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	very_a	5,362	5	5.6127	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A57500	Rome rhym'd to death being a collection of choice poems, in two parts / written by the E. of R., Dr. Wild, and others of the best modern wits.	Rochester, John Wilmot, Earl of, 1647-1680.; Wild, Robert, 1609-1679.	1683 (1683)	Wing R1758; ESTC R16454	52,573	136

that all alone We have terrible Bulls and Pardons for Gulls Holy Water to Scar-crow the Devil With Consecrate Swords take them on our words They shall make the Great Turk be civil We have Saints great store and Miracles more With Martyrs a great many from Tyburn Pretty Nuns that dwell mewd up in a Cell As chast as Night-walkers of Holbourn We have Holy Blood we have Holy Wood A Ship-load or some such matter We have Holy Bones and some Holy Stones Would make an old Ladies Chops water We have Holy Men seen but now and then Monks Abbots and Capuchin Friars With Merits so great they can buy one a Seat In Heaven or else they are Liars Then all you that would sure Salvation procure And yet still live as you list Do but mutter and pray and say as we say And your Catholicks good as e're P We are brisk and free and always agree Allowing our selves to be jolly And the Puritan Tricks of dull Hereticks We count but Fanatical Folly Swearing and Whoring Drinking and Roaring All those are but Venial Transgressions The Murthering of Kings and such petty things Are easily Absolv'd in Confession A little short Penance doth wipe away Sin And there 's an end of all trouble Which having dispatcht you may fall to 't agen And safely your Wickedness double Bring a good round Sum Sins past and to come Shall presently be forgiven But this you must know before you do go The Excize runs high upon Heaven For we have the Price of every Vice Assest at a certain Rate So near at a word we do them afford Not a Penny thereof we can bate But if you 're content a while to be pent And in Purgatory purged A smaller Spell shall preserve you from Hell And keep you from being scourged Though you have liv'd a Devil in all kind of Evil Bequeath but a Monastery And Angels your Soul without Controul To Abraham's Bosom shall Carry Nor need you to fear who have bought Lands dear That were Holy Churches before We 'l lend them for life but for your Souls health At your Death you must them restore Thus Popery you see will kindly agree If you will it but embrace But if you delay there 's somany i' th way That you will hardly get a good place The Critical Time is now in the prime See how Holy Mother does smile And spreading her Arms to preserve you from harms So gladly would you Reconcile To which purpose behold do but tell out your Gold And all things in readiness be For the next Year His Holiness we hear Doth intend a Jubilee You that Pardons would have or Indulgence crave To ROME to ROME be trudging And do not contemn good Advice from a Friend Nor take his Ballad in dudgeon On ROME's Pardons By the E. of R. IF Rome can Pardon Sins as Romans hold And if those Pardons can be bought and sold It were no Sin to adore and worship Gold If they can purchase Pardons with a Sum For Sins they may commit in time to come And for Sins past 't is very well for Rome At this rate they are happiest that have most They 'l purchase Heaven at their own proper cost Alas the Poor all that are so are lost Whence came this Knack or when did it begin What Author have they or who brought it in Did Christ e're keep a Custom-House for Sin Some subtile Devil without more ado Did certainly this sly Invention brew To gull'em of their Souls and Mony too Written by Stephen Colledge the day before he dyed Wrongful Imprisonment Hurts not the Innocent WHat if I am into a Prison cast By Hellish Combinations am betray'd My Soul is free although my Body's fast Let them Repent that have this Evil laid And of Eternal Vengeance be afraid Come Racks and Gibbets can my Body kill My God is with me and I fear no Ill. What boots the Clamours of the Giddy Throng What Antidotes against a poysonous Breath What Fence is there against a lying Tongue Sharpen'd by Hell to wound a Man to Death Snakes Vipers Adders do lurk underneath Say what you will or never speak at all Our very Prayers such Wretches Treason call But Walls and Bars cannot a Prison make The free-born Soul enjoyes it's Liberty These Clods of Earth it may