Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	bear_v	die_v	live_v	5,060	5	5.3319	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A38641	An essay upon satyr, or, A poem on the times under the names of the golden age, the silver age, the brazen age, and the iron age : to which is added, A satyr against Separatists.	Buckingham, John Sheffield, Duke of, 1648-1720 or 21.; Dryden, John, 1631-1700.	1680 (1680)	Wing E3299; ESTC R13552	32,624	92

poor souls but Tears This is the Gulph that swalloweth a-whole The Wealth the health of body and of soul. CHAP. XV. TH' effect of luxurie and ease is Lust And this sets men on flame so that it must Be vented by base actions men did do 'Gainst God's 'gainst Nations Laws and Nature's too Great persons rang'd like Goats to slake their flame With all variety yea they kept tame Their Concubines with costly motives fed Their Handmaids serv'd them both for board and bed By whom they Issue got and so might be Indeed the Fathers of their familie The Ladies kept Preambles men of might That stood them both for service and delight Men 'gainst the Grammar sin'd and did contest The Feminine Gender is the worthiest Young men had hoary hairs or else had none And when they had been satiate with one They 'ld ha'fire-new-ones Nay the spiritual part Of Brethren lov'd the flesh with all their heart But 'cause 't was grown so common they would be Entwin'd with Sisters but extempore CHAP. XVI ENvy that hideous Monster meagre fell That Skeleton is belch't up too from Hell She roosts in peoples mindes and greatly breeds The bane of vertuous doers and their deeds It s own tormentress both a plague and sin Oh! how it gnaws the bones where it gets in And yet men were so chain'd to 't that their eyes Waxt sore at other mens Prosperities Malicious men did their own bodies pine To see their Neighbours plentifully dine And be content with all their hearts to lose An Eye to have another want a Nose CHAP. XVII HOnour became a Chattel to be sold To those that ne'r were kin to 't for their Gold Such whose unworthy souls did wear a Stile But as a Livery and did exile All noble thoughts out of their breasts who be While they 're alive grav'd in obscurity Men like their Grandsires Tombs titled without And full of rottenness within or nought The Garbage of the World compos'd of Mire And slime like Frogs of Nile if Gold inspire Their purse with life it clarifies their fames Promethean fire was nothing to those flames Fame was but Wealth 's Elixir every Clown That could get Wealth might quickly get Renown Though they 'd intrench their bodies with such crimes That they might be the scandal of the times And had a dearth of worth or good yet when They'd paid for 't they must needs be Gentlemen Nay this Almighty Gold such acts could do That Lords nay Gods were made by Angels too CHAP. XVIII BUt thred-bare Vertue and lean Honesty Were thought unworthy great mens company A man of Learning Wisdom Breeding Wit And had all parts that did conduce to it Yet if his purse were ignorant of pence A fig for 's Learning or his Eloquence But he must cringe and creep t' each guilded Sot Whose Purse is full although his Head be not Thousands per annum were the onely glory And sweet-fac'd Gold the winning'st Oratory These favourites of Fortune that is fools Whose ignorance did make them foes to Schools And Scholars nay to all ingenious Arts That had a man nere so deserving parts And painful in a Calling two or three All could preserve him scarce from beggarie They so dispos'd it as if 't were not fit One man should have at once both Wealth and Wit And yet these Muck-worms cannot be so wise To see how Fortune does Eutrapelize And give them Wealth to plague them Good men hold They 're fetter'd slaves although those fetters gold CHAP. XIX HOw many Slow-worms had we in our Land 'Twixt whom beasts no difference could stand That having Wealth liv'd here and spent their own And having suckt out that Leech-like are gone Whose life if'twere a life cannot be found Guilty of one good act that might redound Unto their Kindreds Friends or Countries good But e'en like Belly-slaves provide for food Whose mindes were not emblazon'd with those gifts That man above a brutish Creature lifts They wear no souls within or if they do They count them burthens nay and troubles too Their bodies do like Sodomes Apples stand And they but Pleonasmes of our Land Luxurious Wantonness did still prevent Their natural desire of nourishment They us'd Provocatives to Eat Drink Sleep From