Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	body_n	great_a	soul_n	12,147	5	5.0848	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A12817	Honour and vertue, triumphing over the grave Exemplified in a faire devout life, and death, adorned with the surviving perfections of Edward Lord Stafford, lately deceased; the last baron of that illustrious family: which honour in him ended with as great lustre as the sunne sets within a serene skye. A treatise so written, that it is as well applicative to all of noble extraction, as to him, and wherein are handled all the requisites of honour, together with the greatest morall, and divine vertues, and commended to the practise of the noble prudent reader. By Anth. Stafford his most humble kinsman. This worke is much embelish'd by the addition of many most elegant elegies penned by the most accute wits of these times.	Stafford, Anthony.	1640 (1640)	STC 23125; ESTC S117763	67,272	160

sinking of a Line Move one yeares haste to sow in Hymen's bed Some seed which when thou ere mer't gathered In living buds might fresh and growing save The Grand-sire trunke from rotting in a grave But since the closing of thine eyes alone Wink's many glorious Tapers into none We waile thy death more thy Virginity We lose in that in this posterity Thy soule might still have liv'd in others breath Whose single life is now a numerous death Io. Castillion On the most immature Death of the late young Lord Stafford the last Baron of that Family WHat Nemesis what envious fate Still waites on those who antedate Their yeares by vertue and behind Cast slow pac't age with swiftest mind So 't is wise nature shortest day Allowes to things which post away The long liv'd Olive tree of peace And Lawrell slowly doe increase But the early pledge of Spring The Primrose soone is withering So Ceres oft with too much haste Her yellow dangling lockes doth waste And having rose too soone from bed Before night hangs her drowsie head O see what hopes which raisd were high To aggravate our misery Now blasted as a starre which shone New shot from Heaven are flit and gone Have you seene a Pine tree proud Her head invested in a cloud Which the fatall axe hath throwne Or the giddy whirlewind blowne Whilst th' Hamadryades with floods Of teares doe drowne their mournfull woods And Sylvan his espoused Queene Laments faire hopefull fresh and greene Have you seene a vessell trim Vpon the smiling Sea to swim Whose sayles doe gently swell with aire Of many a Merchants zealous prayer O never ship with greater pride Did on a watry mountaine ride But strait a blustring storme doth rise And dasheth her against the skies Then on a rocke her glory teares No shrikes nor cryes nor clamours heares Or have you seene but newly borne The rosy-finger'd fairest morne Whilest the sprightfull Satyres play And leape to see the golden ray But then a sullen cloud this light Turn's to a darke and dismall night These were Emblems of thy fall Noblest Stafford so I 'de call Vertue by this name she 's knowne And t is more proper then her owne But which deeper wounds with thee Dy'd thy stem and Baronie As that Nymph which by the Pine Liv'd and with the same doth life resigne When the Deluge did deface The booke of nature humane race Reprinted was and found supply From the floating Library But of Stafford w' have lost all Both transcript and originall Onely some margent notes are left To tel's of what we are bereft Here multa desunt which to fill Passeth the learned Criticks skill But as in ruin'd abbyes we Admire their faire deformity And doe build up thoughts from thence To reach the first magnificence So yet of Staffords house doe stand Some sacred reliques which command Our rev'rence and by these we see What was his noble Pedigree Whose earthly armes inter'd doe ly But soule plac't in th' aetheriall skie Shines with star-blaz'd nobility Charles Mason On the Death of the Right Honorable Lord the Lord STAFFORD being the last of that Noble Family VNseasonable Fate vexe not our sence With Balefull sorrowes due forty yeares hence Must Stafford needs expire at twenty foure Because in goodnesse onely he 's three score So have we seene the morning Sun to lay His glory downe and make a rainie day Trust me ye Destinies it was unjust So soone to lay his honour in the dust But we doe fixe our sorrowes as upon A private fate when 't is a publicke one And weepe alas as yet but with one eye If but for one we weepe why here doth lie Not my Lord onely but a Family No no! he 's but the Center-point from whence