Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	die_v	end_n	life_n	13,615	5	4.8465	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A70171	Miscellany poems upon several occasions consisting of original poems / by the late Duke of Buckingham, Mr. Cowly, Mr. Milton, Mr. Prior, Mrs. Behn, Mr. Tho. Brown, &c. ; and the translations from Horace, Persius, Petronius Arbiter, &c. ; with an essay upon satyr, by the famous M. Dacier.	Buckingham, George Villiers, Duke of, 1628-1687.; Cowley, Abraham, 1618-1667.; Milton, John, 1608-1674.; Behn, Aphra, 1640-1689.; Congreve, William, 1670-1729.; Dacier, André, 1651-1722.; Gildon, Charles, 1665-1724.	1692 (1692)	Wing G733A; ESTC R21564	36,779	146

in his Soul he was and well resolv'd to die Yet does he mean inglorious ways disdain By Famin scorns to linger out in Pain Or with vile poisonous Dregs his manly Visage stain But as he ever Honour's Course did run In Death to finish what his Life begun With Roman Courage did his Fate obey Which ever led to Death the noblest way By falling thus he has acquir'd a Name Out-vying Cato's in the List of Fame For fear of Caesar forc'd to such an end But thus he dy'd and yet was Caesar's Friend A CATCH I. LET the Woman be damn'd a moderate Fate Or dye an old Maid as grey as a Cat That her Lover refuses for want of Estate II. Let her that sets Man like a Beast to be sold And above mettle'd Flesh loves a Lump of dead Gold Look green when she 's young and be poxt when she 's old III. But let those that are wise contemn the dull Store Wives chose by their Weight will be weighty no more If for Gold they will wed for the same they will whore A Letter from Hen. Cr. Esq. to Tho. Ch. Esq. For Women and against Wine MY lovely Ch that takes Delight To spend the silent Hours of Night With sparkling Wine and sprightly Jest And hates the lazy Thoughts of Rest Unbending then with ease thy Cares When drudging Cit to Shop repairs Of thy weak Friend some Pity take Who has not learnt the Art to wake Unskill'd in offring at the Shrine Of thy dear Jovial God of Wine Let him enjoy his little Punk Be Clapt for Sin but not be drunk The Wretch that runs at ev'ry Whore Is often poxt but can't give o're May well be thought a Slave to Passion But yet he acts by Inclination And Pleasures in one Moment gains To countervail an Age of Pains Why should I by your Method live Against my Genius vainly strive This ev'n common Sense destroys This the wise Eunuch well disproves Is 't fit that I who know no Joys Should die ye Gods because she loves Let Venus be at distance drawn To make the nauseous Draught go down As when I drank for red-hair'd Wench Substantial Bowles of lusty Punch Or was there Interest in the Case It might go down without Grimace As lusty Stallion who for Hire Oblig'd to quench some Awker'd Fire Forces himself against Desire And robs from Nature to supply her No more will I pursue your Fashion Nor ever drink by Obligation But seek a softer Recreation Thus though a different way we move Your Passion Wine mine for Love Yet may we as we change our Sphere Like the Twin-Gods meet once a Year An Answer to the foregoing Letter by Tho. Ch. Esq. for Wine WHen lately with some special Friends For Fops and Fools to make amends In Bow-street at a certain House We drank a notable Carouse And whilst Mirth and good Humor lasted The Nights in Joys sublime we wasted Against good Wine cou'd I imagine That you a Satyr wou'd engage in Good Wine that raises us above The most transporting Thoughts of Love Inspires us with great Wit and Sense When Love does ever drain from thence When by indulging over Night Much Wine has cloid the Appetite Next Day a Bumper will restore Correct the Faults o' th Day before But by Experience taught I find It ne'r was so with Womankind Yet Sir I am not in defyance With the soft Sex but in compliance Wou'd kindly take Commiseration On her that had for me a Passion But like a Beau to fawn and wait Is that of all Things that I hate I use a Woman at my Leisure Not make a Business of a Pleasure But you whom Female Chains can fetter I never heard was treated better Or may be of an Amorous League You cannot bear the grand fatigue Something of that I am afraid I 'll tell you what the World has said My Dear it 's credibly reported You want strong Vigor when you sport it In vain you say soft things and tender When 't is a stiff thing that must bend her But yours is such a modest Devil It is afraid to be uncivil And when she wishes for the Blessing You idly stand and praise her Dressing The pretty Cornets on her Head When you should throw