Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	age_n	die_v	old_a	4,455	5	5.8424	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A12040	The rape of Lucrece. By Mr. William Shakespeare	Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616.	1616 (1616)	STC 22350; ESTC S106350	31,110	64

my will I le murther straight and then I le slaughter thee And sweare I found you where you did fulfill The lothsome act of Lust and so did kill The Leachers in their deed this act will be My fame and thy perpetuall infamie With this I did begin to start and cry And then against my heart he sets his sword Swearing vnlesse I tooke all patiently I should not liue to speake another word So should my shame still rest vpon record And neuer be forgot in mightie Rome Th' adulterat death of Lucrece and her groome Mine enemy was strong my poore selfe weake And farre the weaker with so strong a feare My bloudie Iudge forbad my tongue to speake No rightfull plea might plead for Iustice there His scarlet lust came euidence to sweare That my poore beautie had purloin'd his eies And when the Iudge is rob'd the prisoner dies O teach me how to make mine owne excuse Or at the least this refuge let me finde Though my grose bloud be staind with this abuse Immaculate and spotlesse is my minde That was not forc't that neuer was inclin'd To accessarie yeeldings but still pure Doth in her poison'd closet yet indure Loe here the hopelesse Marchant of this losse With head inclin'd and voice dam'd vp with wo With sad set eies and wretched armes a crosse From lips new waxen pale begins to blow The griefe away that stops his answere so But wretched as he is he striues in vaine What he breaths out his breath drinks vp againe As through an Arch the violent roaring Tide Out runs the eye that doth behold his hast Yet in the Edie boundeth in his pride Back to the straite that forst him on so fast In rage sent out recald in rage being past Euen so his sighs his sorrows make a saw To push griefe on and back the same griefe draw Which speechlesse woe of his poore she attendeth And his vntimely frenzie thus awaketh Deare Lord thy sorrow to my sorrow lendeth Another power no floud by raining slaketh My woe too sensible thy passion maketh More feeling painfull let it then suffice To drowne one woe one paire of weeping eyes And for my sake when I might charme thee so For she that was thy Lucrece now attend me Be sodainly reuenged on my foe Thine mine his owne suppose thou dost defend me From what is past the help that thou shalt lend me Comes all too late yet let the Traytor die For sparing Iustice feeds iniquitie But ere I name him you faire Lords quoth she Speaking to those that came with Collatine Shall plight your honourable faiths to me With swift pursute to venge this wrong of mine For t is a meritorious faire designe To chase Iniustice with reuengefull armes Knights by their oaths should right poore Ladies harms At this request with noble disposition Each present Lord began to promise aid As bound in knighthood to her imposition Longing to heare the hatefull foe bewrard But the that yet her sad taske hath not said The protestation stops O speake quoth she How may this forced staine be wipt from me What is the qualitie of mine offence Being constrain'd with dreadfull circumstances May my pure mind with the foule act dispence My low declined honour to aduance May any termes acquit me from this chance The poysoned fountaine cleares it selfe againe And why not I from this compelled staine With this they all at once began to say Her bodies staine the minde vntainted cleares While with a ioylesse smile she turnes away The face that map which deepe impression beares Of hard misfortune caru'd it in with teares No no quoth she no Dame hereafter liuing By my excuse shall claime excuses giuing Here with a sigh as if her heart would breake She throwes forth Tarquins name he he she saies But more then he her poore tongue could not speake Till after many accents and delaies Vntimely breathings sick and short assaies She vtters this he he faire Lord t is he That guids this hand to giue this wound to me Euen here sheath'd in her harmelesse breast A harmefull knife that thence her soule vnsheathed That blow did bayle it from the deepe vnrest Of that polluted prison where it breathed Her contrite sighs vnto the clouds bequeathed Her winged spright and through her wounds doth flye Lifes lasting date from cancel'd destinie Stone still astonisht with this deadly deed Stood Colatine and all his Lordly crue Till Lucrece father that beholds