Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A35435
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Cupids garland set round about with gilded roses containing many pleasant songs and sonnets newly written.
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1674
(1674)
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Wing C7602; ESTC R20355
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6,894
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26
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young Maids to shun the allurements of wanton Gallants To the Tune of The Earl of Essexs last good Night IN Warwick shire there stands a Down and Dunsmore heath men do it call Where Isabel of such renown for beauty did excel them all A Shepherds Daughter she was known and fame abroad did make report That she was like a Rose new blown and fit alone for Cupids Court. And when young Wigmore heard the same who then in Warwick Castle lay To Dunsmore then he forth with came to wooe this Maid without delay And found her by a river side sitting amidst a Meadow gréen But when her beauty once he ey'd he thought she might have béen Loves Quéen Fresh beauty flourisht in her chéek her hair was like to Amber fair And her behaviour was so méek that Wigmore did to her repair And wooed her in humble wise that she would grant him but her love And not his humble fute despise but that she would of him approve Lord Wigmore thus drown'd in his Lust did Like a Ravisher appear And bid a servant of great trust that to his Castle he would her bear Thus to Lord Wigmore she was brought who fed his fancies with delight by fair words such means he wrought that he got her maiden-head that night This being done she did repent that she her self had thus betrayd By granting of her frée consent to lose the honour of a Maid But ere thrée Months were past gone her growing shame did then appear And to Lord Wigmore for his wrong she did complain with many a tear The sad Complaint of fair Isabel for the loss of her Maiden honour at the end whereof like Roman Lucrece she slew her self To the same Tune LOrd Wigmore pitty take on me since thou hast obtain'd thy sute Yet do not despise the Trée now thou hast got my Maiden fruit Thou spottest hast my Virgin bed yet pitty take upon poor me Like withered Rose I hang my head Lord Wigmore this is long of thee My crime unto the world is known my wantonness is now descry'd My name to all is hateful grown I wish I had thy love deny'd I know alass when I do die my body in lead shall shrowded bée But what can cover my infamy Lord Wigmore this is long of thee Bespotted with reproachful shame I crave my just deserved doom That death may frée me from all blame and cut me off even in the bloom I number now the tedious hours life is unpleasant unto mée Let me then die you heavenly Powers Lord Wigmore this is long of thee And when I die let me be laid in careless manner into the mould Vnpittied of each spotless Maid who to disgrace my self have sold Let ne're a Bell ring forth my Knell for I am that unhappy shée That by the fair inticements fell Lord Wigmore this is long of thee When she this woful moan had made a knife she snatched from her side Where Lucreces part she plainly plaid and with the same she did devide Her soul from her fair bodies frame which parting it did séem that she With her last vow did thus complain Lord Wigmore this is long of thee The story of Ill-May day briefly expressed To the Tune of The Ladies Fall IF you the reason of the Name of Ill-May-day would know You shall thou understand the same as here I will it show For when King Hâ—nry Reigned here the Eight of that same Name The strangers as it did appear by Prenticâ—s were slain They making show that their intent was but to go a Maying Their force they on the strangers bent and them they fell a slaying These strangers did come forth of Spain and did set up their Trade And so did make a private gain which English men had much dismaid The Prentices then on May Eve did to a sudden tumult grow But yet they made the Mayor beléeve that they a Maying meant to go But such a May-game they did make the like whereof was never known For all the Strangers they did take and kil'd of them full many a one And now it is by Law ordain'd that still on May-daies Eve at night The Watch shall in their Armour stand unruly Youths so to affright To his Sweet-heart wherein he doth show why he so oft cries Hi Ho. YOu asked me my dear Swéet-heart Why I sigh'd I will impart The reason of it and will show Why I so often cry Hi ho. The former H stands for my heart The I is yours which wrought my smart The last H your hard heart doth show The O the vowel is your No. Then blame me not since now you know Why I so often cry Hi ho. A short Song on a sigh To the Tune of I warrant you I. IT is but in vain With sighs to complain And unto my self Strange passions to frame For I will be careless Vntil I do die Let others grow Love-sick but so will not I. Let others lament For I am content I can love for an hour Till my humour is spent But when it is past All Love I defy For though some grow Love-sick yet so will not I. FINIS
