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	soul_n	think_v	6,986	5	4.7772	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A33433	Clievelandi Vindiciæ, or, Clieveland's genuine poems, orations, epistles, &c. purged from the many false and spurious ones which had usurped his name, and from innumerable errours and corruptions in the true copies : to which are added many never printed before, with an account of the author's life.; Vindiciae	Cleveland, John, 1613-1658.	1677 (1677)	Wing C4671; ESTC R1324	86,279	262

Religion That which fir'd your Spirits was the Ambition of the Enterprize nor could you entertain a more Aspiring Phrensie but by making Love to a Glorified Body Tell me I pray you how many Beads did you drop in Wooing By what Liturgy did you frame your Courtship Laick Applications are here scandalous nor will it avail to say you languish without her Compassion A Sensual Man is able to vitiate the Vestal Flame even by his Martyrdom other Lovers in the Jollity of their Trope are wont to Canonize their Mistresses as being of opinion that the Native Rubrick of their Cheeks hath hallowed them Will you run Counter to that Consecration and degrade a Saint by Mortal Addresses If you have no room in your Calendar for Persons upon Earth yet do not profane a Probationer of Heaven as if the readiest way to rectifie Superstition were with our Modern Reformers to bow it into Atheism Let me advise you Sir to retrieve your self back from this Carnal Sacrilege Catch not at Herostratus his Fame by setting fire on the Temple and dispute not a share of Guilt with Lucifer in causing a second Fall of Angels Nay never Start Sir nor look about at the Expression for I perswade my self that those Divines who allot to each of us a Tutelar Angel for our Protection would not prejudice their Opinion should they leave her to her own Tuition as hardly knowing in such a Person how to distinguish between the Charge and the Guardian Sir I was entreated by our Noble Friend that what my Phancy suggested upon this Subject I would mould into Number but I must beg your pardon it being a Request with which to comply were to be your Fellow-criminal and by a Conformity of Guilt pervert a Votary for even my Muse is Vow'd and Vail'd too she is set apart for the Service of my Mistress and what is that but entring Orders in the true Religion The Truth is this she is so chastely confin'd to that sole Employment that should I in Verse attempt to yield you an account how much I honour you not a whole Grove of Laurel would bribe her to a Distich whereas in Transitory Prose were I a Master of all those Languages which I make no question but you have gain'd by your Travels I should hold them all too few to give you sufficient Assurance that I am SIR Your most Faithful Servant J C The Piece of a Common Place upon Romans the 4th Last Verse Who was delivered for our Offences and rose again for our Iustification THE Athenians had two sorts of Holy Mysteries two distinct times November and August for their Celebration but when King Demetrius desir'd to be admitted into their Fraternity and see both their Solemnities at once the People past a Decree that the Month March when the King requested it should be call'd November and after the Ceremonies due to that Month were finished it should be translated to August and so at the second return of this new Leap year they accomplished his Request Two greater Mysteries are the parts of my Text the Passion and the Resurrection several times appropriate for either Good Friday or Easter But as the Athenian Decree made November and August meet in March so give me lieve by a less Syncope of Time to contract Good Friday and Easter both to a day as the Passion and Resurrection are both in my Text Who was delivered for our offences c. And I may the rather link them both on a day because the Text is willing to admit some Resemblance The Evening and the Morning make the day saith the Holy Spirit the Method of my Text observes as much here is the Evening the Passion when our Saviour strip'd himself of those Rags of Mortality and lay down in the Bed of Corruption where he stays not long but the Morning breaks in the Resurrection when this Corruptible shall put on Incorruption and this Mortal shall put on Immortality So then my Text is a Day from Sun to Sun Soles occidere redire possunt from the Sun-set of his Passion to the Sun-rise of his Resurrection The Dew of his Birth is as the Dew of the Morning There is a Morning-Dew and there is an Evening-Dew the Evening-Dew the Tears that are shed at the Sun's Funeral and they may justly decypher the Passion the Morning-Dew the Tears of Joy and Welcom at his new Return and what is that but a Transcript of the Resurrection My Discourse then must be changeable compos'd of a Cloud and a Rain-bow Nocte pluit tota A Deluge of Grief-showers down in the Passion but the Waters will cease and the Dove will return with a Leaf in her mouth Redeunt Spectacula mane Nothing but Joy and Triumph Pomp and Pageants at the Resurrection