incaptivate Whilst Heavenly Minds are conversant on high Ranging the Fields of Blest Eternity So let this Bird sing sweetly in my Breast My Conscience clear a Rush for all the rest What I have done I did with good Intent To serve my King my Country and the Laws Against the Bloody Papists I was bent Cost what it will I 'le ne're repent my Cause Nor do I fear their Hell-devouring Jawes A Protestant I am and such I 'le die Maugre all Death and Popish Cruelty But what need I these Protestations make Actions speak Men far better than their Words What e're I suffer for my Country's sake Not Cause I had a Gun or Horse or Sword Or that my Heart did Treason e're afford No 't is not me alone they do intend But Thousands more to gain their cursed Ends. And sure of this the World 's so well aware That here it 's needless more for me to say I must conclude no time have I to spare My winged hours fly too fast away My work Repentance must I not delay I 'le add my Prayers to God for Englands good And if he please will seal them with my Blood O blessed God! destroy this black Design Of Popish Consults it 's in thee we trust Our Eyes are on thee help O Lord in time Thou God of Truth most merciful and just Do thou defend us or we perish must Save England Lord from Popish Cruelty My Country bless thy will be done on me Man's Life 's a Voyage through a Sea of Tears If he would gain the Heaven of his Rest His Sighs must fill the Sails whilst some men steers When storms arise let each Man do his best And cast the Anchor of his hopes opprest Till Time or Death shall bring us to that Shore Where Time nor Death shall never be no more Laus Deo S. C. From my Prison in the Tower Aug. 15. 1681. Amen LONDON's Fatal Fall Being an ACROSTICK c. Written as a Second Poetical Diversion the 8 th of September 1666. L o now confused Heaps only stand O n what did bear the Glory of the Land N o Stately Places no Edefices D o now appear No here 's now none of these O h Cruel Fates Can ye be so unkind N ot to leave scarce a Mansion behind L et England then lament and let her keep A dismal day let every Soul to weep T o wash away those Sins that thus provoke E ternal Heavens all-consuming stroke L et Penitential Tears quench out the Fire Y et reigning in our Lusts let that expire E lse we can have no blessed Confiden●e N or hopes in Heavens merciful Defence G race

our God Or else must We not in Heaven have aboad Must Fire and Wood burn all that won't bow Worship S. Doll and the Devil knows who Must Ignorance be our Guide to Glory Then Heaven I 'm sure is but an Old Story Must all Men be blind that open their Eyes That Priests may do what they please with their Wives● Must killing of Kings and Princes to boot Be Marks that the Pope is sound at the Root Must a Conclave of Rogues and Jesuit Priests Perswade all the World to Worship the Beast Must the Pope order all by Sea and by Land Who must turn out and who is to 〈◊〉 Must those be intrusted that swear and receive What e're you impose that they may deceive Must Iudas be saved that eat of the Sop No by the Mass he deserved the Rope Must such be employed at Sea and at Shore That would subvert all to set up the Whore Must those be good that designed to seem such Who in Parliament time subscrib'd to the Church Must We all be undone by a damn'd Popish Crew Some that is about us and some We ne're knew Must the King and his Friends see and know this And yet be advised that nothing's amiss Must this be the Trap then the Devil take it Our Hogs We 've brought to a blessed Market Vpon the Execution of the late Viscount STAFFORD I. SHall every Jack and every Jill That rides in State up Holbourn Hill By aid of Smithfield Rhymes defie The Malice of Mortality And shall Lord Stafford dye forgot He that would needs be such a Sot To dye for love of a damn'd Plot No Viscount no believe it not II. Diana's Temple all in flame Advanc'd th' Incendiaries Name Ruffians and Bauds and Whores and Theives In Ballad Records live new lives And shall a Lord because a Traytor In such an Age so given to flatter Want that which others Saints to him Ne're want to fame them Words and Rhime III. Oh Sir the Papishes you know Have much more gratitude than so For this same Lord that brake the Laws Of God and Man to serve their Cause Shall live in Pravers and Almanacks Beyond what Ballad-Monger makes And some Years hence you 'l see shall work Such