Our grones and sighes fetch their Circumference Here we must teach our eye to drop a teare Even for the losse of those who never were Griefes mysterie we must for those be sad Who lose a being which they never had Must ye your selves O Parcae women prove In that the greenest of our fruites ye loue Fruites which not cropt had thriv'd into a Tree Of a large branching Geneologie Ye might have seaz'd some puling witlesse Heire And made a younger Brother 't had beene faire And we had Praise and kist those bloody palmes Which in the killing this gave to'ther Almes But you will no such spotted sacrifice Such please not yet for such are in your eyes Are neither good for earth nor yet for Heaven Stafford must onely make your weeke-Bill even He 's good and therefore ripe thus still we finde That good wares first goe off bad stay behinde Will. Wallen Coll. Joan. Soc. Vpon the Death of the young Lord STAFFORD VNequall nature that dost load not paire Bodies with soules too great for them to beare As some put extracts that for soules may passe Still quickning where they are in frailer glasse Whose active gen'rous spirits scorne to live By such weake meanes and slight preservative So high-borne mindes whose dawning 's like the day In torrid climes cast forth a full noone-ray Whose vigorous brests inherit throng'd in one A race of soules by long succession And rise in their descents in whom we see Entirely summ'd a new borne Ancestry These soules of fire whose eager thoughts alone Create a feaver or consumption Orecharge their bodyes lab'ring in the strife To serve so quicke and more then mortall life Where every contemplation doth oppresse Like fits o' th Calenture and kils no lesse Goodnesse hath its extreames as well as sin And brings as vice death and diseases in This was thy fate great Staffords thy feirce speed T' outlive thy yeares to throng in every deed A masse of vertues hence thy minutes swell Not to a long life but long Chronicle Great name for that alone is left to be Call'd great and 't is no small Nobility To leave a name when we deplore the fall Of thy brave stem and in thee of them all Who dost this glory to thy race dispence Now knowne to Honour t' end with Innocence Me thinkes I see a sparke from thy dead eye Cast beames on thy deceast Nobility Witnesse those marble heads whom Westminster Adores perhaps without a nose or eare Are now twice raised from the dust and seeme New sculp't againe when thou art plac't by them When thou the last of that brave house deceast Hadst none to cry our Brother but the Priest And this true riddle is to ages sent Stafford is his Fore-father's Monument Richard Godfrey On the untimely Death of the Lord STAFFORD NOt to adorne his herse or give Him another age to live Need we to pretend at wit His worth hath intercepted it Whose every vertue doth require A Muse that onely can admire Death though he strove his utmost fear'd He could not take him unprepar'd H' had ripenesse in his Infancy And liv'd well in Epitomie Of what we hop'd in others he At th' same age had maturity

they would have also the same passions They would after our womanish custome lament their untimely death who die before noon esteeme them happy that live till the evening and yet bewaile them too who depart at night Our fond whining were seasonable and to purpose if it could prevent the death of our friends or call them from the dead but it savours of a vain foolish arrogant ambition to desire they should be privileged and exempted from the fatall common condition of Mankinde since wee cannot be ignorant that God hath set down a period beyond which Nature her self shal not passe Nothing representeth better to us this world then a theater wheron one acts a King another a Lord a third a Magistrate others again play the base servil parts of fools messengers mutes Some of them stay stare strut look big a long time on the Stage others only shew themselvs without speaking one word as soon as they come on go off againe to conclude all have their Exits So we poore Mortals who are sent by our provident omnipotent Creator into this world to undergo several charges some wherof are honorable some ignominious have al an egresse out of this life aswel as an ingresse allotted us Some a long time be at this earthly Stage with the Majestie of a Tragedian others are fools sneak up down to the laughter of all men others again lie manacled bed-rid or which is the worst of Fates distracted Some no sooner enter but they go out again as did that child in the besieged depopulated desolate