Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	great_a	life_n	world_n	9,869	5	4.4022	3	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A13481	Odcombs complaint: or Coriats funerall epicedium or death-song, vpon his late reported drowning. With his epitaph in the Barmuda, and Utopian tongues. And translated into English by Iohn Taylor.	Taylor, John, 1580-1653.	1613 (1613)	STC 23780; ESTC S104616	5,667	28

ODCOMBS Complaint OR CORIATS funerall Epicedium or Death-song vpon his late reported drowning WITH His Epitaph in the Barmuda and Utopian tongues And translated into English by Iohn Taylor Printed for merrie recreation and are to be told at the salutation in Vtopia 1613. The Authour in his owne defence IF any where my lines do fall out lame I made them so in merriment and game For be they wide or side or long or short All 's one to me I writ them but in sport Yet I would haue the Reader thus much know● That when I list my simple skill to show In poesie I could both read and spell I know my Dactils and my Spondees well My true proportion my equal measure What accent must bee short and what at leasur● How to transpose my words frō place to plac● To giue my poesie the greater grace Either in Pastorall or Comick straine In Tragedy or any other vaine ●n nipping Satyrs or in Epigrams ●n Odes in Elegies or Anagrams ●n eare-bewitching rare Hexameters Or in Iambicks or Pentameters ● know these like a Sculler not a Scholler And therefore Poet pray asswage your coller ●f as theese in writing you enuy me Before you iudge me do your worst and try me I. T. To the Mirror of Time the most refulgent splendidious reflecting Court Animal Don Archibald Armstrong Great M. Comptroller Commander and Countermander of mirth alacrity sport and ridiculous confabulations in this septentrionall or Westerne Monarchie of Magna Britannia Your poore and daily Orator IOHN TAILOR wisheth increase of your wisdome in your owne person and that your eminence and spirit may be infused into the bosoms of most mens heires that esteem more of Wealth then of WISDOME RIght worthie worthlesse Patron the daies and times being such wherein wit goes a wool-gathering in a thredbare Iacket and folly is well reputed amongst those that seeme wise I considering this hauing but little wit in a mad humour bad farewell it and neuer so much as asked the question with whether wilt thou Being certainly perswaded that playing the foole will repaire the breaches which my vnhappy wit hath made in the Bulwarke of my reputation as it hath done to many others wherefore good sir with reuerence I hearing that so great a member in your esteemed quality as Mr. Thomas Coriat of Odcomb was drowned in his passage towards Constantinople And knowing that many good worthy writers haue graced his living trauels So I haue made bold vnder your great Patronage to write his tragicall supposed Death-song or Funerall Elegie not knowing any man of that worthy worth besides your selfe to whom I might dedicate these sad Epicediums Thus not doubting of your acceptance and protection I commit my selfe and my labours to your wonderfull wisedomes censure alwayes hauing a poore Muse to trauell in your seruice Iohn Taylor To the Gentlemen Readers that vnderstand A. B. from a Battledore NO sooner newe● of Coriats death was com But with the same my Muse was strooken done For whiest he liued he was my Muses subiect Her onely life and sence sole pleasing obiect Odcombian Graecian Laune Great Thom Asse He being dead what life hath she alasse But yet I hope his death was false Report Or else t was rumord to beget some sport To try how his deare friends would take his death And what rare Epicedium they would make T' accompany his all-amented Herse In hobling io●ling rumbling tumbling verse Some smooth some harshe some shorter and some long As sweet Melodious as Madg Howle●● song But when I saw that no man tooke in hand To make the world his worth to vnderstand 〈◊〉 vp I ●ussled from Obliuions den And of a Ganders quill I made a pen With which I wrote this following worke of woe Not caring much if he be dead or no For whilst his body did containe a life The rare it wits were at continuall strife Who should exceed each other in his glory But none but I haue writ His Tragick story If he be dead then farewell he if not At his returne his thankes shal be thy lot Meane time my muse doth like an humble Pleader Intreat acceptance of the gentle Reader Remaining yours euer IOHN TAILOR A sad ioyfull lamentable delightfull merry-go-sorry Elegie or Funerall Poem vpon the supposed death of the famous Cosmographicall surueior Historiographical Relator M Thomas Coriat of Odcomb O For a rope of Onions from Saint Omers And for the Muse of golden tongued Homers That I might write and weep and weep and write Odcombian Coriats timeles last good-night O were my wit inspird with Scoggins vaine Or that Wil Summers Ghost had seasd my braine Or Tarlton Lanum Sin●er Kempe and Pope Or she that danc't and tumbled on the rope Or Tilting Archy that so brauely ran Against Don Phoeb●s knight that wordy man O all you crew inside pv de couloured garments Assist me to the heigth of your preferments And with your wits and spirits inspire my pate ful That I in Coriats praise be not ingratefull If euer age lamented losse of folly If euer man had cause of Melancholly Then now 's the time to waile his ruthles wracke And weepe in teares of Claret and of Sack ANd now according to my weake inuention His wondrous worthles worthines I le mentiō Yet to describe him as he is or was The wit of Men or Monsters would surpasse His head was a large powdring tub of phrases Whēce men wold pick delights as boies pick daises O head no head but blockhouse of feirce wars Where wit and learning were at daily Iars Who should possesse the Mansion of his pate But at the last to end this great debate Admired learning tooke his heads possession And turnd his wit a wandring in progression But Minyon Muse hold whether wilt thou goe Thinkst thou his rare anotomy to shew None borne a Christian Turke nor yet in Tartary Can write each veyne each sinew and each artery His eyes and eares like broakers by extortion Ingrost strange forraine manners and proportion But what his eyes and eares did see or heare His tongue or pen dischargd the reckoning cleare That sure I thinke he well could prooue by law He vttered more then ere he heard or saw His tongue and hands haue truly paid their score And freely spent what they receau●d and more But lord to see how farre ore = shot am I To wade thus deepe in his Anotomy What now he is I le lightly ouerpasse I le only write ●n part but what he was That as Grim Death our pleasures thus hath crost T is good because he 's gon to know what 's lost HEe wa● the Imp whilst he on earth suruiu'd From whom this west-worlds pastimes were deriu'd He was in Citty Country feild and Court The VVell of dry braind Iests and Pump of sport He was the treasure-house of wrinkled laughter Where melancholy moodes are put to slaughter And in a word he was a man mongst many That