Selected quad for the lemma: spirit_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
spirit_n	life_n	live_v	soul_n	13,623	5	5.6183	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A39810	The tragedy of Thierry, King of France, and his brother Theodoret as it was diverse times acted at the Blacke-Friers by the Kings Maiesties servants / written by John Fletcher, gent.	Fletcher, John, 1579-1625.; Massinger, Philip, 1583-1640.; Beaumont, Francis, 1584-1616.	1648 (1648)	Wing F1352; ESTC R30457	40,910	42

know Something 's amisse heaven helpe all 1. What cures has he Bawdb. Armies of those wee call Physicians some with glisters Some with lettice caps some posset drinkes some pills Twenty consulting here about a drench As many here to blood him Then comes a Don of Spaine and he prescribes More cooling opium then would kill a turk Or quench a whore i' th dogdayes after him A wife Italian and he cries tie unto him A woman of fourescore whose bones are marble Whose blond snow water not so much heate about her As may conceive a prayer after him An English Doctor with a bunch of pot hearbes And he cries out Endiffe and suckery With a few mallow rootes and buttermilke And talkes of oyle made of a Churchmans charity Yet still he wakes 1. But your good honour Has a prayer in store if all should faile Bawdb. I could have prayed and handsomely But age and an ill memory 3. Has spoll'd your primmer Bawdb. Yet if there be a man of faith i' th Court An can pray for a pension Enter Thierry on a bed with Doctors and Attendants 2. Here 's the King Sir And those that will pray without pay Bawdb. Then pray for me too 1. Doct. How does your Grace feele your selfe now Thier. What 's that 1. Doct. Nothing at all Sir but your fancy Thier. Tell me Can ever these eyes more shut up in slumbers Assure my soule there is sleepe is there night And rest for humane labours doe not you And all the world as I doe out-stare time And live like funerall lampes never extinguisht Is there a grave and doe not flatter me Nor feare to tell mee truth and in that grave Is there a hope I shall sleepe can I die Are not my miseries immortall oh The happines of him that drinkes his water After his weary day and sleepes for ever Why doe you crucifie mee thus with faces And gaping strangely upon one another When shall I rest 2. Doct. O Sir be patient Thier. Am I not patient have I not endur'd More then a maingy dog among your dosses Am I not now your patient ye can make Unwholsome fooles sleepe for a guarded foot-cloth Whores for a hot sinne offering yet I must crave That feede ye and protect ye and proclame ye Because my power is farre above your searching Are my diseases so can ye cure none But those of equall ignorance dare yee kill me 1. Doct. We doe beseech your grace bee more reclaim'd This talke doth but distemper you Thier. Well I will die In spight of all your potions one of you sleepe Lie downe and sleep here that I may behold What blessed rest it is my eyes are rob'd of See hee can sleepe sleep any where sleep now When hee that wakes for him can never slumber I' st not a dainty ease 2. Doct. Your Grace shall feele it Thier. O never I never the eyes of heaven See but their certaine motions and then sleepe The rages of the Ocean have their slumbers And quiet silver calmes each violence Crownes in his end a peace but my fixt fires Shall never never set who 's that Enter Martell Brunhalt Devitry Souldiers Mart. No woman Mother of mischiefe no the day shall die first And all good things live in a worse then thou art Ere thou shalt sleepe dost thou see him Brun. Yes and curse him And all that love him foole and all live by him Mart. Why art thou such a monster Brun. Why art thou So tame a knave to aske me Mart. Hope of hell By this faire holy light and all his wrongs Which are above thy yeares almost thy 〈◊〉 Thou shalt not rest not feele more what is pity Know nothing necessary meet no society But what shall curse and crucifie thee feele in thy selfe Nothing but what thou art bane and bad conscience Till this man rest but for whose reverence Because thou art his mother I would say Whore this shall bee doe ye nod I 'le waken ye With my swords point Brun. I wish no more of heaven Nor hope no more but a sufficient anger To torture thee Mart. See she that makes you see Sir And to your misery still see your mother The mother of your woes Sir of your waking The mother of your peoples cries and curses Your murdering mother your malicious mother Thier. Physicians halfe my state to sleepe an houre now Is it so mother Brun. Yes it is so sonne And were it yet againe to doe it should be Mart. She nods againe swing her Thier. But mother For yet I love that reverence and to death Dare not forget you have been so was this This endlesse miserie this curelesse malice This snatching from mee all my youth together All that you made mee for and happy mothers Crown'd with eternall time are proud to finish Done by your will Brun. It was and by that will Thier. O mother doe not lose your name forget not The touch of nature in you tendernes 'T is all the soule of woman all the sweetnes Forget not I beseech you what are children Nor how you have gron'd for them to what love They are borne inheritors with what care kept And as they rise to ripenesse still remember How they impe out your age and 〈◊〉 time calls