town of Saguntum who by an instinct of Nature no sooner put his head out of his Mothers wombe but he pull'd it in again as divining the approching destruction of his Citie and himself To continue the similitude As hee who acted an Emperor the Play once done is no better then he who represented a slave so the Grave as Horace saith equals all the King the Beggar Pertinently to this S. Ambrose We are born naked saith he and die naked there is no difference between the carcasses of the rich and the poore save that the former stinke worse through a repletion with excrements which surfets of delicious fare have left behinde This world is Deaths region about it as a triumpher over all flesh he rides his circuit Since then his cōming is so necessary so inevitable whether he comes in the dawne the noon or twilight of life let us bid him welcome What should hinder us to doe so I cannot tell since as there is no ship but in one Voyage or other dasheth not against some hidden rock or shelf so the most happy life is not free from infinite crosses and disasters Yet though every man knows the inconveniences perils of this life saith S. Austin and that he must once die yet all men seeke to shun and defer the houre of death not onely the heathen but they to who believe the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting To our reproch the holy Father spake this for though it be no shame for a Gentile to fear death whose onely scope of life is to see and be seen to know be known yet to a Christian it is whose aime and desire should be not onely to serve God faithfully here but also to raigne gloriously with him hereafter What is necessarily to be done a wiseman does voluntarily let us not therefore with the foolish Tyrant in Lucian either with tears prayers or bribes vainly think to perswade inexorable Death but wisely consider that wee are neither the first nor the last All have gone before and must follow us Nay not a man dies that hath not at the same time many to accompany him who arrive at the house of Death by severall waies Life is a due debt to God and Nature as long as we have it we enjoy a benefit when wee are deprived of it wee have no wrong Let us then daily render it backe to him that gave it since hee is a bad debtour who unwillingly payes As a Souldier the signe once given readily obeyes the command of his Generall and armed at all poynts followes him through all Dangers and faceth Death himselfe so must we chearefully observe the very Beck of our Heavenly Commander and through all miseries and destruction it selfe make our way to him Death should be no longer formidable to us since our Redeemer hath taken out his sting and hee is now no other then an old toothlesse Dragon It is a foolish thing to delight in sleep and abhorre Death sleepe being onely a continuall imitation of it Hee that seriously contemplates the priviledges and advantages that accompany a Christian Death will be in love with it It is the Refuge of the afflicted and the end of all earthly evils It takes not life from us but presents it to the custodie of Eternity It is not an end but an intermittance of life nor no longer a punishment but a Tribute and we are gainers by it As he who hath a long time layne in a darke dungeon is beyond imagination joyfull when he comes to the light so the soule when shee is freed from the vapours and clouds in which the flesh involv'd her is ravish'd with delight While shee is yet in the body though her ambition reach at Heaven yet is shee still clogg'd with that heavy masse of earth and cannot so nimbly and nobly operate as she would She may fitly be call'd the Guest and the Body the Host that makes her pay dearly for her clayie lodging For if a Magistrate be vexed and busied to subdue and pacifie the Rebels of a seditious Citie needs must the soule be troubled and afflicted who hath a harder office assign'd her which is to bridle and restrain the vitious inordinate dissolute affections which are inseparable adjuncts to her while shee hath a conjunction with the body The prerogatives of Death being so many and so certaine let us no longer condole the decease of this our compleatly noble Friend but congratulate his happy departure hence and his safe arrivall in the Imperiall Heaven When Proculus Iulius had reported to the Romans that hee had seene Romulus and that assuredly hee was a God a Wonder it was saith Livie how much they gave credit to this Tale and how greatly the misse of Romulus both amongst the Commons and Souldiers was by this beliefe of his Immortalitie digested Much more should our sorrow be mittigated by the confidence we have that this our blessed Friends soule is ascended to him from whom it descended When Brasse or Gold is melted to make the Statue of some great deserving Man wee say not that the Mettall is lost but dignified In like case when a Body is turn'd into its first Principles Dust and Ashes wee who have an eye to the glorious Resurrection of it thinke not it is utterly ruin'd but dissolv'd to be refin'd As in the Eclipse of the

