Selected quad for the lemma: work_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
work_n	good_a	merit_n	merit_v	6,691	5	10.7705	5	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A67120	Lines dedicated to fame and truth written by Sr. Francis Wortley, knight and baronet, vpon the consideration of the various fortunes of that blessed and most vertuous Lady Elizabeth Queen of Bohemia.	Wortley, Francis, Sir, 1591-1652.	1642 (1642)	Wing W3638; ESTC R26407	4,245	14

LINES DEDICATED TO FAME and TRUTH Written by Sr. FRANCIS WORTLEY KNIGHT and BARRONET Vpon the consideration of the various Fortunes of that Blessed and most Vertuous Lady ELIZABETH QUEEN OF BOHEMIA Printed at York by Stephen Bulkley 1642. Lines Dedicated to Fame and Truth Written by Sir Francis Wortley Knight and Barronet c. IF all those vertues which the Criticks call Vertues Devine and vertues cardinall If these together mixt with Royall blood Can scarcely make a claime to merit good If her great merits could not impetrate So much as not to be unfortunate And in misfortunes to exceed so farre As if the worst of all her sex she were How light will our best worke be in heavens scale If Shee thus farre in points of merit faile Had Shee been Romes her Superarogation Had been sufficient for the British Nation And would have made the papall Sea as great As Rome was when it was Augustus seat Who would not have a blessed Pilgrim been Had he ever read the Story of this Queen Had not the Romane Doctrine been disputed That others merit cannot be imputed The Antinomists though th' are very loath To trust to works their thred bare faith would cloath In Her rich merits so even they might hope By merits to be sav'd without a Pope The Character of patience Iob even He must lose some Glory if compar'd with Thee The Story of thy sufferance who can tell This I dare say it hath no paralell Thou wer 't the Daughter of a mighty King Great Charles His only Sister and did'st bring A portion worthy the Imperiall Crown Besides the greatest portion was thine own 'T was for thy sake the German Princes did Set Bohems Crown upon thy Husbands Head They saw good Queen thy vertues were so great They would have pla'ct Thee on th' Imperiall Seat All these thou lost at once that we might see The Gods on Earth have a capacity Of fatall change that Kings and Queens may know There are no fixed fortunes here below Lord What a Sea of Princely Christian blood Hath been pour'd out to make thy Title good Had shee been Romes all these had Sainted been And stil'd The blessed Martyrs of this Queen Thou and thy King with a distracted Train Before thy Foes fled and pursu'd amain Thy Husband banisht from His Native soyl Friends Cities Country made a wofull spoyl And sackt The Plague the Famine Fire and Sword Were glutted all Nature the sights abhord Yet as enough thy patience were not tri'd Thy Gould in new fires must be purifi'd Thy first born Son which was the greatest losse With Ayry Nailes was sixt upon the Crosse Twixt Heaven and Water and the Vessell drownd There frozen to the Mast was next Day found Then Sweadens King that thunderbolt of War Who had He liv'd had been an Emperor Had rais'd Your Husbands Heart that He espi'd Some glimering hopes and in that twi-light died Before thou could'st recover such a crosse Sad News was brought thee of another losse That Great Gustavus was untimely slain As t' was suppos'd with Pistols sent from Spain Whose Martiall Soul not us'd to be said nay In it's Ascention got a glorious Day As in His Journey it the Planets past 'T was so much honored there great Mars at last Begun to fear He could not choose but see His Legions did incline to mutiny And joyn'd together would a Councell call To make that Spirit of His their Generall Never the Soul of any King Ascended Who had from Earth to Heaven been more cōmended My Muse grows weary with this Tragick Story Nor could I force her were it not Her glory Whom it concerns now to the last I come So may it be her brave Heroique Son Whose sweetnesse here hath so much honour got Except the Queen few have so great a stocke In Court and Country both nor would I see A kinder Father saving Majestie Then our King was and seldome have I seen A kinder Mother then our vertuous Queen When this sweet Prince had here tri'd some few freinds And had propounded to the King his ends He ships himselfe needs but to hoise halfe saile Least prayers and sighes should raise too great a gale Words are but ayre and prayers but words in forme 'T is but excesse of Ayre that makes a storme Austria too long for Justice hath been suited Their cause must now with sharpe swords be disputed Our King and they with treaties were deluded Both she and hers by Act of State excluded From all their Rights an Army then they rais'd On such a suddaine it the world amaz'd He brings them to the field beseidg'd a Town Which to th' Imperiallists was quickly known Two distant Armies correspondence hold Which made even both the Armies far more bold The lesser dares him out keeps him in play Meane while the stronger marches night and day And got behinde him to his passage make Which with their horse too strong for his they take When the Prince saw his army thus enclos'd He cals a Councell he himselfe suppos'd 'T was best to charge those which the passage kept Which all agreed on and before they slept They March away though they were almost tyr'd And over Marcht their Trenches then they Fir'd Into Brigadoes they their strength devide Flanker their foot with Horse on either side Their strength was Horse their Baggage they inclose Guarded their Cannon then He Craven chose And to his charge He did commit the Van Who prov'd himselfe that Day A Daring Man And shewd himself so resolute and bould His name is in the Book of Fame enrould He and His Brother did bring up the Reare Whose high born Spirits did that Day appeare Craven charg'd home and did them sore dismay But for their fresh supplies He won the Day The Battles joyn the Imperialists increa'st And as they grew Death had the greater Feast The Reare came bravely up the young Prince He In thirst of Honour sence of injury Himself to such high hazards He expos'd As He was often by His foes enclos'd Yet who enclos'd Him or enforst His stay He by their ruines made himself still way But when Prince Robert Her brave second Son Who 'mongst the Souldiers hath such Honour won Heard that His Princely Brother was ingag'd With love and Martiall fury both inrag'd Through troops of Horse and Foot He forst His way And finds Him freed yet there He would not stay He forward prest into the greatest throng Of all His foes His Sword there told His wrong He pickt out their Commanders whom He knew By Marks were giv'n Him those He took or slew Whose troops of Horse and Foot His fury fly Those He encounters must or yeeld or dye 'T was happinesse to them who did command Since they must Dye to Dye by such a Hand His Horse His Arme His very Sword was tyr'd That Spirit of His twice Sampsons strength requir'd And vvould their Waggons vvith rich spoyls have laded Nay all the troops