you That as an Autumne flower you fall forget not How round about your hearse they hang like penons Brun. Holy foole Whose patience to prevent my wrongs has kill'd thee Preach not to me of punishments or feares Or what I ought to be but what I am A woman in her liberall will defeated In all her greatnes crost in pleasures blasted My angers have beene laught at my ends slighted And all those glories that had crown'd my fortunes Suffer'd by blasted vertue to be scatter'd I am the fruitfull mother of these angers And what such have done reade and know thy ruine Thier. Heaven forgive you Mart. She tels you true for millions of her mischiefes Are now apparent Protaldye wee have taken An equall agent with her to whose care After the damn'd defeat on you she trusted Enter Messenger The bringing in of Leonor the bastard Sonne to your murder'd brother her physitian By this time is attacht to that damn'd devill Messen 'T is like hee will bee so for ere we came Fearing an equall justice for his mischiefes He drench't himselfe Brun. He did like one of mine then Thier. Must I still see these miseries no night To hide me from their horrors that Protaldy See justice fall upon Brun. Now I could sleepe too Enter Ordella Mart. I le give you yet more poppy bring the Lady And heaven in her embraces gives him quiet Madam unvaile your selfe Ordella I doe forgive you And though you sought my blood yet I le pray for you Brun. Art thou alive Mart. Now could you sleepe Brun. For ever Mart. Go carry her without wink of sleepe or quiet Where her strong knave Protaldy's broke o th wheele And let his cryes roares be musick toner I mean to waken her Thier. Do her no wrong Mart. Nor right as you love justice Brun. I will thinke And if there be new curses in old nature I have a soule dare send them Mart. Keepe her waking Exit Brunhalt Thier. What 's that appeares so sweetly their 's that face Mart. Be moderate Lady Their. That angels face Mart. Go neraer Thier. Martell I cannot last long see the soule I see it perfectly of my Ordella The heavenly figure of her sweetnesse there Forgive mee Gods it comes divinest substance Kneele kneele kneele every one Saint of thy sexe If it be for my cruelty thou comest Do ye see her hoe Mart. Yes Sir and you shall know her Thier Downe downe againe to bee reveng'd for bloud Sweet spirit I am ready she smiles on me O blessed signe of peace Mart. Goe neerer Lady Ordella I come to make you happy Thier. Heare you that Sir She comes to crowne my soule away get sacrifice Whil'st I with holy honours Mart. Shee 's alive sir Thier. In everlasting life I know it friend O happy happy soule Ordella Alas I live Sir A mortall woman still Thier. Can spirits weepe too Mart. Shee 's no spirit Sir pray kisse her Lady Be very gentle to him Thier. Stay she is warme And by my life the same lips tell me brightnesse Are you the same Ordella still Mart. The same Sir Whom heavens and my good Angell staid from ruine Thier. Kisse me againe Ordella The same still still your servant Thier. 'T is she I know her now Martell sit downe sweet O blest and happiest woman a dead slumber Begins to creep upon me O my jewell Enter Messenger and Memberge Ordella O sleepe my Lord. Thier. My joyes are too much for me Messen Brunhalt impatient of her constraint to fee Protaldye tortur'd has chokt her selfe Mort. No more her sinnes goe with her Thier. Love I must die I faint close up my glasses 1. Doct. The Queen faints too and deadly Thier. One dying kisse Ordella My last Sir and my dearest and now Close my eyes too Thier. Thou perfect woman Martell the Kingdome 's yours take Memberge to you And keep my line alive nay weep not Lady Take me I goe Ordella Take mee too farewell honour Dies both 2. Doct. They are gone for ever Mart. The peace of happy soules goe after them Beare them to their last beds whilst I study A tombe to speake their loves whilst old time lasteth I am your King in sorrowes Omnes We your subjects Mart. Devitry for your service bee neere us Whip out these instruments of this mad mother From Court and all good people and because She was borne noble let that title find her A private grave but neither tongue nor honour And now lead on they that shall read this story Shall find that vertue lives in good not glory Exeunt Omnes FINIS

One mark'd out only for it what are these Come they upon your priviledge to tread on The tombe of my afflictions Prot. No not wee Sir Thier. How dare you then omit the ceremony Due to the funerall of all my hopes Or come unto the marriage of my sorrowes But in such colours as may sort with them Prot. Alas we will weare any thing Brun. This is madnesse Take but my counsell Thier. Yours Dare you againe Though arm'd with the authority of a mother Attempt the donger that will fall on you If such another sillable awake it Goe and with yours be safe I have such cause Of griefe nay more to love it that I will not Have such as these be sharers in it Lecure. Madam Prot. Another time were better Brun. Doe not stirre For I must bee resolv'd and will be statues Enter Martell Thier. I thou art welcome and upon my soule Thou art an honest man doe you see he has teares To lend to him whom prodigall expence Of sorrow has made bankerout of such treasure Nay thou doest well Mart. I would it might excuse The ill I bring along Thier. Thou makest me smile In