Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	bright_a	eye_n	good_a	46	3	2.1034	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A96974	Parnassus biceps. Or Severall choice pieces of poetry, composed by the best wits that were in both the universities before their dissolution. With an epistle in the behalfe of those now doubly secluded and sequestred Members, by one who himselfe is none.	Wright, Abraham, 1611-1690.	1656 (1656)	Wing W3686; Thomason E1679_1; ESTC R204146	62,203	178

So mayest thou still enjoy with full content Midas his wish without his punishment 8. All this can Sack and more then this Sack can Give me a fickle man That would be somewhat faine but knows not what There is a cure for that Let him quaffe freely of this powerfull flood He shall be what he would To all our wishes Sack content does bring And but our selves can make us every thing An Epitaph on some bottles of Sack and Claret laid in sand ENter and see this tomb Sirs doe not fear No spirits but of Sack will fright you here Weep ore this tomb your waters here may have Wine for their sweet companion in this grave A dozen Shakespears here inter'd doe lye Two dozen Johnsons full of Poetry Unhappy Grapes could not one pressing doe But now at last you must be buried too T were commendable sacriledge no doubt Could I come at your graves to steal you out Sleep on but scorne to dye immortall liquor The burying of thee thus shall make thee quicker Mean while thy friends pray loud that thou maist have A speedy resurrection from thy grave How to choose a Mistresse HEr for a Mistresse would I faine enjoy That hangs out lip and pouts at every toy Speaks like a wag is bold dares stoutly stand And bids love welcome with a wanton hand If she be modest wise and chast of life Hang her she 's good for nothing but a wife Vpon a Picture BEhold those faire eyes in whose sight Sparkles a lustre no lesse bright Then that of rising Stars when they Would make the night outshine the day To those pure lips the humming be May as to blooming Roses flee The wanton wind about doth hurle Courting in vaine that lovely curle And makes a murmure in despaire To dally the unmooved haire View but the cheeks where the red Rose And Lilly white a beauty growes So orient as might adorne The flowing of the brightest morne Sure 't is no Picture nere was made So much perfection in a shade Her shape is soule enough to give A sencelesse Marble power to live If this an Idoll be no eye Can ever scape Idolatry On Ladies Attire YOu Ladies that wear Cypresse vailes Turn'd lately to white linnen rayles And to your girdles wear your bands And shew your armes instead of hands What could you doe in Lent so meet As fittest dresse to wear a sheet T was once a band t is now a cloak A acorne one day proves a oak Weare but your linnens to your feet And then the band will be a sheet By which device and wise excesse You doe your pennance in a dresse And none shall know by what they see Which Ladies censur'd and which free The Answer BLack Cypresse vailes are shrowds of night White linnen railes are rayes of light Which to our girdles though we wear We have armes to keep your hands off there Who makes our bands to be our cloak Makes John a stiles of John a noak We wear our linnen to our feet Yet need not make our band our sheet Your Clergy wear as long as we Yet that implies conformity Be wise recant what you have writ Least you doe pennance for your wit And least loves charmes doe weave a string To tye you as you did your ring On a Gentlewoman that had the Small-Pox A Beauty smoother then the Ivory plaine Late by the Pox injuriously was slaine T was not the Pox love shot a thousand darts And made those pits for graves to bury hearts But since that beauty hath regaind its light Those hearts are doubly slaine it shines so bright On a faire Gentlewomans blistered lip HIde not your sprouting lip nor kill The juicie bloom with bashfull skill Know it is an amorous dew That swells to court your corall hew And what a blemish you esteem To other eyes a Pearl may seem Whose watry growth is not above The thrifty seize which Pearls doe love And doth so well become that part That chance may seem a secret art Doth any judge the face lesse faire Whose tender silk a moral doth bear Are apples thought lesse sound and sweet When honey specks and red doe meet Or will a Diamond shine lesse clear If in the midst a soile appear Then is your lip made fairer by Such sweetnesse of deformity The Nectar which men strive to sip Springs like a well upon your lip Nor doth it shew immodesty But overflowing chastity O who will blame the fruitfull trees When too much gum or sap he sees Here nature from her store doth send Onely what other parts can lend If lovely buds ascend so high The root below cannot be dry To his Mistresse KEepe