Sunne or Moone wee nothing at all wonder or grieve because wee know either Starre will reassume its former splendour So wee who are conscious of the divine promise of Immortality should undismay'd believe the death of this our honour'd friend no other then a passage to a better eternal life I wil conclude with this double consolation to all his Honourers First that hee died with that matchlesse comfort The love of all men and heard yet living the judgement men would passe on him dead and was as it were present with Posterity Secondly that whereas here hee ranne a perpetuall hazard in that hee carried a heavenly Treasure in an Earthy Vessell hee now lives in an unmoved Securitie and that Treasure is enclosed in a Magazine to which the Heavens are Walls and the Angels Warders It is now high time to cover this sweet beautifull issue who with the Rose and Violet is lay'd downe to sleepe in the Bosome of his first Mother the Earth and shal enjoy though it may be not so suddaine yet as certaine a Spring as they and which is more an everlasting FINIS ELEGIES VPON THE DEATH OF THE LAST LORD STAFFORD AS over-rich-men find it harder farre T' employ what they possess then poore men are Such is the state of those who write of thee Whilst in that larger field displaid they see All objects which may helpe invention in They know not where to end where to begin And as into this Labyrinth they fall Loth to omit the least praise lose them all Then whilst some stile thee with the glorious name Of lineall heire to Mighty Buckingham And tels the greatnesse of thy line that springs From such as could raise up and throw downe Kings I le not looke backe but with the Indians runne To meete and court thee as my rising Sunne My offrings to thy mem'ry shall be seene In telling what thou wert or wouldst have beene Why say I wouldst when the most jealous eye Could find no want though in thine infancy Which some say promist much this I disdaine For where the gifts are promises are vaine Since in this noble youth who did not see The old mans wisdome young mans industrie An humble Majesty that could tell how To scorne a league with pride yet make it bow Whose courage was not in extreames like ours With ebs and flowes causd by the passions powers But was a constant ever grafted love To blessed goodnesse and the powers above Who though he joyed in this fraile mortall life As one whose soule had felt no ingor'd strife Nor labour'd with impatient hast like some To breake their prison ere the freedome come Yet when the ever seeing power had found So faire a flowre planted in barren ground Whose glorious beauties which that frame inspir'd Were envyed more then followed or admir'd Resolv'd to take what he had onely lent As giving him reward us punishment Then death was welcome and he so resign'd Not feeling griefe to leave nor feare to find That such his parting was as might be said Whilst he staid here he liv'd not but obey'd That happy call which all cleare soules expect Whose doubtfull states are chang'd to be elect Let then such friends as mourne the sad decay Of his great house in him the onely stay Lift up their wondring eyes and for him looke In Angels Quires not in a Heralds Booke Yet though the roote be taken hence to plant Where heavenly moisture it can never want There yet remaines a branch shall ever shine Engrafted in the noble Howards line Iohn Beaumount Vpon the Death of the most hopefull the Lord STAFFORD MVst then our Loves be short still Must we choose Not to enjoy onely admire and loose Must Axioms hence grow sadly understood And we thus see 'T is dangerous to be good So Bookes begunne are broken off and we Receive a fragment for an History And as 't were present wealth what was but debt Lose that of which we were not Owners yet But as in bookes that want the closing line We onely can conjecture and repine So must we heere too onely grieve and guesse And by our fancy make what 's wanting lesse Thus when rich webs are left unfinished The Spider doth supply them with her thred