Selected quad for the lemma: blood_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
blood_n	best_a	young_a	youth_n	26	3	7.8411	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A68624	Emblemes by Fra: Quarles	Quarles, Francis, 1592-1644.; Marshall, William, fl. 1617-1650, engraver.; Quarles, Francis, 1592-1644. Hieroglyphikes of the life of man. aut; Simpson, William, fl. 1635-1646, engraver.	1639 (1639)	STC 20542; ESTC S115515	99,172	392

minits flee On wheeles more swift thē Eagles wings Our life 's a Clocke and ev'ry gaspe of breath Breathes forth a warning grief till Time shall strike a death 7 How soone Our new-borne Light Attaines to full-ag'd noone And this how soon to gray-hayr'd night Wee spring we bud we blossome and we blast E're we can count our daies Our daies they flee so fast 8 They end When scarce begun And ere wee apprehend That we begin to live our life is don Man Count thy daies And if they flee too fast For thy dull thoughts to count count ev'rie day thy last Our Infancy is consumed in eating and sleeping in all which time what differ we from beasts but by a possibility of reason and a necessity of sinne O misery of man kind in whom no sooner the Image of God appeares in the act of his Reason but the Devill blurs it in the corruption of his will EIPG. 9. To the decrepit man Thus was the first seaventh part of thy few daies Consum'd in sleep in food in Toyish plaies Knowst thou what teares thine eies imparted then Review thy losse and weep them o're agen Preles tua Maia Iuventus Will. Marshall sculp● His bones are full of the sinnes of his youth IOB 20.11 1 THe swift-foot Post of Time hath now begun His second Stage The dawning of our Age Is lost and spent without a Sun The light of Reason did not yet appeare Within th' Horizon of this Hemispheare 2 The infant Will had yet none other guide But twilight Sense And what is gayn'd from thence But doubtfull Steps that tread aside Reason now draws her Curtaines Her clos'd Begin to open and she calls to rise 3 Youths now disclosing Bud peeps out and shower Her Aprill head And from her grasse greene bed Her virgin Primerose early blowes Whil'st waking Philomel prepares to sing Her warbling Sonets to the wanton Spring 4 His Stage is pleasant and the way seemes short All strow'd with flowers The dayes appeare but howers Being spent in time-beguiling sport Here griefes do neither presse nor doubts perplex Here 's neither feare to curb nor care to vex 5 His downie Cheek growes proud and now disdaines The Tutors hand He glories to command The proud neckt Steed with prouder Reynes The strong breath'd Horne must now salute his eare With the glad downefall of the falling Deare 6 His quicknos'd Armie with their deepmouth'd sounds Must now prepare To chase the tim'rous Hare About his yet unmorgag'd Grounds The ev'll he hates is Counsell and delay And feares no mischief but a rainie day 7 The thought he takes is how to take no thought For bale nor blisse And late Repentance is The last deare Pen'worth that he bought He is a daintie Morning and he may If lust'ore cast him not b' as faire a Day 8 Proud Blossom use thy Time Times head strong Horse Will post away Trust not the foll'wing day For ev'rie day brings forth a worse Take time at best believe 't thy daies will fall From good to bad From bad to worst of all S. AMBR. Humility is a rare thing in a young man therefore to be admired When youth is vigorous when strength is firme when blood is hot when Cares are strangers when mirth is free then Pride swells and humility is despised EPIG 10. To the old Man Thy yeares are newly gray His newly Greene His youth may live to see what thine hath seene He is thy Parallel His present Stage And thine are the two Tropicks of Mans Age. Iam ruit in Venerem Will Marshall sculpsit Rejoyce O young man and let thy heart cheare Thee but know c. ECCLES 11.9 HOw flux how alterable is the date Of transitory things How hurry'd on the clipping wings Of Time and driv'n upon the wheeles of Fate How one Condition brings The leading Prologue to another State No transitory things can last Change waits on Time and Time is wing'd with hast Time presents but the Ruins of Time past 2 Behold how Change hath incht away thy Span And how thy light does burne Nearer and nearer to thy Vrne For this deare wast what satisfaction can Injurious time returne Thy shortned daies but this the stile of Man And what 's a