on your mask and hide your eye For in beholding you I dye Your fatall beauty Gorgon-like Dead with astonishment doth strike Your piercing eyes that now I see Are worse then Basilisks to me Shut from mine eyes those hills of snow Their melting vally doe not shew Those azure pathes lead to dispaire Oh vex me not forbear forbear For while I thus in torments dwell The sight of Heaven is worse then Hell In those faire cheeks two pits doe lye To bury those slaine by your eye So this at length doth comfort me That fairely buried I shall be My grave with Roses Lillies spread Methinks t is life for to be dead Come then and kill me with your ●ye For if you let me live I dye When I perceive your lips againe Recover those your eyes have slaine With kisses that like balsome pure Deep wounds as soon as made doe cure Methinks t is sicknesse to be sound And there 's no health to such a wound When in your bosome I behold Two hills of snow yet never cold Which lovers whom your beauty kills Revive by climing those your hills Methinks there 's life in such a death That gives a hope of sweeter breath Then since one death prevailes not where So many Antidotes are nere And your bright eyes doe but in vaine Kill those who live as fast as slaine That I no more such death survive Your way 's to bury me alive In place unknown and so that I Being dead may live and living dye A lover to one dispraising his Mistresse WHy slight you her whom I approve Thou art no peere to try my love Nor canst discerne where her forme lies Unlesse thou sawest her with my eyes Say she were foule or blacker then The night or Sun burnt African If lik't by me 't is I alone Can make a beauty where there 's none For rated in my fancy she Is so as she appears to me T is not the feature or a face That doth my faire Election grace Nor is my fancy onely led By a well temper'd white and red Could I enamour'd grow on those The Lilly and the blushing Rose United in one stalk might be As dear unto my thoughts as she But I look farther and doe find A richer beauty in her mind Where something is so lasting

or touch That were grosse superstition we know There is no more power in them then the Popes toe The Saints themselves for us can doe no good Muchless their pictures drawn in glass and wood They cannot seale but since they signifie They may be worthy of a cast o th' eye Although no worship that is due alone Not to the Carpenters but Gods own Sonne Obedience to blocks deserves the rod The Lord may well be then a jealous God Why should not Statues now be due to Paul As to the Caesars of the Capitall How many Images of great heires which Had nothing but the sin of being rich Shine in our Temples kneeling alwayes there Where when they were alive they d scarce appear Yet shall Christs Sepulcher have nere a Tomb Shall every Saint suffer John Baptists doom No limb of Mary stand must we forget Christs cross as soon as past the Alphabet Shall not their heads have room in the window who Founded our Church and our Religion too We know that Gods a Spirit we confesse Thoughts cannot comprehend his name muchless Can a small glasse his nature but since he Vouchsaf'd to suffer his humanity Why may not we onely to puts in mind Of his Godhead have his manhood thus enshrind Is our Kings person lesse esteemd because We read him in our Coynes as well as Laws Doe what we can whether we think or paint All Gods expressions are but weak and faint Yet spots in Globes must not be blotted thence That cannot shew the worlds magnificence Nor is it fit we should the skill controul Because the Artist cannot draw the soul Cease then your railings and your dull complaints To pull down Galleries and set up Saints Is no impiety now we may well Say that our Church is truely visible Those that before our glasse scaffolds prefer Would turne our Temple to a theater Windows are Pulpits now though unlearnd one May read this Bibles new Edition Instead of here and there a verse adornd Round with a lace of paint fit to be scornd Even by vulgar eyes each pane presents Whole chapters with both comment and contents The cloudy mysteries of the Gospel here Transparent as the Christall doe appear T is not to see things darkly through a glasse Here you may see our Saviour face to face And whereas Feasts come seldome here 's descride A constant Chrismas Easter Whitsontide Let the deafe hither come no matter though Faiths sence be lost we a new way can shew Here we can teach them to believe by the eye These silenced Ministers doe edify The Scriptures rayes contracted in a Glasse Like Emblems doe with greater vertue passe Look in the book of Martyrs and you le see More by the Pictures then the History That price for things in colours oft we give Which wee 'd not take to have them while they live Such is the power of painting that it