her on the Bed The fancied Colours of a Knot When you should be upon the Spot Then with her Fan perhaps you play When you should cool her t'other way These are the Reasons as I ghess That makes you have such ill Success But if by chance you have the Fortune To win the Lady you importune 'T is one you pick up at Hypolito's Whom for a Month or two you follow close And though enjoy'd by half the Town Keeps you at Distance with a Frown Till by persuasive Presents gain'd The mighty Victory 's obtain'd And when you think your self most happy 'T is ten to one the Jade will Clap you Successively my Pleasures move From Love to Wine from Wine to Love Kindly each other they relieve And Change does double Pleasure give Then against Wine be not inveterate Because the other you are better at But use them both and the Delight Will prove your Friend is in the Right A SONG By Henry Cromwel Esq. I. NO no I ne'r shall love thee less For all thy fierce Disdain So fast thy blooming Charms increase Thy sparkling Eyes my Heart oppress Each Glance renews my Pain II. Yet must I Fate like busie Flies Still to thy Brightness turn Pursue thee with my restless Eyes Till as each flaming Blush does rise Insensibly I burn An Invitation to the Musick Meeting By the same I. REturn ah charming Nymphs return To your once-lov'd forsaken Plains Let us no more your Absence mourn But soon resume our pleasing Strains O'r all our useless Instruments unstrung No more your shining Beauties shall be sung II. Come all ye Shepheards to our Groves 'T is here a Glance with ease imparts To the fair Object of your Loves The moving Stories of your Hearts Our Songs and Strings shall favour the Design And every Breast to Tenderness incline VERSES by Madam Behn never before printed On a CONVENTICLE BEhold that Race whence England's Woes proceed The Viper's Nest where all our Mischiefs breed There guided by Inspiration Treason speaks And through the Holy Bag-pipe Legion squeaks The Nation 's Curse Religion's ridicule The Rabble's God the Politicians Tool Scorn of the Wise and Scandal of the Just The Villain 's Refuge and the Womens Lust. VERSES design'd by Mrs. A. Behn to be sent to a fair Lady that desir'd she would absent herself to cure her Love Left unfinish'd IN vain to Woods and Deserts I retire To shun the lovely Charmer I admire Where the soft Breezes do but fann my Fire In vain in Grotto's dark unseen I lie Love pierces where the Sun could never spy No place no Art his Godhead can exclude The Dear Distemper reigns in Solitude Distance alas contributes to my Grief No more

To Lovers thus the happy Night alone For a whole Age of Torments might attone After a Day of Eating which might vie With the Lord Mayors or Shreeval Luxury See where a Drove of envious wishing Freinds Around thy Bed the Bower of Bliss Attends Each squinting Gallant prays thy Place were his And by Delays excel the coming Blyss Sack-posset then while each green Virgin throws Prophetic Stocken at thy patient Nose Sack-posset still and when they that remove Next enter the sweet Sillabub of LOVE Soft Music then thy Laziness must chide And give a fair Excuse to leave the Bride Not wooing Puss can louder Songs compose Nor more diversity of Airs than those Harmonious City-Music such a Bliss 'T were worth the while to marry but for this Nor must you think the Joys should end so soon There 's yet a live-long-heavenly-hony-moon In Wedlocks pleasing Team with equal Law Thy courteous Yoke-fellow must ever draw While Pictures of thy kind laborious Bride Shall still run softly bellowing by thy Side Courtine Since my fair Pack so wondrously does please Thy Shoulders lend and be an Hercules I feel a Load a heavy Hell above For the expected gaudy Heaven of Love How thin would you those Tinsel Pleasures find With which sly jilting Nature bribes Mankind SATED FRVITION does the Bliss destroy And the next Moment knows not the Tumultuous Ioy. Who can reflect without just Rage and Fright And deep regret on such a mean Delight Ye Gods if these Loves highest Banquets be Brutes can love more and better far than we This knew sly Iove who when he left the Skies Chose rather any other Beast's Disguise The Bull nay th'improportionable Swan Much more the lusty Ass can rival Man Who all their Pleasure in Possession find Without the curst Allay and Sting behind As Nature prompts promiscuously they rove And hunt free Ioys through ev'ry Field and grove But in a Pound what Brute wou'd e'n make Love Man Man alone is damn'd to grinding still And in the Prison of his Cage must Bill Like a blind Stallion ever drudges