the height of my calamities as if There could be the addition of an Atome To the gyant body of my miseries But try for I will heare thee all sit downe 't is death To any that shall dare to interrupt him In looke gesture or word Mart. And such attention As is due to the last and the best story That ever was deliver'd will become you The griev'd Ordella for all other titles But take away from that having from me Prompted by your last parting groane enquir'd What drew it from you and the cause soone learn'd For shee whom barbarisme could deny nothing With such prevailing earnestnesse desir'd it 'T was not in mee though it had beene my death To hide it from her she I say in whom All was that Athens Rome or warlike Sparta Have registred for good in their best women But nothing of their ill knowing her selfe Mark'd out I know not by what power but sure A cruell one to dye to give you children Having first with a setled countenance Look'd up to heaven and then upon her selfe It being the next best object and then smil'd As if her joy in death to doe you service Would break forth in despight of the much sorrow Shee shew'd she had to leave you and then taking Mee by the hand this hand which I must ever Love better then I have done since shee touch'd it Goe said she to my Lord and to goe to him Is such a happinesse I must not hope for And tell him that hee too much priz'd a trifle Made only worthy in his love and her Thankfull acceptance for her sake to robbe The Orphan Kingdome of such guardians as Must of necessitie descend from him And therefore in some part of recompence Of his much love and to shew to the world That 't was not her fault only but her fate That did deny to let her be the mother Of such most certaine blessings yet for proofe She did not envy her that happy her That is appointed to them her quick end Should make way for her which no sooner spoke But in a moment this too ready engine Made such a battery in the choisest castle That ever nature made to defend life That strait it shooke and sunke Thier. Stay dares any Presume to shed a teare before me or Ascribe that worth unto themselves to merit To doe so for her I have done now on Mart. Falne thus once more she smil'd as if that death For her had studied a new way to sever The soule and body without sence of paine And then tell him quoth shee what you have seene And with what willingnesse 't was done for which My last request unto him is that he Would instantly make choyce of one most happy In being so chosen to supply my place By whom if heaven blesse him with a daughter In my remembrance let it beare my name Which said she di'd Thier. I heare this and yet live Heart art thou thunder proofe wil nothing breake thee Shee 's dead and what her entertainment may be In th' other world without me is uncertaine And dare I stay here unresolv'd Mart. Oh Sir Brun. Deare sonne Pret. Great King Thier. Unhand me am I falne So low that I have lost the power to be Disposer of my owne life Mart. Be but pleas'd To borrow so much time of sorrow as To call to mind her last request for whom I must confesse a losse beyond expression You turne your hand upon your selfe 't was hers And dying hers that you should live and happy In seeing little models of your selfe By matching with another and will you Leave any thing that shee desir'd ungranted And suffer such a life that was laid downe For your sake only to be fruitlesse Thier. Oh thou dost throw charmes upon me against which I cannot stop my eares beare witnesse heaven That not desire of life nor love of pleasure Nor any future comforts but to give Peace to her blessed spirit in satisfying Her last demand makes mee deferre our meeting Which in my choise and suddaine choise shall bee To all apparant Brun. How doe I remove one mischiefe To draw upon my head a greater Thier. Goe thou only good man to whom for her selfe Goodnesse is deare and prepare to interre it In her that was O my heart my Ordella A monument worthy to be the casket Of such a jewell Mart. Your command that makes way Vnto my absence is a welcome one For but your selfe there 's nothing heere Martell Can take delight to looke on yet some comfort Goes back with me to her who though she want it Deserves all blessings Exit Brun. So soone to forget The losse of such a wife beleeve it will Be censur'd in the world Thier. Pray you no more There is no argument you can use to crosse it But does increase in me such a suspition I would not cherish who 's that Enter Memberge Memb. One no guard Can put back from accesse whose tongue no threats Nor praises can silence a bold suitor and For that which if you are your selfe a King You were made so to grant it Justice Justice Thier. With what assurance dare you hope for that Which is deni'd to me or how can I Stand bound to be just unto such as are Beneath mee that find none from those that are Above me Memb. There is justice 't were unfit That any thing but vengeance should fall on him That by his giving way to more then murther For my deare fathers death was particide Makes it his owne Brun. I charge you heare her not Memb. Hell cannot stop just prayers from entring heaven I must and will be heard Sir but remember That he that by her plot fell was your brother And the place where your Palace against all Th' inviolable rites of Hospitality Your word a Kings