Miracles would turn a Turk IV. Blest is that Man that has a Box To save the Saw-dust in that sokes His tainted Blood or can besmeare One corner of his Muckinder Oh! then some Ages hence they 'l cry Lo Stafford's Blood and shed for why For nothing but because he sought To kill his Prince and sham the Plot. V. Now they that dye for crimes like these The Papists send to Heaven with case For they secure 'em safe from Hell Which once believ'd the rest is well A strange Belief that Men should think That were not drunk with worse than Drink That such Rewards as Deifying By Treason should begain'd and Lying VI. The Man that for Religion dyes Has nothing more before his Eyes But he that dyes a Criminal Dyes with a load and none can call Religion that which makes him dream Obduracy can hide his shame VII The Pope may do what he Conjectures As to the business of his Pictures The Colours ne're can hide the Crimes Stories will read to after Times And 't will be found in the Hangman's Hands Will strangely blur the Pope's Commands VIII Had he but shewed some Christmas Gambles And Headless took St. Denis Rambles The Plot had been a damnable thing And down had gon the Scaffolding But 'cause his Lordship this forgot Men still believe there is a Plot. IX Where was St. Dominick asleep Where did St. Frank his Kennel keep That on a business so emergen They did not brisly teize the Virgin To let his Lordship play a Prank Her Grace becoming and his Rank X. But they that Heaven and Earth Command You see sometimes they 're at a stand For truth to tell ye should the Saints Be bound to hear all Fools complaints Their Lives would be as void of mirth In Heaven as formerly on Earth XI Now Ballad●wise before he 's dead To tell ye what the Sufferer said He both defended and gain-said Held up his hands and cry'd and pray'd And swore he ne're was in the Plot No by his Vicountship God wot XII Come come Sir had it not been better To have dy'd to Death common Debter And that upon your lasting Stone This Character had been alone Here lies a very Honest Lord True to his King true to his Word XIII But those of your Religion Are now a days so damn'd high flown You think that nothing makes a Saint But Plot refin'd and Treason Quaint And Heaven accepts no Offerings But Ruin'd Kingdoms Murdered Kings XIV Now you that knew who were his Judges Who found him Guilty without grudges Who gave him over to the Block And how he sham'd to save the stroak If you believe the Speech he made ye Le'strange and P ton's shame degrade ye XV. Thus us'd all Arts that could cajole You may be sure his silly Soul And were those promises perform'd With which his Conscience they had charm'd Who would betray a Cursed Plot To be when Dead the Lord knows what XVI But if those jolly Promises Do send thee into Little ●ase As certainly they must undo thee What ever Fools and Knaves said to thee Then Phlegeus like in Hell condole And Curse them that betray'd thy Soul XVII Now God preserve our Noble King And bless all them that thus did bring Unto the Block that silly Head That car'd not what it did or said And all good Men may Heaven defend From such a vile untimely End The Lord STAFFORD's Ghost c. FRom Stygian shade lo my pale Ghost doth rise To visit Earth and these sublunar Skies For some few moments I'm in Mercy sent To bid my Fellow-Traytors to Repent Repent before you taste of Horrid Fate Your Guilt confess before it be too late I am not here arriv'd on Earth to tell The hidden secrets that belong to Hell Nor am I sent to publish or declare Who are tormenters whom tormented there For now I know that it is Heavens decree These things to Mortals still shall secrets be Who have fantastick Dreams and nothing know Of what is done above or yet below But I have seen with my Immortal Eyes Things that with horror do my Soul surprize Too late alas too late I see my Sin With strange Chymera's I 've deluded been By a curs'd brood who sounded in my Ear Dye obstinate no Chains of Conscience fear Upon us firmly let your Faith be built We can and do Absolve you from your Guilt And after this you need no more Repent For you a Martyr dye and Innocent O Cursed Men who on Wretches thus Intrude And thus poor Souls Eternally delude Whilst they believe what these deluders say Li●e is snatch'd from them and they drop away And falling down by Charon Death they 're hurl'd Into the Mansions of a dismal