Hunger Thirst and Cold themselves to keep The Cankers and the Bellies of the State Whose limbs stand useless as if out of date And when they die this onely may be said Here lies one that was born that liv'd and 's dead By whom Death lost his labour he 's no more But a dead lump and so he was before CHAP. XX. OUr giddy phansie surfeited with Pride In various habit ev'n the French out-vy'd So great was our luxurious Wantonness 'T was sin the Sun should twice behold one dress Fashions had still a Climax clothing went From warm to Comely thence Magnificent Our natural Hair not shed by Venerie Was shav'd by Pride and we our Heads belie With Womens excrements which might be known Only because we bought it 't was our own Lech'ry first taught this evil to our Nation Now what it wore for need we wear for fashion Women transform'd to men men women grew We by the shape scarce one from t'other knew Such boldness those these such effeminateness S● ossess'd that both seem'd one Androgenes Faces bely'd with paint and York put there Where Nature did at first write Lancaster When angry Teeth fell out and brake their sums By the pollution of their stinking Gums Begot by Sweet-meats or that trait'rous Sawce The Rebel to good Stomacks wholsome Laws Women had Regiments of Teeth in pay And drew out several Cent'ries every day To stop the breaches that should Poets write Their Teeth were Ivory it may be right Their Heads with massy Ruffs were bulwark'd round And yoak'd in Bands which scarce a measure ●ound With such impostures and a thousand more As if we were not Proud but Pride all o're This brings new sins new sins new Plagues draw on So Pride's preamble to destruction A Kingdoms bliss is but conditional When they from Grace they straight from Glory fall For whatsoever unto Vice doth tend Begins in Sin and must in Sorrow end The Iron Age. CHAP. I. THe Cup of trembling which so oft has bin Quaft round about us is at last stept in And we must drink the dregs on 't we that be Sever'd from other Nations by the Sea And from our selves divided by our sin Need now no Forrain foes we 've foes within What need an Enemy the Walls to beat When the Defendants sins do ope the Gate God who at first did man to man unite Sets man 'gainst man in a Cadmean-fight Limb jars with Limb and every Member tries To be above 's superiour Arteries The Elements and Humours that before Made up a compound Body now no more Kiss in an even temp'rature but try T'unmake themselves by their Antipathy And 'cause divided Kingdoms cannot stand Our Land will be the ruine of our

Mothers first came hither Are with their Mothers by them nail'd together From wounded Hearts a bloudy Ocean springs The King bleeds in our Wounds we in the Kings Slain Bodies naked lie and scarce can have A Christian Burial Kings scarce a Grave Nor have we Zoars to fly to from ill But must stay in this Sodome come what will Where we in floating bloud surrounded lie Like Islands in a Sea of Miserie Nor have we either Bulwarks Forts or Arms To stand betwixt our sences and our harms But our bare Skulls no Trumpets but our cries And those can't help though ease our miseries Complaint's an easement to a burden'd Soul That vents by retail what we feel in whole So on th' Hydraula's of our dropsi'd eyes We Swan-like sing at our own Obsequies We pour out Tears and having spent our store We weep again 'cause we can weep no more Yet all in vain our Griess do still extend And know no measure nor our Sorrows end Nay which is more those that should help all this Labour to make 't more woful than it is Peace we may labour for but ne're shall see Till men from pride and avarice be free Which since we so desire and cannot finde Let 's make a Ladder of our peace of minde By which we 'll skale that Throne where peace doth dwell Roab'd with such joys which none can think nor tell Which neither vice can break nor time decay Nor Schism nor Treason ever take away O det Deus his quoque sinem Postscript To his Judicious Friend Mr. J. H. FRIEND I Have anvil'd out this Iron Age Which I commit not to your Patronage But Skill and Art for till 't be fyl'd by you 'T will seem ill-shap'd in a judicious view But having past your test it shall not fear The bolt of Criticks nor their venom'd Spear Nay if you think it so I shall be bold To say 't is not an Age of Ir'n but Gold A. C. Eidem HIc Liber est mundus homines sunt Hoskine Versus Invenies paucos hîc ut in orbe bonos Owen Ep. To my Lord Lieutenant of IRELAND HOw much you may oblige how much delight The