Selected quad for the lemma: book_n
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A34548
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Certain elegant poems, written by Dr. Corbet, Bishop of Norvvich
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Corbet, Richard, 1582-1635.
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1647
(1647)
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Wing C6270; ESTC R210115
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25,063
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60
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love On her to fix thy ugly counterfeit Was to erect a Pyramis of Jeaâ—… And put out fire to dig a curse from hell And place it where a blessed soule should dwell A soule which in the body would not stay When 't was no more a body nor good clay But a high ulcer O thou heavenly race Thou soule which 〈…〉 â—…tion of thy case Thy house thy prison Soule 〈…〉 faire Rest where no health no cold noâ—… compounds are Rest in that Country and enjoy that case Which thy fraile flesh divides and thy disease R. Corbet A proper new Ballad intituled The Fairies farewel or God a mercy Will to be sung or whistled to the tune of the Medow Brow by the learned by the unlearned to the tune of Fortune FArewell rewards and Fairies Good housewives now may say For now sowle sluts in Dairies Do fare as well as they And though they sweepe their hearths no lesse Then maides were wont to doe Yet who of late for cleanlinesse Findes Six pence in her shooe Lament lament old Abbies The Fairies lost command They did but change Priests babies But some have chang'd your land And all your children stolne from thence Are now growne puritanes Who live as changelings ever since For love of your demaines At morning and at evening both You merry were and glad So little care of sleepe and sloath These pretty Ladies had When Tom came home from labour Or Cisse to milking Rose Then merrily went their Tabor And nimbly went their Toes Witnesse those rings and rounde layes Of theirs which yet remaine Were sooted in Queene Maries dayes On many a grassy plaine But since of late Elizabeth And later James came in They never daunc'd on any heath As when the time had beene By which we nore the Fairies Were of the old profession Their Songs were Ave Maries Their daunces were procession But now alas they all are dead Or gone beyond the Seas Or further from Religion fled Or else they take their case A tell-tale in their company They never could endtire And who so kept not secretly Their mirth was punisht sure It was a just and Christian deed To pinch such black and blew O how the Common-wealth doth need Such Iustices as you Now they have left our Quarters A Register they have Who can preserve their Charters A Man both wise and grave A hundred of their merry pranks By one â—…hat I could name Are kept in store con twenty thank To William for the same To William Churne of Staffordshire Give laud and praises due Who every meale can mend your cheere With Tales both old and true To William all give audience And pray you for his Noddle For all the Fairies evidence Were lost if it were addle To the Ghost of Rob. Wisdome THou once a Body now but ayre Arch-botcher of a Psalme or Prayer From Carfaux come And paâ—…h us up a zealous Lay With an old Aver and for aye Or all and some Or such a Spirit lend me As may a Hymn down send me To purge my brain So Robert look behinde thee Lest Turk or Pope doe finde thee And goe to bed again An Epitaph on Tho. Jonce HEre for the nonce Came Thomas Jonce In St. Jileses Church to lye None Welch before None Welshman more Till Shon Clerk dye I le role the Bell I le ring his Knell He dyed well He 's saved from Hell And so farewell Tom Jonce On the Earl of Dorsets Death LEt no prophane ignoble soot tread here This hallowed piece of Earth Dorset lyes there A small poor Relique of a Noble spirit Free as the Alre and ample as his Merit A soul refin'd no proud forgetting Lord But mindfull of mean names and of his word Who lov'd men for his Honour not his ends And had the noblest way of getting friends By loving first and yet who knew the Court But understood it better by report Then practise He nothing took from thence But the Kings favour for his recompence Who for Religion or his Countreys good Neither his Honour valued nor his blood Rich in the worlds opinion and mens praise And full in all we could desire but dayes He that is warn'd of this and shall for beare To vent a sigh for him or shed a teare May he live long scorn'd and unpitied fall And want a Mourner at his Funerall R. Corbet On Henry Bolings IF gentlenesse could tame the Fates or wiâ—… Deliver man Bolings had not dyed yet But one which over us in judgement sits Doth say our sins are stronger then our wiâ—… R. Corbet The Authors Answer SO to deâ—…d Hector boyes may doe disgrace That durst not look upon his living face So worst of men behinde their betters back May stretch mens names and credit on the rack Good friend our generall tye to him that 's gone Should love the man that yearly doth him mone The Authors zeale and place he now doth hold His love and duty makes him be thus bold To offer this poor mite his Anniverse Unto his good great Masters scared Herse The which he doth with priviledge of name Whilst others 'midst their Ale in Corners blame A penny-worth in Print they never made Yet think themselves as good as Pond or Dade One Anniverse when thou hast done thus twice Thy words among the best will be of Price Dr. Price A Reply NOr is it griev'd grave Youth the memorie Of such a Story such a Book as he That such a Copy through the world were read Henry yet lives though he be buryed I could be wisht that every day could beare Him our good witnesse that he still were here That sorrow râ—…l'd the yeare and by that sun Such Man could tell you how the day had run O'twere an honest cause for him could say I have been busie and wept out the day Remembring him an Epitaph would last Were such a Trophee such a Banner plac't Upon his Herse as this Here a man lyes Was slain by Henry's date not Destinies But for a Cobler to throw up his Cap And cry The Prince the Prince O dire mishap Or a 〈…〉 Bridegroom after grace To throw his Spouse i' th fire or scratch her face To the tune o' th' Lamentation and delay His Friday Capon till the Sabbath-day Or an old Popish Lady half vow'd dead To fast away the day with Ginger-bread For him to write such Annalls All these things Doe open laughter and shut up griefs springs Wherefore Vertummâ—… if you Print the next Bring better votes or choose a meaner Text R. Corbet FINIS