Man A cask of Care New tunn'd and working Hee 's a middle Staire Twixt birth and death A blast of ful ag'd Ayre 3 His brest is Tinder apt to entertaine The sparkes of Cupids fire Whose new-blowne flames must now enquire A wanton Juilippe out which may restraine The Rage of his desire Whose painefull pleasure is but pleasing paine His life 's a sicknesse that doth rise From a hot Liver whilst his passion lies Expecting Cordials from his Mistresse eyes His Stage is strowd with Thornes and deckt with Flowers His yeare sometimes appeares A Minit and his Minits yeares His doubtfull Weather's sun-shine mixt with showers His traffique Hopes and Feares His life 's a Medly made of sweets and sowers His paines reward is Smiles and Pouts His diet is faire language mixt with Flouts He is a Nothing all compos'd of Doubts 5 Doe wast thy Inch proud Span of living earth Consume thy golden daies In slavish freedome Let thy wayes Take best advantage of thy frolick mirth Thy Stock of Time decayes And lavish plenty still foreruns a Dearth The bird that 's flowne may turne at last And painefull labour may repaire a wast But paines nor price can call thy minits past SEN. Expect great joy when thou shalt lay downe the mind of a Child and deserve the stile of a wise man for at those yeares childhood is past but oftentimes childishness remaines and what is worse thou hast the Authority of a Man but the vices of a Childe EPIG 11. To the declining Man Why standst thou discontented Is not he As equall distant from the Toppe as thee What then may cause thy discontented frowne Hee 's mounting up the Hill Thou plodding downe Vt Sol ardore Virilj Will Marshall sculp●●t As thy daies so shall thy strength be DEUT. 33.25 The Post Of swift foot Time Hath now at length begun The Kalends of our middle Stage The number'd Steps that we have gone do show The number of those Steps wee are to goe The Buds and blossomes of our Age Are blowne decay'd and gone And all our prime Is lost And what wee boast too much wee have least cause to boast Ah mee There is no Rest Our Time is alwaies fleeing What Rein can curb our headstrong hours They post away They passe wee know not how Our Now is gone before wee can say Now Time past and futur's none of ours That hath as yet no Being And This hath ceast To bee What is is onely ours How short a Time have Wee And now Apolloes eare Expects harmonious straines New minted frō the Thracian Lyre For now the Virtue of the twiforkt Hill Inspires the ravisht fancy and doth fill The veines with Pegasean fire And now those sterill braines That

mercy by the charmes of sweat and blood Canst thou forget that drowsie Mount wherein Thy dull Disciples slept Was not my sinne There punish'd in thy soule Did not this brow Then sweat in thine Were not those drops enow Remember Golgotha where that spring-tide Or'e flow'd thy sov'raigne Sacramentall side There was no sinne there was no guilt in Thee That caus'd those paines Thou sweatst thou bledst for me Was there not blood enough when one small drop Had pow'r to ransome thousands worlds and stop The m●uth of Iustice Lord I bled before In thy deep wounds Can Iustice challenge more O doe thou vainly labour to hedge in Thy losses from my sides My blood is thin And thy free bounty scornes such easie thrift No no thy blood came not as lone but gift But must I ever grinde And must I earne Nothing bu● stripes O wi t thou disalterne The rest thou gav'st Hast thou perus'd the curse Thou laydst on Adams fall and made it worse Canst thou repent of mercy Heav'n thought good Lost man should feed in sweat not work in blood Why dost thou wound th'already wounded brest Ah me my life is but a paine at best I am but dying dust my dayes a span What pleasure tak'st thou in the blood of man Spare spare thy scourge and be not so austere Send fewer stroaks or lend more strength to beare S. BERN. Hom. 81. in Cant. Miserable man Who shall deliver me from the reproach of this shamefull bondage I am a miserable man but a free man free because a man Miserable because a servant In regard of my bondage miserable In regard of my will inexcusable For my will that was free be slaved it selfe to sinne by assenting to sinne for he that commits sin is the servant to sinne EPIG 4. Taxe not thy God Thine owne defaults did urge This twofold punishment the Mill the Scourge Thy sin 's the Author of thy selfe tormenting Thou grind'st for sinning scourg'd for not repenting V. Remember I beseech thee that thou hast made me as the clay wilt thou bri●● me into dust againe Iob. 