Selected quad for the lemma: spirit_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
spirit_n	body_n	see_v	soul_n	13,290	5	5.4132	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A20826	Matilda The faire and chaste daughter of the Lord Robert Fitzwater. The true glorie of the noble house of Sussex.	Drayton, Michael, 1563-1631.	1594 (1594)	STC 7205; ESTC S105388	19,494	64

Soile with drops of mercy once bedew'd VVhen iust men were instauled in thy throne But now with blood of Innocents imbrew'd Stayning the glory of fayre Albion O lustfull Monster ô accursed Iohn O heauens to whom should men for iustice cry VVhen Kings themselues thus raigne by tyrannie O gyue mee wings Reuenge I will ascend And fetch her soule againe out of their power From them proceeded this vntimely end VVho tooke her hence before her dying hower And rays'd that clowd which rayn'd this bloody shower And from the graue Ile dig her body vp VVhich had her bane by that vile poysoned cup. O pardon Heauens these sacriligious words This irreligious open blasphemie My wretched soule no better now affords Such is the passion of mine agonie My desperate case in this extremitie You harbour those which euer like you best VVith blessed Angels let her spirit rest No no Ile practise by some secret art How to infect his pure life-breathing ayre Or else Ile sheath my poyniard in his hart Or with strong poyson Ile annoynt his Chayre Or by inchauntment will his dayes impayre O no reuenge to God alone belongs And it is hee which must reuenge my wrongs O heauens perforce we must attend your time Our succours must awaite vpon you still In your iust waights you ballance euerie crime For vs you know what's good and what is ill VVho vnderstands your deepe and secret skill In you alone our destinies consist Then who is hee which can your power resist O could my sighes againe but giue thee breath Or were my teares such balme as could restore thee Or could my life redeeme thee from this death Or were my prayers but inuocations worthy Sighes teares life prayers were all to little for thee But since the heauen thus of my child disposeth Ah me thy Tombe now all my ioyes incloseth O what a wonder shall thy valure bring VVhat admiration to posteritie VVhat rare examples from thy vertues spring O what a glorie to thy Progenie To bee engrau'd in lasting memorie VVhen as applauding Fame in euery Coast Shall thus in honor of Fitzwaters boast England when peace vpon thy shores shall flourish And that pure Maiden sit vpon thy Throne VVhich in her bosome shall the Muses nourish VVhose glorious fame shal through the world be blown O blessed Ile thrice happy Albion Then let thy Poets in their stately rymes Sing forth her praises to succeeding tymes By this the Kings vile bloody rage is past And gentle time his choller doth digest The fire consumes his substance at the last The greefe asswag'd which did his spirit molest That fiend cast out wherewith he was possest And now he feeles this horror in his soule VVhen loathsome shame his actions doth controule Black hell-bred-humor of reuenging sin By whose inticements murder we commit The end vnthought of rashlie we begin Letting our passion ouer-rule our wit Missing the marke which most we ayme to hit Clogging our soules with such a masse of care As casts vs downe oft times into Dispayre Traytor to Vertue Reprobate quoth hee As for a King no more vsurpe the name Staine to all honor and gentilitie Mark'd in the face with th'yron of Defame The Picture of all infamie and shame Dispis'd of men abhor'd in euery place Hate to thy selfe the very worlds disgrace VVhen all thy race shal bee in tryumph set Their royall conquests and atchiuements done Henrie thy Father braue Plantagenet Thy conquering Brother Lion-hart his Sonne The Crownes spoyles these famous Champions won This still shall bee in thy dishonor said Loe this was Iohn the murderer of a Maide This act enrold in Booke of black Defame VVhere men of death and tragick murders reed Recorded in the Register of shame In lines whose letters freshlie euer bleed VVhere all the world shall wonder my misdeed And quote the place thus euer passing by Note heere King Iohns vile damned tyranny Her blood exhal'd from earth vnto the skye A fearefull Meteor still hangs ore my head Stayning the heauens with her Vermilion dye Changing the Sunnes bright raies to gorie red Prognosticating death and fearefull dread Her soule with houling and reuengfull steuen Shreeking before the gates of highest Heauen VVhose sacred Counsell now in iudgement set And Shee before them stands to plead her case Her drearie words in bloody teares are wet The euidence appeares before my face And I condemn'd a catife wanting grace Iustice cryes out vpon this sinfull deede And to my death the fatall starres proceed Earth swallow me and hide me in thy wombe O let my shame in thy deepe Center dwell VVrap vp this murder in thy wretched Tombe Let tender Mercy stop the gates of hell And with sweet drops this furious heate expell O let Repentance iust reuenge appease And let my soule in torment finde some ease O no her teares are now become a flood And as they rise increasing mine offence And now the shedding of her guiltlesse blood Euen like a Cankar gnawes my Conscience O ther's my greefe my paine proceedes from thence Yet neuer time weares out this filthy staine And I dishonor'd euer shall remaine Then doe I vow a solemne Pilgrimage Before my wretched miserable end This done betake mee to some Hermitage VVhere I the remnant of my dayes will spend VVhere Almes and Prayer I euer will attend And on the Tombe at last where thou doost lye VVhen all is done Ile lay me downe and dye And for his Penance lastly hee deuis'd Monthly to Dunmow would he take his way And in a simple Palmers weede disguis'd VVith deepe deuotion kneele him downe to pray Kissing the place whereas my body lay VVashing my Tombe with his repentant teares And being wet yet dryed it with his hayres And now before my spirit depart from hence O let me see the Muses owne delight Idea mirrour of all patience VVhose sacred Temples are with Garlands dight O let my soule bee blessed in her sight VVhich so adorns this poore world with her birth As where she is still makes a Heauen on earth O let mee once behold her blessed eyes Those two sweet Sunnes which make eternall spring VVhich banish drouping Night out of the skies In whose sweet bosome quiers of Angels sing To whom the Muses all their treasures bring Her brest Mineruas euer hallowed shrine VVhose sainted thoughts are sacred and diuine Slyde still sweet Ankor on thy siluer Sands Play dainty Musick when she walkes by thee VVith liquid Pearle wash those pure Lillie hands And all thy Bancks with Laurell shaddowed be And let sweet Ardens Nightingales with glee Record to her in many a pleasing straine VVhilst all the Nimphes attend vppon her traine FINIS