Selected quad for the lemma: book_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
book_n	law_n	life_n	write_v	2,944	5	5.7098	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A06984	The description, of that euer to be famed knight, Sir Iohn Burgh, Colonell Generall of his Maiesties armie vvith his last seruice at the Isle of Rees, and his vnfortunate death, then when the armie had most need of such a pilote. Written by Robert Markham, captaine of a foote company in the same regiment, and shot also in the same seruice.	Markham, Robert, captain.; Cecil, Thomas, fl. 1630, engraver.	1628 (1628)	STC 17403; ESTC S112196	11,454	34

S Iohn Burgh Knight descended from the house of the Lord Burgh 〈…〉 male to the Bareny Cap t of an English foote Company in the Vnited 〈…〉 Gouern r of Frankendale Collonell of a regiment of foote in 〈…〉 w th 〈◊〉 M 〈…〉 IOHANNIS BVRGH EQVITIS AVRAT EFFIGIES GENEROSISSIMI ET FORTISIMI MILITIS THE DESCRIPTION OF THAT EVER TO BE FAMED KNIGHT SIR IOHN BVRGH COLONELL GENERALL of his Maiesties Armie With his last seruice at the Isle of Rees and his vnfortunate Death then when the Armie had most need of such a Pilote Viuit post funera virtus Written by ROBERT MARKHAM Captaine of a foote Company in the same Regiment and Shot also in the same seruice Fo rs dominatur neque vita est vlli propria in vita Printed 1628. THE EPISTLE I Will not Dedicate these weeping lines Vnto a laughing Lord for Patronage That without Mourning habit richlyshines In gold nor will I send a Pilgrimage My sorrowes brought a bed in this same Booke To be protected by a Ladyes Looke Nor will I inuocate a Iudge because I write vpon an Honourable fate Vntimely hastned for within his lawes Deathes immature are all degenerate He that condemneth life and goods shall be No pittilesse protector Booke to thee No Sycophant shall see thee by my will No nor a golden Coward for I vow I hate his quaking qualitie as ill As any the worst vice that raigneth now A foole shall neuer thy sad lines behold Because Brasse is as good to him as Gold But I will send thee like a Marshall Booke Vnto all Souldiers lac'd with noble skarres That thinkes on BVRGH with a deiected looke And that hath knowne him well in all his Warres That can repeate all things that he hath done Since the first minute that his sand did runne And that perhaps the glory of his worth His noble Birth his seuerall Commands Will in a larger volumne blason foorth Then this that passeth through my feeble hands For to set foorth his rise and not his fall Kirneld with life and not with Funerall I could my selfe Heroicke stories make Of all the passages of all his facts But that a mightie volume it would take And I should be so pleased with his Actes I should not halfe be sad enough to write His last fare well my Heart would be too light And therefore I will vnto other braines Leaue the whole progresse of his former dayes I le onely like an Eccho take the paines To sing his end and crowne his end with Bayes Which if I Miser-like too sparing doe Let euery Soule ioyne in my sorrow too And then shall Robert Markham be Most happie in his Ellegie TO THE READER FAith Reader if you vnderstand But little in this little Booke Goe shake Tom Derry by the hand Or on your Cozen Archey looke Or if you will not be a Foole Returne againe with speed to Schoole But if you vnderstanding be And not a Critticke you may then Haue Noble leaue and libertie To reape the Fruite of sorrowes Penne And when you read that BVRGH is slaine Then say her sorrow 's not in vaine To my worthily esteemed Kinsman the Authour IF Poets challenge Laurell as their owne Sacred to them as their deserued Crowne Or if a Trophey be the Souldiers right Ventring himselfe in many a dreadfull fight What is the honour we to thee shall doe Who art a Souldier and a Poet too That thou art valiant fatall Rees shall tell Which drunke the blood that from thy body fell That thou a Poet art who needes to aske That well appeares in this thy Noble taske Not for our neerenesse doe I praise thy Booke Although our blood we from one fountaine tooke But what I say Enuie shall not denie Writing the worth of BVRGHS thou canst not die I. E. THE AVTHORS EYES PVRGING WITH THE Pills of sorrow drops here vpon the Obsequies of SIR IOHN BVRGH His Noble Colonell with such a heauinesse that they doe fall in Print as followeth IF teares could tell the Story of my woe How I with sorrow pine away for thee My spungie eyes their bankes should ouer-flow And make a very Moore or Mire of me I would out weepe a thousand Nyo●yes For I would weepe till I wept out my eyes My heart should drop such teares as did thy wound And my wound should keepe consort with my heart In a red Sea my body should be drown'd My gall should breake and beare a bitter part Such crimson Rue as I would weepe should make Democrates himselfe a wormewood Lake Or if that my blew winged words could tell How darke I mourne without a Starre of glee My tongue the clapper and my mouth the bell Should ceaselesse ring thy haplesse destinie Whilst that my Penne vnable for to speake In Tragicke songs should grind away her beake But woe is me that my woes are so great That neither Eyes nor Tongue nor yet my Quill Is able for to limme to dround repeate The least Moulewart of such a mount of ill O thou sad Muse which treatest still of those Whose threds are cut how shall I view my woes Shall I fall out with Heauen that did decree Thy Autumne ere thy Summer dayes were past Or shall I raile vpon thy destenie That strooke thee first that shouldst haue suffer'd last Or shall I whore blind Fortune that did send Thee so vnluckily vnto thy end Shall I complaine vpon thy owne much worth Thy actiue care of seeing all goe well Or shall I plaine vpon thy going foorth So openly so neere the Cittadell Or shall I still disparing of reliefe Sit choaking in the smoake of sighing griefe Shall I chaine vp my voyce and nothing say O no for then my sorrowes wanting vent All my internall parts would burne away No furnace flames like loue and discontent My marrow it would melt my vaines grow dry And like a fiery Phenix I should die What then shall I resolue to draw away The floodgates of my discontent and giue Free libertie vnto my Tongue that so I may Vnlade the burthen of my Heart and liue O no for then with too much speaking I Should grow starke mad and like a Bedlame die Thus thus alas deare teare bedabled Ghost I musing stand how I my loue should show And for because I know not which is most My griefe or it I know not what to doe Yet some thing noble Colonell I must Doe to preserue and to Imbalmethy dust Shall I goe reape a crop of fatall Rew Of Worme-wood and of Colloquintida Be-pearld all ouer with the drops of dew Stucke here and there with bitter Gentia To shew the World that I doe follow thee With bitternesse of Heart in Obsequie Or shall I purchase boughes of Cyprus trees Of Holly Iuye and of Misleto Of Bayes Rosemary and such wood as these With fatall Yeau that doeth in Church-yards grow To make a Garland for to crowne my haire As though the King of Funerals I were Or shall I