her bleed Himselfe on her self-slaughtered body threw And from the purple fountaine Brutus drew The murdrous knife and as it left the place Her bloud in poore reuenge held it in chase And bubling from her brest it doth deuide In two slow riuers that the crimson bloud Circles her body in on euery side Who like a late sackt Iland vastly stood Bare and vnpeopled in this fearefull flood Some of her blood still pure and red remain'd And some lookt blacke and that false Tarquin stain'd About the mourning and congealed face Of that black blood a watry rigoll goes Which seemes to weepe vpon the tainted place And euer since as pitying Lucrece woes Corrupted blood some watry token showes And bloud vntainted still doth red abide Blushing at that which is so putrifide Daughter deare daughter old Lucretius cries That life was mine which thou hast here depriued If in the childe the fathers image lies Where shall I liue now Lucrece is vnliued Thou wast not to this end from me deriued If children praedecease progenitours We are their off-spring and they none of ours Poore broken glasse I often did behold In thy sweete semblance my old age new borne But now that faire fresh mirrour dim and old Shewes me a barebon'd death by time out worne O from my cheeks my image thou hast torne And shiuerd all the beautie from my glasse That I no more can see what once I was O time cease thou thy course and hast no longer If thou surcease to be that should suruiue Shall rotten death make conquest of the stronger And leaue the foultring feeble soules a liue The old Bees die the yong possesse their hiue Then liue sweet Lucrece liue againe and see Thy father die and not thy father thee By this stars Collatine as from a dreame And bids Lucretius giue his sorrow place And then in Key cold Lucrece bleeding streame He fals and bathes the pale feare in his face And counterfeits to die with her a space Till manly shame bids him possesse his breath And liue to be reuenged on her death The deepe vexation of his inward soule Hath seru'd a dumbe arrest vpon his tongue Who made that sorrow should his vse controle Or keepe him from heart-easing words so long Begins to talke but through his lips do throng Weak words so thick comes in his poore hearts aid That no man could distinguish what he said Yet sometime Tarquin was pronounced plaine But through his teeth as if his name he tore This

The coward captiue vanquished doth yeeld To those two armies that would let him goe Rather then triumph in so false a foe Now thinks he that her husbands shallow tongue The niggard prodigall that praisde her so In that high taske hath done her beauty wrong Which farre exceeds his barren skill to show Therefore that praise which Colatine doth owe Inchanted Tarquin answers with furmise In silent wonder of still gazing eyes This earthly Saint adored by this Diuell Little suspecteth the false worshipper For thoughts vnstain'd do sildome dreame on euil Birds neuer limb'd no secret bushes feare So guiltlesse she securely giues good cheare And reuerend welcome to her princely guest Whose inward I le no outward harme exprest For that he colourd with his high estate Hiding base sinne in pleats of Maiesty That nothing in him seemd inordinate Saue sometime too much wonder of his eye Which hauing all all could not satisfie But poorely rich so wanteth in his store That cloyd with much he pineth still for more But she that neuer copte with stranger eies Could pick no meaning from their parling lookes Nor read the subtile shining secrecies Writ in the glassie margents of such bookes She toucht no vnknowne baits nor fear'd no bookes Nor could she moralize his wanton sight More then his eies were opend to the light He stories to her eares her husbands fame Wonne in the fields of fruitfull Italie And decks with praises Colatines high name Made glorious by his manly chiualry With bruised armes and wreaths of victory Her ioy with heaued-vp hand she doth expresse And wordlesse so greets heauen for his successe Far from the purpose of his comming thither He makes excuses for his being there No cloudy show of stormy blustring wether Doth yet in his faire welkin once appeare Till sable night sad source of dread and feare Vpon the world dim darknesse doth display And in her vaulty prison shuts the day For then is Tarquin brought vnto his bed Intending wearinesse with heauy sprite For after supper long he questioned With modest Lucrece and wore out the night Now leaden slumber with liues strength doth fight And euery one to rest themselues betake Saue theeues