For tell me what addition can be wrought To him whose Youth was even the bound of thought Whose buddings did deserve the Robe whiles we In smoothnesse did the deeds of wrinckles see When his state-nonage might have beene thought fit To breake the custome and allow'd to sit His actions veil'd his age and could not stay For that which we call ripenesse and just day Others may waite the staffe and the gray-haire And call that Wisedome which is onely Feare Christen a coldnesse temp'rance and then boast Full and Ripe Vertue when all action 's lost This is not to be noble but be slacke A Stafford ne're was good by th' Almanacke He who thus stayes the season and expects Doth not gaine habits but disguise defects Heere Nature outstrips Culture He came try'd Strait of himselfe at first not rectifi'd Manners so pleasing and so handsome cast That still that overcame that was shewne last All mindes were captiv'd thence as if 't had beene The same to him to have beene lov'd and seene Had he not bin snatchd thus what drive hearts now Into his nets would have driven Cities too For these his Essaies which began to win Were but bright sparkes which shew'd the Mine within Rude draughts unto the picture things we may Stile the first beames of the encreasing day Which did but onely great discoveries bring As outward coolenesse shewes the inward spring Nor were his actions to content the sight Like Artists Pieces plac'd in a good light That they might take at distance and obtrude Something unto the eye that might delude His deeds did all most perfect then appeare When you observ'd view'd close and did stand neere For could there ought else spring from him whose line From which he sprung was rule discipline Whose Vertues were as Bookes before him set So that they did instruct who did beget Taught thence not to be powerfull but know Shewing he was their blood by living so For whereas some are by their bigge lippe knowne Others b' imprinted burning swords were showne So they by great deeds are from which bright fame Engraves free reputation on their name These are their Native markes and it hath bin The Staffords lot to have their signes within And though this firme Hereditary good Might boasted be as flowing with the blood Yet he nere graspt this stay But as those who Carry perfumes about them still scarce doe Themselves perceive them though anothers sense Sucke in th' exhaling odours so he thence Ne'r did perceive he carry'd this good smell But made new still by doing himselfe well T' embalme him then is vaine where spreading fame Supplies the want of spices where the Name It selfe preserving may for Ointments passe And he still

Worth beyond their power and skill For who in meanest lines thy life should write Would by Posterity be guessd to endite Some Romance or vaine legend To th' dim sight The weakest Tapers yeeld the welcom'st light He was vaine voyce the noble Staffords heire His Mothers comely graces hung on 's faire Yet manly checke the Younger-brothers heart And wit to boote nay each Heroicke part Of Buckingham dwelt in him so that he Alone might justly be a Familie So have I seene grow upon one small Tree More various fruits than in some Orchards be No dying Hermit meeker though a Lord And under age too Vertuous though a Ward No Dyall plac'd i th' crosse Meridian Whose shade runnes still irregular toth' Sunne That should it guide He Nobly bore that state Of Ward as if Nature had gav 't not Fate Like to our forraigne Tulips which each yeare As more mature in growth new liveries weare Yet are th' same flower so as he elder grew Stafford was still unchang'd though 's carriage new The fashion he scarce follow'd nere outrun Striving to lose himselfe and Nation If he toth' Friers came his judgement swift As Lightning could each line each Humour sift And his discerning Palate straight could tast Beaumont and Iohnsons wheate from scraps mast But this was Play The royall Academe His best houres challeng'd where his noble theme Was his great Fathers Valour though his Face Had not yet lost his Mothers beautious grace So that from him being armd the limmer might Exactly draw Venus as she in bright Steele came to Lacedemon or th' brave Maide Ioves daughter as she came t' her Fathers ayd Death will he proud of 's dart when he shall finde 'T hath slaine two Families in Blood Mind Nay wil more triumph that h' hath slaine but one Than if by th' Plague or Sword a Million Those could but last an Age in Stafford he Hath kild Successive Immortalitie Now for his Epitaph let onely be Fix'd on his