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	live_v	year_n	8,514	5	5.2901	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A65778	M. Whitebread's contemplations during his confinement in Newgate	Whitbread, Thomas, 1618-1679.	1679 (1679)	Wing W1815; ESTC R39757	4,100	1

able To raise wonder in the very stones And Pray good Sir stop a little hold your hand After this fair recitall after all You have or can say touching this you call A stately Noble Structure is' t not still A heap of Stones and Morter by the skill Of cunning Workman cimented together T'enhance the grand design ' gainst Wind and Weather For there are those who will not stick to say A close thatch'd Roof and Wall well dawb'd with clay Your first design and chief end will fulfill As well and as compleatly as all the still Which crafty Artist doth employ intending T' enrich himself by your vain needlesse spending Leaving't in doubt too where the Italian curse Shall fall upon your head or empty purse To Death DEath th' art wellcome For though thou art a Thief instead of Robbing I expect relief From thy kind hand 't is long since I have found Thou steal'st upon me and dost still get ground So that I see there 's little hopes by flight T' avoid thy pursuit And although I might There is so little comfort in the way I still must keep that I had rather stay Expecting thy last stroke than thus remain In such a dying Life where such a train Of miseries such cares wants griefs succeed The one the other dayly that 't were need To have a heart of Brass and Breast of steel To bear the cruel brunt And now the Wheel Is set a running 't will scarce stop its course 'Till it has hurri'd all from bad to worse So 't is and so 't will be But pray good Death Le ts make a friendly truce before my breath Has quite forsaken me I find I have A little work to do for which I crave Some short forbearance It cannot be long My cares my years now coming in full throng Upon my drooping Soul And first of all Provision should be made against the call Of the Almighty for a strick account Of thoughts words actions which must needs amount To a vast summe O what a fearfull charge Will then be brought against me not at large But where each minute thing each circumstance Shall be produc'd and what e're may enhance Sinns direfull malice Mercy then no more Shall act her part but justice on the score Of things irrevocably done and past Shall give the Sentence and we then our last And endless doom receive Now this is that I crave some respit for For though 't be what I have long labour'd in striving to frame My Conscience so that it might without blame Appear before his eyes who searches all The close Recesses of mans Heart yet shall I gladly once more make a strict review Of what is past and in my Soul renew That just Resentment which at other times I seem t' have entertain'd against my crimes Detesting them and willing that my blood Joyn'd and in union with that precious flood Which from my Saviours sacred wounds did flow May wash my sinful Soul and cleanse it so That when before my great Judge I appear Well manag'd Confidence may vanquish fear This is what I do project But pray stay Take not my first word For perchance I may Repent me and on second better thought Resolve forbearance may be too dear bought For as there 's nothing I so much detest As sin a thousand fears would me invest Least so unhappy I again should be As to offend my great good God I see The dangers are innumerable The Nets Are spred on every side and he that gets Well off from some or most is not secure Some crafty Syren him may yet allure And cast upon some desp'rat Shelve or Rock Which to avoid may ask a greater stock Of strength and foresight than my weakness dares Presume upon Hence day and night such fears And frights my trembling Soul must needs oppress That life cannot be held a Happiness Then wellcome Death by thee I hope t' obtain A better Being and secure remain From Sinn that greatest foulest blackest Devil The subt'lest Foe the only dreadful evil Which can a generous Soul befall The case Thus then resolved is that though the face Of Death hath something harsh in 't yet the harms Life still expos'd to and the killing charmes Of Sinn so numerous are that to eschew Such endless Hazards 't is best to renew Our first Address and chuse without Reply Rather to dye to live than live to dye London Printed in the Year 1679. By a Copy of his own Writing