Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
|
ID |
Title |
Author |
Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
STC |
Words |
Pages |
|
A11097
|
Democritus, or Doctor Merry-man his medicines, against melancholy humors. Written by S.R.
|
Rowlands, Samuel, 1570?-1630?
|
1607
(1607)
|
STC 21366; ESTC S116226
|
11,467
|
50
|
tongue a drop of water doth desire About my hart do crawling Serpents creepe And I can neither eate nor drinke nor sleepe Ther 's no diseases whatsoere they be But I haue all of them impos'd on me All torments that the tongue of man can name Within without in a continuall flame Quoth the Quack-saluer Sir I le vndertake A sound man of you in a month to make Wilt please your worship shew me where you dwell Marry quoth he my Chamber is in hell Thy charges in the iourney I will beare And I le preferre thee to the Deuill there With speede get vp I le take thee on my backe The world may spare you and in hell we lacke A Byshop met two Priests vpon the way And did salute them with the time of day Goodmorrow Clarkes vnto you both quoth he Sir they reply'd no Clarkes but Priests are we Why said the Byshop then I will consent Vnto the title of your owne content Since you deny to carry Scholers markes Goodmorrow to you Priests that are no Clarks ONe clymbing of a tree by hap Fell downe and brake his arme And did complaine vnto a friend Of his vnlucky harme Would I had counsel'd you before Quoth he to whom he spake I know a tricke for Clymbers That they neuer hurt shall take Neighbour said he I haue a Sonne And he doth vse to clymbe Pray let me know that same for him Agaynst another time Why thus quoth he let any man That liues clymbe nere so hye And make no more hast downe then vp No harme can come thereby AN aged Gentleman sore sicke did lye Expecting life that could not chuse but dye His foole came to him and intreateth thus Good Mayster ere you goe away from vs Bestow on Iacke that oft hath made you laugh Against he waxeth old your walking staffe I will quoth he go take it there it is But on condition Iacke which shall be this If thou do meete with any while thou liue More foole then thou the staffe thou shalt him giue Mayster said he vpon my life I will But I do hope that I shall keepe it stil. When Death drew neare and faintnesse did proceed His Maister cals for a Diuine with speede For to prepare him vnto heauens way The Foole starts vp and hastily did say Oh Maister Mayster take your staffe againe That prooue your selfe the most foole of vs twaine Haue you liu'd now some fourescore yeares and odde And all this time are vnprepar'd for God What greater foole can any meete withall Then one that 's ready in the graue to fall And is to seeke about his soules estate When Death is op'ning of the pryso n-gate Beare witnesse friends that I discharge me plaine Here Mayster here receiue your staffe againe Vpon the same condition I did take it According as you wil'd me I forsake it And ouer and aboue I will bestow This Epitaph which shall your follie shew Heere lies a man at death did heauen clayme But in his life he neuer sought the same A Simple Clowne in Flanders As he trauelling had bin Hauing his wife in company Came late vnto his Inne A Spanish Souldier being there A Guest vnto the place No sooner saw but lik't his wife She had a comely face And watch't when they were gone to bed Then boldly in comes he And neuer said friends by your leaue But made their number three The Clowne lay still and felt a stirre Yet durst not speake for 's life At length his patience was so mou'd He softly iogg'd his Wife And said to her prethee intreate The Spaniard to be still Can I speake Sanish man quoth she You know I haue no skill But Husband if you please to rise And for the Sexton goe He vnderstandeth Spanish well Assuredly I know Faith and I le fetch him straight quoth he And so the Rusticke rose And softly sneaking out of doores About his message goes Meane while imagine what you will To me it is vnknowne But ere her Husband came againe The Spaniard he was gone Which when the simple Foole perceiu'd He fell to domineere Oh wife said he for twenty pound I would I had him here Tell me sweet hart when I was gone How long the Knaue did stay Quoth she you scarce were out of doores Before he ran away Wife saide the Clowne thou mak'st me laugh That I did scare him thus Come let vs take a little nap for his disturbing vs. You see what comes of pollicy and good discretion wife if I had beene a hastie foole â— might haue cost my life A Courtezans Humour I Am a Profest a Courtezan That liue by peoples sinne With halfe a dozen Punkes I keepe I haue great comming in Such store of Traders haunt my house To find a lusty Wench That twenty gallants in a weeke Do entertaine the French Your Courtier and your Cittizen Your very rustique Clowne Will spend an Angell on the poxe Euen ready Mony downe I striue to liue most Lady-like And scorne those foolish Queanes That do not rattle in their Silkes and yet haue able meanes I haue my Coach as if I were A Countesse I protest I haue my dainty musicke playes When I would take my rest I haue my Seruing-men that waite Vpon me in blew Coates I haue my Oares that attend My pleasure with their Boats I haue my Champions that will fight My Louers that doe fawne I haue my Hat my Hood my Maske My Fan my Cobweb Lawne To giue my Gloue vnto a Gull Is mighty fauour found When for the wearing of the same It costs him twenty pound My Garter as a gratious thing Another takes away And for the same a silken gowne The Prodigall doth pay Then comes an Asse and he forsooth Is in such longing heate My buske point euen on his knees With teares he doth entreat I grant it to reioyce the man And then request a thing Which is both Gold and pretious stone The Wood-cockes Diamond Ring Another lowly minded youth Forsooth my shooe-string craues And that he putteth through his eare Calling the rest base slaues Thus fit I Fooles in humours still That come to me for game I punish them for Venery Leauing their purses lame In New-gate some take lodgings vp Till they to Tiburne ride And others walke to Wood-street With a Sargeant by their side Some go to Houns-ditch with their cloaths To pawne for Mony lending And some I send to Surgeons shops Because they lacke some mending Others passe ragged vp and downe All totter'd rent and torne But being in that scuruy case Their companies I scorne For if they come and fawne on me Ther 's nothing to be got As soone as ere my Merchants breake I sweare I know them not No entertainement nor a looke That they shall get of me If once I do begin perceiue That out of cash they be All kindnesses that I professe The fayrest shewes I make Is loue to all that come to me For Gold and Siluers sake