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Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
book_n	good_a	great_a	know_v	2,210	5	3.5210	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A36624	Examen poeticum being the third part of miscellany poems containing variety of new translations of the ancient poets, together with many original copies by the most eminent hands.	Dryden, John, 1631-1700.; Fracastoro, Girolamo, 1478-1553. Syphilis.; Tate, Nahum, 1652-1715.	1693 (1693)	Wing D2277; ESTC R122	135,928	614

now combine Since to their Leeks you do your Lawrel joyn Such lofty strains your Country's Story fit Whose Mountains nothing equals but your Wit Bonduca were she such as here we see In Brittish Paint none cou'd more dreadful be With naked Armies she encounter'd Rome Whose Strength with naked Nature you o'recome Nor let small Criticks blame this mighty Queen That in King Arthur's time she here is seen You that can make immortal by your Song May well one Life four hundred Years prolong Thus Virgil bravely dar'd for Dido's Love The settled course of Time and Years to move Though him you imitate in this alone In all things else you borrow help from none No Antick Tale of Greece or Rome you take Their Fables and Examples you forsake With true Heroick Glory you display A Subject new writ in the newest way Go forth great Author for the World's delight Teach it what none e're taught you how to write They talk strange things that Ancient Poets did How Trees and Stones they into Buildings lead For Poems to raise Cities now 't is hard But yours at least will build half Paul's Church-yard Another on the same By Mr. Mat. Clifford With Envy Criticks you 'l this Poem read Whose Author 's Wit does more than Man exceed Where all 's so good alike no Man can say This may be added or that par'd away Where all 's so new no search can ever trace The Persons mention'd in their Time or Place Great Soul of Nature which dost Books defie And their weak aid in this thy History Thou art no Slave to Rule or President Where others imitate thou dost invent It is we grant all thy Invention The Language too intirely is thy own Thou leav'st as Trash below thy great pretence Grammar to Pedants and to plain Men Sense But as in this thy matchless Poetry Thou follow'st none so none can follow Thee On the same By the Ld. V. WOnder not Sir that Praises yet ne're due To any other are yet heap'd on You 'T was Envy robb'd you of your Praise before Men fee their faults and Envy now no more 'T is but your Merit nor can justly such Which gave too little once now give too much Your Princes do all Poetry surpass As much as Pen-main-maur exceeds Parnass It is so great a Prodigy of Wit That Art and Nature both fall short of it For leaving Art and left of Nature too Your Poem has no other Muse than You. On these two Verses Out of the same But Fame had sent forth all her nimble Spies To blaze this Match and lend to Fate some Eyes By the Duke of Buckingham BUT wherefore all this pother about Fame A Man might say says one the very same Demand might well be made another cries Of Fate and how it got from Fame such Eyes 'T is well you 're witty Persons both say I Yet to your Wit this boldly I 'll reply Fate is the Twin of Chance by which you find Fate must needs see except that Chance were blind For among Friends 't were Inequality To think one shou'd be blind and t'other see Now tell me Criticks do not all the Wise Profess that which they see they see with Eyes And the same Figure do not I advance When I protest I saw a thing by Chance Since then so various things by Chance we see Fate might have Eyes to multiplicity But our mild Author says it has but some Thus Critick vile thus I have struck thee dumb And thus subscribe my self with Heart and Hand The Author's Friend most Humble Servant and Buckingham TO THE PRINCE and PRINCESS OF ORANGE Upon Their MARRIAGE Written by Mr. NAT. LEE HAIL happy Warriour hail whose Arms have won The fairest Jewel in the English Crown Happy in famous Dangers in the Field Happy in Courts which brightest Beauties yield Oh Prince whose Soul is known so justly great As if that Heav'n took leisure to create First the rich Oar refin'd then did allay Stampt thee his own not shuffl'd thee away With wonder thus we all thy temper prize Not but th' art bold and brave as thou art wise Like the cool English who approach their Fate With awe and gravely first with Death debate They kindle slowly but when once on Fire Burn on and in the blaze of Fame expire Hail Princess hail thou fairest of thy Kind Thou shape of Angels with an Angel's Mind Whose Vertues shine but so as to be born Clear as the Sun and gentle as the Morn Whose brighter Eyes like lambent Glories move And ev'ry glance wounds like a Dart of Love How well oh Prince how nobly hast thou fought Since to thy Arms the Fates such Beauty brought Methinks I hear thee in thy Nuptial Bed When o're the Royal Maid thy Arms were spread Enough kind Heav'n well was my Sword employ'd