Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
|
ID |
Title |
Author |
Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
STC |
Words |
Pages |
|
A63369
|
Loyal poems and satyrs upon the times since the beginning of the Salamanca plot written by several hands ; collected by M.T.
|
Taubman, Matthew, d. 1690?
|
1685
(1685)
|
Wing T245; ESTC R10358
|
49,198
|
138
|
Name they have design'd Is a complaisant Ayr that makes men kind Profaneness is his Wit and his Excess By a Gay janty Humour they express All his Debauches too must be no less Thus they lap ruin up and guild our Crimes But Vice destroys like Ivy where it climbs In us the dangrous state th' Ambitious see Of Greatness Avarice and Flatterie Gifts Honour Office Greatness Grace of Kings Raise the Ambitious upon treach'rous wings Till from the mighty heights they giddy grow And fall into the Ruin lyes below If the first fail which do support our state The last our Fall serve to percipitate This with too dear Experience we have bought And learnt a Lesson which too late was taught Prosperity's a Drug that must be ta'ne Corrected Opium like or else 't is bane A more Lethargick quality's in her Than ever yet in Opium did appear her fatal Poyson to the Mind she sends And uncorrect in sure destruction ends Whilst in the way her guilded snares she lays Easie and credulous Man she soon betrays Who sees her Roses and her Lilies here But her concealed Snakes doth never fear Prosperity's repasts puff up the Mind With unsubstantial and unwholesome wind 'T is a Hault-Goust which Epicures do use And choicer Viands squeamishly refuse But when Affliction moulds your dayly bread 'T is then the staff of Life with which she 's fed Affliction like the river Nile bestows Her fruitful blessings wheresoe'er she flows And if when she withdraws strange Serpents rise Not in her streams but in the Soyl it lyes Which like the great Apollo she strikes dead By the same Influence they first were bred If she return and shew her hidden head Great Minds like the victorious palms are wont Under the Weights of Fortune more to mount Strongly supprest and hurl'd upon the ground Fill'd with sublimer thoughts they more rebound Still careless whether Fortune smile or frown Whether she give or take away a Crown Our Walls are Tyded and by that we know She always ebbs when she doth leave to flow And constant in Inconstancy does grow Make an attacque all Injuries that can They fall like Waves beneath a rising Swan Freed and secur'd from all discordant Care Here we our heads above the billows bear Till from our shoulders they transplanted are And from their summits with dum gapes proclaim Of a Quincumvirat the trait'rous shame But during all this Storm we still do find An Anchor and a Haven in our Mind Not beaten now though then expos'd to th' Wind. As Nightingals our bosom we expose And sing environ'd with the sharpest woes Degraded from vain Honour here we grow More great and high as Trees by lopping do Honour 's like froth in each Man's glass of Beer 'T is least of use though topmost it appear The common Vouchee for ill acts she 's grown It and Religion all our Mischifs own She raigns in Youth with an unruly heat And in her falser Mirror shews them Great Till Age and Time convince them of the Cheat. Rash heads approve what sober Men despise And the fantastict Garb offends the Wise She rarely now is seen but in Diguise True Honour and plain Honesty 's the same From various Dwellings comes the various Name For whilst she gay in Courts she 's Honour there But Honesty with us in Durance here In differing States most things have difference What pleas'd this day the next offends the Prince The Prosperous loath what the Afflicted love Prisoners abhor what free they did approve And still there 's power in each Man choice to make Himself content if he can wisely take And think his own though hard a happy Stake In ev'ry state does some Contentment dwell And here we sind a Palace in a Cell Good is good ev'ry where and ev'ry thing And good can of it self no Evil bring All good 's a raye of the first Light alone When Ill approaches only that 's our own Vertue 's not gain'd by spending of our days In pleasure Princes Courts or from their Rays At Vertue 's Coast by Travel we arrive And so by Travel Vertue 's kept alive She dwindles if she want due Exercise But us'd grows brighter and still multiplies Vertue increases Snow-ball-like rowl'd on A lazy Vertue 's next of kin to None Pris'ners