Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	day_n	die_v	know_v	6,084	5	3.8545	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A67530	The wealthy shop-keeper, or, The charitable citizen a poem.	Ward, Edward, 1667-1731.	1700 (1700)	Wing W766; ESTC R33543	6,562	18

And scarlet Fevers in their Cheeks arise Whilst the three Topicks of their sensless Chat Is first of Trade Religion then the State Which they with wild Conceits unmercifully Bait. When each grave Toper has imbib'd his Quart Their dividends they pay shake Hands and part Now to his Turkish Soop again he comes To qualifie the Wine 's aspiring Fumes Then home he Jogs talks smutty to his Maid Eats a slight Supper prays and so to Bed Thus he by Rule compleats each Days design Has Hours for Coffee bus'ness and for Wine And does the whole dispatch before Bow-Bell rings Nine Cunning Success Severity and Care A Trader's Friends and best Supporters are For City-Knaves their Ill-got Wealth possess By swallowing Fools as greater Fish the less CANTO IV. Now Old his Conscience to himself looks black And Pain and Sorrow bend his Aged Back Decay in ev'ry feeble Limb appears Whilst he bemoans the number of his Years He Sighs and does with wishful Eyes behold His Piles of Silver and vast Sums of Gold But with an anxious Breast and troubled Thought Groaning remembers how 't was basely got The Curses of old Age the Gout and Stone Torment the Wretch for the past Ills he'as done Who for sweet Ease sollicits Heav'n in vain And grows almost a Christian thro' his Pain Still greater Mis'ries ev'ry Hour accrue And the pale Foe draws nearer to his view His Nerves grow weak and his Distempers strong His Intervals more short his Pains more long His fleshy Sides from City Banquets drawn He finds consum'd into a Skeleton His Appetite is gone his Breath grown short And all his lively Thoughts turn'd al-a-mort Thus in these Conflicts he begins to Rave Devided 'twixt his Treasure and the Grave Have I my Life in Care and Slav'ry spent And all my restless Thoughts t'wards Riches bent Where 's my Physician let him ease my Cough And give me strength be shall have Gold enough Will nothing help me in my painful Fits Physick and Riches both alas are Cheats But shou'd I die O how shall I attone For all the Ills and Knav'ries I have done To those I 've wrong'd what Measures shall I take To own my Guilt and Restitution make Many alas are Strangers others dead Some Broke and into distant Regions fled No 't is impossible the more 's my Woe To those I 've injur'd I should Justice do There is but one way left as I conceive My Soul from threat'ning Vengeance to retrieve I must my Ill-got Wealth to Pious uses leave Send for the Scriv'ner Oh! it breaks my Heart Alas dear Gold that thee and I must part The Scribe approaches arm'd with pointed Quill Bows Lies and says he 's sorry he 's so Ill. After some Talk does all his Tools provide Draws near the dying Penitent's Bed-side Takes his last Testament by slow degrees The Heads and Purport being chiefly these Imprimis I bequeath Five hundred Pound To buy near London such a Lay-stale Ground Item Two Thousand Pounds I do allot To build an Alms-house on th' aforesaid Spot Contriv'd commodiously to entertain Twenty Old Women and as many Men. Item Ten Thousand Pounds I give which shall Endow my House of Charity withal Blue Gowns Shifts Coals and Candles to provide And every one a Groat a Day beside Item Five hundred Pounds with good intent I give to beautifie the Monument And that the Mad Folks may be kept more neat Five hundred more to make new Bedlam sweet Item Two thousand Pounds with good design I do bequeath to make Paul's work more fine Item To th' Blue-Coat Hospital I give Two hundred Pounds that my good Name may live And place amongst their Benefactors have Hoping their Boys will sing me to my Grave Item Ten Pounds I order to be paid To each Man Servant Twenty to my Maid For the great Care she 'as in my Sickness shown And other Reasons to my self best known Item Three hundred Pounds I freely give Amongst the Poor within the Ward I live A Gown and Cassock to the Parish-Priest For his kind Promise of eternal Rest. A B C D Exec'tors I appoint Of this my Last and only Testament That they with all exactness may fulfil Each part and Clause of this my dying Will. When Hand and Seal has giv'n it lawful force Next Day he changes and becomes much worse Too weak to stir he raves upon his Back Death why so pale and Conscience why so black Where am I going Prithee Nurse more Air Methinks I'm sinking down the Lord knows where He gasps and stretches strives but cannot rise Then ruttles in the Throat and rowls his Eyes Thus leaves his ill-got Treasure and dispairing dies FINIS