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
A31143	The Harmony of the muses, or, The gentlemans and ladies choisest recreation full of various, pure and transcendent wit : containing severall excellent poems, some fancies of love, some of disdain, and all the subjects incident to the passionate affections either of men or women / heretofore written by those unimitable masters of learning and invention, Dr. Joh. Donn, Dr. Hen. King, Dr. W. Stroad [et al].	R. C.; Donne, John, 1572-1631.; King, Henry, 1592-1669.; Strode, William, 1600 or 1601-1645.	1654 (1654)	Wing C105; ESTC R9732	41,392	112

guilty when the Asse goes free I would be poor but see the humble grasse Trampled upon by each unworthy Asse Rich hated wise suspected scorn'd if poor Great feared fair tempted high envied more Would the world now adopt me for her heir Would Beauties Queen entitle me the fair Fame speak me Honours Minion could I vie Angels with India with a speaking eye Command bare heads bowed knees strike Justice dumb As well as blind and lame to give a tongue To stones by Epitaphs to be call'd great Master In the loose Lines of every Po●taster Could I be more then any man that lives Great wise rich fair in all suparlatives I count one minute of my holy treasure Beyond so much of all this empty pleasure Welcome pure thoughts welcom ye careless grove These are my guests this is my cour●age love The winged people of the sky shall sing My Anthemes by my servants gentle Springs A Prayer-book shall be my Looking-glasse Wherein I will adore sweet Vertues face Here dwels no heatfull loves no palsie fears No short joyes purchast with eternal tears Here will I sigh and sing my hot youths folly An learn to affect an holy Melancholy And if contentment be a stranger then I le never look for 't but in Heaven agen An Elgie by Dr. K. occasioned by his owne sicknesse WEll did the Prophet a●k Lord what is man Implying by the question that none can But God resolve the doubt much less define What Elements this child of dust combine Man is a stranger to himself and knowes Nothing so natural as his own woes He loves to travel countries and confer The Signes of vast Heavens Diameter Delights to sit in Niles or Betis lap Before he sayleth over his own Map By which meanes he returns his Travels spent Less knowing of himself then when he went Who knowledge hunts kept under forreign locks May bring home wit to hold a Paradox Yet be●ools still Therefore might I advise I would inform the Soul before the eyes Make man into his proper opticks look And so become the Student and the Book With his conception his first leaf begin What is he there but complicated sin When Viper time and the approaching birth Ranks him among the creatures of the earth His wayling Mother sends him forth to greet The World wrapt in a bloudy winding-sheet As if he came into the world to crave No place to dwell in but bespeak a Grave Thus like a red or tempest boading morn His dawning is for being newly born He hailes the evening tempest with shriek cryes And fines for his admission with wet eyes How should that plant whose leaf is bath'd in tears Bare but a bitter fruit in elder years Just such is his and his maturer age Teems with the event more sad then the presage For view him higher then his childhoods span Is raised up to Youths Miridian When he goes proudly laden with the fruit Which health or strength or beauty contribute That as the mounted Canon batters down The Towers and goodly structures of a Town So one short sickness will his force defeat And his frail Cittadel to Rubbish beat How doth a Dropsie melt him to a flood Making each vein run water more then blood A Collick racks him like a Northern gust And raging Feavers crumble him to dust In which unhappy he is made worse By his diseases then his Makers curse God said with toils sweat he should earn bread And without labour not be nourished Here though like ropes of falling dew his sweat Hangs on his labouring brow he cannot eat Thus are his sins scourg'd in opposing theames And Luxuries revenged in the extreams He who in health could never be content With varieties fetcht from each element Is now much more afflicted to delight His tastless pallet and lost appetite Besides though God ordain'd that with the light Man should begin his work yet he made night For his repose in which the weary sense Repairs it self by rests soft recompence But now his watchfull nights and troubled dayes Confused heaps of fear and fancies raise His chamber seems a loose and trembling Mine His pillow quilted with a Porcupine Pain makes his downy Couch sharp thorns appear And every feather pricks him like a spear Thus when all stormes of death about him keep He copies death in any form but sleep Poor walking Clay hast thou a mind to know To what unblest beginnings thou dost owe Thy wretched self fall sick a while and then Thou wilt conceive the Pedigree of men Learn shalt thou then from thine Anatomy That earth thy Mother worms thy sisters be That he is a short-liv'd vapour upward wrought And by corruption into nothing brought A staggering meteor by cross Planets beat Which often reels and falls before his seat A Tree that withers faster then it growes A Torch put out by every wind that blowes A web of forty weeks spun out in pain And in a moment ravel'd out again This is the model of frail man then say That his duration 's only for a day And in that day more fits of changes pass Then Attomes run in the turn'd Hower-glass So that the incessant cares which life invade Might for strange truth their Heresies perswade Who did maintain that humane souls were sent Into the body for their punishment At least with that Greek sage still make us cry Not to be born or being born to dy Of Love and Death AS Love and Death once travel'd on the way They met together and together lay Both in a bed when Love for all his heat Found in the night Death's coldness was so great That all his flames could hardly keep him warm Betimes he rose and speedily did arm His naked body but through too much haste Som of Deaths shafts he took neer his being plac'd Leaving behind him many of his own Which change to him being blind is stil unknown Through which mistaking and his want of eyes A double wrong to Nature did arise For when Love thinks to inflame a youthful heart With his own shafts he kils with deaths cold dart So Death intending to strike old Age dead Shoots one of Love's Darts with a golden head And this appears to me the reason why Old men do fall in love and young men die Waltham Pool In praise of black Women by T. R. IF shadows be a Pictures excellence And makes the shew more glorious to the sense If Stars in the bright day be hid from sight And shine more glorious in Masque of night Why should you think rare creaturs that you lack Perfections cause your hair and eyes be black Or that your Beauty which so far exceeds The new sprung Lillies in their Maidenheads The cherry colour of your cheeks and lips Should by that darknes suffer an eclips Nay 't is not fit that Nature should have made So bright a Sun to shine without some shade It seems that Nature when she first did fancy Your rare Composure studied