Since all the Bliss Earth holds shall be enjoy'd Pains I remember now with vast delight Well have I brav'd the thund'ring French in fight My hazards now are Gains and if my Blood In Battel mix and raise the vulgar Flood Her Tears for sure she 'll be so good to mourn Like Balm shall heal the Wounds when I return But heark 't is rumour'd that this happy pair Must go the Prince for Holland does declare Call'd to the Business of Important War Go then if thy Departure be agreed Your Friends must weep your Enemies shall bleed And if in Poets minds those vaster Souls Where all at once the vast Creation rouls To whom the Warriour is as much oblig'd As to Relievers Towns that are besieg'd For Death would to their Acts an end afford Did not Immortal Verse out-do the Sword If ought of Prophesie their Souls inspire And if their fury gives a solid Fire Soft shall the Waftage be the Seas and Wind Calm as the Prince and as the Princess kind The World why should not Dreams of Poets take As well as Prophets who but dream awake I saw them launch the Prince the Princess bore While the sad Court stood crowding on the Shore The Prince still bowing on the Deck did stand And held his weeping Princess by the hand Which waving oft she bid them all farewell And wept as if she wou'd the Ocean swell Farewel thou best of Fathers best of Friends While the mov'd Duke with a heav'd Sigh commends To Heav'n the Care in Tears his Eyes wou'd swim But Manly Vertue binds them to the brim Farewel she cry'd my Sister thou dear part Thou sweetest part of my divided Heart To whom I all my Secrets did unfold Dear Casket who did all my Treasures hold My little Love her Sighs she did renew Once more oh Heavens a long and last adieu Part must I ever lose those pretty Charms Then swoons and sinks into the Prince's Arms. The Court beheld and wept Streight from their Griefs the pompous Navy fled So fast as if our Sighs increas'd their speed When of a sudden from the Reedy Court The Trytons all with

Cause From your own Knowledge not from Nature's Laws Your Pow'r you never use but for Defence To guard your own or others Innocence Your Foes are such as they not you have made And Vertue may repel tho' not invade Such Courage did the Ancient Heroes show Who when they might prevent wou'd wait the blow With such assurance as they meant to say We will o'recome but scorn the safest way What further fear of danger can there be Beauty which captives all things sets me free Posterity will judge by my success I had the Grecian Poet's happiness Who waving Plots found out a better way Some God descended and preserv'd the Play When first the Triumphs of your Sex were sung By those old Poets Beauty was but young And few admir'd the native Red and White Till Poets drest them up to charm the fight So Beauty took on trust and did engage For Sums of Praises till she came to Age. But this long growing Debt to Poetry You justly Madam have discharg'd to me When your Applause and Favour did infuse New life to my condemn'd and dying Muse. PROLOGUE TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD 1681. BY Mr. DRYDEN THE fam'd Italian Muse whose Rhymes advance Orlando and the Paladins of France Records that when our Wit and Sense is flown 'T is lodg'd within the Circle of the Moon In Earthen Jars which one who thither soar'd Set to his Nose snufft up and was restor'd What e're the Story be the Moral 's true The Wit we lost in Town we find in you Our Poets their fled Parts mày draw from hence And fill their windy Heads with sober Sense When London Votes with Southwark's disagree Here they may find their long lost Loyalty Here busie Senates to th' old Cause inclin'd May snuff the Votes their Fellows left behind Your Country Neighbours when their Grain grows dear May come and find their last Provision here Whereas we cannot much lament our loss Who neither carry'd back nor brought one Cross We look'd what Representatives wou'd bring But they help'd us just as they did the King Yet we despair not for we now lay forth The Sybill's Books to those who know their worth And tho the first was Sacrific'd before These Volumes doubly will the price restore Our Poet bade us hope this Grace to find To whom by long Prescription you are kind He whose undaunted Muse with Loyal Rage Has never spar'd the Vices of the Age Here finding nothing that his Spleen can raise Is forc'd to turn his Satire into Praise PROLOGUE BY Mr. DRYDEN GAllants a bashful Poet bids me say He 's come to lose his Maidenhead to day Be not too fierce for he 's but green of Age And ne're till now debauch'd upon the Stage He wants the suff'ring part of Resolution And comes with blushes to his Execution E're you deflow'r his Muse he hopes the Pit Will make some Settlement upon his Wit Promise him well before the Play begin For he wou'd fain be cozen'd into Sin 'T is not but that he knows you mean to fail But if you leave him after being frail He 'll have at least a fair pretence to rail To call you base and swear you us'd him ill