Selected quad for the lemma: water_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
water_n	air_n	element_n	fire_n	13,062	5	7.1789	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A56853	Fons lachrymarum, or, A fountain of tears from whence doth flow Englands complaint, Jeremiah's lamentations paraphras'd, with divine meditations, and an elegy upon that son of valor Sir Charles Lucas / written by John Quarles.	Quarles, John, 1624-1665.; Marshall, William, fl. 1617-1650.	1649 (1649)	Wing Q128; ESTC R235077	54,591	166

Wolves seek up and down To find a prey in every starved Town Shall eat deaths reliques having spent that store Shall ransack up and down and howl for more All beasts and fowls shall then amazed stand To see the Sea is turn'd into a Land The Land into a Sea a Red Sea where Nothing but bones in stead of fishes are Where nothing's heard but cries and shrieks and groans Where nothing's seen except consuming bones Oh had you but the power to apprehend These sad destructive dangers how they tend Da●ly towards us with all the power that they Can make as if they 'd rout us in one day Dull sons of men have ye forgot to rise And draw the Curtains of your slumbring eyes Methinks this hot Alarum should affright Your Souls for ever from your fond delight What do ye mean ye cannot chuse but hear Heav'ns thundring Judgments ratling in your ear What have ye sworn Allegiance to the Prince Of utter darknesse Will no words convince Your Stubborn Souls Has a perpetual vow Been lately past betwixt Hells Prince and you Why do ye thus delight to overthrow Your selves and lose a Kingdom at one blow Oh where are my grand Rulers to correct These their enormous humors that infect The world with Errors To what fatal place Are all my Senators retired You my Triennial Powers come and dispose Your ears to my discourse and I le disclose My grief to you whose Judgments can prescribe A timely remedy without a bribe Then hark THe climing power of my disease is grown To such a height that I can hardly own A minutes rest my body politick You apprehend I know is very sick Then let the depth of understanding move The depth of pity that ye may remove These growing inconveniences that moan For your assistance Can a Kingdom groan And not be heard Can a disease remain within my body and not I complain O● what I suffer That were Tyrannie Not to be paralel'd O pity me And let the fervour of my language turn Your thoughts to tears to quench those flames that burn My wasting intrals Let your hearts relent With meditating on my discontent Open your willing ears and hear me call O do not fall a slumbring whilest I fall O hear me soon that now complain too late Let my complaints make you compassionate Dissolve into a Sea of tears Involve Your selves with sackcloth Let your minds revolve Upon your native soil resolve to spend Your greatest skills to consummate the end Of my distractions and let mercy joyn With justice so shall endless love combine Your Souls That like Ezekiels wheels ye may Run one within another and not stray But like Isaiahs Seraphims may cry O holy holy holy God on high But stay nor can I end my griefs must fly A little further Mountains that are high Must be discovered Molehills often times Lie out of sight like undiscovered crimes A publike sorrow oftentimes admits A cure from them whose more concreted wits Do dayly study with more active arts More publique mischief with more private hearts Doth not the fawning Crocodile obtain By publique sorrow her more private gain Doth not the crafty Lapwing cry the least When she is nearest to her close-made nest Are there not those in this conniving age Whose outward meekness is but inward rage Are there not those in these contentious times That live by nothing but their private crimes Oh grief to speak it Are there not a sort Of wilful people that can make a sport At others ruines whose pretended zeal Hath bred much mischief in this Common-weal Are there not those that would pretend to be Reformers yet deform a Monarchie Are there not those whose upstart honors crave Perpetual durance only to enslave The Sons of Honor Thus they play the thief And joy in nothing but in others grief Are there not those who in one breath can cry Against a Lyar yet can forge a lye for their advantage and abjure the Laws Lyes are no lyes if they advance their Cause Are there not those that persecute the Arts And yet retain Monopolizing hearts Are there not those that dayly take delight To twist themselves into anothers right Do not all these which I have nam'd pretend To do all this to a religious end And ah Religion how art thou betray'd By those whose worthless industry have layd Thine honor in the dust nay and have thrown Dirt in their faces that shall dare to own Thy very name these are a sort of people That love no Church because they hate the steeple I dare affirm that Proteus ne'er could be So much transform'd as they have transform'd thee Nor can I yet conclude I must deplore My greater sorrows yet a little more Let no man take exceptions for I speak Unto my self sorrow must finde a leak I cannot hold and O that I were able To make my feeble tongue infatigable That by my full expressions I may prove How much the Serpent over-rules the Dove There was a time not long since when my fits Had found as expiation if those wits Which prov'd too serpentine had not delayd Their too-soon violated vows and playd A double game I even blush to name What odds they had and how they lost the game The world though sad is not so melancholly But that it smiles at and records that folly The breach of vows cracks honor and the loss Of opportunity deserves a cross ●n honors book and he that shall neglect A publique good shall finde a bad respect In private hearts and ruine must attend A publique Actor for a private end Are there not those hate Rome and yet make roo● For Catiline and labor to entomb His vile prescriptions in their Romish thoughts And yet excuse themselves and him from faults Do I not see them how they run his paths With head-long force and prosecute his Laws Do I not see their Agents how they strive To ruine others and to keep alive Themselves that liv'd not till this greedy age Rak'd them from dunghils to adorn the Stage Of Hell-bred Tyranny Do I not see How much they 'r honor'd for their Tyranny The Salamander when he 's crown'd with ●i● Is in his Kingdom if his Crown expire His life concludes Tell me what then remains Except the reliques of consuming flames Even so the Salamanders of these days Whose hearts are made of flames at last will blaz And smother into ashes Thus declin'd What can they leave except a stink behinde Each thing must live within its element Discretion tells us fishes must content Themselves with water and all things must live Content with that which Heav'n was pleas'd to giv● 'T is onely man that surfeits with desire The earth the ayr the water quickning fire And all was made for man and man was made Of all these things O let it not be said That fire predominates and breeds contest Within my bowels and destroys the rest O strive now your unruly flames arise