on And gets new Slaves for Wives to ride upon Night-mar'd like me whom gastly Sights persue And scare with her lean Ghost whom once I knew That Sylvia's now no more who big with Charms Dropt a whole Dow'r of Charms within your Arms Loose hangs the Flower lately so fresh and gay And every Tempest bears new Leaves away Unlovely now it flags and overblown And ev'ry Grace and ev'ry Charm is gone Her Tenderness is fond and awkward grows And all her Female Art affected shews True Hag all o're Ugly she grows and old And knowing this turns Jealous and a Scold Fletcher's Wife-tamer durst not dare to love her Xantippe was a Patient Grizel to her Each Look each Step I tread's by her survey'd She haunts me like my Conscience or my shade Expects t' a Statue I should constant prove And daily damns my unperforming Love When e'r for Quiets-sake she hooks me in What Mummy looks so dreadful as her Face Heavens how she ruffles in her Buckrum Skin And frights my Soul away from the Imbrace So when from Gibbets and the Common-shore Th'Officious Devil has pimp'd and brought his Friend a Whore So shrieks the Wretch when he next Morn has spy'd A ghastly Carcass rotting by his Side Just such a Lot is mine I drudg my Life Worse than with Legion far possess'd with WIFE Wou'd Fate and Hell some higher ill provide And club for any other Plague beside I soon should easy and contented grow In spight of Bolts above and Flames below No such luxurious Ease I ask in vain And like poor Adam must alive remain Whom vengeful Fate did to curs'd Woman chain In Judgment gave him an unkind Reprieve And damn'd him to ten thousand Hells in Eve Vpon the D. of Buckingham's Retirement By Madam Wharton Jan. 1683. IF darkest Shades could cloud so bright a Mind Or universal Knowledg be confin'd Then should I fear what vainly you persue Exiling the offending World from you Permit this Phrase for their 's the loss would be To you 't were Gain of Ease and Liberty For them alas what is 't I would not fear If banished the rich World of Learning here Within your Breast where Knowledg is retir'd By vain Pursuits and false Explainers tir'd Others bring dazling Light and leave us more Opprest with Blindness than we were before But gently by degrees like dawning Day The Mists that cloud the Mind you drive away If you retire what Damps of black Despair Must cloud the World no longer made your Care Who could alas deep Mysteries unfold Who could Instruct the Young or Chear the Old Who could like you in lively Colours paint Death's gastly Face to each expiring Saint 'T is you and only you can paint him fair To those who Life Pleasure make their Care 'T is you make Ease less lovely seem than Pain 'T is you bring Heaven down to dying Men And raise the drooping Minds to Heaven again You chose Heaven's Saints for still the mounting Soul Is crown'd above whom you on Earth enrol Quit not the World because that Monarch's Brow So smooth to all seems clouded o'r to you His Anger like the Wrath of Heaven is slow And all his Actions his Compassion shew Unjustice never can his Temper sute Love gentle Love is his blest Attribute A Soul enclin'd to such a peaceful Charm No fear of Danger could his Soul alarm Plot upon Plot intended or devis'd He smil'd to see look'd over and despis'd When every Subject at his Danger shook His Thoughts flow'd easily as a Summers Brook He pardon'd still and when unruly they Forc'd him the Sword of Justice to display Unwillingly he punish'd to obey I say t' obey for might he still command Garlands of Peace would grow within his Hand Then Love and Wit in which he does excel With Peace and Plenty here would ever dwell But now alas he rules a giddy Crowd Who slight their Joys and tell their Grief aloud As fond of Troubles as he is of Peace So factious Slaves and constant Foes to ease Still forcing Fears unnatural and base At home distracted and abroad despis'd The Grief of Fools and laughter of the Wise. But hold too far I have mistook my way I would return and yet what can I say The Subject is so vast to which I 'm brought That I am lost in the Abyss of Thought I would persuade and yet I know not how To make that Theam to my weak Numbers bow Exalt my humble Notions to your height I 'll plainly tell my Thoughts raise you their Flight Leave not the World but near that Monarch rest Who all that 's just still harbours in his Breast And when that Head so fill'd with boundless Thought To his enlarged Heart is nearer brought What Wonders may we not expect should spring From such a Subject and from such a King To Damon the most Inconstant and Faithless of his