Selected quad for the lemma: heaven_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
heaven_n	great_a	see_v	world_n	7,593	5	4.4143	3	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A93563	Electra of Sophocles presented to Her Highnesse the Lady Elizabeth; with an epilogue, shewing the parallell in two poems, the return, and the restauration. By C.W.; Electra. English	Sophocles.; Wase, Christopher, 1625?-1690.	1649 (1649)	Wing S4690; Thomason E1216_2; ESTC R203592	46,949	113

flight is converted into a Bird whose breast is all staind with gore She is said continually to lament this prodigious effect of her high-wrought passion the dolefull one contents 4 Which Itys still Itys laments 5 Afflicted bird Joves Messenger 6 Sent for the Summers Harbinger 7 But O distressed 7 Niobe after the losse of her numerous and flourishing progeny which caused her discontented husband to make away himself being reduc'd from prosperous and proud to a childlesse widow through excessive sorrow is said to have congeald into an entire rock onely her tears reservd See both these Fables at large in Sandys Ovid. Metam book 6. Niobe 8 I thee adore my Deity 9 Which weepest still 10 From rocky tombe a teary rill Quir You are not Madam th' onely shee VVho in this grief plead property VVhy you so loud 'bove them within I' th same degree of bloud akin As Chrysotheame and Iphianasse both And he who griev's in hidden growth El. Happy whom nor yet long hence Fam'd Mycens land shall bear brave Prince Orestes sent by Joves decree Whom I unweary'd wait to see Childlesse piteous husbandlesse Pining away with wretchednesse Wasting in teares nor can be found What may give my sorrows bound While he forgets both what 's him done And what him taught false rumours runne Fain would he e're Yet though he 'ld fain do's not appear Qu. Madam chear up come chear In heaven great Jove resides Who all things sees and guides To whom excessive passions leaving Nor senselesse be nor overgrieving Time is a gentle god nor yet Doe's Agamemnons youth forget To come unto his native land Though now in Crisa's fertile strand Nor who the world controlls below Will murther see unpunish't go El. But I mean while sans hope perceive My tender Age poor me to leave Nor can I longer stay Which without Parents fade away Nor have a Friend my part to take But Pilgrim-like whom all forsake At home in these poor cloths must spread My Fathers empty Bord and Bed Qui. 1 Wretched coming to remember 2 Wretched blow giv'n in the chamber 3 Where with the broad steel-faced Cleaver 4 The Royall Temples they dissever 5 Treason was Privy-counsellour 6 Lust was the Executioner 7 Dreadfull they a dreadfull sight 8 Wrought were it god or mortall wight 9 That acted it El. 1 O Day Curse of my Kalender 2 O night O Suppers horrid Chear 3 Cracking my loaded Heart 4 When unworthy Fate did part 5 By base Conspirators my Father 6 Who took who stroy'd my life together 7 With whom the great God ruling heav'n 8 In vengeance over weight be ev'n 9 Nor may they e're enjoy their state 10 Purchas'd at Treasons rate Qui. 1 Hush pray not too loud for know you 2 What harm storming thus may do you 3 Endangering your present fortune 4 Your own destruction you importune 5 And much of needlesse ill will gain 6 While still you stubbornely complain 7 To raise strife forbear 'T is Art 8 Oppose not the prevayling part 9 But yoke your heart El. 1 I am provok'd I see it and 2 My impatience understand 3 But at this fact to grieve 4 I 'll not cease till cease to live 5 For who would speak well of me should I 6 VVho that or Honour know's or duty 7 Comforters leave leave me alone 8 For this grief must no measure own 9 Ne're will I from my labours cease 10 But still my tears increase Qui. 'T is meere good will all that I presse Like to some tender Mother Breed not griefs one of another El. Tell me what bounds my woes confine I' st fit the Dead in scorn t' enshrine VVhat man doth nature bring up so May I ne're in their favour grow Nor if I match some worthy Lord To live demure will I afford But my sad devotions pay At my Fathers grave will lay For if the dead and rotten Like earth and nought forgotten Must lie along And they the wrong Not rue who did the same Farewell Vertue Farewel shame And all the gods reputed name Qui. One of the Ladies coming after the rest Brought Madam Both that I may counsell you not to exasperate your enemies by the opposition of perpetuall complaints and that I may approve my self a faithfull friend in coming in to your comfort both for yours and my own sake Hither I m'e with all this eare betake And if I prove other then right to say VVe straight submit our wills yours be the day El. Lady 's I am asham'd in your esteem That I though ne're so sad too pensive seem But to this life I am perforce enclin'd Pardon how can a Maid of generous mind Seeing her Fathers wrongs do otherwise Then I who moan abed moan when I rise Nor waynes my grief but still encreases more For first 't is my own mother who me bore Hates me then they who made away my Father VVith me in mine own Palace live together They are my Governours and they me feed From whom then be supply'd I 'd rather need Besides what life I lead pray do you count VVhen I see haughty Egist perching mount My Fathers Throne the self same robes behold Him wear my slaughter'd Father wore of old And in those very rooms where he his Hands Embrew'd attone the houshold Guardians And that which gives my utmost wo full stature My Fathers sheets are made to hold the Traytor VVith my lewd mother if 't be fit at all That I his bedfellow should Mother call And she thus base lodg'd by the murderer Of haunting ghosts ner'e stands one whit in fear But as she at the fact made merry when She finds the day is come about agen In which by guile she made our Sire away Then she doth mask it then moneth offerings slay To saviour-gods on her thanksgiving day Mean while poore I 'bout house looking thereon Cry fret and make a lamentable moan My Fathers dismall feast to think upon All by my self alone nor can I stil Continuall weeper ever weep my fill Then the well-spoken gentle-woman for'c VVith such like curbing girds takes me up short Hate of the gods to you forsooth alone Your Father 's dead none else makes any moan An ill end seize on thee and this doom pursue Hell after death thy lease of grief renue Thus taunts shee But when any message brings How that Orestes comes then out she flings Like a rude Bedlam and with rampant voice Cryes This your doings is all this you cause Which out of my arms reach Orestes get But know that thou shalt dearly pay the shot Thus snaps she and her fine companion Standing close by her elbow eggs her on That sneaks in grain that piece made up of scorn That Champion to Lady-duells born But I Orestes still expecting who Should set me free mean while decay with wo. For while he stands contriving he destroyes At once my present hopes and future joyes Nor can I whilst things stand this wise with me Lady