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	speak_v	word_n	16,774	5	4.1389	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A18740	A handeful of gladsome verses, giuen to the Queenes Maiesty at Woodstocke this prograce. 1592. By Thomas Churchyarde	Churchyard, Thomas, 1520?-1604.	1592 (1592)	STC 5237; ESTC S112587	7,494	22

fild olde barrell now But reason must inuent the meane and howe I doe discharge my duety as I ought To make a booke shall answere writers thought Nowe must my Muse goe borrowe if I may My betters workes to fill my matter full Tush world growes hard each man will say me nay Some cannot spare a little locke of wooll So greedely for pealfe they plucke and pull But namely some so watch and pry for fame That they with wordes will hinder mens good name Spite is a sparke of fire that flies in thaire And makes a cracke like pouder in a dagge Spite hides foule thoughts in lookes and speeches faire Whose wordes rests not as long as tongue may wagge Spite of himselfe will boldly boast and bragge To hurt by hate the hart that harmeles is For spite like snake in euery hedge can his Who flings a stone at euery dogge that barkes A wearie arme is surelie like to haue Though enuy shootes his bolts at many markes Pride wins not all the glory he doth craue Some will not giue the dead good words in graue Howe should the quicke then get bad worlds goodwill When hollowe harts but harbours hatred still March on plaine booke although thou passe the pikes Some marshall man will saue a souldiers life Holde in thy head from those that thee mislikes In skornefull daies I knowe disdaine is riefe Thy gladsome verse stirs vp more mirth then strife So Prince thou please thine owne desire thou hast Come cleare from court care not for enuies blast Thus Readers all I bid you heere farewell And to the Prince a simple tale I tell FINIS A HANDEFVLL OF GLADSOME UERSES GIVEN TO THE QUEENS Maiesty at Woodstocke this prograce I Most presume of all A boldnes more then needs To come where flowers sweet sent lets fall And I bring nought but weeds But though the fountaine springs From whence all learning flowes By study great great science brings And therewith duety showes The barraine ground of mine That seld sweet roses beares May yeeld some word or pleasant line Shall please your Princely eares But as an Oaten pipe When shepheard plaies a round Can moue no matter of delite By strangnes of the sound So verse puft vp with quill And cunning sleight of braine Where swift conceite conceiues at will Some grace of Poets vaine No pearsing passage findes To enter as it would In great estates whose noble mindes Knowes quickly glasse from gould A tale of plaine plowe man That roughly runneth on Finds frowns for fauor now and than When gracious lokes are gone What meanes my Muses weake In heate of humor newe So neere graue heads to write or speake Of things I seldome knewe As one start out of sleepe Tels dreames and visions rare To those that talke of dreames no keepe Nor doth for fancies care Our english Idle rimes To this is here compard Whose rouing reasons often times Reapes nought but small regard For learned sages wies That much haue seene and red Who knowes the course of stars in skies And what may well be sed And all the liberall artes Haue at their fingers ends They for their giftes and speciall partes Which God to scholers sendes Are worthie hearing still They bring the sugred cuppe They are the nurses of good skill That fosters children vppe They with the muses talke As all things were their owne And like the Gods doe closely walke In secret clouds vnknown Uaine verses haue no power Great vertue to perswade They are but blossomes of a flowre Whose beauty soone doth fade That pleaseth men a while with wordes of no great weight A speech that may some eares beguie A fine and pretty sleight A ripe inuention rare That springs on deepe deuice But verse is worne so weake and bare It beares but little price Because so many braines Runnes verses out of breath And posting wits with thankeles paines Hath ridden rime to death Though Poets in time past As Virgill and the rest Go●e crownes and many a famous blast To make them hold vp crest Yet most of them poore men Like byrdes but newely pluckt For Ovid that through gift of pen Did seeme that drye he suckt The springes of learned lore He had hard hap withall Homer had no great golde in store Nor worldly wealth at call And since fewe Poets rose To any worthy place And some scarce got meate drink clothes So poore was Poets case If Poets lucke be such That daily they decline And writers neuer can be rich For all their flourish fine Then seeke a better trade And fling away thy quill And take a mattoke and a spade And digge downe Maulvorne hill Twere better labour so By sweat of browes to liue Then like a threedbare Poet goe That hath no bread to giue Yet men may seeke to thriue By verse or stately prose Against ill chaunce or streame to striue Both strength and time we lose Uerse well deuisde and framde Wins friends and feareth foes So writer shape vnharmd or blamd For treading on mens toes Where angry cornes doth growe Yea verse breedes merry bloud When each sad word to world doth showe A liuely sentence good Uerse maketh many knowen That els forgotten are Who brings odde versis of their owne And prints no borrowd ware Who watcheth not their hours To steale and picke away From others gardens goodly flowres To make their posies gay Thus some doe borrowe much And then on braues doe stand A begger so may soone be rich Ne borne to rent nor land Great princes haue made verse And favred poetrie well Uerse hath a grace the clouds to pearce And clime where Gods doe dwell In verse great vertue is If worke well passe the ●ile And verse gets grace with that or this To make the Prince to smile Then many knacks we proue Our credite well to keepe And tell how Lords for Ladies loue Will lie all day a sleepe And faine when they awake In verse or letters long That they doe die for mistresse sake And suffer too much wrong A large discourse thereof Twere good to tell in deede But some would say I iest and scoffe And speake more wordes then neede Nay better talke of bogges That walkes in dead mens shapes Or tell of little pretty pogges As Monkies Owles and Apes A tale of two ours long Blinde peoples eares to please Nay that were like a Syreins song That shipmen heares on seas Strange Farlees fathers tolde Of feendes and hagges of hell And how that Syrses when she would Could skill of sorcerie well And how old thin faste wiues That rosted crabs by night Did tell of monsters in their liues That now proue shadowes light And told what Marlin spoke Of world and times to come But all that fire doth make no smoke For in mine eare doth home Another kinde of Bee That sounds a tune most strange A trembling noise of words to me That makes my countenance change Of old Hobgoblings guise That walkt like