Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	duke_n	henry_n	king_n	9,995	5	4.3960	3	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A54795	Sportive vvit the muses merriment, a new spring of lusty drollery, joviall fancies, and a la mode lamponnes, on some heroic persons of these late times, never before exposed to the publick view / collected for the publick good by a club of sparkling wits, viz. C.J., B.J., L.M., W.T., cum multis alsis----	Phillips, John, 1631-1706.	1656 (1656)	Wing P2113; ESTC R36677	62,402	221

Suffolk's Dutchess Two children of Edward the third Here lye in Death's cold clutches This is King Edward the third's brother Of whom our Records tell Nothing of note nor say they whether He be in heaven or hell This same is Iohn of Eldeston And he was Earl of Cornwall This is the Lady Phillis Mohun No doubt but she made horns well At first she was Dutchess of York And then the Wife also Of Edward Duke of York and this Two hundred and thirty years ago The Lady Anne Rosse but note ye well That she in Childbed dy'd The Lady Marquess of Winchester Lyes buried by her side Now think your penny will spent good folks And that you are not beguil'd Within this cup doth lye the heart Of a French Embassador's childe Nor can I tell how it came to passe On purpose or by chance The bowels they lye underneath The body is in France The Countess of Oxford her mother The good old Lady Bourleigh And that 's her daughter another Countesse Asunder these not far lye These once were bonny Dames and though There were no coaches then Yet they their breeches jogg'd themselves Or had them jogg'd by men But wo is me those high-born sinners That wont to work so stoutly Are now laid low and 'cause they cann't Their Statues pray devoutly This is the Dutchess of Somerset The Lady Anne by name Wife to the Duke of Somerset Duke Edward of great fame She liv'd in Edward the sixt's time So long ago 't was since How long ago was that I pray Her Husband protected the Prince And underneath this stone doth lye Sir Robert Cecils L●dy low Mother to th' Earl of Salisbury And then cry'd one It may be so In this fair Monum●nt which you see Adorn'd with so many pillars Doth lye the Countess of Buckingham And her Husband Sir George Villers To the late Duke of Buckingham We nere spake of his Brother This old Sir George was Grandfather And the Countess his Grandmother Sir Robert Eatam a Scotch Knight And he was Secretary To both of our late Queens so great Queen Anne and then Queen Mary This was the Countess of Lenox Iclep'd the Lady Marget She was King Iames's Grandmother Which Death I doubt did forget This was Queen Mary Queen of Scots By more then her husband bedded King Iames's Grandmother at the Castle Of Fothringham beheaded The Mother of Henry the seventh This is that lyeth hard by She was the Countess know ye well Of Richmond and Darby Henry the seventh here doth lye VVith his fair Queen beside him He was the Founder of this Chappel Oh may no ill betide him Therefore his Monument 's in bras● The cost was nere the lesse The Duke of Richmond and Lenox Lies there with his Dutchess And here they stand upright in a presse With bodies made of wax With a globe and a wand in either hand And their robes upon their backs General Ireton and his Lady Are here the spoyles of Death And also two of his children This must be said in a breath Here lyes the Duke of Buckingham And the Dutches his wife Whom Felton stabb'd at Portsmouth town And so he lost his life Two children of King Iames these are Nor do our Records vary Sophia in the cradle lies And this is the Lady Mary And this is Queen Elizabeth How the Spaniards did infest her Her Body 's here bury'd with Queen Mary And now she agrees with her Sister Old Devereux Earle of Essex Stands there with his Buff coat The Parliaments first Generall And very stoutly he fought To another Chappel now come we Tho people follow and chat This is the Lady Cottington And the people cry WHO 's THAT This is the Lady Francis Sidney The Countess of Sussex is she And this the Lord Dudley Carleton is And then they look up and see Sir Thomas Bromley lyeth here And eight of his children Four daughters and four sons also Both women grown and men The next is Sir Iohn Fullerton And this is his Lady I trow And this is Sir Iohn Puckering With his fine Bed-fellow That in the middle is th' Earl of Bridgewater Who makes no use of his bladder Although his Countesse lye so nere him And so we go up a ladder King Edward the first a gallant blade Lies under-neath this Stone And this is the chair which ●e did bring A good while ago from Scone In this same Chair till now of late Our Kings and Queens were crown'd Vnder this Chair another stone Doth lye upon the ground On that same stone did Iacob sleep Instead of a Down pillow And after that 't was hither brought By some good honest fellow King Richard the second he lyes here And his first Queen Queen Anne Edward the third lyes here hard by Oh he was a gallant man For this was his two-handed Sword A blade both true and trusty With which he conquer'd France cries one Good Sir 't is very rusty Feel but the weight on 't in your hand Who now with this can fight And then the petticoats and wastcoats Do wonder at his might Here a lyes again with 's Queen Queen Philip A Dutch woman by Record But that 's all one for now alas His P-'s not so long as his Sword King Edward the Confessor lyes Within this Monument fine This Monument was made before William the Conqueror's time There lyes Harry the fifth and there Doth lye Queen Elenor She was Edward the first's wife Which is more than ye knew before Henry the third here lyes ●n●omb'd He was Herb John in Pottage Little he did but still reigned on Although his sons were at ag● Fifty six yeares he reigned King Ere he the Crown would lay by Onely we praise him 'cause he was Last builder of the Abbey There 's General Popham and his Lady A very fine device a If more ye ask concerning him The D. a jot can I say Here Thomas Cecil lyes who 's that Why 't is the Earle of Exeter And this his Countesse is Good Lady To die how it perplexed her Here Henry Cary Lord Hunsdon rests Though a makes a noyse with his name This man was Chamberlain unto Queen Elizabeth of great fame And here one William Colchester Lyes of a certainty An Abbot he was of Westminster And he that sayes no doth lye This is the Bishop of Durham Much bigger then a Fairie Henry the seventh lov'd him well And made him his Secretary Sir Thomas Ruthal what of him Poor Gentleman not a word Onely they bury'd him here but now Behold that man with a sword Humphrey de Bohun who though he were Norborn with me in the same town Yet I can tell he was Earl of Essex Of Hereford and Northampton He was High Constable of England As History well expresses But now pretty maids be of good cheere We 're going up to the Presses And now the Presses open stand And ye see them all a row But more

