Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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Author |
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A07500
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The ghost of Lucrece. By T.M. Gent
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Middleton, Thomas, d. 1627.
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1600
(1600)
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STC 17885.5; ESTC S107204
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10,042
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50
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I forget thy spheres O spheres of heauen shall I let passe your skies O skies which weares out time and neuer weares Shall I make dim the tapers of your eies O eies of heauen Sunne Moone and starres that rise To wake the day and free imprisoned night Shall my obliuious vapour clowde your light T' is thou ô chastitie shall I sorsake thee Or drowne thy memorie in my bloudy streame Remember ô my soule did she not make thee Out of Dianaes ribbes did not that beame Which glisters in thy spirit like Ioues-eie-gleame Reflect from Vestaes face vpon thy heart Like Phoebus brow the pride of heauens art O thou that mak'st the Via Lactea whiter That virgin-gallery of maiesticke Ioue Faire Iunoes maze to foote it doth delight her The siluer path of heauen and bath of loue There sits the lambe the swanne the turtle doue Ensignes of peace of faith and chastitie O siluer stage to golden harmonie That quire of saints in virgin-ornament Where Angells sing like queristers of heauen Where all the Martyrs kneele the element Where Cynthiaes robe and great Apolloes steauen Hangs at the altar of this milken hauen And to conclude not able to begin I write of that which flesh hath neuer seene T was thou ô chastitie m'eternall eie The want of thee made my ghost reele to hell T was thou ô chastitie that guild'st the skie With beames of vertue it is thou dost dwell In that white-milken-christall-siluer cell Thou laundresse to the gods aud goddesses Washing their soules in fonts of holinesse O thou that deckst our Phoebus in the East Circling his temples with spirituall beames And guides his vestall chariot to the west Through that pure christall tracke of lacteall streames Siluering his wheeles with alablaster gleames Then tempring the bright porphurie of his face With chaste Endimions blush the die of grace That doing dutie to his father Ioue Vpon his knee of fire bids him arise And blessing all his beames with kissing loue Like a maiesticke father guilds his eies To adde a rarer shine vnto the skies Then takes his chariot with a brighter pride And cries alowd S. Vesta be my guide S. Vesta O thou sanctifying Saint That lends a beame vnto the cleerest Sunne Which els within his fiery course would faint And end his race ere he had halfe begun Making the world beleeue his power were done His oyle burnt out his lampe returnde to slime His fires extinguishde by the breath of time O thou the pearle that hangs on Iunoes brow Like to the Moone the massie pearle of night Thou iewel in the eare of Ioue to show The pride of loue the puritie of light Thou Atlas of both worlds vmpire of right Thou hauen of heauen th'assigner of each signe Sanctities saint Diuinities diuine O thou the siluer taper of the Moone Set in an alablaster candlesticke That by the bed of heauen at afternoone Stands like a lillie which faire virgins picke To match it with the lillie of their cheeke Thou lillie lambe thou christall fether'd doue That nestles in the pallace of thy Ioue O touch my veins againe thou bloud diuine O feede my spirit thou foode angelicall And all chaste functions with my soule combine Colour my ghost with chastitie whose All Feedes fat leane Death and time in generall Come siluer doue heauens alablaster nunne I le hugge thee more then euer I haue donne Lucrece alas thou picture of thy selfe Drawne poore and pale by that old painter time And ouerdasht by Death that meagre elfe Which dries our element of bloud to thime And tempreth our old ashes with new slime Lucrece I say how canst thou Lucrece bee Wanting a God to giue a life to thee Bleede no more lines my heart this Knife my pen This bloud my incke hath writ enough to Lust Tarquin to thee thou very diuell of men I send these lines thou art my fiend of trust To thee I dedicate my toombe of dust To thee I consecrate this little-Most Writ by the bloudy fingers of my Ghost This little scrole of fire that burnes my hand In repetition of thy fiery name I fold vpon my heart my bloudy land And to thy ghost my ghost doth send the same Intituled The lines of bloud and flame The Ghost of Lucrece that 's the Ghost of bloud The Ghost of Tarquin that 's the fiery floud Now for thy title and deserued stile In dedication to thy worthinesse To thee the second of Cocytus I le Chiefe senior to the Phlegetonticke messe High steward