Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	life_n	think_v	time_n	6,519	5	3.5882	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A23239	The scourge of Venus: or, The wanton lady With the rare birth of Adonis. Written by H.A.; Metamorphoses. Book 10. English	Ovid, 43 B.C.-17 or 18 A.D.; Austin, Henry, fl. 1613, attributed name. aut	1613 (1613)	STC 968; ESTC S118594	15,759	46

stop thy eares and heare not Myrha's name And shut thy eies whē thou dost read the same My youthfull yeares rash folly doth beseeme The skill of law to aged folkes belong And all is lawfull that we list I deeme We take no notice of the right or wrong If it offend to take thy owne in 't bed Let that offence be layd vpon my head Then set apart the dread of worldly shame And take the Gods as presidents herein My pregnant wit shall shun all future blame Our pleasure scapes wel hid with name of kin And you may clip and kisse and play with me A daughters name me thinkes a cloke wil bee Haue mercy now I haue my case exprest Which loue inforst my fearefull hand to write O grant thy daughter this her first request That is the occasion of her chiefe delight This Epitaph deserue thou not I haue The cruel father tooke the life he gaue And though my lines are blotted euery where 'T was with my teares that fell ere it was dry And if my letters scribled do appeare Whereby you thinke some other wrot to try Your mind because my curious hand is mist A fearefull minde doth bring a shaking fist And so these scrambled lines I do commend Vnto your loue be-blurred all with teares With feruent hope they shall no whit offend The minde is base that stil continuall feares And note you which is the greater blot To get no childe or kill that you haue got Thus much this lustfull Lady writ in vaine And seald it closely with a precious stone A precious stone clos'd vp a filthy staine Her trusty seruant forth she cals anone And blushing bad him with a merry cheare He should this letter to her father beare This scarcely said old Cynaras did come And then she cast her letter quite aside Daughter said he you see the daily throng Of suters that do seeke thee for their bride Here be their names my wench thē come show On which of them thou wilt thy selfe bestow Now for a space she silent did remaine And onely gazed wishly in his face She could her teares no longer then restraine But they ran trickling down her cheeks apace Her father kisses her and bids her peace And thought it tender-hearted shamefastnes He dry'd her cheekes and said my wench be stil Thy yeares of right a husband now doth claime Thou shalt not liue a maid by my good will Nor longer shalt a wanton bed refraine Then what or who wilt haue come tell me now At length she did reply one like to you He did allow the choyce and praisd the same And kist and clipt her for her louing speech Not deeming that it tended to their shame It pleasd her well wisht that he would seech A further suit and then made this request Let me liue still with you let wooers rest Your company I most of all affect Continue but your loue it shall suffice These wrangling husbands why should I respect Her father thus againe to her replies Thy godlinesse at which she blushed red I like but thou must tast a Bride-groomes bed Thou dost not know the pleasure it affords Nor wanton motions that therein abound It not consisteth all of pleasant words More gamesome tricks are there stil to be foūd A minde so chaste as thine cannot conceiue What pleasing sports one shall therby receiue It is no dreame nor passion of the minde But a substantiall pleasure there doth dwell The practike part of dreames therein we finde Which who so doth omit leades Apes in hell Why dost thou blush I know your case belieue Maids must say nay yet take when men do giue And now the sable horses of the night Haue drawne a mantle ore the siluer sky And all the stars doe shew their borrowed light Each breathing thing oprest with sleep dothly Saue Philomell that sings of Terreus rape And Myrha plotting some incestious scape No rest at all she tooke within her bed The flames of Cupid burnt so in her brest And many a fansie comes into her head Which ouer-much her troubled soule opprest She doubts she hopes thē feare doth make repaire Sh'l now attēpt then shame doth bring despaire Looke how you see a pleasant field of Corne Moue here there by gentle-breathing wind Now vp and downe as waues in sea are borne So doubtfull thoughts had motion in her mind Now shee 'l surcease and now to him repaire Instable like a feather in the aire O fye vpon this fowle incestious lust That very Nature greatly doth al horre Some plague will fall vpon all such I trust If in this world there can be any more I hope this little world well free-ed is Of Giants and such monstrous beasts as this So God preserue it if it be his will And let the Gospell euer flourish here Yet I do feare we haue some yet as ill The pleasing fooles do with their folly beare In Paradice I see wee cannot liue But we shall finde some foule seducing Eue. My tongue doth stagger to repeate her name So foule a blot a Christian cannot brooke Go seeke a glasse to see this filthy shame Vpon Gods holy Bible daily looke And there thou maist as in a mirror see No Alkeron can yeeld the like to thee There sucke the Nectar of his Holy Word And begge thou pardon for thy foule abuse For euery Sore it can a Salue afford O Atheist learne to make of it good vse Thou Christians blot to leaue off further talke Whilst thou hast light endeuor there to walke And thou Paenchaia rich in many a thing In Custus Cynamon and Incense sweete That out of trees aboundantly doth spring Of Ammonie and things for vses meete Yet whilst thou yeeldest Myrrh I wey thee not For thereunto hath Myrha giuen a blot No measure in her filthy loue she found No ease no rest but death doth like her now Resolu'd on this she gets vp from the ground And mindes to hang herselfe her loue to shew And then the noose about her necke she drawes And said ô Cynaras thou art the onely cause Farewell therefore a thousand times farewell Deere Cynaras thou mightst haue sau'd my life And thinke then this to me alone befell Because I durst not loue thee as a wife Farewell againe Oh welcome gentle death And then she went about to stop her breath A recompence fit for so foule a mind But yet by chance her aged Nurse did lye Within a chamber that to hers adioyn'd Who ouer-hearing this to her did hye And seeing her halfe murdered so began To shrieke screeme straight vnto her ran Who first did snatch her girdle from her necke And powring teares vpon her plentuously Did hold her in her aged armes though weake And kissing her did vrge the reason why She went about away herselfe to make Or to her shame so base a course to take Quoth she I pray thee tell the cause to me Behold these empty dugs and head