And put you in the new Deserters Bill Lord what a Troop of perjur'd Men we see Enow to fill another Mercury But this the Ladies may with patience brook Their's are not the first Colours you forsook He wou'd be loath the Beauties to offend But if he shou'd he 's not too old to mend He 's a young Plant in his first Year of bearing But his Friend swears he will be worth the reering His gloss is still upon him tho 't is true He 's yet unripe yet take him for the blue You think an Apricot half green is best There 's sweet and sour and one side good at least Mango's and Limes whose nourishment is little Tho' not for Food are yet preserv'd for Pickle So this green Writer may pretend at least To whet your Stomachs for a better Feast He makes this difference in the Sexes too He sells to Men he gives himself to you To both he wou'd contribute some delight A mere Poetical Hermaphrodite Thus he 's equipp'd both to be woo'd and woo With Arms offensive and defensive too 'T is hard he thinks if neither part will do CONSIDERATIONS ON THE Eighty Eighth Psalm BY Mr. PRIOR Heavy O Lord on me thy Judgments lie And curs'd I am for God neglects my cry O Lord in Darkness and Despair I groan And every place is Hell for God is gone O Lord arise and let thy Beams controul Those horrid Clouds that press my frighted Soul O rise and save me from Eternal Night Thou that art the God of Light Downward I hasten to my destin'd place There none obtain thy Aid none sing thy Praise Soon I shall lie in Death's deep Ocean drown'd Is Mercy there is sweet Forgiveness found O save me yet whilst on the brink I stand Rebuke the Storm and set me safe to Land O make my Longings and thy Mercy sure Thou that art the God of Power Behold the wearied Prodigal is come To Thee his Hope his Harbour and his Home No Father he cou'd find no Friend abroad Depriv'd of Joy and destitute of God O let thy Terrours and his Anguish end Be thou his Father and be thou his Friend Receive the Son thou didst so long reprove Thou that art the God of Love Veni Creator Spiritus Translated in PARAPHRASE BY Mr. DRYDEN CReator Spirit by whose aid The World's Foundations first were laid Come visit ev'ry pious Mind Come pour thy Joys on Human Kind From Sin and Sorrow set us free And make thy Temples worthy Thee O Source of uncreated Light The Father 's promis'd Paraclite Thrice Holy Fount thrice Holy Fire Our Hearts with Heav'nly Love inspire Come and thy Sacred Unction bring To Sanctifie us while we sing Plenteous of Grace descend from high Rich in thy sev'n-fold Energy Thou strength of his Almighty Hand Whose Pow'r does Heav'n and Earth command Proceeding Spirit our Defence Who do'st the Gift of Tongues dispence And crown'st thy Gift with Eloquence Refine and purge our Earthy Parts But oh inflame and fire our Hearts Our Frailties help our Vice controul Submit the Senses to the Soul And when Rebellious they are grown Then lay thy hand and hold 'em down Chace from our Minds th' Infernal Foe And Peace the fruit of Love bestow And lest our Feet shou'd step astray Protect and guide us in the way Make us Eternal Truths receive And practise all that we believe Give us thy self that we may see The Father and the Son by thee Immortal Honour endless Fame Attend th' Almighty Father's Name The Saviour Son be glorify'd Who for lost Man's Redemption dy'd And equal Adoration be Eternal Paraclete to thee The CURSE of BABYLON PARAPHRAS'D From the Thirteenth Chapter OF ISAIA A Pindarique ODE BY THO. YALDEN. 1. NOw let the fatal Banner be

on ev'ry Creature Of Favours she was provident But yet not over sparing She gave no loose Encouragement Yet kept Men from despairing 6. Now flying Fame had made report Of Fair Pastora's Beauty That she must needs unto the Court There to perform her Duty Unto the Court Pastora's gone It were no Court without her The Queen her self with all her Train Had none so Fair about her 7. Tom hung his Dog and flung away His Sheep-hook and his Wallet Will broke his Pipes and curst the day That e're he made a Ballet Their Nine-pins and their Bowls they broke Their Tunes were turn'd to Tears 'T is time for me to make an end Let them go shake their Ears RONDELAY BY Mr. DRYDEN 1. CHLOE found Amyntas lying All in Tears upon the Plain Sighing to himself and crying Wretched I to love in vain Kiss me Dear before my dying Kiss me once and ease my pain 2. Sighing to himself and crying Wretched I to love in vain Ever scorning and denying To reward your faithful Swain Kiss me Dear before my dying Kiss me once and ease my pain 3. Ever scorning and denying To reward your faithful Swain Chloe laughing at his crying Told him that he lov'd in vain Kiss me Dear before my dying Kiss me once and ease my pain 4. Chloe laughing at his crying Told him that he lov'd in vain But repenting and complying When he kiss'd she kiss'd again Kiss'd him up before his dying Kiss'd him up and eas'd his pain In a Letter to the Honourable Mr. Charles Montague By Mr. PRIOR 1. HOwe're 't is well that whilst Mankind