vnto Plutoes holinesse Temprer of flames the L. Tysiphonie My bloudy fires begs patronage of thee Now lacke I nothing but the post of hell To flie like Vestaes arrow from my bow With these my red hot newes and then to tell How many times my heart did ebbe and flow Like seas with teares aboue and bloud below And from poore Lucrece mouth tell Tarquin thus That Philomel hath writ to Tyreus Here stops the streame of tragicke bloud and fire And now Melpomene hales my spirit in The stage is downe and Philomelaes quire Is husht from prick-song Acherons bells begin To call our ghosts clad in the spirits of sin Now Tyreus meets with rauishde Philomel Lucrece with Tarquin in the haule of hell FINIS The Epilogue RHamnusia in a chariot of Reuenge Heapt vp with Ghosts of bloud and spirits of fire Hath pilde vp Lucrece Ghost so to auenge Her chaste vntimely bloud of flamde desire Now at the barre of hell Reuenges quire Pleades Lucrece with a tongue of teares and blouds First speakes her heart and then her eies in flouds Can death that shrimpe of spirits that bonie wretch That meagre-element that begger god From Lucrece skie such heauenly colours fetch From beauties wrist to wrest that golden rod Which makes all red and white dispearse abroad Deaths power is come and beauties triumph past She was as chast as faire as faire as chast Her haire which in Arachnes finest loome Was kist with siluer shickles O that haire Which made Collatium shine in spight of Rome Keaming her trefses like Ioues golden heire He made Rome bright she made Collatium faire breath That haire which daunc'st in beames before her Serues now to stuffe the gaping ribbes of death Her eies the curious fabricke of her world Apolloes touchstones where he tride his beames And when her eies outmatcht his fires he hurld His crowne of splendour into quenching streames Raging to see beauties enrowled theames Writ in her eie-rowles but alas those eies Which liu'de in beautie now in beautie dies Her tongue which Orpheus tunde beforehe dide And strung before he â—ouâ—nied vnto hell That new Pernassus by a riuers side Where musicke soiournes and the Muses dwell O tongue of hers Dianaes siluer bell That rung chaste praiers to the church of heauen Now she of it and it of her bereauen Her breath which had a violet perfume Tempred with rose alverdure O her breath Through discorde of her tongne did all consume Vnto the ayre of earth she did bequeath That pension of her life from life to death How ill was this best owde on Death that elfe Which robs all others yet still poore it selfe Her teates twixt whom an alablaster bridge Parts each from other like two christall bowles Standing aloofe vpon the bodies ridge Beares chastities white Nectar-flowing soules O valley deckt with Floraes siluer roules Why giuest thou suck to death it wil be fed For know death must not die till all be dead And to conclude her all in euery sphaere That like the Sunne on christall elements Did shine in cleerenesse bright in brightnesse cleere Her head her skies her soule her firmaments Now staind by death before by rauishments First Tarquin-life clad her in deaths array Now Tarquin-death hath stolne her life away FINIS
THE GHOST of Lucrece By T. M. Gent. AT LONDON Printed by Valentine Simmes 1600. TO THE RIGHT HONOrable and my very bountiful good Lord my Lord Compton T. M. wisheth the fruit of eternall fruition Comptus honos honor est Comptono Compton honore THou that rock'st comely honour in thine armes Thou patrâ—â— to the child-house of my vayne Thou hiue vnto the Museshony swarmes And Godfather to th' issue of my braine To thee Baptizer of mine infant lines With golden water in a siluer Font Thy bountie gold thy fingerâ— siluer twines Siluering my papers inke as they were wont To thee the bloudy Christall of a Ghost Wrapt in a fierie web I spin to thee To thee the thawer of Dianaes frost Tarquin the hotte in Lucrece Tragedie To thee I consecrate these ashie fires She quencht in bloud he burnt in his desires Bound by your Ho. bounty T. M. Castissimo purissimoque Lucretiae Spiritui Thomas Medius Grauis Tonus primum Surge vociferat Tu castitatis imago Surgito Tarquinium Phlegetontis imagine notuÌ„ Noscito Tu caeptis nam te mutauit illum Adspirato meis postremo tempore mundi Ad su a perpetuum deducito crimina carmen Castissimo Spiritui tuo addictissimus T. M. The Prologue REach me a quill from the white Angells wings My paper from the Via Lactea My inck from Ioues-high Nectar-flowing-springs My Muse from Vesta Awake Rhamnusia Call vp the Ghost of gor'de Lucretia Thrice hath the trumpet of my pens round stage Sounded a Surge to her bloudie age Sad spirits soft harts sicke thoughts soules sod in teares Wel humourd eies quicke eares teare-wounded faces Enrouled-Vestals Dians Hemispheres Rape-slaughtered Lucreces all martyrde Graces Be ye the audience take your tragicke places Here shal be plaide the miseries that immures Pure Diamond hearts in Christal couertures