makes A loving sympathy twixt men and snakes Hence then Pauls doctrin may seem more divine As Amber through a Glasse doth clearer shine Words passe away as soon as heard are gone We read in books what here we dwell upon Thus then there 's no more fault in Imagry Then there is in the Practise of piety Both edifie what is in letters there Is writ in plainer Hierogliphicks here T is not a new Religion we have chose T is the same body but in better cloaths You le say they make us gaze when we should pray And that our thoughts doe on the figures stray If so you may conclude us beasts what they Have for their object is to us the way Did any ere use prospectives to see No farther then the Glasse or can there be Such lazy travellers so given to sin As that they le take their dwelling at the Inne A Christians sight rests in Divinity Signes are but spectacles to help faiths ey● God is the Center dwelling one these words My muse a Sabbath to my brain affords If their nice wits more solemn proof exact Know this was meant a Poem not a Tract An ELEGIE Vpon the death of Sir John Burrowes Slaine at the Isle of Ree OH wound us not with this sad tale forbear To press our grief too much we cannot hear This all at once such heavy newes as these Must be sunk gently into us by degrees Say Burrowes is but hurt let us disgest This first then try our patience for the rest Practise us first in lighter griefes that we May grow at last strong for this Tragedy Doe not speak yet he 's slaine or if he be Speak 't in a whisper or uncertainty As some new unauthoriz'd buzze without Reason or warrant to confirme our doubt Come t is not so t is but some flying talk Newes lately vented in the audacious walk Some lye that 's drapt in Pauls to stur our fears And gatherd by the busie credulous eares Will you believe ought comes from thence why there The Forts surrendred and the Rochellere Sworne English Tillyes slaine the hostile Kings Closed in our siege with such prodigious things Which your perswaded vulgar takes and sends Abroad as tokens to their country friends Are all these wonders false and onely this True mongst so many impossibilities Where truth is worse then any forgery There we may curse his mouth that doth not lye When fame goes off with such a black report Worse then the murthering Canon from the fort Worse then the shot that killd him for but one Was killd with that this kills a Nation I le not believe it yet doe we not know An envious murder fam'd him dead ere now Receiv'd went into Ballads and almost Clap'd in Caranto's upon every post Why should he not now dye in jest as then And we as haply be mock'd agen But t is too certaine here his Coarse we have Come ore to prove his death and ask a Grave A Grave for his good service onely thus Must we reward thee that wast slaine for us To mourn and bury thee and would our fears As soon were clos'd too as thy dust and tears I would thou mightst dye wholly here and be Forgotten rather then our misery Should urge thy fresh remembrance and recall Our sorrows often to lament thy fall When we shall say hereafter t is well seen Burrowes is dead else this had never been Why did we thus expose thee what 's now all That Island to requite thy Funerall Though thousand troops of murdered French doe lye It may revenge it cannot satifie They are before hand still and when we have done Our worst we are loosers though the Fort be won Our conquerers now will weep when they shall see This price too dear to buy a victory He whose brave fire gave heat to all the rest That dealt his spirits in each English breast From whose divided vertues you might take So many Captaines out and fully make Them each accomplisht with those parts the which Did joyntly his rare furnish'd soule enrich He whose

Cloak And many a beaker of bear in your Cloak And yet I stand in fear of your Cloak That I shall be nere the near for your Cloak Therefore good Sir forbear the Cloak For though I have worn bare the Cloak I had rather for to tear the Cloak Then see another wear the Cloak Your friend in truth till death me choak If you will let me have the Cloak Loves Courtship HArk my Flora Love doth call us To the strife that must befall us He hath rob'd his mothers Myrtles And hath puld her downy Turtles See our geniall posts are crownd And our beds like billowes rise Softer lists are no where found And the strife its selfe 's the prize Let not shades and dark affright thee Thy eyes have lustre that will light thee Think not any can surprize us Love himselfe doth now disguise us From thy wast that girdle throw Night and silence both wait here Words or actions who can know Where there 's neither eye nor eare Shew thy bosome and then hide it Licence touching and then chide it Profer something and forbear it Give a grant and then forswear it Ask where all my