Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	let_v	life_n	see_v	7,907	5	3.2906	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A68870	The phœnix of these late times: or the life of Mr. Henry Welby, Esq . who lived at his house in Grub-street forty foure yeares, and in that space, was never seene by any, aged 84. Shewing the first occasion, and the reasons thereof. Whose portracture, you may behold, as it was taken at his death. With epitaphs and elegies of the late deceased gentleman, who lyeth buried in S. Giles Church neere Criple gate, London.	Heywood, Thomas, d. 1641.; Marshall, William, fl. 1617-1650, engraver.	1637 (1637)	STC 25226.5; ESTC S103493	14,021	52

The Phoenix of these late times Or the life of Mr. Henry Welby Esq who lived at his house in Grub-street forty foure yeares and in that space was never seene by any Aged 84. Shewing the first occasion and the reasons thereof Whose Portracture you may behold as it was taken at his death With Epitaphs and Elegies of the late deceased Gentleman who lyeth buried in S. Giles Church neere Criple gate London LONDON Printed by N. Okes and are to be sold by Richard Clotterbuck at his shop in little Brittaine at the signe of the golden ball 1637. Mr Henry Welby Gt. Aetatis Suae 84. Epitaph Obijt Die 29 Octobris 1676. Arabia yeilds a Phenix and but one England This Phenix and besydes him none To solitary Desarts boath retyer Not mindinge what the World doth most admire His Face though it was much desyr'd by many In forty foure yeares was not seene by any She in spyal flames in fervent zeale he dyes And Boath in Tyme new Phenixes shall ryse The Description of this Gentleman THis Gentleman Master HENRY WELBY was forty yeares of age before hee tooke this solitary life being eighty foure yeares old when hee dyed those that knew him and were conversant with him in his former time do report that he was of a middle stature a browne complexion and of a pleasant chearefull countenance his haire by reason no Barber came neare him for the space of so many yeares was much over-growne so that he at his death appeared rather like an Hermite of the Wildernesse than the inhabitant of a City His habite was plaine and without ornament of a sad colourd cloth onely to defend him from the cold in which there could bee nothing found either to expresse the least imagination of pride or vaine-glory The expence of his time was study the use he made of it meditation those houres he retired from reading he spent in prayer He bought all bookes whatsoever which came forth onely making use of the best such as broached controversie he laid by as aiming at the peace of his owne Conscience What should I say hee dyed living that hee might live dying his life was a perpetuall death that his death might bring him to an eternall life who accounted himselfe no better than a Glow-worme here on Earth that hee might hereafter shine a most glorious Saint in heaven Vpon the Life and Death of Master Henry Welby IF miracles and wonders with each Nation Doe strike the People there with admiration If it be so with them tell me I pray Why wee should not admire as well as they Wee have of late seene miracles in Nature Both for old age some small some great in stature I thinke wee gap't and star'd enough at those In which we did our folly much disclose And seeing wee have don 't so well before Faith let us wonder now a little more For we that were so perfect at it then Doe know the better how to do 't agen And furthermore 't is such a strange thing that You cannot blame a Man to wonder at Read and beleeve it for indeed 't is true This Picture here presented to your view Doth represent the subject of my verse The manner of his life I will rehearse First having spent abroad full forty yeares Some for his pleasure mixt with cares and feares Examaning himselfe he then retyr'd And spent the remnant that were unexpir'd In burning flames of zealous contemplation All for Gods glory and his owne salvation He bought all sorts of bookes what ere came forth Onely made use of them of greatest worth If any thing amisse therein he spyed He would be sure to lay that booke aside God had increas'd his Basket and his store And he thereof gave freely to the poore There was to him no greater recreation Than fasting praying reading meditation He closely kept himselfe from all mens sight On all occasions he his minde would write His life he led for forty yeares and more Besides the forty spoken of before Full foure and forty yeares 't was just so many And in that time was never seene by any His haire was growne as it is figured here That he much like a Hermite did appeare Though he be dead and gone yet let his name For ever live with never dying fame J. B. Vpon the Life and Death of Master Henry Welby WHat age is this we live in that does see And produce wonders above Antiquity Some Nature taxe as if our life and growth Were unto former times inferior both Yet we saw one of late that when he stood He look't as he were borne before the Flood A second numbring dayes as they should have No end or did defie Death and the Grave A third as if that Nature would amend And contract what she did before extend Is like a Pigmy in his height decreas'd Who now will say that Miracles are ceas'd Looke farther in Mens manners you will finde As great a disproportion in the minde We have a Welby can himselfe immure Within his Chamber and there live secure Forty odd yeares and rather more than lesse Than Israel once did in the Wildernesse He eate no Manna nor no fare so good And yet he never murmur'd at his food Flesh he abhorr'd and wine he drank smal beere Cowes Milke and water-gruell was his cheere It was not avarice nor hope of gaine Nor love towards his heire made him abstaine He was no Sectary no Anchorite Nor yet of that engagement to invite To such a strictnesse vaine applause to winne Nor was it any pennance for his sin But once upon distaste he took an Oath And since all mens society did loath Which made him live inclos'd thus yet his purse VVas open and the poore far'd ne're the worse He read all