〈…〉 will s●●p● V. IOB X.IX. Remember I beseech thee that thou hast made me as the clay and wilt thou bring me to dust againe THus from the bosome of the new-made earth Poore man was delv'd and had his unborne birth The same the stuffe the selfe-same hand does trim The Plant that fades the Beast that dies and Him One was their Syre one was their common mother Plants are his sisters and the Beast his brother The elder too Beasts draw the selfe-same breath Waxe old alike and die the selfe-same death Plants grow as he with fairer robes arraid Alike they flourish and alike they fade The beast in sense exceeds him and in growth The three-ag'd Oake doth thrice exceed them both Why look'st thou then so big thou little span Of earth What art thou more in being man I but my great Creator did inspire My chosen earth with that diviner fire Of Reason gave me Iudgement and a Will That to know good this to chuse good from ill He put the raines of pow'r in my free hand And jurisdiction oversea and land He gave me art to lengthen out my span Of life and made me all in being man I but thy Passion has committed treason Against the sacred person of thy Reason Thy Iudgement is corrupt perverse thy Will That knowes no good and this makes choice of ill The greater height sends downe the deeper fall And good declin'd turnes bad turnes worst of all Say then proud inch of living earth what can Thy greatnesse claime the more in being man O but my soule transcends the pitch of nature Borne up by th' Image of her high Creator Out-braves the life of reason and beats downe Her waxen wings kicks off her brazen Crowne My earth 's a living Temple t' entertaine The King of Glory and his glorious traine How can I mend my Title then where can Ambition find a higher stile than man Ah but that Image is defac'd and soil'd Her Temple 's raz'd her altars all defil'd Her vessels are polluted and distain'd With loathed lust her ornaments prophan'd Her oyle forsaken lamps and hallow'd Tapoure Put out her incense breaths unsav'ry vapours Why swel'st thou then so big thou little span Of earth What art thou more in being man Eternall Porter whose blest hands did lay My course foundation from a sod of clay Thou know'st my slender vessell's apt to leake Thou know'st my brittle Temper 's prone to breake Are my Bones Brazzill or my Flesh of Oake O mend what thou hast made what I have broke Looke looke with gentle eyes and in thy day Of vengeance Lord remember I am clay S. AUGUST Soliloq 32. Shall I ask who made me It was thou that madest me without whom nothing was made Thou art my maker and I thy worke I thanke thee my Lord God by whom I live and by whom all things subsist because thou madest me I thanke thee O my Potter because thy hands have made me because thy hands have formed me EPIG 5. Why swell'st thou Man puft up with Fame and Purse Th' art better earth but borne to dig the worse Thou cam'st from earth to earth thou must returne And art but earth cast from the wombe to th'●ne VI. What shall I do vnto thee O thow ● preserver of men why hast thou set mee as a marke against thee Iob. 7.2 VI. IOB VII XX I have sinned What shall I doe unto thee O thou preserver of men why hast thou set me as a marke against thee LOrd I have done and Lord I have misdone 'T is folly to contest to strive with one That is too strong 't is folly to assaile Or prove an Arme that will that must prevaile Iv'e done I 've done these trembling hands have throwne Their daring weapons downe The day 's thine owne Forbeare to strike where thou hast won the field The palme the palme is thine I yeeld I yeeld These treach'rous hands that were so vainly bold To try a thrivelesse combat and to hold Selfe-wounding weapons up are now extended For mercy from thy hand that knee that bended Vpon her guardlesse guard does now repent Vpon this naked floore See both are bent And sue for pitie O my ragged wound Is deep and desp'rate it is drench'd and drown'd In blood and briny teares It does begin To stinke without and putrifie within Let that victorious hand that now appeares Iust in my blood prove gracious to my teares Thou great Preserver of presumptuous man What shall I do What satisfaction can Poore dust and ashes make O if that blood That yet remaines unshed were halfe as good As blood of Oxen if my death might be An offring to attone my God and me I would disdaine injurious life and stand A suiter to be wounded from thy hand But may thy wrongs be measur'd by the span Of life or balanc'd with the blood of man

