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	good_a	life_n	16,696	5	4.8534	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A09626	Festum voluptatis, or The banquet of pleasure furnished with much variety of speculations, wittie, pleasant, and delightfull. Containing divers choyce love-posies, songs, sonnets, odes, madrigals, satyrs, epigrams, epitaphs and elegies. For varietie and pleasure the like never before published. By S.P. Gent.	Pick, Samuel.	1639 (1639)	STC 19897; ESTC S114710	19,277	64

man'd To part the head and members yet 't is pitty But what cares she for head I hope she scornes Were he seaven heads she 'd crown them all with horns On Age. IF we love things long sought for age is a thing That we are fifty yeeres a compassing Vpon Church a whore hunter HEre lyes a Church triumphant still in evill That never fought with sin the world nor devill But still with flesh he changed friendly knocks And so to shun the Plague dy'd of the Pox. Vpon faire Mistresse Eliz. Ambar REader stay see who lyes here Attracting Ambar shining cleare Yet death that clearnesse cloudeth now But being bright it shineth through Vpon a Colliar HEre lyes the Colliar Ienkin Dashes By whom death nothing gain'd he swore For living he was dust and Ashes And being dead he is no more Vpon a young Gentlewoman STay doe not passe here fixe your eyes Upon a Virgins Obsequies Pay tribute to a troubled heart 'T is but one teare before you part And what are teares they are but streames Of sorrow which like frightfull dreames Disturbe our senses yet I crave No other sacrifice to have But if you passe and let fall none Y' are harder then this marble stone Your love is coldet and your eyes Are senselesse of my miseries Vpon a great Vsurer TEn in the hundred lyes under this stone And a hundred to ten but to ' th Devill he 's gone On a young Gentlewoman NAture in this small volume was about To perfect what in women was left out But fearing least a peece so well begun Might want preservatives when she was young Ere she could finish what she undertooke Threw dust upon it and shut up the Booke Of one that loved Sack as his soule GOod Reader blesse thee be assur'd The spirit of Sack lies here immurd Who havoc't all he could come by For Sack and here quite sackt doth lye Of a curst wife IF it be true what I heare tell That some affirme the grave is hell And if that hell be then so neere The veriest Devill in hell lyes here One that dyed with griefe a few dayes after her husband HE first deceased she a little cry'd To live without him lik't it not and dy'd A double fellow ill composed HEre lyes one double in his grave For he was still a foole and knave Vpon faire Elizabeth Butter HEre lyes sweet Butter turn'd to grasse To make sweet Butter as it was Vpon John Death a good fellow HEre Deaths inter'd that liv'd by bread Then all should live now Death is dead On a selfe conceited foole HEre lyes a man that was an Asse Then sure he 's better then he was One that cheated his father HEre lyes a man who in a span Of life beyond his father ran On an Vsurer HEre lyes on Ten per Cent. In deathshouse and payes no rent An Elegie by the Author upon the death of his deare father Master Edward Picke TO tell my losse so well to each man knowne Were to lament my selfe not him that 's gone That were to cry out helpe to those that ly By the same griefe dead to eternity But yet that men may fully understand Know 't was my father even by whose hand I first had breath and I will give him fame By writing in a double kind his name I doe confesse he 's gone and yet my losse If tould is undervalued so grosse So young are my complaints that I lament In petty notions sorrowes rudiment My infant teares yet knowe not all my woe Because I knew not all that was to grow In him a graft all hope but riper yeeres Shall teach me how to parallell my teares And so improove I may as he did grow In vertue daily thriving in my woe Did we not lose enough when Adam fell By thee curst fruit but thou must longer still Produce our myseries and when w' are best By tempting one must murther all the rest Was he too good for earth and did heaven call To have him there so that he needs must fall If so 't is well for it was equity Man-kind and he by the same fate should dye But though th' art dead thy memory survives And thy good deeds shall out-last others lives SA PICK. An Elegie upon the death of his deare friend Mistresse PRISCILLA WADL HEre though her spot lesse span-long life be spent Are silent steps to shew where goodnesse went Nature did in such rare compleatnesse make her To shew her Art and so away did take her For she was onely to us wretches lent For a short time to be our president Goods we inherite daily and possession O that in goodnes were the same succession For then before her soule to heaven she breathed She had to each of us a part bequeathed Of her true wealth and closing thus her eyes Would have enrich'd her sex with Legacies SA PICK. Vpon the death of Mistresse Sarah Wadl WEepe weepe your sorrowes are well paid For 't is a Virgin here is layd You that shall see this Monument And cannot at this fight lament The conscious marble will you show How to discharge your comely woe Either you may the occasion fit By melting into teares like it Or if you punish not your eye By weeping cause it fatally Behold her Tombe then may you moane By standing stupid like the stone Yet both these sorrowes are well paid For 't is a Virgin here is laid FINIS