The man that hath a black blous to his wife In her face as much favour as is in her taile VVhen he comes home at night will swear she shines bright If he shine first with a pot c. VVith that my friend said to me come let us go Thy long staying here hath made thee look pale VVe 'l have six pots more though we die on the score And so they went back to the pot of good Ale How Daphne payes his Debts DAphne was Poet to the Queen And he caught her by the Mony But afterwards he met with a Lass And he caught her by the Cony She felt him please her then so well For he was in his prime She see a mark upon his face To know him another time He feeling England then so hot In England would not tarry But made him a Barque to Maryland All his estate to carry This Barque was taken by a Frigot Where was poore Daphne then For Daphne you know could never fight And I doubt none of his men Then Daphne to the Tower must go Where he did fall to writing The life and death of a certain King That did delight in fighting But city Dun distur'b him then And cri●s Discharge your debt sir But he reply'd with cap in hand I beg your patience you sir My patience yet quoth he again Why how long shall y● stay But unto this months and quoth he But he meant untill dooms day From Cou●try then another came And payment him bese●ches But Daphne onely makes a leg And gives him some fai● speeches Quoth ●e I now have made my book A fam'd Heroick Poem For which I 'm promis'd so ●●ny pounds That I know not where to bestow em But when this book it did come forth As some have given ●●i●●ing The gains of his pitifull Poetry Scarce paid for paper printing At the months end they come again Molesting him like Devils Well now I le pay ye all quoth he I must be master o' th' Revels The State hath promis'd this to me As the Clerk of the Parliament saith And I hope that you will do as I do Believe the PVBLIQVE FAITH Already I have hir'd a house Wherein to sing and dance And now the Ladies shall have Masques Made a la m●d●de France This house was Pothecaries Hall I tell to him that asks Because of a meeting that was there Which he said was one of his Masques If there you finde him not come to S. Ione●'s Where his next house is hiring And if you come quickly you shall see The Players themselves attiring For surely he doth play but must Be watched like Bacons head Time is Time was but still you come When the Time past is said I can tell y' of more of 's houses one In fields of Lincolns Inne Another in Drury Lane and thus Daphne will never lin Thus little you think that Daphne hath A Play with you begun Which is the cause you interrupt him Ere the fifth Act be done Now the fifth Act is never done Till th' Exit all fulfill Let him but make his Exit first And then do what you will Yet Daphne if they still molest thee Faith in the minde I 'm in I 'd do as Players use to do Pay my great summes in tin Or as that you do play with them Think that they play with you Conceit you owe them nought you know How much Conceit will do Now in these houses he hath men And cloathes to make them trim For six good friends of his laid out Six thousand pounds for him Then Daphne he will get at least A hundred pounds a day Why I think the Devil 's in you all Cann't you one minute stay If this won't do but ye resolve With Bayliffs for to founder him Yet let this blunt your cholers edge Ye shall have places under him His Landlord he shall have a copy Of some new Masque or so For which though he may largely crave Let him use some conscience though The taylor shall the wardrobe keep And now and then steale a suit Draper shall keep the half Crown boxes For Gentlemen of repute His Landress 'cause she washes well And kisses with a good smack o Shall have a Shedd wherein to sell Strong Ale and foule Tobacco Nor ben't such Infid●lls to think This time will nere be found For he that builds castles in the aire Can build a house o' th' ground Therefore pray set your hearts at rest And do not wrack the poore But if he pay not in two yeares time I le nere speak for him more VVilly is gone to the Wood A SONG WIlly's gone to the wood to the wood to the wood Willy's gone to the wood thither go I And if thou wilt lay me down lay me down lay me down If thou wilt lay me down loud will I cry Oh oh uf oh oh uf oh oh uf oh oh Oh my Love oh my Love Who leads such a life like to Willy and I Willy rides all the night all the night all the night Willy rides all the night he cannot lye But he must see his Love kis his Love woo his Love But he must feel his Love as he pass by With oh oh c. None leads a life like to Willy and I. I met with my Love a going to a Fayer He kindly imbrac'd me ask'd what I did there Then presently I told him I would not him deny For I will love Willy untill I die With oh oh c. Who is so quaint as Willy and I I met with Willy i' th' midst of the green He told me he lov'd me yet would not be seen Then sweetly he laid me down I cry'd oh fie fie fie For I love Willy untill I die With oh oh c. None leads a life like to Willy and I. A Song YOu young men that want skill in wooing And have a desire to be wed Take councel of me in your doing For fear lest you should be m●sled Do not my kind proffer refuse 'T will never you deceive 'T will teach you what woman to chuse And what creature you'd best for to leave In the first place I do you advise Take one nor too high nor too low But according unto your owne size That you may her true qualities know Take one nor too young nor too old Take one nor too fat nor too lean 'T is a bad thing to meet with a scold 'T is a worse thing to meet with a quean Nor take not one that 's too proud Nor one that 's a du●ty foul slut The one the will babble too loud And the other will poyson the gut Chiefly I would wish you beware A wench with a rowling eye For she that will couzen and sweare Will also dissemble and lye She that has her hair a bright yellow And tresses like weavers of gold If she meet with some pretty fellow Her husband may chance be cuckold But she that 's by nature compos'd With round cherry