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death_n die_v life_n think_v 9,849 5 4.3485 3 true
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ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
A00519 A fooles bolt is soone shot Good friends beware, I'me like to hit yee, what ere you be heer's that will fit yee; which way soeuer that you goe, at you I ayme my bolt and bowe. To the tune of, Oh no no no not yet. T. F., fl. 1630. 1636 (1636) STC 10654; ESTC S114658 2,014 2

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A Fooles Bolt is soone shot Good Friends beware I 'me like to hit yee What ere you be heer 's that will fit yee Which way soeuer that you goe At you I ayme my Bolt and Bowe To the Tune of Oh no no no not yet STand wide my Masters and take heed for feare the Foole doth hit yée If that you thinke you shall be shot I d'e wish you hence to get yee My Bowe you see stands ready bent to giue each one their lot Then haue amongst you with my Bolts for now I make a shot He that doth take delight in Lawe and euer to be brangling Would he like to the Bells were hang'd that loues still to be iangling His Lawyers purse he fills with Coine himselfe hath nothing got And proues a begger at the last at him I make a shot Who all the wéeke doth worke full hard and moyle both night and day Will in a trice spend all his coine and foole his meanes away In drinking and in rioting at pipe and at the pot Whose braines are like an adled egge at him I make a shot The Prodigall that is left rich that wastes his state away In wantones and surfeting in gaming and in play And spends his meanes on Whores and Qeanes doth make himselfe a sot May in a Spittle chance to dye at him I make a shot He that is apt to come in bands for euery common friend May shake a begger by the hand and pay the debt it 'h end By selling Goods and Lands away or in a Prison rot Where none will pitty his poore case at him I make a shot The Man that wedds for greedy wealth he goes a fishing faire But often times he gets a Frog or very little share And he that is both young and free and marries an old Trot When he might liue at libertie at him I make a shot The Second Part. To the same Tune THe Miser that gets wealth great store and wretc●edly doth liue In 's life is like to starue himselfe at 's death he all doth giue Unto some Prodigall or Foole that spends all he hath got With griping vsury and paine at him I make a shot He that doth early rise each morne and worketh hard all day When he comes home can not come in his Wife is gone to play And lets her to drinke and spend all the moneys which he got Shall weare my Coxcombe and my Bell and at him heer 's a shot An Old-man for to dote in age vpon a Wench that 's young Who hath a nimble wit and eye with them a pleasing tongue Acteons plume I greatly feare will fall vnto his lot That stoutely in his crest he 'le beare at him I make a shot A Widow that is richly left that will be Ladifide And to some Gull or Roaring-boy she must be made a Bride His Cloathes at Broakers he hath hir'd himselfe not worth a groat That basts her hide and spends her meanes at her I make a shot A Mayden that is faire and rich and young yet is so proud That ●auour vnto honest men by no meanes can be low'd And thus she spends her chiefest prime refusing her good lot In youth doth scorne in age is scornd at her I make a shot But she that wanton is and fond that fast and loose will play When that her reconings are cast vp must for it soundly pay And may the Father chance to séeke of that which she hath got Besides her standing in a shéete at her I make a s●●t Who spends his time in youth away to be a Seruing-man Dotd seldome grow for to be rich doe he the best he can And then when age doth come God knows this Man hath nothing got But is turnd out amongst the dogges at him I make a shot He that doth sell his Lands away an Office for to buy May kéepe a quarter for a time but will a begger dye For he hath sold his Lambes good man and younger Shéepe hath got Although he thinke himselfe so wise at him I make a shot He that will goe vnto the Sea and may liue well on shore Although he venture life and goods may hap to come home poore Or by the Foe be made a Slaue with all that he hath got Whose Limbes in péeces are all torne at him I make a shot Those that their Parents doe reiect and makes of them a scorne Who wishes then with griefe and woe they neuer had béen borne For portion they may Twelue-pence haue beside a heauy lot For disobedience ordaind at them I make a shot The Parents which their Child brings vp to haue their owne frée will The wise and antient Salomon doth say they them will spill And when correction comes too late they wish they 'd nere béen got But for their folly which is past at them I make a shot They that continue still in sinne and thinke they nere shall dye Deferring off repentance still and liues in iollitie Death quickly comes and ceases them and then it is their lot In hells hot flame for to remaine at them I make a shot And so farewell my Masters all God send 's a merry méeting Pray be not angry with the Foole that thus to you sends gréeting And if that any haue 〈◊〉 and saies I did not hit them It is because my Bolts are spent but I le haue more to fit them FINIS T.F. Printed at London for I. G.