pardon thy impurity For do with one with a thousand thou'lt turn Whore Break Ice in one place and it cracks in more Do but with King to Subject thou wilt fall From Lord to Lackey and at last to all An Embleme of Youth Age and Death expressed in a Cherry-stone on the one side is cut a young Damsel on the other an old Beldam The stone Hyeroglifically expresseth Death FAir Mistris be not over-coy In entertaining of this toy The Morall of its pretty Art D●serves a lodging next your heart ●or 't is an Emblem fairest trust me Of what you are now and what you must be Except that envious Death prevent Rich Natures first benigne intent Then doth the gospel of the Stone Prove life and death to dwell in one For this poor Moddel which you view Did sometimes wear as rich a hew As nature gives to any fair Whilst it grew blushing in the Air Whose tempting colour and whose taste Brought it to what you see at last Nay had it hung still on the Tree It would have prov'd the same you see Save that the Artists hand alone For your sake hath his cunning shown Then rarest object of my sight Unfold this three-fold Riddle right And learn from it your April years Bloomes not more fruit of joy then fears And that your beauty is a treasure By Nature lent you at whose pleasure You must restore it when she 'l call And give account for use and all And that your winter fro●ty dayes Brings Almond-buds instead of Bayes To crown your temples and with glory To close the period of your story If those rich Jems which should have lasted Have not in your youth been wasted But Prodigal-like if thou have spent Natures bo●●ies being but lent A●d t●en your last of dayes is come To give you summons to your home You must with grief return to dust She will no longer lend on trust Your beauties Reliques as this Stone Will be a dry contemned bone Perhaps like it some friend vouchsafe To grave thereon your Epitaph Which may be read if not neglected This is the most can be expected Sir S. Steward To his Lady SO may my Verses pleasing be So may you laugh at them and not at me 'T is something to you I would gladly say But how to do it cannot find the way I would avoid the common trodden wayes To Ladies us'd which be of Love or praise As for the first that little wit I have Is not yet grown so neer unto the ●rave But that I can by that dim fading light Perceive of what and unto whom I write Let such as in a hopeless witless rage Can sigh a Quire and read it to a Page Such as can make ten Sonnets ere they rest When each is but a great blot at the best Such as can backs of books and windows fill With their too furious Diamond or Quill Such as are well resolved to end their dayes With a lowd laughter blown beyond the Seas Such as are mortified that they can live Laught at by all the world and yet forgive Wright love to you I would not willingly Be pointed at in every company As was the little Taylor who till death Was great in love with Queen Elizabeth And for the last in all my idle dayes ● never yet did living woman praise ●n Verse or Prose And when I do begin ●le pick some woman out as full of sin ●s you are full of Vertue with a soul ●s black as yours is white a face as foul ●s yours is beautifull for it shall be ●ut of the Rules of Phisiognomie ●o far that I do fear I must displace the Art a little to let in the face ● shall at least four faces be below the Devils and her parched corps shall show ●n her loose skin as if some spirit she were K●pt in a bag by some great Conjurer Her breath shall be so horrible and vild As every word you speak is meet and mild It shall be such a one as will not be Covered with any Art or Policie But let her take all waters fumes and drink She shall make nothing but a dearer stink She shall have such a foot and such a nose As will not stand in any thing but Prose If I bestow my praises upon such 'T is Charity and I shall merit much My praise will come to her like a full bowl Bestowed at most need on a thirsty soul Where if I sing your praises in my Rime I loose my Ink my paper and my ti●● Adde nothing to your overflowing store And tel you nought but what you knew before Nor do the vertuous minded which I swear Madam I think you are endure to hear Their own perfections into question brought But stop their ears at them for if I thought You took a pride to have your vertues known Pardon me Madam I should think them none But if you brave thoghts which I must respect Above your glorious Titles shall accept These harsh disordered Lines I shall ere long Dress up your vertues new in a new Song Yet farre from all base praise or flattery Although I know what ere my Verses be They will like the most servile flattery shew If I write truth and make my subject you A Description of a wisht Mistris NOt that I wish my Mistris Or more or less then what she is Write I ●●ese Lines for 't is too late ●ules to prescribe unto my Fate ●ut as those tender stomacks call ●or some choice meats that like not all ●o queafie Lovers do impart What Mistris 't is must take their heart First I would have her richly sped With Natures blossomes white and red For flaming hearts will quickly dye That have no fewell from the eye Yet this alone will never win Unless some treasure lye within For where the spoil 's not worthy stay Men raise the Siege and march away She should be wise enough to know When and to whom a grace to show For she that doth at randome chuse Will sure her choyse as well refuse And yet methinks I 'd have her mind To loving courtesie inclin'd And tender-hearted as a Maid And pitty only when I pray'd And I would wish her true to be Mistake me not I mean to me She that loves one and loves one more Will love the Kingdome ore and ore I could wish her full of wit So she knew how to huswife it But she whose insolence makes her dare To try her wit will sell her Ware Some other things delight will bring As if she dance or play or sing If hers be safe what though her parts Catch then a thousand forreign hearts But let me see should she be proud A little pride must be allow'd Each amourous boy will sport prate Too freely if she find no state I care not much though I set down Sometime a chiding or a frown Eut if she wholly quench desire 'T is hard to kindle a new fire To smile to toy