Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A50994
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The Mischief of intemperance occasioned by the death of a young gentleman who shortned his days by immoderate drinking.
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1691
(1691)
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Wing M2234; ESTC R26844
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6,688
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16
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The MISCHIEF OF Intemperance Occasioned by the DEATH OF A Young Gentleman Who shortned his Days by Immoderate Drinking Facit Indignatio Versum Wine is a Mocker and Strong Drink is Raging and whosoever is deceiv'd thereby is not wise Prov. 20. v. 1 LONDON Printed for J. Deacon and are to be Sold by Godfrey Bouchier Book-Seller and Book-Binder in Peterborough 1691. THE MISCHIEF OF INTEMPERANCE Jeremiah 9th Ver. 1. Oh that my Head were Waters and mine Eyes a Fountain of Tears that I might weep day and night for the slain of the Daughter of my People WHat though I dip my Pen in briny Tears I know I shall but merit Scoffs and Jeers Since he that doth God's Image blind 't is known He must unwillingly behold his own Though Reason tells him he should wash his Face Rather than thus to quarrel with his Glass Which truly represents him as he is Draw back the Curtain then and it is this God stamp't on Man his Image and his Feature That Man may own his God and God his Creature But he by Sin this Image hath deface't Stamping thereon the Signature of Beast And so his Soul below a Beasts is sunk Since no Man ever knew that Beasts were drunk But if that Beasts they should be drunken then Men would not act like Beasts but Beasts like Men Excepting sinful Man Who ever saw The Creatures deviate from Natures Law Frogs croak like Frogs and pritty Birds do sing Their constant Notes to complement the Spring But Man the Darling of the God above The Object of His Wisdom Goodness Love Who 's fix't the Lamp of Reason in his Breast That he may follow God and lead the Beast Heir of the Gifts of Nature and of Grace By which he looks his Maker in the face Bearing his Impress printed on his Breast That being God-like God-like may be blest 'T is he alone that doth betray his Trust By being impious and withal unjust And so to give the Creatures what 's their Due They are our Preachers and Accusers too Speaking to us as once did Balaam's Ass In such like Language and in such like Phrase We bear your Burdens Men both out and in But must we bear the Burden of your Sin We labour for your Needs not your Excess And do supply your Wants not Wantoness We are your Vassals then and you may use us Why do you strike us Why do you abuse us And by your Sin pervert the ends of Nature Sining against your God your selves your Creature God gave Men Feet that they may stedfast walk Reason to guide and Speech to grace their Talk But Sin transforms the Man and makes him reel And where the Head should stand there stands the Heel The Tongue no less when liquored and wet Becomes as much unstable as the Feet Since all the Chat is but an empty Tale Got of the Froth and Foamings of the Ale Little of Christian Morals here abounds Little of Christ base Swearing by his Wounds Feuds Clamors Bick'rings Frauds and all that shame us Nothing of God except it be God Damm-us And thus the empty Casks do make a Noise As wanting Reasons Ballast and her Poize These Follies do impair our Health no less Than here they do expose our Nakedness They dig an early Grave prepare a Pit For him who least of all prepares for it Sometimes he strives his Comrades to out-brave And courting Death rides gallop to a Grave Sometimes his angry Sword dissects a spout By which Death enters in and Life goes out Sometimes his Steed grudging to bear the Pack Both of the Sin and Rider on his back Commits him to a Mercy rarely found Stepping between the Stirrop and the Ground As Men for Drink are to the Stocks confind For to reduce them to a sober Mind Experience likewise tells him how he locks And fettereth his Feet in Gouty Stocks And then his pungent Dolours makes him feel How Pain doth take the Pleasure by the Heel Who can't be wean'd from sucking of the Tap But makes a Cask on 's Carcass 't is his hap For to be tapped too and by that Spout Both Life as well as Liquor runneth out Sometimes the stiptick Liquors meet in one So petrifie and knead into a Stone Which grating on the Bladder doth become The only Stone that shapes him out a Tomb An Apoplexy knocks him on the head He 's sometimes by an Asthma strangled Oft in a Dropsie drown'd as oft expires By sullen silent hidden Hectick Fires And so he doth the Devils Martyr burn Making his Pitcher to become his Urn Sometimes a Lethurgy beguiles his Reason And shuts him in a dark and dismal Prison Wreathing the Poppey Garland on his head Whose steams both Soul and Body over-spread Locking the Gates of Sense as well as Reason And so the Captive dyeth in his Prison Sometimes a Quinzy makes him change his Note Choak'd by a Grape-stone sticking in his Throat So by a Paralitick Fit he feels As Death is in his Hands so at his Heels For so a House that shakes and totters all Conclude though under-propt that it will fall These Maladies do from our Lusts proceed And Vermine-like on putrid Matter breed And so as Lice do on their Masters feed Thus sprightly Liquors often burst the Tun And kills as sure though not so soon as Gun So breaks the Glass before the Sand be run So have I seen the Sun extend his Beams And by imbibing moist and foggy steams Contract a sable Frontlet on his head And so at Mid-day steal away to Bed Intemperance no less contracts a shrowd Causing our Sun to set within a Cloud Which too too often doth presage what may Become the Fate of the succeeding Day And thus we steal away from human sight Nor bid our selves good Morrow nor good Night And so the Lamp of Nature doth expire Quench't by the Oyl that should maintain the Fire Thus Men into the other State are hurl'd Before they know their Errand in this World Unfit for th' other World unfit for this Unfit for Business and unfit for Bliss And so in both World 's doom'd to Misery Unfit to live and more unfit to dye If after all the Sinner still survives It is the Sin and not the Man that thrives And then be sure he can't from Judgment fly Except his God or else his Soul can dye Nor do these Charming Pleasures thus combine To wound the Body only but the Mind Attempting on us what the Scriptures say That Jael once did unto Sisera She Courted him with Words as soft as silk To come and drink of her Inchanted Milk Then cov'ring him she laid him fast for dead By driving home the Nail into his Head Thus Pleasures by intoxicating Charms Lulls us asleep in their bewitching Arms Contracting on our Heads a cloudy scrowle Then nails the Body fast unto the Soul By which the Soul incurs her fatal Doom Craving the Body only for a Tomb Thus Souls do dye by being