Selected quad for the lemma: majesty_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
majesty_n	honourable_a	lord_n	viscount_n	3,313	5	11.4579	5	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A14883	A panegyricke to the most honourable and renovvned Lord, the Lord Hays vicount of Doncaster, His Maiesties of Great-Brittaine ambassadour in Germanie sung by the Rhine, interpreted by George Rodolfe Weckherlin Secr. to his High. of Wirtemberg.	Weckherlin, Georg Rodolf, 1584-1653.	1619 (1619)	STC 25185A.5; ESTC S123188	2,167	8

A PANEGYRICKE To the most honourable and renovvned Lord THE LORD HAYS Vicount of Doncaster HIS MAIESTIES OF GREAT-BRITTAINE Ambassadour in Germanie Sung by THE RHINE Interpreted by George Rodolfe Weckherlin Secr. to his High of Wirtemberg SONNET TO THE MOST NOBLE AND WORTHILY HONOURED LORD THE LORD HAYS VICOVNT OF DONCASTER c. Braue Lord in vvhom Naturs hand doth display Such daintinesse as ever shee can frame VVhose vertuous deeds by still bright-shining Fame Engraven stand in heauens booke foray Doe not dislike that my Muse dare array Her povertie vvith your honoured name A humble hart vvith courage to inflame Belongs to men of vvorth and noble svvay The shining Sunne casting on a small hill Of fertile earth her svveet nourishing rays In time vvith seed flovvrs and fruits doth it fill One beame allone of your meeke grace can rayse My lovvlie style vvhich as yet vvanteth skill Though forraine to acquire both skill and prayse G. RODOLFE WECKHERLIN A PANEGYRICKE MOst noble Lord te see you I did long And novv I long to sing your vvorthie praise For neuer vvorse can bee my simple song Then my silence of your renovvned bays Whose luster shall receiue I trust no vvrong By those small flours my humble hand doth raise Nought doe I craue nor hope I any thing And nought but truth vvills mee your laud to sing My greedie eares did often gladly heare The vvorthines of your beloued Name When Thamesis to vvhom you are still deare When the Sea-gods and Syrens sung the same Rounding the vvorld vvith accents svveet and cleare Of your perfect yet still encreasing Fame Thus right to knovv did vvish my gotten hart If greater vvere their grace or your desart Novv doe I see in you novv doe I find That your desarts doe any praise excell I find that Fame els commonly too kind Is but to you to scant to hard and fell Which though too great it seemed in my mind Yet did my thoughts of you suppose full vvell But novv I read that Fame could not record Nor I inuent vvhat you your selfe afford Let Phaebus tell if euer hee did see In this vast vvorld an other liuing vvight VVho justly can vvith you compared bee VVhom Naturs hand to frame tooke such delight Graunting to him such an ascendent Fee VVhere els vvithall a thousand could bee dight In vvhom allone vvith loue so faire as svveet All gifts of mind bodie and fortune meet A vvorthie tvvig of a most auncient brood Of Scotlands crovvne a noble ornament Haue you beene borne vvhere some of that high blood VVere to their foes their last astonishment Some others did vvith counsel vvise and good The Kingdoms ease and their ovvne fame augment But you to laud 't is needles to declare VVhat they haue beene but onely vvhat you are The splendor of the stocke giu's but small pleasure That often Chaunce mak's to base minds best knovvne And such a fame is but a borrovved treasure A lightning shevv of a vvorthlesse renovvne But Vertues hand vvith her excessiue measure Spreading your laud adorn's you vvith a crovvne VVhich like the Sunne still excellently bright Doeth take of none but giu's to many light Not Fortunes blind franke and abusiue hand The vvhich to deale her vvealth confusedly Doeth no desarts see vveigh nor vnderstand But heauens Loue did courteously applie Such goods to you your vvorth not to vvithstand VVhereby doe still your merits multiplie For your great hart that no gold can recouer Is of all gold a master nev'r a Louer The chiefest care richesse in you can breed Is vvell to doe the chiefest instrument Gold doth some men vvhile they on gold doe feed VVith staruing paine and greedinesse torment But in your hart the ground of Vertues seed Yeeld's it tribut to your encouragement And that vvhereby some commonly grovve vaine Most vaine to you mak's you true glorie gaine The godlie shape vvhich heauen did enchace VVith supreme skill vvithin your bodies frame Doeth vvell appeare in your most vvorthie face Like through a cloud the heauens purest flame And as th'outside of a vvell-builded place Mak's vs beleeue th' inside bee vvithout blame Thus seeing you my thoughts doe by mine eyes I knovv not vvhat more then your self aduise That monster fierce that all good doeth enuie VVhose spightfull tong of no good can speake vvell May your vvhole life vvith sharpest look's vvell spie Yet must it but against his liking tell The noblest hart of valour courtesie And gallantnesse vvithin your breast doe dvvell And that your soule enjoyeth most content All goods that Art and Nature can present VVhen courtlie sport to any enterprise Bids you a foot or on horsebacke to fight Or vvhen you please vvith other exercise That vvisest Kings your Dreads most vvorthiest sight You may still get if so you vvill the prize But vvhen your tong vvith her svveet-flovving might Assaileth harts then doe you plainly proue You can subdue all by force or by love Once I vvas told vvhen you vvent into France Hovv vvanton Loue did faire Thetis deceiue Hovv vvhile your ship the Tritons made to daunce Hee meaned her of her hart to bereaue Hovv her greene eyes your grace and vertues glaunce Did greedily into her breast receiue Your presence braue brought her her Sonne to mind VVhose image shee could no vvhere truer find Thus novv my Nymfs nay all the peoples stout Of Germanie vvhich your presence doeth grace Ioyfully runne and sing you round about Glad vvith their armes and harts you to embrace VVith minds and mouths all vvith mee crying out Ay-during bee the happie health and grace Still florishing may bee the praise and bays As the desarts bee great of My lord HAYS More vvould I say but that your glories light Dimming mine eyes doth quite my mind oppresse And though I say much yet is it but slight Since that much more my silence doth suppresse It may bee too that to your harts braue hight This lovvlie song doth cause but loathsomnesse Or as I thinke you are to heare more sorie Then prompt and glad to deserue praise and glorie SPES MEA CHRISTVS IOHANN WEYRICH RÖSSLIN Printet at Stutgart by John-Wyrich Rosslin ANNO M.DC.XIX