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	sin_n	sin_v	13,883	5	9.2456	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A04138	Mirrha the mother of Adonis: or, Lustes prodegies. By William Barksted. Horrace. Nansicetur enim pretium, nomenque poetæ. Whereunto are added certaine Eglogs. By L.M.	Barksted, William, fl. 1611.; Machin, Lewis, fl. 1609.	1607 (1607)	STC 1429; ESTC S118847	20,491	80

with Tirian purple skin of beast Perfume her waies with choice Arabian smells Present her with the Phoenix in her nest Delight her eare with song of poets rare All these with Cyneas might naught compare The comfort of the minde being tane away Nectar not pleaseth nor Ambrosia The feast of Bacchus at this present time Was by the giddie Menades intended There Mirrha daunc'd and Orpheu● sung in rim● crownd with green thirses now y e 〈◊〉 yūhes ended with praise to Bacchus all depart with spright vnto their feastes feasts that deuoure the night for loe the stars in trauaile in the skie brought forth their brightnes to each waking ey● High midnight came and she to bedward hies pretending rest to beguile natures rest Anon the gloomy gallerie she spies toward her chamber and she first that blest Her care-fild eyes her farhers picture was Arm'd but the face although it dumbe alasse she ask'd and if he call'd seeing no reply she answer'd for her father and said I. Daughter quoth she why art thou thus alone Let Doues so mourn girle y t hath lost their mates Thine is to come then prethee cease thy mone Care shold not dwel with great high estates Let her that needs and is not faire at all Repine at fortune loue shall be thy thrall wing'd as he is and armed thou shalt see I haue the power to giue giue him thee Father quoth she and spoke with smaller voice Nature hath made me yours yours I must be You choose my choice for in you lies my choice Hereat shee starts as what not feares the guiltie Thinking the shadowe knew her double sence and blushing in strange feare departeth thence blaming her selfe for vttering her blacke fault to him who armed stood gainst her assault Anon she spies many a you●hfull Lord In seuerall Tables each in seuerall guise Whose pictures they had sent with one accord To shew their manly features to her eyes Whose dumb'd perswasiue images were plac'd To see if any in her lookes were grac'd But heere in vaine their faire assayes doe proue for had they spake they could not win her loue Ouer her Mothers shape a vaile she drew and weeping saide may I nere see thee more Poore abus'd image doost not turne thy hew to see so foule an obiect thee before Didst thou but know what 's sprung from out thy wombe thy shap cold speak whilst y u thy self stodst dūbe Art would claime Nature in thy heauie woes thy shape haue limbs thy limbs be stiff as those Anon she leapt on it with ardent heate and full of teares yet falles vppon her backe Wishing euen in that griefe the lustfull feate Were now pe●form'd woemen oft longings lack ●own sunck the down and with so deep impresse ●hat had Hermaphroditus bin there he might ges Salmacis were aganie his prostitute or one more farre then to denie her suite A strange conceite had now possest hir braine nie equall to her lust thought innocent She gaue vp to desire and leapes amaine From the bruisd bed with bloodie fram'd intēt To hang her selfe O me moste wofull theame She now espide an hie and sturdie beame Many staue liu'd to an vnpittied death who might haue dyed sometimes with famed breath Yet doth she thinke what terror death would be and on her heart imprints his Character Faine would she die yet first would pleased be with damned lust which death could not deter O sinne saies she thou must be Natures slaue In spight of Fate goe to a pleasing graue When I haue sin'd send Ioue a thunder stroake and spare thy chosen tree the harmlesse Oake She thinkes againe and sees nor time nor place to quench the thirstines of her parched blood Time still ranne on with an auerted face and nothing but her passions did her good This thought confoundes her and she is resoul'd In deathes bleake azure armes to be inuoul'd Fates you are women saue your modesties shee le kill her selfe you neede but close her eies ●nd like as when some suddaine extasie ● seisth the nature of a sicklie man When hee 's discernd to swoune straite by and by Folke by his ●elpe confusedly haue ran ●nd seeking with their art to fetch him backe To many throng that he the ayre doth lacke ●o Mirrha's thoughts confusedly did stound her some adding cōfort whilst the rest confound her ●ike to a fountaines head so shew'd her head from whence since passion first tooke hold of hir ●wo springs did run thorow each flowr-fil'd mead at her lips staid where shee wisht Cynir Would so haue done her face with teares run ore ●ike Hebaes Nectar shew'd spilt on heauens flore ●or as the blomes in May the dewe drops beares 〈◊〉 Mirrha's cheeks look'd sprinkl'd with her tears Her haire that with such diligence was vsde To be kemb'd vp did like clowdes appeare Where many spangles star-like were infus'd To attend the lustre of so bright ●haire Whose beames like bright Arachnes web cōpos● Taught Pallas a new enuie now vnlosed hiding her face yet making it seeme rarer as blazing Commets traine makes the star faire● Dispaire that teacherh holy ones to die when as affliction ministers her part Had breathing now in Mirrha and well nie Like Venus made her graspe a flaming heart Cupid was borne at Etna a hot sprite Whose violence takes edge off from delight For men deepe louing oft themselues so waste that proffer'd dainties they want power to tast● Digresse no farthe● least thou proue obsceane but tell by this how Nurse had broke the dore And trembling both through age and feare Forgot the naturall sence she had before Yet with her out-cries from the shades of death ●ald Mirrhas spright who with vnwilling breath re-enters flesh scorning to giue it grace with wonted beautie that adorn'd her face ●he tooke the haltar and held vp her chin chasing her temples with a violent heate Making her soule returne with torments in ●as it went out being come vnto retrait Nurse heau'd her trembling body on the bed Where sinking as in graue she seemed dead Chast had my verse bin blessed Mirrhas hap if here my pen could write thy Epitaph When hauing gotten ope her heauie eyes life-mocking death with a fresh crimson hew she thus be spake if there be sorceries Philters inchauntments any furi● new That can inspire with irrelegious fire The brest of mortall that vntam'd desire Possesseth me and all my bodies merrit Shewes like a faire house haunted with a spirit The foure and twentie windes are not so fierce as what doth blow the fewel in my breast Not the soft oyle Appollo did disperse on Phaitons brow to keep his sun-beam'd 〈◊〉 From face of heauenly fires could ought preuai● Gainst raging brāds which my poore heart 〈◊〉 scorch'd with materiall flames wee soone do 〈◊〉 and to purge sins we imbrace purgatorie But this a heate that nor in life or death can render any humor but dispaire Nor can it with the short cut of my