and eares and troubled minds that wake As one of which doth Tarquin lie reuoluing The sundry dangers of his wils obtaining Yet euer to obtaine his will resoluing Though weake-built hopes perswade him to abstaining Despaire to gaine doth traffique oft for gaining And when great treasure is the meed proposed Though death be adiunct ther 's no death supposed Those that much couet are with gaine so fond That oft they haue not that which they possesse They scatter and vnloose it from their bond And so by hoping more they haue but lesse Or gaining more the profit of excesse Is but to surfet and such griefes sustaine That they proue banckrout in this poore rich gaine The ayme of all is but to nourse the life With honor wealth and ease in wayning age And in this ayme there is such thwarting strife That one for all or all for one we gage As life for honor in fell battails rage Honor for wealth and oft that wealth doth cost The death of all and altogether lost So that in ventring ill we leaue to be The things we are for that which we expect And this ambitious foule infirmitie In hauing much torments vs with defect Of that we haue so then we doe neglect The thing we haue and all for want of wit Make something nothing by augmenting it Such hazard now must doting Tarquin make Pawning his honor to obtaine his lust And for himselfe himselfe he must forsake Then where is truth if there be no selfe-trust When shall he thinke to finde a stranger iust When he himselfe himselfe confounds betraies To slanderous tongues and wretched hatefull daies Now stole vpon the time the dead of night When heauy sleep had closd vp mortall eye No comfortable starre did lend his light No noise but Owles and Wolues death boding cries Now serues the season that they may surprize The silly Lambs pure thoughts are dead and still While lust and Murder wakes to staine and kill And now this lustfull Lord leapt from his bed Throwing his mantle rudely ore his arms Is madly tost between desire and dread Th' one sweetly flatters th' other feateth harme But honest feare bewitcht with lusts foule charme Doth too too oft betake him to retire Beaten away by brainsicke rude desire His Fanchion on a flint he softly smiteth That from the cold stone sparkes of fire doth flie Whereat a waxen torch forthwith he lighteth Which must be lode-star to his lustfull eie And to the flame thus speakes aduisedly As from this cold flint I enforct this fire So LVCRECE must I force to my desire Here pale with feare he doth premeditate The dangers of his lothsome enterprise And in his inward minde he doth debate What following sorrow may on this arise Then looking scornfully he doth despise His naked armour of still slaughtered lust And iustly thus controlls his thoughts vniust Faire torch burne out thy light and lend it not To darken her whose light excelleth thine And die vnhallowed thoughts before you blot With your vncleannesse that which is diuine Offer pure incense to so pure a shrine Let faire humanity abhor the deed That spots and staines loues modest snow-white weed O shame to knighthood and to shining armes O foule dishonor to my housholds graue O impious act including all foule harmes A martiall man to be soft fancies slaue True valour still a true respect should haue Then my digression is so vile so base That it will liue engrauen in my face Yea though I die the scandall will suruiue And be an eie-sore in my golden coate Some loathsome dash the Herald will contriue To cipher me how fondly I did dote That my posterity sham'd with the note Shall curse my bones and hold it for no sinne To wish that I their father had not been What win I if I gaine the thing I seeke A dreame a breath a froth of fleeting ioy Who buies a minutes mirth to waile a weeke Or sels eternity to get a toy For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy Or what fond beggar but to touch the crowne Would with the scepter straight be stroken downe If Colatinus dreame of my intent Will he not wake and in a desperate rage Post hither this vile purpose to preuent This siege that hath ingirt his marriage This blur to youth this sorrow to the sage This dying vertue this suruiuing shame Whose crime will beare an euer-during blame O what excuse can my inuention make When thou shalt charge me with so blacke a deed VVill not my tongue be mute my fraile ioyuts shake Mine eies for goe their light my false heart bleed The guilt being great the feare doth still exceede And extreame feare can neither fight nor flie But cowardlike with trembling terror die Had Collatinus kild