Through Fate 's Fantastic Mazes errs He can imagin'd Pleasures find To combat against real Cares 2. Fancies and Notions we pursue Which ne're had Being but in thought And like the doating Artist woo The Image we our selves have wrought 3. Against Experience we believe And argue against Demonstration Pleas'd that we can our selves deceive And set our Judgment by our Passion 4. The hoary Fool who many Days Has struggled with continued Sorrow Renews his Hope and blindly lays The desp'rate Bet upon to Morrow 5. To Morrow comes 't is Noon 't is Night This day like all the former fled Yet on he runs to seek Delight To Morrow till too Night he 's dead 6. Our Hopes like tow'ring Falcons aim At Objects in an Airy height But all the Pleasure of the Game Is afar off to view the Flight 7. The worthless Prey but only shows The Joy consisted in the Strife Whate're we take as soon we lose In Homer's Riddle and in Life 8. So whilst in Fev'rish Sleeps we think We taste what waking we desire The Dream is better than the Drink Which only feeds the sickly Fire 9. To the Minds Eye things well appear At distance through an artful Glass Bring but the flatt'ring Objects near They 're all a senseless gloomy Mass. 10. Seeing aright we see our Woes Then what avails it to have Eyes From Ignorance our Comfort flows The only wretched are the Wise. 11. We wearied shou'd lie down in Death This Cheat of Life wou'd take no more If you thought Fame but stinking Breath I Phillis but a perjur'd Whore An ODE By Mr. PRIOR 1. WHilst blooming Youth and gay Delight In all thy Looks and Gestures shine Thou hast my Dear undoubted Right To Rule this destin'd Heart of mine My Reason bends to what your Eyes ordain For I was born to love and you to reign 2. But wou'd you meanly then rely On Power you know I must obey 'T is but a Legal Tyranny To do an Ill because you may Why must I thee as Atheists Heav'n adore Not see thy Mercy and but dread thy Pow'r 3. Take heed my Dear Youth flies apace Time equally with Love is blind Soon must those Glories of thy Face The Fate of Vulgar Beauty find The thousand Loves that arm thy potent Eye Must drop their Quivers flag their Wings and die 4. Then thou wilt sigh when in each Frown A hateful wrinckle more appears And putting peevish humours on Seems but the sad effect of Years Even Kindness then too weak a Charm will prove To raise the Ghost of my departed Love 5. Forc'd Complements and formal Bows Will show Thee Just above Neglect The heat with which thy Lover glows Will settle into cold Respect A talking dull Platonick I shall turn Learn to be civil when I cease to burn 6. Then shun the ill and know my Dear Kindness and Constancy will prove The only Pillars fit to bear So vast a weight as that of Love If thou canst wish to make my Flames endure Thine must be very fierce and very pure 7. Haste Celia haste whilst Love invites Obey the Godhead's gentle Voice Fill every Sense with soft Delights And give thy Soul a loose to Joys Let millions of repeated Blisses prove That thou art Kindness all and I all love 8. Be mine and only mine take care to guide Your Looks your Thoughts your Dreams To me alone nor come so far As liking any Youth beside What Men e're court thee fly 'em and believe They 're Serpents all and thou the tempted Eve 9. So shall I court thy dearest Truth When Beauty ceases to engage And thinking on thy charming Youth I 'll love it o're again in Age. So time it self our Raptures shall improve And still we 'll wake to Joy and live to Love TO A LADY of Quality's Playing on the Lute By Mr. PRIOR WHat Charms you have from what high Race you sprung Have been the Subject of our Daring Song But when you pleas'd to show the lab'ring Muse What greater Theams your Musick could produce Our Babling Praises we repeat no more But hear rejoyce stand silent and adore The Persians thus first gazing on the Sun Admir'd how high 't was plac'd how bright it shone But as his Pow'r was known their Thoughts were rais'd And soon they worship'd what at first they prais'd Eliza's Glory lives in Spencer's Song And Cowley's Verse keeps fair Orinda young That you in Beauty and in Birth excell The Muse might dictate and the Poet tell Your Art no other Art can speak and you To shew how well you play must play anew Your Musick 's pow'r your Musick must disclose For what Light is 't is only Light that shows Strange force of Harmony that thus Controuls Our inmost Thoughts and sanctifies our Souls Whilst with its utmost Art your Sex could move Our Wonder only or at'best our Love You far beyond both these your God did place That your high power might worldly thoughts destroy That with your Numbers you our Zeal might raise And like himself Communicate your Joy When to your Native Heaven you shall repair And with your Presence Crown the Blessings there Your Lute may wind its strings but little higher To tune their Notes to that Immortal Quire Your Art is perfect here your Numbers do More than our Books make the rude Atheist know That there 's a Heaven