indeed they be that do lay by At once their Fredom and their Industry If Men turn Drones within these hony'd Hyves It lyes i' th' Pris'ner's heart and not his Gyves The good grows better here the bad grows worse The Spur that makes this go does jade that Horse Hence the great'st part are male-content and sad Since that the Good are fewer than the bad A Bliss that springs from penetential joy Is the Minds balsome in each sharp Annoy Fools only their own Comforts do destroy To this Retrement we can freely go 'T is the great'st pace of Majesty below Or stirring out imports the World to know The Goaler's Centinel to guard our Doors And Castles are contain'd i' th' narrow Floors More happy and more safe secur'd from Foes Than those whom Troops of Enemies enclose Much more as Pris'ners our high bliss we boast Being secur'd from such a mighty Hoast Gf deadly Foes so fierce with wrath and might Our selves so feeble and unfit to fight ' Gainst the black band of vicious and Profane Who Thousands do undo in each Campain In the Assault we seldome brook the Field But flye like Hares or else like Cowards yield Yet this the World esteems an hard estate And Us who feel it count unfortunate Shew then Philosophy the state wherein Such Safety and so much Content is seen Wherein less rugged or steep hind'rance lyes T'obstruct the Path unto Perfection's prize The useful Rod's only bound up for this To whip and lash the Childish on to Bliss Who sullenly refuse the Rod to kiss And so the Blessing in the Whipping miss Some like the Whale only design'd to play In fruteless pleasures drive the flying day As Boys with Clackers drive the Lent away Whilst here we stop the hours of time that flyes With Contemplation's nobler Exercise Maurge all Goals think we e're long must dye And then enjoy an endless Liberty Death will redeem from long Captivity Man's Life 's a Piece spun of a various Thred In some 't is fine in some a courser Web. The Threads across th' Occurrences of Fate Cut early from the Loom by Death or late The Dread of Kings Death does not us dismay To Dye's less than be Tantalis'd each day What Man complains with Weariness opprest That Night is come the only Time to Rest The last SPEECH OF Sr. Edmundbury Godfrey's Ghost LOok up Base Croaking Zealots of the Age Before your Frenzy Wits fall into rage Look here Who Vindicates the Royal Stage Godfrey's brave Spirit doth this day appear Tremble ye now for Anger or for Fear His worthy Ghost that courted Sacred good Has past the dangers of the Stygian Flood Left the Elizian
Kings From Vindicating Sectaries in Illegal things From encouraging Faction which Rebellion brings Libera nos From murmuring for sending the Parliament home From choosing Fanaticks to sit in their Room That the Actions of Forty may not be out-don Libera nos From Irish Massacres by Papists don From Seditious Cut Throats which thing is all one From murthering the Father and banishing the son Libera nos From shrouding all Villanies under the Cause From making us happy by giving Sword Laws From trampling o th' Mitre Crown with applause Libera nos From Hunting the King and abjuring his Race From Cleansers of Bungholes usurping his place From preachers in Tubs that are void of all Grace Libera nos From Vulcans Treasons late forg'd by the Fan From starving of Mice to be Parliament Man From his Copper face that out face all things can Libera nos From voting Lords useless and dangeroufly Ill From hanging of Bishops for dropping the Bill From letting Fanaticks have too much their Will Libera nos From purging the house to obstruct our free Choice From Resolving the King to oppose with one voice From such that at Mischief do daily Rejoyce Libera nos From all the Seditious that love not the King From such as a Civil war once more wou'd bring And Repenting with Colledge at last in a string Libera nos THE Last Will and Testament OF ANTHONY King of Poland MY Tap is run then Baxter tell me why Shou'd not the good the great Potapski die Grim death who lays us all upon our backs Instead of Sythe doth now advance his Ax. And I who all my Life in Broyls have spent Intend at last to make a fettlement Imprimis for my Soul tho' I had thought T o've left that thing I never minded out Some do advi e for fear of doing wrong To give it him to whom it doth belong But I who all mankind have cheated now Intend likewise to cheat the Devil too Therefore I leave my Soul unto my Son For he as Wisemen think as yet hath none Then for