the Moon it shall be said Cynthia hath chang'd the name of Maid Her twinkling Girles shall all be ta'en No Virgin left to bear her Train Thus conquering Sun Moon and Stars 'Gainst Gods themselves I 'll levy Wars Or if on Earth my Mind can rest I 'll be a Monarch at the least Our dull Plebeians shall grow quicker Rincing their muddy Brains in Liquor The Miser then shall scatter Cash For Wine shall change his Balderdash And sing and drink and drink and sing Till every Subject turns a King The conquer'd Gods shall make us Legs Intreating they may sip the dregs Thus will we tipple till the World Into Oblivion is hurld And when we feel old Age does come We 'll post into Elysium And there our chiefest Joys shall be To think of past Felicity Money 's All. BEauty is Nature's quaint Disguise A Covert for the Game we hunt Being pinch'd but once or twice it dies And leaves behind a slimy Honour 's the pleasing Cheat of Men The White that does discover Blots Like to the Plague at height which then Produceth gawdy purple spots Wisdom the Souls grave penury Which he that owns dares not be brave But with dull Morals must comply Lest the fond Age should call him Knave But he whose Wealth ne'er knew a measure May be truly termed free For while he rules alone in Treasure He commands the other three Several Late SONGS Burlesqu'd or Varied As Amoret and Phyllis sate c. AS Tom and I well warm'd with Wine Were sitting at the Rose In came Sir John with dire design To ply us in the close The threatning Bumpers to remove I whisper'd in his Ear Ah Tom a bloudy Night 't will prove There is no staying here There is no c. None ever yet had such an art In filling to the Brim Nor can you e'er expect to part If once engag'd with him Fly fly betimes for at this rate We certainly are sunk In vain said Tom in vain you prate I am already drunk I am already drunk Hail to the Myrtle Shades c. PItty the private Cabal Ah pitty the Green Ribbon Club They 've cut off poor Strephon's Entail And Strephon has met with a rub Strephon has still the same Creatures Who fill him with many a doubt But Strephon won't stoop to his Betters Ah Strephon ah why so stout Strephon once caper'd and pranc'd Who but Strephon at Masks and at Balls Strephon the Saraband danc'd But Strephon now leads up the Brawls Strephon who ne'er had the skill To use either Figure or Trope For Strephon has no lofty Style Nor e'er was cut out for a Pope Strephon though not by his Tongue Has drawn to him Parties and Factions People that make the day long By buzzing of private Transactions Strephon has little to say But laughs at the Lord knows what But the Club meets every day And sits with eternal Chat. The Poor Whore's Song in allusion to the Begging Souldier Good your Worship cast an Eye c. GOod young Leacher cast an Eye Upon a poor Whores misery Let not my antiquated Front Make you less free than you were wont But like a noble Rogue Do but disembogue And you shall have our constant vogue For I am none of those That a bulking goes And often shows Their Bridewell blows Or New Prison Lash For filing of Cash Or nimming Prigsters of their Trash But I at Court have often been Within the view of King and Queen A Guiney to me was no more Than Fifteen Pence to a Suburb Whore And when he did tilt I did briskly jilt And swallow'd Pego to the Hilt A Pox was very near For Bubo did appear Had not my Surgeon then been there Once at the Bear in Drury Lane The Bullies left me for a Pawn But I made my party good To Fifteen Guinneys and a Broad Oh you wou'd little ween How that I have been As great a Jilt as e'er was seen But if Mother Bennet came With a Wheedle or a Flam She 'd tell you how I cut the Sham. From thence I march'd to Creswels House Under the name of a Merchants Spouse And there I play'd the secret Lover Lest jealous Husband shou'd discover Oh then came in the Rings And such like things Which eldest Prentice often brings But now my poor Contrary to its wont Must pocket any small Affront Now Now the Fight 's done c. NOw Now the Heart 's broke Which so long has complain'd And Clarinda triumphs In the Conquest sh 'as gain'd Love laughs at the sight At the mischief does crow For a Love-wounded Heart Is to him a fine Show He plays up and down and he sports with the Heart And he shews it about on the point of his Dart. But since the coy Nymph So disdainful is grown The power of her Charms We 'll for ever disown We 'll slight the fond Brat Love no longer shall wrack us We 'll shake off his Chains For the pleasures of Bacchus Then fill us more Wine fill the Glass to the brim Thus we 'll patch up our Hearts they shall last our Life-time Tell me dearest pr'ythee do Why thou wilt

and wilt not too c. TEll me Jack I pr'ythee do Why the Glass still sticks with you What does Bus'ness signifie If you let your Claret die Wine when first pour'd from the Bottle All its strength and vigour flies So says ancient Aristotle If it stand In your hand It will then disband All its Spirits in a trice Who dares then refuse to swallow All the Wine that out he puts Will find some heavy Judgments follow Vinegar Single Beer Or such dismal Gear To torment his wambling Guts Since to all subduing Wine Lofty Arguments resign He wrongs himself that sits and prates Of grave Matters or Debates Talk not then of Merchandizes Or what Interest may accrue By Taxes Subsidies Excises Liberty Property Or Monopoly ' Slife 't is enough to make one spue Be as you were ever jolly Let it not stick at your door Bus'ness is the greatest folly Here 's a Glass Let it pass He 