Bookes and for his recreation He used frequent Prayer and Contemplation O who can found the thoughts that doe arise From minds so rap't and fill'd with extasies Thus Welby liv'd according to his vow Whose Life to us was but a Death and now That he his wonted solitute may have He is retir'd to a more silent Grave Shackerly Marmion The Phoenix of these late times Or the life of M. Henry Welby Gentleman who lived at his house in Gruh-street forty foure yeares and was never seene by any aged eighty foure I AM to present you with one of that rare temperance and abstinence that the times past those present or those to come neither have already can now or but with great difficulty may hereafter yeeld a more rare president It is said of Fredericke the third Emperor that when the Physitians told him that his Empresse Augusta Leonora being then barren if she would drinke Wine from which shee had abstained from her youth in these cold parts of Germany she might easily have issue The Emperor after some pause assented thereunto but said withall Malim uxorem sterilem quam vinosam I had rather have a wife subiect to sterility than vinosity

world and halfe from the world built his owne funerall nest or pile composed of the Teberinth and Cinnomon inter-woven with Onix and Galbanum with the sweete and odoriferous smells of Myrrh Aloes and Cassia and so made his death-bed an Altar and his godly zeale kindling those sweete spices sent up his soule in an acceptable Incense to that blessed and sacred Throne where a contrite heart and humble spirit were never despised To the sacred Memory of that most abstenious Gentleman Mr. Henry Welby OF any man at once alive and dead Should any make report as seene or read He 'd hardly find beleefe yet they that knew This shadows substance say this may be true And in his person prove it for his breath Was ballanc'd equally 'twixt Life and Death To Heaven he liv'd but to this treacherous world Her toyes and all her honyed-poyson hurl'd Farre from his bosome he was dead his Face Not seene by any in the lingring pace Of foure and forty Winters but his hand And heart were often in his strict command Of Almes and bounteous Largesse his Estate Not seene so at his Table as his Gate Forty foure Winters one poore petty roome To him was all the World to him a Tombe Tho. Brewer In Commendation of that vertuous Gentleman Mr. Henry Welby WEll be the blessed Subject of these lines Well be the Star that now in glory shines Well be thou well be all that live to dye And dye in grace to live immortally Thou that did'st from the world thy selfe exclude And by abstaining flesh the flesh subdu'd And with the Sword Gods Word warr'd with the devil Still striving to shunne all occasions evill For knowing mans best workes to be impure From sight of man thou didst thy selfe immure Where reading good things sin was mortifi'd Hope was confirm'd and Faith was fortifi'd Thy Charity did worke not one day idle True Prayer and Fasting did thy frailty bridle And like Cornelius up to Heaven ascended Thy Almes and Orisons and there attended Vntill thy soule shooke off earth transitory To be enshrin'd and crown'd with endlesse glory J. T. Upon the Life of that most worthy Gentleman Master Henry Welby OLd Henry Welby well be thou for ever Thy Purgatory's past thy Heav'n ends never Of Eighty foure yeeres life full forty foure Man saw thee not nor e're shall see thee more 'T was Piety and Penitence caus'd thee So long a prisoner to thy selfe to be Thy bounteous house within exprest thy mind Thy Charity without the poore did find From Wine thou wa'st a duteous Rechabite And flesh so long time shunn'd thy appetite Small Beere a Cawdle Milke or water-gruell Strengthned by grace maintain'd thy dayly duell Against the witching World the Flesh and Fiend Which made thee live and dye well there 's an end JOHN TAYLOR AN EPITAPH Or rather A Funerall Elegie upon the Right Worshipfull Mr. Henry Welby Esquire who dyed at his House in Grub-streete and lyeth buried in the Church of Saint Giles neare Cripple-gate WHo on the setting Sun shal cast their eyes May easily guess next morning how he 'l rise Those that our parting from this old world view May presuppose what welcome in the new Is to be had but best when Qualis vita Is sweetly Echo'd to by Finis ita If this be true as no man needs to doubt Search this mans life nay all the world throughout To paralell in both 't may be deny'd Many more strictly liv'd more Saint-like dy'd And therefore we may fairely hope that he Is now where we may wish our selves to be This man through many stormes tempests hurld Though he was in yet was not of the world When forty foure yeeres since he did divide Himselfe from men even then to men he dy'd And at that time his precious soule to save His Chamber made his Chappell Bed his Grave What did he now then since none twice can dye He chang'd his Bed remote from noise to lye Where undisturb'd he better rest might take Untill the Angels Trumpet him awake This of such note so late shall we let passe Sleightly No rather make his Dust our Glasse Him our Memento and his Life no lesse A Mirrour by the which our lives to dresse And though we strive not to be like austere For that indeed scarce humane strength can beare Let 's in some sort our love to vertue shew And crawle like Children ere they well can goe If he hath beene so abstinent at least Let us forbeare to surfeit when we feast He dranke no Wine at all let us not use Immoderate Cups our senses to abuse His cloaths were onely to defend from cold Shall our pyde garments then be dawb'd with gold Many his Manours were and great his rent Yet he with one small chamber was content Then let not such already well possest By powers hye hand their lands from others wrest His Temperance all vaine obiects did despise Let us then make some covenant with our eyes If he from his best strength to his last houres Pull'd downe his body let 's not pamper ours Rare Presidents ought to be followed most Than this a rarer there 's no Age can boast THO. HEYVVOOD FINIS * Sir Christopher Hilliard in Yorkeshire