Tombe his Royall Pedigree This like some well writ Booke whose every Page Containes rich wit and matter for an age When th' reader with this treasury growes brisk For Finis meetes with a sad Asteriske Or like some stately Pallace which halfe lyes Vnfinish'd whose proud top should scale the skies Will more with pitty the beholder move Then if compleat with wonder or with love Perhaps some gentler Lady reading this Three ages hence may mourne Her losse of blisse In Staffords suddaine fall Had not his life Bin short she might have bin a Staffords Wife Will. Creede of S. Iohns Oxf. Memoriae Sacrum Nobilissimi Dom. Domini Edwardi Stafford EDWARDVS NOBILISSIMUS STAFFORDIAE DOMINUS DE●…a●us nunquam satis plorabitur Qui nunquam satis hilariter excipi poterat natu● In Quo magna Staffordiae gens stetit cecidit Columon suae Domûs simul erat Terminus Solus numerosa Prosapia Unicus magna Familia Exactissima Herois Buckinghamii Epitome Gemmula mole per exigua infiniti pene valoris Mundus Major in Spithamam contractus {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} Magnus Quem dilexerunt omnes qui norunt Plorârunt omnes etiam qui non norunt Comitatis anima Nobilitatis Jdea Virtutis universae Virtus ipsa Aetate qui vix Ascanius prudentiâ plusquā Aeneas Apollo intonsus Musarum Deus Cui corpus elegantius quàm Foeminarum Incoluit animus major quàm virorum Quem in armis diceres absque lanugine Gradivum Nec adhuc in Numen adultum Hunc galeâ depositâ Adonidem Diones osculis rubentē Ceu veriùs Cupidinem ex ephebis elapsum Quē equitantē Alexandrū Bucephalo insidētē crederes Aut Centaurum in Lapitharum praelia ruentem Sonipes ipse tam grato pondere superbiebat Gestiens a tanto dirigi Exteras hausit linguas non quasi nostra sordesceret Sed ne ullū exactissimo Curiali deesset complemētum Latinam paenè habuit vernaculam Heroïcam Graeci Sermonis majestatem Non ex ignorantiâ sed acumine judicii admirabatur Musicam didicit ne tempus cum ludo vacaret porderet Qui tamen ex Oppiduli ruinis Altam posset Urbem extruere Ubi in numerum gressus efformabat Ei Perseum talaria commodasse crederes Jn choro volanti semper similior quam pulsanti terram Vestalibus ipsis castior at hoc ex virtute natum Non corprris intemperie Quem tamen adeo castum vixisse lugemus Nec Patrē fuisse quod in aliis detest amur quindecem jam annos natum Tunc alii Staffordiae gentis haeredes superfuissent Quam Vestes pullatae luctuosum funus At ô praeposterae rerum humanarum vices Qui in perpetuū vivere meruit immaturus occubuit Maternae priùs haeres Telluris quàm Paternae Disce lector Familiae tituli aequè ac homines suos habent occasus Guil. Creede Joan. On the Lord STAFFORD the last Baron of his Race who dyed in his None-age YOur Country Hindes if you have seene When they have a Lopping beene They take not here a Branch or there But leave the naked Backe so bare It cannot be term'd Plant but we Must call 't the Carcasse of a Tree Which they beleeving nought their owne But what within their Pale is throwne Have so dismembred for no good But to encrease their Stack of Wood Yet even these leave one sprout there Expecting Company next Yeare Where if so chance it be not found They lose their right to the whole ground What hast thou forfeited Death now That hast not left a Topping Bough On such a glorious stocke not spar'd The tender sprigge but further dar'd Going beyond dire Sicknesse spight Not for to bend but breake it quite What Plot is now in hand Do's Fate Meane to bring in Confusion streight How shall a Stately shady Tree From Trunk or Mast distingnishd bee If this be suffer'd shall the source Of Noble blood be stopt its course Or chill'd and shall the Pedant Veine Through all the Body flash amaine Therefore Death since you cannot be Exempted from all Penalty When thou shalt dare Trespasse so high Not in mistake but cruelty Your Dart is forfeite and must cease The Darter being bound to th' Peace And so disarm'd by Natures Will If you must needs yet Wound or Kill You must your presence use or sight All weapons are debarr'd you quite For let Time accursed be If he shall lend his Sithe to Thee And all this Nature does enact Not for one petty Crime or fact Her Law does not thee guilty call Of treason murder but of All That which last yeare you did commit And we not know to name it yet Prometheus once presumed so To steale from Heav'n a flame or two Where now he feeles loves angers edge In Hell and rues his Sacriledge How many Vultures had love sent If he had stolne the Element Put out a Starre or Two or more And make them