Selected quad for the lemma: spirit_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
spirit_n	see_v	sin_n	soul_n	6,896	5	5.1461	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A50034	Leycesters ghost	Rogers, Thomas, 1573 or 4-1609 or 10.; Burghley, William Cecil, Baron, 1520-1598.; Ford, Simon, 1619?-1699.; Parsons, Robert, 1546-1610.	1641 (1641)	Wing R1837A; Wing L970; ESTC R9349	19,035	37

grape Yet did I to the man no injury I gave him time and leasure to repent And well hee knew hee had deserv'd too die Therefore all future mischiefe to prevent I let him slip away with my consent For his reprivall like a crasty Fox I sent no pardon but an empty Box Else as unfaithfull Banister betrayed The Duke of Buckingham his Master deere When hee of Richards tyranny affraid Fled to his servants house for succour there So might my man for gaine or forst for feare Have brought my corps with shame unto my grave By too much trusting to a pratling knave It seemes at mee great Norfolke Duke doth frowne Because hee thinkes I did his death contrive Perswading some hee aymed at the Crowne And that by Royall match hee meant to strive A Kingdome to his Lordship to revive Alas good Duke hee was too weake and mild And I too faithlesse that his trust beguild For that I found his favour first was bent To take the Scots captived Queene to wife I egg'd him on to follow his intent That by this meanes I might abridge his life And she a crowned Queene to stint all strife First finding Scotland lost to England fled Where shee in hope of succour lost her head O blessed Spirits live yee evermore In Heavenly Syon where your Maker raignes And give mee leave my fortunes to deplore That am fast fetterd with sinnes iron chaines Mans most sweet joyes are mixt with some soure paines And none doth live in high or low degree That can in life or death from Woe bee free And now my tongue growes weary to recite Such Massacres as have beene here exprest Whose sad remembrance doth affright my sprit Mee thinkes I see Legions of soules to rest In Abrahams bosome and my selfe oppest The burthen of my sinnes doe waigh mee downe At mee the Feinds doe laugh and Angels frowne My crimes I grant were great and manifold Yet not so hainous as men make report But flattering Parasites are growne so bold That they of Princes matters make a sport To please the humour of the vulgar sort And that poore peevish giddy-headed crew Are prone to credite any tale untrue Let those that live endeavour to live well Least after death like mine their guilt remaine Let no man thinke there is no Heaven nor Hell Or like the impious Saduces maintaine That after death no flesh shall rise againe Let no man trust to fortunes fickle wheele The guerdon due for sinne I partly feele Know that the Prince of Heavenly Seraphines When hee against his Creatour did rebell Was tumbled downe for his presumptuous sinne Sathan that onst was blest like lightening fell From the highest Heaven to the deepest Hell And all those Angels that his part did take Have now their portions in the burning lake Of mighty heapes of treasure I could vaunt For I reapt profit out of every thing I could the Prince and peoples hearts inchant With my faire words and smoth fac'd flattering Yea out of drosse pure gould I oft did wring For though the meanes to winne bee oft unmeet The smell of lucre ever smelleth sweet So I sometime had very much good hap Great suites of my dread Soveraigne to obtaine Prodigall fortune powr'd downe from her lap Angels in gold as thick as drops in raine Such was my luck to find the golden vaine Likewise with mee it seemed nothing strange Both rent and lands oft with my Prince t' exchange I had another way to enrich my selfe By getting Licenses for mee alone For wine oyle velvet cloath and such like pelfe Also by Licenses of Alienation By raising rents and by oppression By claiming forrests pastures commons woods And forfeiture of lands of life and goods By this strange course I also greatly thriv'd In falling out with my deere Soveraigne For I the plot so cunningly contriv'd That reconsilement soone was made againe And by this meanes great gifts I did obtaine For that I might my purse the better fill I begg'd great suites as pledge of new good will Besides sometimes I did enerease my store By benefits that I from Oxford tooke Electing heads of houses heretofore I lov'd their money and they lov'd there booke Some poorer though more learned I forsooke For in those dayes charity waxed cold Little was done for love but much for gold Doubtles my Father was a worthy Peere In Edward the sixt dayes when hee was sent Agrainst Rebels that did rise in Norfolke shire And after that when hee to Scotland went Vnder the Lord Protectours regiment By notable exploit against the Scot Eternall glory to himselfe hee got Truly ambition was his greatest fault Which commonly in noble hearts is bred Hee thought hee never could his State exalt Till the good Duke of Somerset was dead Who by my Fathers meanes did loose his head So ill the race of Dudleis could endure The Seymoures lives which did their fame obscure When onst King Edward at the butte had shot My Father said your grace shootes neere the marke The King repli'd but not so neere I wot As when you shot my Vncles head off quite The Duke my Father knew the King said right And that hee meant this matter to debate If ere hee liv'd to come to mans estate It seemes my Father in times past had beene A skilfull Archer though no learned clearke So strange a chance as this is seldome seene I doe suppose hee shot not in the darke That could so quickly hite so faire a marke Nor have I mist my aime nor worse