my Polish Crown that pretty thing Let Mon tak 't who longs to be a King His empty Head soft nature did design For such a Light and Airy Crown as mine With my Estate I 'le tell you how it stands Jack Ketch must have my Cloathes the K. my Lands Item I leave the damn'd Association To all the wise Disturbers of the Nation Not that I think they 'l gain their Ends thereby But that they may be hang'd as well as I. Armestrong in Murders and in Whoring skill'd Who twenty Bastards gets for one Man kill'd To thee I do bequeath my Brace of Whores Long kept to draw the Humours from my Sores For you they 'l serve as well as Silver Tap For VVomen give and sometimes cure a Clap. How d my partner in Captivity False to thy God and King but true to me To thee some heinous Legacy I 'de give But that I think thou hast not long to live Besides thou 'st Wickedness enough in store To serve thy self and Twenty Thousand more To thee young Gray I 'd some small Toy present For you with any thing can be Content Then take the Knife with which I cut my Corns T' will serve to pare and sharp your Lordships Horns That you may Rampant Mon push and gore Till he shall leave your house and change his Whore On top of Monument let my Head stand It self a Monument where first began The flame that has Endangered all the Land But first to Titus let my Fars be thrown For He 't is thought will shortly lose his own I leave Old Baxter my Invenom'd Teeth To Bite and Poyson all the Bishops with My Squinting Eyes let Ignoramus wear That they may this way look and that way swear Let the Citts take my Nose because 't is said That by the Nose I them have always led But for their Wives I nothing now can spare For all my Life time they have had their share Let not my Quarters stand on City Gate Least they new Sects and Factions do create For certainly the Presbyterian VVenches In dirt will fall to Idolize my Haunches But that I may to my old Friend be Civil Let some Witch make them Mummy for the Devil To good K. Charles I leave tho faith 't is pity A Poy son'd Nation and deluded City Seditious Clamours Murmurs Jealousies False Oathes sham storyes and Religious Lyes Ther 's one thing still which I had quite forgot To him I leave the Carcass of my Plot. In a Consumption the poor thing doth Lie And when I 'm gon 't will pine away and die Let Jenkings in a Tub my worth declare And let my Life be writ by Harry Care And if my Bowels in the Earth find Room Then let these Lines be writ upon my Tomb. ANEPITAPH upon his Bowels YE Mortal Whigs for death prepare For mighty Tapsky's Guts lie here Will his great Name keep sweet d'y ' think For certainly his Entrals Stink Alas 't is but a Foolish pride To outsin all Mankind beside When such Illustrious Garbage must Be mingled with the Common dust Palfe Nature that cou'd thus delude The Cheater of the Multitude That put his Thoughts upon the Wing And Egg'd 'em on to be a King See now to what an use she puts His Noble great and little Guts Tapski who was a Man of Wit Had guts for other uses fit Tho Fiddle strings they might not be Because he hated Harmony Yet for Black Puddings they were good Their Master did delight in Blood Of this they shou'd have drank their fill King Cyrus did not fare so ill Poor Guts cou'd this have been your hap Sh'rif Bethel might have got a Shap. But now at York his Guts must rumble Since you into a hole did Tumble A Codecil To the Former WILL Added in HOLLAND where he Dyed January 20th 1682. MOurn England Mourn Let not thy griefs be feign'd The Tap so long upon the Lees is Drain'd The cringing Atlas of the State and Church Is faln and left his proselites i th' Lurch Alas what will become o th' Reformation The Popish Plots and Blank Association Our Rights and Libertys and good old Cause Patch'd Juryes and th' Ignoramus Laws What will become o th' Saints in Tribulation If Tory Loyalty comes into Fashion The Salamanca Doctor must take Post If Tompson and Lestrange must rule the Rost And Monkey Care Gotham and Sniveling Dick Must from the Hague e'en follow to old Nick. In vain we strive to shun th' appointed Fate That on the Knave as well as Fool does Wait. Tho I said he have drawn Infectious Breath And liv'd this Sixty years in spight of Death Had I been Hang'd but half those years agon Less Treason had Ensu'd less Mischief don But as there is an Evil Genious Waits On private Men so there 's on publick States The universal Temper of Mankind That always in the Ditch will lead the Blind Of Sin