Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A10473
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The life and death of Gamaliell Ratsey a famous theefe of England, executed at Bedford the 26. of March last past, 1605.
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Ratsey, Gamaliel, d. 1605. Repentance.
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1605
(1605)
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STC 20753; ESTC S102571
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24,142
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47
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brought downe to the place of Iudgement where they shewed themselues so valiant that they thrust twelue men into a corner who sound them all guiltie for the Robberie committed in Bedfordshire vppon the Gentleman and his Brother And they were sent away from the Barre with the dolefull sentence of Lord haue mercie vpon you And the seauen and twentie day of March last they were all Executed in Bedford aforesaid Ratseys repentance which he wrote with his owne hand when hee was in New-gate THe silent night had shadowed euerie Tree And Phoebus in the west was shrowded lowe Each Hiue had home her busie labouring Bee And Birds their nightly harbour gan to knowe And all things did from wearie labour linne When I began to way my state and sinne Men worne with worke betooke them to their rest The sunne had left to shew his glorious beames Titan had fully hid him in the West To coole the set lockes of his wearie teames When sunke with sorrow beeing captiuate I shed foorth teares lamenting much my state My head on hand my elboe on my knee And teares did trickle downe my countâ—nance than My countenance as sad as mans might bee My dumps befitting well a captiue man Fetter'd in Prison passionate alone My sighs wrought teares and thus I gan to moane I that of late did liue a Souldiers life And spent my seruice in my countries good Now captiue lie where nought but cares are rife Where is no hope but losse of deerest blood This is befall'n mee cause I did mispend That time which God to better vse did lend Sigh for my musicke is a Syrens song A faire deceipt to shadow men in griefe Did I say fayre Alas I call'd it wrong Vlisses knew the Syrens daungers chiefe Was when she sung to lull a man a sleepe Then fashion'd shee to sing to make men weepe Deceauing Syrens Syrens all to mee A shining shadowe but a dreame of gloâ—de A bayte a trappe I blinde and could not see A dangerous pray and I both fond and bolde Would venture all all for a worthles toye And so I left and lost my chiefest ioye Had I but stopt mine eares when Syrens sung And bound my selfe vnto Vlisses mast Or had I thought alas I am but young Too much is all to venture on a cast I might haue liu'd and from all dangers free Where now I dye for life is not for me But I did follow what I knew was vaine Insteed of vertue I did vice imbrace My former pleasures now procure my paine And cause I lackt one sparke of timely grace The poysoned Aconite of death and woe Resolues to send a fatall ouerthrowe This makes mines eyes to gush out floods of teares My flesh to melt my vaines and artirs rend My soule to seeke redresse to cure her feares For now my cause cannot affoord one friend I that of late did number many friends Nowe finde them fled and no man comfort lends The leaueles tree with wrath of Winters winde Best represents my wretched wasting state Fortune the winde the leaues my friends I finde My selfe the Tree that thus am crost by fate And yet in this we greatly differ may That it reuiues and I still pine away I cannot speake but kill my selfe with words I cannot thinke but I my conscience wounde Law stabbes me still in euery part with swords Iustice commaunds in fetters I bee bound And for I haue been graceles griefes doe spring My daies misled my present cares doe bring Confounding sadnes like a loade of leade Chilles all my blood and makes my sinewes shrinke Reuenge quoth wrong let rigour stand in stead Death filles the Cup and saies that I must drinke This makes me pleade this makes me call and cry To heauens great King for mercie ere I die I all confus'd and in confusion wrapt Implore Gods mercy prostrate on my face Youngling I was and nouice-like intrapt Repentance true away shall follies chase Forgiue Oh heauens th'iniquities of youth Doe not obiect the faults of my vntruth Villaines avaunt you bastards are by kinde That doe perturbe the Countries quiet state Shame to offend shun a corrupted minde And learne by me your former life to hate Liue of your owne and braue it not with brags Least Law condemne you in your proudest rags Awake for shame and lift your eye-lids vp Sleepe not secure nor dreame of doing wrong If Iustice strike you cannot change her cup Death being done you fall for he is strong And then your course because you did not cease To vexe your King with noubling countries peace Drinke not the Nectar of your Neighbors sweate Steale not at all thy God dooth so commaund Whose lawe to keepe thy Souâ—raigne doth intreate Thy health it is Gods law to vnderstand Obeying God God shall all harmes preuent Keeping Kings Peace thy King is well content Like to the Woolfe in euerie place you range Praying on Lambes that neuer went astray And like Camelions must your suites be strange Who dooth by kinde change colours euery day Without respect forgetting what you bee Masking in sinne as if God could not see Abate presumption sinne is not a iest Though God forbeare yet will he strike at length God made thee man make not thy selfe a beast But seeke to loue thy God with soule and strength Ill got ill spent your hopes in Theft pretended Are griefe and shame and life in sorrowes ended Your chiefe desires to fill your pursse with golde By hooke and crooke all careles of regarde You count him best that Bayardlike is bolde For such desires sharpe reckonining is prepâ—rde Leaue then to sinne so may you scape that fall Which following vice you cannot shun at all Mad is the minde that still in dangers stray Iron his heart whose gaine is others woe Solde is his soule whome Sathan leades away His path distruction where so ere he goe Solde solde for drosse Oh bee not so deceau'd Hell gapes soule sincks of heauenly ioyes bereau'd It 's I inuect knowes what infection is And loues effect that makes me thus to warne Take what I giue for good confection t is By my downe-fall far better may you learne Least all to late you weepe as well as I In deathes deepe griefe expecting still to die My sorrowing sobbes with teares redeeme what 's past Or slouds of teares suffice for fore-done ills Beholde my lookes with discontent ore cast Whose heart dooth rend whose eyes fresh fountaines sâ—â—ls And yet all this and all that I can doe Is small to that which I haue neede to doe My soule shall mourne for all my ill-done deedes And I will weepe sole Author of soules woe Repentance shall be my blacke mourning weedes I le bathe my selfe in teares from top to toe And while life is which cannot now belong Graunt mercie Lord this shall be all my song My heart through flesh shall issue sweating griefe And scald my bones with salt and brinish teares Through flesh and bone my