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 sin_n world_n 4,338 5 4.9247 4 false
View all documents for the selected quad

Text snippets containing the quad

ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
A32871 A Choice collection of wonderful miracles, ghosts, and visions 1681 (1681) Wing C3915; ESTC R30911 11,439 6

There is 1 snippet containing the selected quad. | View lemmatised text

Obey And my small Je●u at a Furious Rate Was driving Eighty back to Forty Eight This the KING knew and was Resolv'd to bear But I mistook his Patience for his Fear All that This Happy Island could afford Was Sacrific'd to my Voluptuous Board In His whole Paradice One only Tree He had Excepted by a strict Decree A Sacred Tree which Royal-Fruit did bear Yet It in Pieces I Conspir'd to Tear Beware my Child Divinity is there This so Out-did all I had done before I could Attempt and He endure no more My Un prepar'd and Un-repenting Breath Was snatcht away by the swift Hand of Death And I with all my Sins about me hurl'd To th'utter Darkness of the Lower World A Dreadful Place where You too soon shall see If You believe Seducers more than Me. FINIS A Canto upon the Miraculous Cure of the Kings-Evil performed by His Grace the D. of M. AS Popish Farriers use t' imploy In their own Trade the good St. Loy The Saint to whom they have Recourse As to Heavens Master of the Horse To Him They loudly cry for Mercy On Ragged Colts that have the Farcy For Hackneys Ga●●'d to Him They Pray And Drink dead Drunk upon his Day So to his Grace of Monm Trots A Filly Fole that had the Bots For still she knew and t was no News He keeps the Mares though not the Mews But had you seen the Skittish Jade You would have thought her Drunk or Mad For at first dash His Hand she Seiz'd Much was the th' Ambitious Heroe pleas'd So sweetly did Don Quixot Grin When the Maid Marrian of the Inne He thought was some Enchanted Queen Askt his Dead-doing-Hand to Kiss But what white Devil Danc't in This Some Fly some Rat or Great Old Pus Or Spirit Mephostophilus Or Pug that Paracelsus wore In th' Pomel of his Sword before Or Healing Virtue that as Rare-is Is sent His Grace by 's Aunt of Fayries Who aids him thus in Hugger mugger So did Doll Common Abel Drugger Some Sweaty Devil in his Palm Transfuses Brine instead of Balm And Brine You know is good for th' Itch In any mangy Dog or Bitch Long in his Fist the Leprous Drab Paddles and Pores familiar Scab The witch her Dam had set her Fancy Agog upon this Chyromancy To view each Line the Hag Importunes And thus Young Gipsie reads his Fortunes The men of Westminster shall pass High Votes in Honour of your Grace No Prayers for fear of the Black Rod They 'l Vote I fear No King No God Great stickling there shall be for Two Pillory'd Benjamin and You. What will You give me this next Spring If then You are not Crown'd a King By Oats before we reap next Crop Oats in a Tub will Preach You up So Sybil ended her vile Guessing And each to other gave their Blessing But O the Green-sick Girls may boast This Duke hath Cur'd Them to his Cost Though now he cuts his Capers high He may with Falstaff one day cry When Age hath set him in the Stocks A Pox on my Gout a Gout on my Pox. Yet that Fat Knight with all his Guts That were not then so sweet as Nuts Tho oft He boldly sought and winkt Led Harry Monmouth by Instinct Reveres a Buckram Prince of Wales His Great Heart quops his Courage qua●ls The Lyon Rampant is too wise To touch a Prince though in Disguise Much less a Prince so Kind and Civil To Touch a Kingdom for Kings-Evil He means to make it for its Health A Common Whore a Common-wealth The stroaker Graitrix was a sot And all his Feat-Tricks are forgot But Duke Trinculo and Tom Dory VVill be a Famous Quack in Story Let every Scabby City Cuckow Fly into Your Hedge-lane to look You. If Seven Sons do Things so Rare In You Seven-fathers have a share Shew us some more of these fine Mocks Shew your Black Art shew your Black Box. 'T is thought you 've there some pure Receipt Great Mountebank of our sick State Your Zany who this Cure reveals Tells us in March your Highness heals LONDON Printed for Benjamin Harris and Sold by Langley Curtis in Goatham Court 1681.