Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	wont_a	word_n	year_n	26	3	4.1340	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A81480	Ding dong, or Sr. Pitifull Parliament, on his death-bed. His pulses felt by Doctor King, and his water cast by Doctor Bishop. His last will, and testament, with his death, buriall, and epitaph. / By Mercurius Melancholicus.	Mercurius Melancholicus, fl. 1648.	1648 (1648)	Wing D1495; Thomason E441_20; ESTC R204904	3,900	8

DING DONG OR Sr. Pitifull Parliament On his Death-Bed His Pulses felt by Doctor KING and his water cast by Doctor BISHOP His last Will and Testament with his Death Buriall and Epitaph By Mercurius Melancholicus Hast hast good Sexton toule the bell Even at the point of death Lies our most blessed Parliament And scarce can draw his breath Goe call the Doctors Priviledge Thou art his serving creature Tell Doctor King he needs must come To helpe restore his Nature Ruine Directory hast I say Call Doctor Bishop hither Tell him our dying Parliament Want him and King together O Nol O Tom O Rainsborow O Devill Foole and Knave Come close the eyes of your Deare State And lay him in the grave Printed in the Yeare 1648. Sir Pitifull Parliament on his Death-Bed Induction Our high and mighty Parliament Fell sick of late with discontent The businesse thus a Scotchman came Whom for his owne sake I 'le not name And justling him began to say Why do'st thou God and Man betray And do'st thy league with me forsake Not suffering me for to partake Of all thy glory and degree Nor do'st set up Presbyterie Be sure ere long arm'd Cap a pee Strict Vengeance I will take on thee Hee gone one Poyer with his Mate Called Powell who by happy Fate Had ceazed Pembroke Castle and Incited all for CHARLES to stand Came in and said O cursed Devill We 'l make the now repent the evill Thou hast these seven yeares put in ure Yet would'st have us to count thee pure This put Sir Parliament in dread And presently he tooke his bed Where a sore sicknesse ceazed upon him That he dispaires to shake if from him And now alas he 's drawing on And sinking to perdition Enter Mr. Vete O Run run Mr. Priveledge or we are all lost Sir Pitifull Parliament hath taken griefe which hath so prevailed over his powers and mastered his faculties that he is now become a meere Skelleton and lies drawing on away with winged hast harke how he groanes his heart-strings crack like a Cable when the affrighted Barke breakes from the Anchor hee yawnes againe O good man that hee that hath beene so long florishing of such health of body and wealthy above Craessus should now bee wasted with a Scotch Feaves and shaken to pieces with a Welsh Ague and fall as poore as Ir●s O runne runne good Priviledge some Aqua-vitae for our sicke Parliament or all 's lost Mr. Declaration The Doctors the Doctors post post for the Doctors doe you two stand here like statues to behold your sick Master surrender his Ghost dare you be Spectators with the Divell O Mr. Priviledge O Mr. Vote one of you runne for Doctor King the other for Dr. Bishop but bid the last not to appeare in his Lawne sleeves for the shape of any thing resembling Innocence will hasten my Masters end runne runne for Gods sake To fetch the Doctors Priviledge and Vote Are gone they 'r come and now what followes note Behold Sr. Parliament here in his bed Sr. Ralph Rebellion holding of his head With all the Rabble of his new made Creatures Knowing their names you needs must know their natures Mr. Rebellion For Pluto's sake cheare up Sir or else all Hell will be sorrowfull O how his temples beat as if hee were possest with a Vertigo good Sir bee comforted the Scots are not yet comming Prince CHARLES is yet in France Poyer may yet bee nam'd the Londoners are still Sir at your service the Coxcombs are bewitcht unto their ruine you yet may Rule the roast o're King and People why should you dye yet Pitifull Parliament O Rebellion thy comforts come too late my Conscience ō my Conscience 't is that kills me were there no opposition J am a man that am di'd o're with blood am guilty of an hundred thousand lives oh oh I have for to inrich my private Cosers undone a Nation made ten Thousand beg have wrongd my King that is the best of Princes pull'd downe all order in the Church and State and introduc't the worst of Turcisme oh oh Rebellion Conscience is meerly but an ayrie sound shall fear perswade you Sir to penitence recall your wonted temper and imagine to be as great as ever deare Sr. without you I that have seaven yeares maskt with the vayle of seeming Pity been worshipt as a god shall now decline into my wonted orbe and abhorred as the worst of Devils Pitifull Parliament I can hold out no longer 't is in vaine for me to cheare my selfe when Death's approaching shift for thy selfe Rebellion I must leave thee I see as in a glasse my Fate is cast and that the King will have his owne againe and if the words of dying men be Oracle beleeve then that ere Three yeares are accomplisht all things will be as they were seaven yeares since 't is best for me to dye and so escape the fury of those Lyons wait to teare me dost thon not know the Commons of this Isle have found their errour and doe now resolve to have one King rather then forty Tyrants seest thou not how my miseries throng about me perceivest thou not that Heaven it selfe is bent to give a period to my undertakings all England Ireland Wales Scotland yea the Universe protest to fall themselves or ruine me Where 's Mr. Covenant Mr. Covenant Here Sr. yet with no weeping eye doe I deplore your miserable Fortune for you have dea't with mee as some with Iades ride them of their legges then turne them to the Commons I have beene hackney to you Sr. this seaven yeares have made great journyes and yet carried double and but of late when you were swolne with pompe and hemd about with all mistaken glories when I expected love and great preferment you thrust me forth of doores with scorne and obloquie for which you now lie Cauving Pittifull Parliament I never meant for to make thee my Rivall how ere for to adde to my owne advantage I entertained and hugd thee in my bosome Machiavill was my master any thing that might helpe forward my curst undertakings Oaths Covenants and Protestations with or against God all was one to me home to thy Blew Capt brethren both I and thee must neere expect our wishes the King the King man now must rule againe Where 's Mr. Plunder Mr. Plunder Here my deare Master Pittifull Parliament O my delicious servant to thee J am ingaged more then to all my creatures thou hast been my supoorter all a-long nor shall I leave behind me now I die a doir but what by thy helpe I have gained Mr. Plunder Be chearfull Sir I still am your true Trojan give me but Warrants signed with your hand I le plunder all without distinction fetch you in Money Cattell goods and Treasure make you Delinquents let me make them poore shew me a Cleargie man that doth preach sound Doctrine whose life conformable unto his words whose Charity extends unto the poore dares build