Selected quad for the lemma: love_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
love_n	life_n	live_v	love_v	12,614	5	6.7212	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
B05811	The delights of the bottle: or, The town-gallants declaration for women and wine. Being a description of a town-bred gentleman, with all his intreagus, pleasure, company, humour, and conversations. Gallants, from faults he cannot be exempt, who doth a task so difficult attempt; I know I shall not hit your features right, 'tis hard to imitate in black and whight, some lines were drawn by a more skilful hand, and which they were you'l quickly understand, excuse me therefore if I do you wrong, I did but make a ballad of a song. To a most admirable new tune, every where much in request.	Shadwell, Thomas, 1642?-1692.	1675 (1675)	Wing S2841; Interim Tract Supplement Guide EBB65H[69]; Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.8[106]; ESTC R14001	1,618	1

The Delights of the Bottle OR The Town-Gallants Declaration for Women and Wine Being a Description of a Town-bred Gentleman with all his Intreagus Pleasure Company Humour and Conversations Gallants from faults he cannot be exempt Who doth a task so difficult attempt I know I shall not hit your features right 'T is hard to imitate in black and whight Some Lines were drawn by a more skilful hand And which they were you 'l quickly understand Excuse me therefore if I do you wrong I did but make a Ballad of a Song To a most Admirable New Tune every where much in request THe Delights of the Bottle charms of good wine To the pow'r the pleasures of love must resign Though the night in the joys of good drinking be past The debauches but till the next morning doth last But loves great debauch is more lasting and strong For that often lasts a man all his life long Love and Wine are the bonds that fasten us all The world but for this to confusion would fall Were it not for the pleasures of love and good wine Man-kind for each trifle their lives would resign they 'd not value dull life or wou'd live without thinking Nor Kings rule the world but for love good drinking For the Grave and the Dull by sobriety curs'd that would ne'r take a glass but for quenching his thirst He that once in a Month takes a touch of the Smoak And poor Nature up-holds with a bit and a knock What ever the ignorant Rabble may say Tho' he breaths till a hundred he lives but a day Let the Puritan preach against wenches and drink He may prate out his Lungs but I know what I think When the Lecture is done he 'l a Sister entice Not a Letcher in Town can Out-do-him at Vice Tho' beneath his Religion he stifles his joys And becomes a Dabauch without clamour or noise 'Twixt the Vices of both little difference lyes But that one is more open the other precize Though he drinks like a chick with his eye-balls lift up Yes I 'le warrant thee boy he shall take off his cup His Religious debauch does the gallants out-match For a Saint is his Wench and a Psalm is his Catch The Second part to the same Tune FOr the Lady of Vertue Honour so strict That who off●rs her Guinneys deserves to be kick'd Who with sport by her self doth her fancy beguile That 's asham'd of a jest and afraid of a smile May she lye by her self till she wear out the stairs Going down to her Dinner and up to her Prayers But let us that have Noble and generous souls No method observe but in filling our bouls Let us frolick it round to replenish our veins And with nations divine to enspire our brains 'T is a way that 's Gentile and is found to be good Both to quicken the Wit and enliven the blood What a pleasure it is to see bottles before us With the women among us to make up the Chorus Now a Jest now a Catch now a Buss now a Health Till our pleasure comes on by insensible stealth And when grown to a height with our Girls we retire By a brisker enjoyment to slacken the fire And this is the way that the wiser do take A perpetual motion in pleasure to make With a flood of Obrian we fill up each vein All the Spirits of which love's Limbeck must drain While the soberer Sot has no motion of blood For his fancy is nothing but puddle and Mud. He 's a slave to his soul who in spight of his sence VVith a Clog of his own putting on can dispence For he Fetters himself when at large he might rove So he 's ty'd from the sweets of good drinking and love Yet he 's satisfied well that he 's thought to be wise By the Dull and foolish I mean the precise For my part whatever the consequence be To my will and my fancy I 'le always be free They are mad that do willfully run upon shelves Since dangers and troubles will come of themselves For whoever desireth to live like a man He must be without trouble as long as he can And these are the pleasures true Gallants do find To which if you are not you should be enclin'd If you follow my counsel you take off the curse And if you do not we are never the worse Yet none will refuse but a Begger or Cit VVho to cary on the humour wants Money or VVit