shame is gone Call us wanton wicked men Doe as Turtles kisse and grone Say thou nere shalt joy againe I can hear thee curse yet chase thee Drink thy tears and still embrace thee Easie riches are no treasure She that 's willing spoiles the pleasure Love bids learn the wrestlers slight Pull and struggle when we twine Let me use my force to night The next conquest shall be thine Vpon the death of the Lord Stafford the last of his name MUst then our loves be short still must we chuse Not to enjoy only admire loose Must axiomes hence grow sadly understood And we thus see t is dangerous to be good So books begun 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 are not owners yet But as in books that want the closing line We onely can conjecture and repine So must we here 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 wrinkles see When his State-nonage might have been thought fit To break the custome and allowed to sit His actions veiled his age and could not stay For that we call ripenesse and just day Others may wait the staffe and the gray haire And call that wisdome which is onely fear Christen a coldnesse temperance and then boast Full and ripe vertue when all actions lost This is not to be noble but be slack A Stafford ne're was good by the Almanack He who thus stayes the season and expects Doth not gaine habits but disguise defects Here nature outslips culture he came tried Straight of himselfe at first not rectified Manners so pleasing and so handsome cast That still that overcame which was shewn last All minds were captived thence as if 't had been The same to him to have been loved and seen Had he not been snatch'd thus what drive hearts now Into his nets would have driven Cities too For these his essayes which began to win Were but bright sparks which shewed the mine within Rude draughts unto the Picture things we may Stile the first beams of the increasing day Which did but onely great discoveries bring As outward coolenesse shews 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 appear When you observ'd view'd close and did stand near For could there ought else spring from him whose line From which he sprung was rule and discipline Whose vertues were as books 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 big-lip known Others by imprinted burning swords were shown So they by great deeds are from which bright fame Engraves free reputation on their name These are their native marks and it hath been The Staffords lot to have their signes within And though this firme hereditatry good Might boasted be as flowing with the blood Yet he ne're graspt this stay but as those who Carry perfumes about them still scarce doe Themselves perceive them though anothers sence Suck in the exhaling odour so he thence Ne're did perceive he carried this good smell But made new still by doing himselfe well To imbalme him then is vaine where spreading fame Supplies the want of spices where the name It selfe preserving may for ointment passe And he still seen lie coffind as in glasse Whiles thus his bud dims full flowers and his sole Beginning doth reproach anothers whole Coming so perfect up that there must needs Have been found out new titles for new deeds Though youth and lawes forbid which will not let Statues be rais'd or him stand brasen yet Our minds retaines this royalty of Kings Not to be bound to time but judge of things And worship as they merit there we doe Place him at height and he stands golden too A comfort but not equall to the crosse A faire remainder but not like the losse For he that last pledge being gone we doe Not onely loose the heir but the honour too Set we up then this boast against our wrong He left no other signe that he was young And spight of fate his living vertues will Though he be dead keep up the Barony still Vpon the same UNequall nature that dost load not pair Bodies with souls to great for them to bear As some put extracts that for soules may passe Still quickning where they are in frailer glasse Whose active generous spirits scorne to live By such weak means and slight preservative So high borne minds whose dawnings like the day In torrid climes cast forth a full-noon ray Whose vigorous brests inherit throngd in one A race of soules by long succession And rise in their descents in whom we see Entirely summ'd a new born ancestry These soules of fire whose eager thoughts alone Create a feaver or consumption Orecharge their bodies labring in the strife To serve so quick and more then mortall life Where every contemplation doth oppresse Like fits of the Calenture and kills no lesse Goodnesse hath its extreams as well as sin And brings as vice death and diseases in This was thy fate great Stafford thy fierce speed T' out-live thy years 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