Black spirits hard harts thick thoughts souls boild in lust Drie fierie eies dull eares high bloudy lookes Made of hot earth moulded in fire and dust Desires true Graduates reade in Tarquins bookes Be ye our stages Actors play the Cookes Carue out the daintiest morsel that 's your part With lust-keene Faulchon euen in Lucrace heart Now weepeth Lucrece with a trine of eies Quenching the fire of Lust with teares and bloud Changing those eie-lampes which were wont to rise Like beames of morning to a mourning clowde Her heart the purest eie to a redde-sea-floude Her ghost the Idea of her soule resumes Which Phoenix-wise burnes in her owne perfumes THE GHOST of Lucrece MEdeas Magicke and Calipsoes drugges Circes enchauntments Hecates triforme Weanes my soule sucking at Reuenges dugges To feed vpon the aire What wind what storme Blew my disseuered limmes into this forme And from the Virgin-Paradise of death Coniures my Ghost with poetizing breath The candle of my shame burnes in the skie Set on the crosse-Poles of the firmament To feare away diuine Virginitie And light this world below that being bent To follow me they goe not as I went But when I hope to see the candle waine Then Tarquins spirit falls on the snuffe againe So that the snuffe the sauour of my shame That stinckes before the throne of chastitie Is still rekindled with veneriall flame To shew that Tarquins planet plants in me The roote of fierie bloud and luxurie First forcing with his breath one flames retire Then takes my bloud for oyle his lust for fire Now burnes the beacon of my soule indeede Too high for fame but low enough for fume Saints keep your cloister-house Vesta make speede Take in thy flowers for feare the fire consume Thy eternall-sweete-Virginitie-perfume For Lust and Bloud are mingled in one lampe To seale my soule with Rape and Murders stampe Before my shame yon candle had no fire Vestals nil feard me the world saw me not Shame was the tinder and the flint desire That strucke in Tarquins bosome and begot A childe of fire a firebrand and so hot That it consumde my chastitie to dust And on my heart painted the mouth of lust Was I the cradle O my chastitie To rocke and lull this bastard firebrand Nâ—rst with my bloud we and with my tragedie Fed at my kniues sharpe point vpon my hand Borne and reborne where ere my spirites stand I was the cradleâ— see the fieâ—…e dart That burnes Dianaes temples in my heart Behold this blade varnisht with bloud and teares Bloud from my heart teares from my stilling eies Behold I say this knife whereon appeares Vestaes Vermision melting from her skies And teares of pearles in bloudy misteries This is the Tragicke knife here you may see Teares striue for fame and bloud for chastitie Right hand thou act'st Reuenges hand aright This knife and thou haue sworne to kisse my breast Thou art my Vestaes antidote to fright Lust from the bed of Colatinus rest Performer of thy vow hand be thou blest For thou in this hast showne me what thou art Driuing the foe from scaling of my heart Come spirit of fire bred in a wombe of bloud Forgd in a furnace by the Smith of hell Begot and formed in that burning floud Where Plutoes Phlegetonticke tennants dwell And scalded spirits in their fiery cell Breathes from their soule the flame of luxurie From that luxurious clime I coniure thee Now is my tyde of bloud Come quench thy soule The sluces of my spirit now runs againe Come I haue made my breast an luorie bowle To hold the bloud that streameth from my veyne Drinke to my chastitie which thou hast slaine But woe the while that labour is in vaine To drinke to that which cannot pledge againe Quaffe thine owne fill and let that lustfull flame That circuits in the circle of thy spirite Pledge thy desire carowsing off my shame Which swimmes amidst my bloud and doth inherite The portion of my soule without a merite And if this spring of bloud cannot suffize I le raine downe teares from my Elementall eies Thou art my nurse-child Tarquin thou art he In steede of milke sucke bloud and teares and all In liew of teats Lucrece thy nurse euen she By tragicke art seene through a Christall wall Hath carued with her knife thy festiuall Here 's bloud for milke sucke till thy veines run ouer And such a teat which scarce thy mouth can couer Tarquin the rauisher oh at that name See how mine eies dissolueth into teares Tarquin the Roman I describe my shame Frorm Rome it came a Romane name it beares Tarquin my guest lo here began my feares Tarquin from Ardea postes hence sprang the fire For Ardeas name sounds ardent hot desire Tarquin my kinsman O Diuinitie Where art thou fled hast thou for sooke thy sphaere Where 's Vertue Knight-hood and Nobilitie Faith Honor Pietie they should be neere For kinsman sounds all these they are not here Tarquin my kinsman was it thou didst come To sacke my Colatines Collatium Tarquin my kinsman too vnkindly done And by a kinsman too my Ghost auers it Doth theresore that same