Selected quad for the lemma: truth_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
truth_n	year_n	young_a	youth_n	109	3	7.7207	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A12032	The passionate pilgrime. By W. Shakespeare	Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616.	1599 (1599)	STC 22342; ESTC S106363	6,360	62

THE PASSIONATE PILGRIME By W. Shakespeare AT LONDON Printed for W. Iaggard and are to be sold by W. Leake at the Greyhound in Paules Churchyard 1599. WHen my Loue sweares that she is made of truth I doe beleeue her though I know she lies That she might thinke me some vntutor'd youth Vnskilfull in the worlds false forgeries Thus vainly thinking that she thinkes me young Although I know my yeares be past the best I smiling credite her false speaking toung Outfacing faults in Loue with loues ill rest But wherefore sayes my Loue that she is young And wherefore say not I that I am old O Loues best habite is a soothing toung And Age in Loue loues not to haue yeares told Therfore I le lye with Loue and Loue with me Since that our faults in Loue thus smother'd be TWo Loues I haue of Comfort and Despaire That like two Spirits do suggest me still My better Angell is a Man right faire My worser spirite a Woman colour'd ill To winne me soone to hell my Female euill Tempteth my better Angell from my side And would corrupt my Saint to be a Diuell Wooing his purity with her faire pride And whether that my Angell be turnde feend Suspect I may yet not directly tell For being both to me both to each friend I ghesse one Angell in anothers hell The truth I shall not know but liue in doubt Till my bad Angell fire my good one out DId not the heauenly Rhetorike of thine eie Gainst whom the world could not hold argumēt Perswade my hart to this false periurie Vowes for thee broke deserue not punishment A woman I forswore but I will proue Thou being a Goddesse I forswore not thee My vow was earthly thou a heauenly loue Thy grace being gainde cures all disgrace in me My vow was breath and breath a vapor is Then thou faire Sun that on this earth doth shine Exhale this vapor vow in thee it is If broken then it is no fault of mine If by me broke what foole is not so wise To breake an Oath to win a Paradise SWeet Cytherea sitting by a Brooke With young Adonis louely fresh and greene Did court the Lad with many a louely looke Such lookes as none could looke but beauties queen She told him stories to delight his eares She shew'd him fauors to allure his eie To win his hart she toucht him here and there Touches so soft still conquer chastitie But whether vnripe yeares did want conceit Or he refusde to take her figured proffer The tender nibler would not touch the bait But smile and ieast at euery gentle offer Then fell she on her backe faire queen toward He rose and ran away ah foole too froward IF Loue make me forsworn how shal I swere to loue O neuer faith could hold if not to beauty vowed Though to my selfe forsworn to thee I le constant proue those thoghts to me like Okes to thee like Osiers bowed Studdy his byas leaues and makes his booke thine eies where all those pleasures liue that Art can comprehend If knowledge be the marke to know thee shall suffice Wel learned is that toung that well can thee commend All ignorant that soule that sees thee without wonder Which is to me some praise that I thy parts admyre Thine eye Ioues lightning seems thy voice his dreadfull thunder which not to anger bent is musick sweet fire Celestiall as thou art O do not loue that wrong To sing heauens praise with such an earthly toung SCarse had the Sunne dride vp the deawy morne And scarse the heard gone to the hedge for shade When Cytherea all in Loue forlorne A longing tariance for Adonis made Vnder an Osyer growing by a brooke A brooke where Adon vsde to coole his spleene Hot was the day she hotter that did looke For his approch that often there had beene Anon he comes and throwes his Mantle by And stood starke naked on the brookes greene brim The Sunne look't on the world with glorious eie Yet not so wistly as this Queene on him He spying her bounst in whereas he stood Oh IOVE qouth she why was not I a flood FAire is my loue but not so faire as fickle Milde as a Doue but neither true nor trustie Brighter then glasse and yet as glasse is brittle Softer then waxe and yet as Iron rusty A lilly pale with damaske die to grace her None fairer nor none falser to deface her Her lips to mine how often hath she ioyned Betweene each kisse her othes of true loue swearing How many tales to please me hath she coyned Dreading my loue the losse whereof still fearing Yet in the mids of all her pure protestings Her faith her othes her teares and all were ieastings She burnt with loue as straw with fire flameth She burnt out loue as soone as straw out burneth She framd the loue and yet she foyld the framing She bad loue last and yet she fell a turning Was this a louer or a Letcher whether Bad in the best though excellent in neither IF Musicke and sweet Poetrie agree As they must needs the Sister and the brother Then must the loue be great twixt thee and me Because thou lou'st the one and I the other Dowland to thee is deere whose heauenly tuch Vpon the Lute dooth rauish humane sense Spenser to me whose deepe Conceit is such As passing all conceit needs no defence Thou lou'st to heare the sweet melodious sound That Phoebus Lute the Queene of Musicke makes And I in deepe Delight am chiefly drownd When as himselfe to singing he betakes One God is God of both as Poets faine One Knight loues Both and both in thee remaine FAire was the morne when the faire Queene of loue Paler for sorrow then her milke white Doue For Adons sake a youngster proud and wilde Her stand she takes vpon a steepe vp hill Anon Adonis comes with horne and hounds She silly Queene with more then loues good will Forbad the boy he should not passe those grounds Once quoth she did I see a faire sweet youth Here in these brakes deepe wounded with a Boare Deepe in the thigh a spectacle of ruth See in my thigh quoth she here was the sore She shewed hers he saw more wounds then one And blushing fled and left her all alone SWeet Rose faire flower vntimely pluckt soon vaded Pluckt in the bud and vaded in the spring Bright orient pearle alacke too timely shaded Faire creature kilde too soon by Deaths sharpè sting Like a greene plumbe that hangs vpon a tree And fals through vinde before the fall should be I weepe for thee and yet no cause I haue For why thou lefts me nothing in thy will And yet thou lefts me more then I did craue For why I craued nothing of thee still O yes deare friend I pardon craue of thee Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me VEnus with Adonis sitting by her Vnder a Mirtle shade began to wooe him She told