cannot show Nor beare Some fruits shall never weare Apollos sacred Bow Excesse And surfet uses To wait upon these daies Full feed and flowing cups of wine Conjure the fancy forcing up a Spright By the base Magick of deboy●d delight Ah pittie twiseborne Bacchus Vine should starve Apollo's Bayes And drown those Muses That blesse And calme the peacefull soule when storms of cares opp● Strong light Boast not those beames That can but onely rise And blaze a while and then away There is no Solstice in thy day Thy midnight glory lies Betwixt th' extrems Of night A Glory foyld with shame and foold with false delight Hast thou climbd up to the full age of thy few daies Look backwards and thou shalt see the frailty of thy youth the folly of thy Childhood and the waste of thy Infancy Looke forwards thou shalt see the cares of the world the troubles of thy mind the diseases of thy body EPIG 12. To the middle ag'd Thou that art prauncing on the lustie Noone Of thy full Age boast not thy selfe too soone Convert that breath to wayle thy fickle state Take heed thou l't brag too soone or boast too late Et Martem spirat et arma Will Marshall sculpsit He must encrease but I must decrease IOH. 3.30 TIme voyds the Table Dinner 's done And now our daies declining Sun Hath hurried his diurnall Loade To th'Borders of the Westerne roade Fierce Phlegon with his fellow Steeds Now puffes and pants and blowes and bleeds And froths and fumes remembring still Their lashes up th'Olympick Hill Which having conquerd now disdaine The whip and champs the frothy reyn And with a full Career they bend Their paces to their Iournies end Our blazing Tapour now hath lost Her better halfe Nature hath crost Her forenoone book and cleard that score But scarce gives trust for so much more And now the gen'rous Sappe forsakes Her seir-grown twig A breath ev'n shakes The down-ripe fruit fruit soone divorc'd From her deare Branch untouchd unforc'd Now sanguine Venus doth begin To draw her wanton colours in And flees neglected in disgace Whil'st Mars supplies her luke warme place Blood turnes to Choler What this Age Loses in strength it fines in Rage That rich Ennamell which of old Damaskt the downy Cheeke and told A harmelesse guilt unaskt is now Worne off from the audacious brow Luxurious Dalliance midnight Revells Loose Ryot and those veniall evils Which inconsiderate youth of late Could pleade now wants an Advocate And what appeard in former times Whispring as faults now roare as crimes And now all yee whose lippes were wont To drench their Currall in the Font Of forkt Parnassus you that be The Sons of Phoebus and can flee On wings of Fancy to display The Flagge of high Invention stay Repose your Quills Your veines grow sower Tempt not your Salt beyond her power If your pall'd Fancies but decline Censure will strike at every line And wound your names The popular eare Weighs what you are not what you were Thus hackney like we tire our Age Spurgall'd with Change from Stage to Stage Seest thou the daily light of the greater world When attaind to the highest pitch of Meridian glory it staieth not but by the same degrees it ascended it descends And is the light of the lesser world more premanent Continuance is the Child of Eternity not of Time EPIG 13 To the young Man Young man rejoyce And let thy rising daies Cheare thy glad heart Thinkst thou these uphill waies Leade to deaths dungeon No but know withall Arising is but Prologue to a Fall Invidiosa Senectus Will Marshall sculpsit Yet a little while is the light with you IOH. 12.35 1 THe day growes old The low pitcht Lamp hath made No lesse than treble shade And the descending damp does now prepare T'uncurle bright Titans haire Whose Westerne Wardrobe now begins t' unfold Her purples fring'd with gold To cloath his evening glory when th' alarmes Of Rest shall call to rest in restlesse Thetis armes 2 Nature now calls to Supper to refresh The spirits of all flesh The toyling ploughman drives his Thirsty Teames To tast the slipp'ry Streames The droyling Swineheard knocks away and feasts His hungry-whining guests The boxbill Ouzle and the dappled Thrush Like hungry Rivals meet at their beloved bush 3 And now the cold