But methinks St. Paul puts new Cloth into an old Garment mends the Rent of the Passion with the Resurrection Can the children of the Bride-chamber weep while the Bridegroom is with them While the Resurrection is in the Text who can Tune his Soul to lament his Passion again by the Waters of Babylon is no singing the Songs of Sion When Grief hath lock'd up the Heart with the story of the Passion what Key of Mirth can let in the Anthem of the Resurrection Different Notes you see and yet wee 'l attempt an Harmony Bassus and Altus a Deep Base that must reach as low as Hell to describe the Passion and thence rebound to a joyful Altus the high-strain of the Resurrection I begin with the Evening and so I may well style the Passion since the Horrour thereof turn'd Noon into Night and made a Miracle maintain my Metaphor The Sun was obscur'd by Sympathy and his Darkness points us to a greater Eclipse The Sun and the Moon what are they but Parables of our Saviour and the Soul of Man The Moon is the Soul I am sure her Spots will not Confute the Similitude I might here slacken the Reigns of my Comparison and shew you how the Moon of her self is a dark Body and what Light she partakes she receives it from the Sun at second hand How every Soul is by Nature sinful and in the Shadow of Death till the Light that lightens the Gentiles till the day-spring on high visit us I might pursue my Allegory in the Eclipse The Shadow of the Earth intercepts the Beams of the Sun and so the Moon suffers an Eclipse Pleasure and Profit those two Dugs of the World what are they but Earthly shadows that Eclipse the Soul and deprive it of the sweet influence of the Sun of Righteousness But I hold me to the Metaphor my Text will warrant the Parallel As the Moon is Eclipsed by the Earth so she her self Eclipses the Sun The Soul is not only sinful but makes God suffer 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is a Physick-word and signifies the Labour of a Disease Cure thy self and there will be no Eclipse in him Apply but Salve to thy self

second Course Should we like Thracians our dead bodies eat He would have liv'd only to save his Meat Lastly we did devour that Corps of His Throughout all Ovid's Metamorphosis On the Memory of Mr. Edward King drown'd in the Irish Seas I Like not tears in tune nor do I prize His artificial Grief who scans his eyes Mine weep down pious Beads but why should I Confine them to the Muses Rosary I am no Poet here my Pen's the Spout Where the Rain-water of mine eyes run out In pity of that Name whose Fate we see Thus copied out in Grief's Hydrography The Muses are not Mer-mayds though upon His Death the Ocean might turn Helicon The Sea 's too rough for Verse who ryhmes upon 't With Xerxes strives to ●etter th' Hellespont My Tears will keep no Channel know no Laws To guide their streams but like the waves their cause Run with disturbance till they swallow me As a Description of his Misery But can his spatious Virtue find a Grave Within the Impostum'd bubble of a Wave Whose Learning if we sound we must confess The Sea but shallow and him bottomless Could not the Winds to countermand thy death With their whole Card of Lungs redeem thy breath Or some new Island in thy rescue peep To heave thy Resurrection from the Deep That so the World might see thy safety wrought With no less wonder than thy self was thought The famous Stagirite who in his life Had Nature as familiar as his Wife Bequeath'd his Widow to survive with thee Queen Dowager of all Philosophy An ominous Legacy that did portend Thy Fate and Predecessor's second end Some have affirm'd that what on Earth we find The Sea can parallel for shape and kind Books Arts and Tongues were wanting but in thee Neptune hath got an University We 'll dive no more for Pearls the hope to see Thy sacred Reliques of Mortality Shall welcome Storms and make the Seaman prize His Shipwrack now more than his Merchandize He shall embrace the Waves and to thy Tomb As to a Royaler Exchange shall come What can we now expect Water and Fire Both Elements our ruin do conspire And that dissolves us which doth us compound One Vatican was burnt another drown'd We of the Gown our Libraries must toss To understand the greatness of our Loss Be Pupils to our Grief and so much grow In Learning as our Sorrows overflow When we have fill'd the Rundlets of our Eyes We 'll issue't forth and vent such Elegies As that our Tears shall seem the Irish Seas We floating Islands living Hebrides An Elegy upon the Arch-Bishop of Canterbury I Need no Muse to give my Passion vent He brews his Tears that studies to lament Verse chymically weeps that pious rain Distill'd by Art is but the sweat o' th' Brain Who ever sob'd in Numbers Can a Groan Be quaver'd out in soft Division 'T is true for common formal Elegies Not Bushel's Wells can Match a Poet's Eyes In wanton Water-Works he 'll tune his Tears From a Geneva-Jig up to the Spheres But then he mourns at distance weeps aloof Now that the Conduit Head is our own Roof Now that the Fate is Publick we may