's a formal Ass That e'er talks of Bus'ness more Mr. Drydens Description of Night ALL things were hush'd as Nature's self lay dead The Mountains seem to nod their drowsie head The little Birds in Dreams their Songs repeat And sleeping Flowers beneath the Night dew sweat Even Lust and Envy slept c. Thus Burlesqu'd All things were hush as when the Drawers tread Softly to steal the Key from Masters head The dying Snuffs do twinkle in their Urns As if the Socket not the Candle burns The little Foot-boy snoars upon the Stair And greasie Cook-maid sweats in Elbow Chair No Coach nor Link was heard c. Disdain yet still I will love thee Nothing c. FILL't up yet still I will take it Fill't up I 'll ne'er forsake it Although My doom I know This Glass another will usher Good faith it must be so Though drinking of this Brusher I shall neither stand nor go Now at last the Riddle is expounded c. OLD Beelzebub was Father of Sedition Pride and Arrogance began division In Religion And taught men to combine Fetch up the t'other double Bottle I will wash away design Bring a Spinster though she have a hot Tail No Kingdom is enflam'd by Love or Wine The busie Party are the idle Fellows Fools that are suspicious and too jealous Let Hell loose The Devil 's in 'em sure While he that drinks de die in diem And all night hugs a Whore What Treason or Rebellion can come nigh him Since he 's employ'd each minute of an hour To the Tune of Per fas per nefas A Pox o' these Fellows contriving They 've spoilt our pleasant design We were once in a way of true living Improving Discourse by good Wine But now Conversation grows tedeous O'er Coffee they still confer Notes ' Stead of Authors both learn'd and facetious They quote onely Dugdale and Oats A Traytor still gives a denyal When a Glass is fill'd up to the best By drinking we know who is Loyal A Brimmer's the onely Test. He that takes it 's untaunted of Treason He from all Impeachment is freed He may lose his Feet for a season But never shall lose his Head An Epitaph upon the Worthy and truly Vigilant Sam. Micoe Esq HEre Honest Micoe lies who never knew Whether the Parish Clock went false or true A true bred English Gentleman for he Never demanded yet Quel heur est il He valued not the Rise of Sun or Moon Nor e'er distinguish'd yet their Night from Noon Untill at last by chance he clos'd his Eyes And Death did catch him napping by surprize But first he thus spoke to the King of Fears Have I in Taverns spent my blooming years Outsate the Beadle nodding in his Chair Outwatch'd the Bulker and the Burglarer Outdrank all measure fill'd above the Seal When some weak Brethren to their Beds did reel And there when last nights Bottles were on board When Squires in Cloaks wrapt up in corners snoar'd I onely clad in my old Night Campain Call'd for more Wine and drank to 'em again Have I made Sir John Robinson to yield Sent haughty Lang ston staggering from the Field And unto meager Death now must I sink Death that eats all without a drop of Drink You steal my Life grim Tyrant 'cause you knew Had I sate up I 'd kill'd more men than you Quoth surly Death Statutum est sic dico Sat vigilasti Bonos Nochios Micoe Vpon Mr. Bennet Procurer Extraordinary REader beneath this Marble Stone Saint Valentine's Adopted Son Bennet the Bawd now lies alone Here lies alone the Amorous Spark Who was us'd to lead them in the dark Like Beasts by Pairs into the Ark. If Men of Honour wou'd begin He 'd ne'er stick out at any Sin For he was still for Sticking't in If Justice chiefest of the Bench Had an occasion for a Wench His reverend Flames 't was he cou'd quench And for his Son and Heir apparent He cou'd perform as good an errand Without a Tipstaff or a Warrant Over the Clergy had such a lock That he could make a Spiritual Frock Fly off at sight of Temporal Smock Like Will ' i th' wisp still up and down He led the Wives of London Town To lodge with Squires of high renown While they poor Fools being unaware Did find themselves in Mansion fair Near Leic'ster Fields or James's Square Thus Worthy Bennet was imploy'd At last he held the Door so wide He caught a cold so cough'd and dy'd To a late Scotch Tune THomas did once make my Heart full glad When I set him up to rule at the Helm But Thomas has prov'd but a naughty Lad For Thomas I fear has betray'd my Realm I gave him a House I gave him Grounds I gave him a hundred thousand pounds I gave him the Lord knows what Gadzounds But Thomas c. The finest Courtier that e'er was seen He prais'd my Port and he prais'd my Meen He prais'd all the Ladies at Court but the Q Yet Thomas c. I gave him all Christian Liberty I let him sometimes lig by me I let him feel my Duchesses Knee Yet Thomas c. Vpon a Bowl of Punch THE Gods and the Goddesses lately did feast Where Ambrosia with exquisite Sawces was drest The Edibles did with their Qualities suit But what they shou'd drink did occasion dispute 'T was time that old Nectar shou'd grow out of fashion For that they have drank long before the Creation When the Sky-coloured Cloth was drawn from the Board For the Chrystalline Bowl Great Jove gave the word This was a Bowl of most heavenly size In which Infant Gods they did use to baptize Quoth Jove We 're inform'd they drink Punch upon Earth By which mortal Wights do outdo us in mirth Therefore our Godheads together let 's lay And endeavour to make it much stronger than they 'T was spoke like a God Fill the Bowl to the top He 's cashier'd from the Skies that leaveth one drop Apollo dispatch'd away one of the Lasses Who fetch'd him