Autumnall dewes are seene To copwebbe every Greene And by the low-shorne Rowins doth appeare The fast-declining yeare The Saplesse Branches d'off their summer Suits And waine their winter fruits And stormy blasts hare forc'd the quaking Trees To wrap their trembling limbs in Suits of mossie Freeze 4 Our wasted Tapour now hath brought her light To the next dore to night Her sprightlesse flame grown great with snuffe does turn Sad as her neigbr'ring Vrne Her slender Inch that yet unspent remaines Lights but to further paines And in a silent language bids her guest Prepare his wearie limbes to take eternall Rest 5 Now carkfull Age hath pitcht her painefull plough Vpon the surrow'd brow And snowie blasts of discontented Care Hath blancht the falling haire Suspitious envie mixt with jealous Spight Disturb's his wearie night He threatens youth with age And now alas He ownes not what he is but vaunts the Man he was 6 Gray haires peruse thy dayes And let thy past Reade lectures to thy last Those hastie wings that hurri'd them away Will give these dayes no Day The constant wheeles of Nature scorne to tyre Vntill her works expire That blast that nipt thy youth will ruine Thee That hand that shooke the branch will quickly strike the Tree S. CHRYS Gray hayres are honorable when the behaviour suits with gray hayres But when an ancient man hath childish manners he becomes more rediculous than a child SEN. Thou art in vaine attained to old yeares that repeatest thy youthfulnesse EPIG 14. To the Youth Seest thou this good old man He represents Thy Future Thou his Preterperfect Tense Thou go'st to labour He prepares to Rest Thou break'st thy Fast He suppes Now which is best Plumbeus in terram Will Marshall sculpsit The dayes of our yeares are threescore years and ten PSAL. 90.10 1 SO have I seene th' illustrious Prince of Light Rising in glory from his Crocean bed And trampling downe the horrid shades of night Advancing more and more his conq'ring head Pause first decline at length begin to shroud His fainting browes within a cole black cloud 2 So have I seene a well built Castle stand Vpon the Tiptoes of a lofty Hill Whose active pow'r commands both Sea and Land And curbs the pride of the Beleag'rers will At length her ag'd Foundation failes her trust And layes her tottring ruines in the Dust 3 So have I seene the blazing Tapour shoot Her golden head into the feeble Ayre Whose shadow-gilding Ray spread round about Makes the foule face of black brow'd darkenesse faire Till at the length her wasting glory fades And leaves the night to her invet'rate shades 4 Ev'n so this little world of living Cloy The pride of Nature glorified by Art Whom earth adores and all her hosts obay Ally'd to Heav'n by his Diviner part Triumphs a while then droops and then decayes And worne by Age death cancells all his dayes 5 That glorious Sun that whilom shone so bright Is now ev'n ravisht from our darkned eyes That sturdy Castle man'd with so much might Lyes now a Monument of her owne disguize That blazing Tapour that disdain'd the puffe Of troubled Ayre scarce ownes the name of Snuffe 6 Poore bedrid Man where is that glory now Thy Youth so vaunted Where that Majesty Which sat enthron'd upon thy manly brow Where where that braving Arme that daring eye Those buxom tunes Those Bacchanalian Tones Those swelling veynes those marrow-flaming bones 7 Thy drooping Glory 's blurrd and prostrate lyes Grov'ling in dust And frightfull Horror now Sharpens the glaunces of thy gashfull eyes Whilst feare perplexes thy distracted brow Thy panting brest vents all her breath by groanes And Death enervs thy marrow-wasted bones 8 Thus Man that 's borne of woman can remaine But a short tine His dayes are full of sorrow His life 's a penance and his death 's a paine Springs like a flow'r to day and fades to morrow His breath 's a bubble and his dayes a Span T is glorious misery to be borne a Man CYPR. When eyes are dimme eares deafe visage pale teeth decaied skin withered breath tainted pipes furred knees trembling hands fumbling feet fayling the sudden downefall of thy fleshy house is neare at hand S. AUGUST All vices wax old by Age Covetousnesse done growes young EPIG 15. To the Infant What he doth spending in groanes thou spendst in teares Iudgement and strength 's alike in both your yeares Hee 's helpesse so art thou What difference than Hee 's an old Infant Thou a young old Man THE END