call It Britain's Vespers England's Funeral Who hath a Pencil to express the Saint But he hath Eyes too washing off the Paint There is no Learning but what Tears surround Like to Seth's Pillars in the Deluge drown'd There is no Church Religion is grown So much of late that she 's encreast to none Like an Hydropick Body full of Rheumes First swells into a bubble then consumes The Law is dead or cast into a Trance And by a Law dough-bak'd an Ordinance The Liturgy whose doom was voted next Did as a Comment upon him the Text. There 's nothing lives Life is since he is gone But a Nocturnal Lucubration Thus you have seen Death's Inventory read In the Summ total Canterbury's dead A sight would make a Pagan to baptize Himself a Convert in his bleeding Ey●s Would thaw the Rabble that fierce Beast of ours That which Hyena-like weeps and devours Tears that flow brackish from their Souls within Not to repent but pickle up their Sin Mean time no squalid Grief his Look defiles He guilds his sadder Fate with nobler Smiles Thus the World's Eye with reconciled Streams Shines in his showers as if he wept his beams How could Success such Villanies applaud The State in Strafford fell the Church in Land The Twins of publick rage adjudg'd to die For Treasons they should act by Prophecie The Facts were done before the Laws were made The Trump turn'd up after the Game was play'd Be dull great Spirits and forbear to climb For Worth is Sin and Eminence a Crime No Church-man can be Innocent and High 'T is height makes Grantham Steeple stand awry Epitaphium Thomae Spell Coll. Divi Iohannis Praesidis HIe jacet Quantillum Quan●i Ille quatenus potuit mori Thomas Spellus Fuit nomen erit Epitheton Post humus sibi perennabit idem Olim olim Ille qui sibi futurus Posteri Vt esse poterat Majores sui Honestis quicquid debuit Natalibus Mactus in sese disputandus utrum Sui magis an ex Patrum traduce Quem vitae Drama Mitionem dedit Qui verba protulit ut Alcedo pullos Omine pacis Quocum sepul●a jacet Vrbanitas Et Malaci mores tanquam Soldurii Commoriuntur Pauperum Scipio amor omnium Collegii Coagulum Honorum Climax Scholaris Socius Senior Praeses Et Pastor gregis in cruce providus Oculos à fl●ndo non moror amplius Vixit Mark Anthony WHen as the Nightingale chanted her Vespers And the wild Forrester couch'd on the ground Venus invited me in th' Evening Whispers Unto a fragrant Field with Roses crown'd Where she before had sent My Wishes Complement Unto my Heart's content Play'd with me on the Green Never Mark Anthony Dallied more wantonly With the fair Egyptian Queen First on her cherry Cheeks I mine Eyes feasted Thence fear of Surfeiting made me retire Next on her warmer Lips which when I tasted My duller Spirits made me active as fire Then we began to dart Each at another's Heart Arrows that knew no smart Sweet Lips and Smiles between Never Mark c. Wanting a Glass to plate her Amber Tresses Which like a Bracelet rich decked mine Arm Gawdier than Iuno wears when as she Graces Iove with Embraces more stately than warm Then did she peep in mine Eyes humour Chrystalline I in her Eyes was seen As if we one had been Never Mark c. Mystical Grammar of Amorous Glances Feeling of Pulses the Physick of Love Rhetorical Courtings and Musical Dances Numbring of Kisses Arithmetick prove Eyes like Astronomy Straight-limb'd Geometry In her Art's Ingeny Our Wits were sharp and ke●n Never Mark Anthony Dallied more wantonly With the fair Egyptian Queen The Author's Mock-Song to Mark Anthony WHen as the Nightingale sang Pluto's Mattins And Cerberus cri'd three Amens at a Howl

grateful to us that you requir'd our Service or grievous that at this time we could not express it for no sooner were we inform'd of your pleasure but so obligatory is your Will that poysing your Letters with our Laws we thought our Statutes were at Civil Wars The College like an Indulgent Mother Entails her Preferments on her own Progeny Your Lordship prefers a stranger whom to Adopt were not only to Bastard her present Issue but disinherit all succeeding hopes If it seem a Delinquency to be thus tender of her own she will intitle her offence to your Lordship who when you honour'd her with your Admission taught her to set a greater price upon her Children Thus hoping you will abstract our Will from our Power we honour your Lordship desiring that occasion may present us with some service whose difficulty may add a deeper Dye to the Observance of The Master and Fellows of S. J. To the Earl of Holland then Chancellour of the Vniversity of Cambridge Right Honourable YOU have rais'd us to that height by writing unto us that we dare attempt an Answer in which Presumption if we have dishonoured your Lordship you must blame your own Gentleness like the Sun who if he be mask'd with Clouds may thank himself who drew up the Exhalations Sir they that assign Tutelar Angels betroath them not only to Kingdoms and Cities but to each Company Your Goodness hovers not aloft in a general care of the University but stoops by a peculiar Influence to every private