Wise and Noble would you die to night Would you like some grave sullen Nictor die Just when the Triumphs for the Victorie Are setting out would you die now t' eschew Our Wreaths for what your wisdom did subdue And though they 're bravely fitted for your head Bravely disdain to wear them till you 're dead Such Cynick-glory would out-shine the light Of Grecian-greatness or of Roman-height Not that the Wise and Noble can desire To lose the Object they so much admire But Heroes and Saints must shift away Their flesh ere they can get a Holy-day Then like to Time or Books feign'd Registers Victors or Saints renown'd in Calenders You must depart to make your value known You may be lik't but not ador'd till gone So curst a Fate hath humane excellence That absence still must raise it to our sense Great vertue may be dang'rous whilst 't is here It wins to love but it subdues to fear The mighty Julius who so long did strive At more than man was hated whilst alive Even for that Vertue which was rais'd so high When dead it made him straight a Deity Embassadors that carry in their breast Secrets of Kings and Kingdoms Interest Have not their Calling's full preheminence Till they grow greater by removing hence Like Subjects here they but attend the Crown Yet swell like Kings Companions when they 're gone My Lord in a dull Calm the Pilot grows To no Esteem for what he acts or knows But sits neglected as he useless were Or con'd his Card like a young Passenger But when the silent Windes recover breath When Storms grow loud enough to waken Death Then were he absent every Traffiquer Would with rich wishes buy his being there So in a Kingdom calm you leave no rate But rise to value in a storm of State Yet I recant I beg you would forgive That in such times I must perswade you live For with a Storm we all are overcast And Northern Storms are dangerous when they last Should you now die that only know to steer The Windes would less afflict us then our fear For each small States-man then would lay his hand Upon the Helm and struggle for Command Till the disorders that above do grow Provoke our curses whilst we sink below A SATYR AGAINST SEPARATISTS I 'Ve been Sir where so many Puritans dwell That there are only more of them in Hell Where silenc'd Ministers enough were met To make a Synod and may make one yet Their blessed liberty they 've found at last And talk'd for all those years of silence past Like some half-pin'd and hunger-starved men Who when they next get Victuals surfeit then Each Country of the World sent us back some Like several Windes which from all Quarters come To make a storm As 't haps 't is Sunday too And their chief Rabbies preach To Church I go He whines now whispers straight and next does roar Now draws his long words and now leaps them o're Such various voices I admir'd and said Sure all the Congregation in him praid 'T was the most tedious Soul the dullest he That ever came to Doctrines twenty three And nineteen Uses How he draws his Hum And quarters Haw talks Poppy and Opium No Fever a mans eyes could open keep All Argus body he 'd have preach'd asleep In half an hour The Wauld O Lawd he cries Lukewarmness And this melts the womens eyes They sob aloud and straight aloud I snore Till a kinde Psalm tells me the danger 's o're Flesh'd here with this escape boldly to th'Hall I venture where I meet the Brethren all First there to the grave Clergy I am led By whatsoever title distinguished Whether most reverend Batchellors they be Of Art or reverend Sophs or no Degree Next stand the Wall-eyed Sisters all arow Nay their Scal'd-headed Children they come too And mingled among these stood gaping there Those few Lay-men that not o' th' Clergy were Now they discourse some stories here relate Of bloudy Popish Plots against the State Which by the Spirit and Providence no doubt The men that made have found most strangely out Some blame the King others more moderate say He 's a good man himself but led away The women rip old Wounds and with small tears Recount the loss of the three Worthies Ears Away you fools 't was for the good o'th'men They ne're were perfect Round-heads until then But against Bishops they all rail and I Said boldly I 'd defend the Hierarchy To th'Hierarchy they meant no harm at all But root and branch for Bishops to 't we fall I like a fool with reason and those men With wrested Scripture a slie Deacon then Thrust in his Ears So speaks th'Apostle too How speaks he friend not in the nose like you Straight a She-zealot raging to me came