have sped When I shot off the Duke off Norfolkes head Now when the Duke of Somerset was dead My Father to the French did Bulloigne sell As pleased him the King hee governed And from the privy Counsell did depell Th' Earles of Southampton and of Arundell Thus while he rulde and controuled all The wise young King extreamely sick did fall Who having languisht long of life depriv'd Not without poison as it was suspected The Counsaile through my Fathers meanes contriv'd That Suffolkes Daughter should be Queene elected The sisters of King Edward were rejected My brother Gilford to Iane Gray was wedded Too high preferr'd that was so soone beheaded This Lady Iane that onst was term'd a Queene Greater in fame then fortune was put downe Had not King Henries Daughters living beene Might for her vertues have deserv'd a Crowne Fortune on her at onst did smile and srowne Her wedding garment for a Princes meet Was quickly changed for a winding sheet For I was jumpe of Iulius Caesars mind That could no one superiour Lord endure Nay I to rule my Soveraigne was enclin'd And bring the Common-people to my lure Accompting that my fortunes was obscure And that I lived in a wofull plight If any one Ecclipst my graces light The love to raigne makes many men respect Neither their friend their kindred nor their vow The love to raigne makes many men neglect The duty which to God and man they owe From

unto the gowne And Rome by his great wisedome freed from spoile Call'd him the Father of their native soile Perchance young Courtiers learne sometime to sing To skip or dance before their Mistres face To touch like Orpheus some inchanting string To runne at Tylt to jet with stately pace Or by some fine discourse to purchase grace But cannot mannage the affaires of state Which best belongs to rich great Potentate Listen to mee yee lusty Souldiers That in such favour of high attempts doe grow Experience bred in mee these many yeares Hath taught mee cunning which you doe not know Some precepts here I doe intend to show And if my Syrens song please not great Peeres Then may they with Vlisses stop their eares Trust not a friend that is new reconsil'd In loves faire shew hee may hide foule deceipt By him yee unawares may bee beguil'd Reveale to none your matters of great weight If any chance to know your leud conceipt Suspected to bewray your bad intent Hee ought to suffer death or banishment Caligula the scourge of famous Rome Wisht all the Romans had one onely head That when hee list to give their fatall doome Hee might with one great blow strick all them dead So should hee never need their hate to dread Even such a mischiefe I wisht to my foes That many men might perish with few blowes But unto those that doe your favour seeke And by your helpe hope their lowe state to raise You must bee courteous bountefull and meeke Caesar by clemency wonne greatest praise And was esteem'd the mirrour of his dayes For it belongs to men of great estate To spare the poore and rich mens pride abate It is ill to bee a Rubbe upon that ground Whereas the Prince the Alley meanes to sweepe There owne estate 〈◊〉 fondly doe confound That into high attempts doe bouldly creepe And with their shallow pates doe wade so deepe To hinder what their Soveraigne doth intend Or to controule what they cannot amend Calisthines much torment did sustaine Because great Alexanders pride hee checkt Grave Scaenecae choosing his death was slaine By Neros doome whose faults hee did correct Vse not too sharp rebuke but have respect Vnto the Persons when great men doe evill The vengance leave to God or to the Devill Bee not too haughty pride procureth hate And meane mens hate may turne to your disgrace Nor too familiar in thy high estate For that will breed contempt among the base Observe a meane which winneth man great fame Speake faire to all truth none use well your foes For this may purchase love where hatred growes And if that you doe feare your friend should chance To mount too highly in the Princes grace His praise to Heaven then stick not to advance Say that the charge hee beareth is too base And that his worth deserves farre better place So may yee by this praise rid him away And so supply the place another day Say hee will prove a terrour in the fiel'd This private life doth muchobscure his fame More fit to beare great Aiax seaven fold sheild Then like Sardanapalus Court a Dame Hee idly lives at home it is a shame His very presence may his foes apale Let him bee sent Lieutenant Generall Now if hee chance to perish in some fight It was not your worke but the chance of warres Or thus you may excuse your sel●●●●… slight Blaming the influence of the angry starres That thus by death his future fortune barres And sighing wee are sorry yee may say That this brave man would cast himselfe away But if in feates of Armes hee have no skill If hee bee learned grave and eloquent By praising him thus may you have your will Procure him in Ambassadge to bee sent Farre off least hee returne incontinent As to the mighty Cham or Prester Iohn And triumph in his roome when hee is gone Let no man thinke I exercis'd the Ghost Of this great Peere that sleepeth in the dust Or conjur'd up his Spirit to his cost To presse with dispraise or praise unjust I am not partiall but give him his due And to his soule I wish eternall health Ne doe I thinke all written tales are true That are inserted in his Common-wealth What others wrot before I doe survive But am not like to them incenst with hate And as I plainely write so doe I strive To write the truth not wronging his estate Of whom it may bee said and censur'd well Hee both in vice and vertue did excell FINIS