pain And in his hand a basket round compos'd of Willows small Wherein he put the flowers which were of vertues several But when I nearer to him came I asked him good Father What is the reason moveth you these Flowers for to gather But he then with a heavy look did thus to me reply These Flowers I do gather Sir to cure Loves malady Nay then quoth I you are deceiv'd if you do think good Swain By help and vertue of these flowers to cure Loves inward pain Therefore to get thy swéet hearts Love go back again and try For their is none but Doctor Jone can cure Loves malady Then by the Mass the Shepheard said my true Loves name is Jone I will to yonder hill repair and to her make my moan So going back the Shepheards Swain with his Swéet heart did lye Thus Doctor Jone did help his moan and cure Loves malady A new Song of a chaste Lover To the Tune of Away to Twiver VVHen I did Phillis naked spy I shut mine eyes and would not see Those beauties which did naked lye was ever a Lover like to me When she her Mantle did unfold I shut mine eyes and would not see Loves flower which then I might behold was ever Lover like to me While she bathed in a silver stream I shut mine eyes and would not see But lay still in a pleasant dream was ever Lover like to me And when like Diana she came forth I shut mine eyes and would not see The Golden fruit of precious worth was ever Lover like to me But when she cloathed had each part I opned then my eyes to see If that I could but win her heart for that was only lov'd of me A new Sonnet setting forth the miserable and wretched end of Shores Wife who was sometime Concubine to King Edward the Fourth To the Tune of I sigh and sob c. YOu that are in your blooming years Whose beauty to the world appears Come learn by me who am Shores wife To lead a chaste and honest life And to preserve your spotless fame Lest afterwards you do complain For when King Edward rul'd this Land I could his Royal Crown command But after he did chance to dye I was expos'd to misery And cruelty turn'd out of door All men did hate the name of Shore And for to publish my leud sin I did do Pennance to begin My shame and carryed by command A burning Tapor in my hand Thus when that I was once cast down On my hard fate each one did frown Thus all my joyes did fickle prove Which I did reap by Edwards love A Princes Paragon I was But now constrain'd to beg Alass I was reviled and called Whore Yet patiently their words I bore For my accusing Conscience cry'd That Vice had béen my sinful guide Then let young Maids wives beware And of their honour have a care Lest they come to a wretched and If like to me they do offend A Song of a Beggar and a King To the Tune of Love will find out the way A Prince once there reigned who did much delight who was poorly dight Let Cupid then be crowned with Roses so gay For his Bow so much renowned even Kings must obey It happened at his window this Beggar he espy'd And from thence to the Gate of his Pallace he hyed His purse then he casteth to this Beggar in gray And unto her he hasteth Love will make Kings obey And then he imbraced the Beggar so mean And on his Throne placed her like to a Quéen While the Nobles attended on their wedding day And thus all things ended Love will make Kings obey A lamentable Sonnet of the fall of the great Dutchess of Glocester Wife to Duke Humphrey shewing how she did Pennance through London streets bare-footed with a Wax Candle in her hand and how she was banished into the Isle of Man where she died To the Tune of Queen Dido COme hither now fair Ladies all and bring with you a tear fil'd eye That you may wéep to hear the fall of Elioner a Dutches high Whom good Duke Humphery made his bride And after by foul treason dy'd For him they murthered in his sléep and being dead they seiz'd his Lands So that the Dutchess did nothing kéep for all was in King Henries hands Thus when that fortune once doth frown The highest are thrown quickly down But she that bore a Noble mind to practice witchcraft did intend That the Dukes murtherers she might find and bring them to a shameful end By black inchanting Arts to spill Their blood the did Duke Humphrey kill But when her practice once was known and notice of her purpose given Then by her punishment 't was shown such actions do displease high Heaven For she was doomed through each stréet To go in Pennance in a shéet And to increase my grief and pain I judged was to leave that place Where I had lived before in fame and like an Exile in disgrace I to thée Isle of Man was sent To spend my dayes in Banishment Full nineteen Years I spent in grief and made mine eyes with tears to rain Yet could my tears yeeld no relief for all my sorrow was in vain Vnto the Isle I was assign'd Till death did ease my troubled mind For after I had here sustain'd all hardness that one might indure Heavens hearing how I complain'd some pitty for me did procure And so an end of grief to make My soul into the Heavens to take Though in my life I had offended yet when that death approached nigh Into Christs hands I then commended my soul for which he once did dye Thus Exile for my late offence did save my soul by penitence A Sonnet Wherein a Shepherd doth show His sorrow because he cannot wooe To the Tune of In sad and ashly weeds VVEep now mine eyes your fill for I my Oaten pipe will break Let fighs resound unto the hill because alass I dare not speak let Garlands now of Cypress bough My inward sorrow shew since fondly I for love must dye Because I cannot wooe Some can with ease profess and in swéet words their love declare Yet I alass cannot express My love to her that is so fair these flowry Plains a Saint contains To whom all praise is due yet justly she despiseth me Because I cannot wooe Sometime I did retire unto a spreading shady trée And think to cool my fire with gales that freshly breathing be the Birds do sing the woods do ring And all things pleasure shew yet fondly I for love must dye Because I cannot wooe Yet this of her I crave that when death closeth up my eyes She would come to my grave and not a Shepherds grief despise and on my Herse to write this Verse Here Coridon so true in love did die and here doth lie Because he could not wooe A song of the Lord Wigmore and the fai◠Maid of Dunsmore in Warwick-shire which may be a warning to