College That Omnipresence which Philosophy allots to the Soul to be every where at once through the whole Man your Noble Diligence exemplifies in us There is not the least Joynt of our Body but in its Life and Spirits confesses the Chancellour Nor have we in special the least share of your Favours as appears by many pregnant Demonstrations of your Love among which this is not the meanest that you would deign to require our Service To offend against so Gracious a Patron would add a Tincture to our Disobedience yet such is the Iniquity of our Condition that we are forced to defer our Gratitude We have many in the College whose Fortunes were at the last Gasp and if not now reliev'd their hopes extinct Whereas he whom your Lordship commends gives us farther day of Payment by his green years He is yet but young but the Beams of your Favour will ripen him the sooner for the like Preferment which if it please your Lordship to antedate by a present Acceptance of our future Obedience We shall gladly persevere in our old Title of To the Earl of Westmorland My Lord. IT were high Presumption in me not to be proud of this Occasion and I should be no less than a Rebel to Eloquence if your Lines you sent me had not rais'd me above my ordinary Level so that to express my Gratitude I must renounce my Humility and purchase one Virtue at the price of another And well may my Modesty suffer in the Service when my Reason it self is overwhelmed with the Favour To see a Person of your Lordship's Eminency possess'd of Nobility by a double Tenure both of Birth and Brain so to bend his Greatness as to stoop to me who live in the Vale both of Parts and Fortune is so high an Honour that who justly considers it if he be not stupidly sensless will be stupid with Ecstasie I for my part am lost in Amazement and it is mine Interest to be so for not knowing otherwise how to give your Present a fit Reception it is the best of my play to be beside my self in the Action You see my Lord how I ●mpty my self of my Native Faculty to be ready for those of your Inspirings as the Prophets of old in a Sacred Fury ran out of their Wits to make room for the Deity I shall not need hereafter to digest my Love-passions I shall speak by Instinct for when your Honour deign'd to visit me with your Lofty Numbers what was it else but to make me the Priest of your Lordship's Oracle Such is the Strength and Spirit of your Phancy that methought your Poems like the Richest Wine sent forth a Steam at the opening What flowed from your Brain sum'd into mine It was almost impossible to read your Lines and be sober You You my Lord are the Favourite of the Muses Your Strain is so happy and hath the Reputation for so Matchless as if you had a double Key to the Temple of Honour to let in your Lordship's self and exclude Competitors It 's you my Lord have cut the Clouds and reach'd Perfection who having mounted the Cliff lends an hand to me who am labouring in the Craggy Ascent So towring are the Praises you please to bestow on me and my Desert so groveling that to shew you my Head is not worthy your Height it is not able to bear them it grows giddy with the Precipice It pains me to be on the Last of an Hyperbole you do but crucifie my tender Merits to distend them thus at length and breadth Consider I pray you that the Leanest Endowments would be plump and full thus blown up with a Quill and that there are some so Dwarfish whom the Rack will not stretch to a proper Man It is an excellent Breathing for a puissant Wit to overbear the World in the Defence of a Paradox and a good Advocate will weather out the Cause when there is neither Truth nor Invention I perswade my self you had never undertaken to write my Panegyrick but that you saw it was to combat with the Tide and to put your Abilities to the utmost Test in so unlikely a Subject Little do you think what store of Opposers your Opinion will breed you for though you be so powerful in the Art of perswasion that should you turn Apostate there would need no more but to Towl the Bell for Religion yet this is an Heresie where you stand alone and like Scaeva in the Breach with your single Valour duel an Army Now my Lord if I be not mistaken I have found the Motive that induced you to oblige me you are tyed by your Order to give Protection to the Weak and Succourless so I must change my Addresses and thank your Red Ribband for my Commendations Such and so many are the Flowers of Rhetorick you have heap'd upon me that I run the hazard of the Olympick Victor who was stifled with Posies cast upon him in approbation of his Worth which Fragrant Fate if I should sustain what is there more to make me enamour'd of Death but that the same Flowers should straw my Corps in a Funeral Oration Could you think my Lord that your suppressing your Name was able to conceal you when it is easie to wind you by your Phrase The Sweetness of the Language discover'd the Author like that Roman Senator who hiding himself in time of Proscription his Perfumes betray'd him But I shall not arrest your