The English Parnassus, or, A helpe to English poesie containing a collection of all rhyming monosyllables, the choicest epithets, and phrases : with some general forms upon all occasions, subjects, and theams, alphabeticaly digested : together with a short institution to English poesie, by way of a preface / by Joshua Poole.

Fear. Fearful.

As if all his blood turnd whey. Crest-fal••'n. Blood-shaken. Bach'd in a c••ld quick silver sweat. So fear'd young Proserpine rapt in the coach Of the infernal king. A chill fear Shook all his powers. So old Aegeus shak'c When he the po••soned cup to Theseus gave. Presaging fears her quite did confound. A chill cold sweat Bath'd all my limbs. Drown'd in fear. With such a fear flies the aire-piercing dove. A chilling fear surprizeth all his joynts. Fe••r the underminer of all determinations Making abortive answers. Then cold amazements stiffened up his haire. Congealed blood usurpt their trembling hearts, and left a faintnesse in their feeble parts. Who trembling out distractful language speak. Fear, the ague, palsie of the soul, tempest of the mind▪ A chilling ice shivers through every limbe. My blood shrinks back into my veins, And my affrighted hairs are turn'd to bristles. My eyes creep back into their cells, As if they seem'd to wish for thicker darknesse Than either night or death to cover them. His soul melts within him. A chilling sweat ore-••uns my trembling joynts. My seated heart knocks at my ribs, against the use of nature.

Distill'd almost to jelly. Ha••rowes the soul, and makes the eyes start from their sphears. The haire stands on end Like quills upon the fretful Porcupine, The bedded, haire like life in excrements Start up, and stand an end. A freezing sweat Flowes through at all my pores. The knees are mutual anviles. A breathlesse man prickt on by winged fear, With staring eyes, distracted hear and there, L••ke kindled exhalations in the aire, At midnight glowing, his stiffe bolting haire, Not much unlike the pens of porcupines, Parboild in sweat, and making fearful signes. With a look so pitious in pourport, As if he had been loosed out of hell To speak of horrours. The bolting haire Staring upright on their affrighted heads Heave up their hats. Horrour and heart-amazing, fear possest The fainting powers of my troubled brest. Fear is the carefullest, and greatest housewife of our passions, keep∣ing all the rest in Centinel. Fear the Jaylour of the soul. A flesh quake doth possesse their powers. My knees each other st••uck, the frighted blood, Fled to my heart, my ears like bristles stood.