Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	word_n	worth_n	worthy_a	16	3	6.1258	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A01522	The steele glas A satyre co[m]piled by George Gascoigne Esquire. Togither with The complainte of Phylomene. An elegie deuised by the same author.	Gascoigne, George, 1542?-1577.	1576 (1576)	STC 11645; ESTC S102876	34,222	124

by like or very neare of kin Then followed them Detraction and Deceite Sym Swash did beare a buckler for the first False witnesse was the seconde seemely page And thus wel armd and in good equipage This Galant came vnto my fathers courte And wood my sister for she elder was And fayrer eke but out of doubt at least Hir pleasant speech surpassed mine somuch That vayne Delight to hir adrest his sute Short tale to make she gaue a free consent And forth she goeth to be his wedded make Entyst percase with glosse of gorgeous shewe Or else perhappes persuaded by his peeres That constant loue had herbord in his brest Such errors growe where suche false Prophets preach How so it were my Syster likte him wel And forth she goeth in Court with him to dwel Where when she had some yeeres ysoiorned And saw the world and marked eche mans minde A deepe Desire hir louing hart enflamde To see me sit by hir in seemely wise That companye might comfort hir sometimes And sound advice might ease hir wearie thoughtes And forth with speede euen at hir first request Doth vaine Delight his hasty course direct To seeke me out his sayles are fully bent And winde was good to bring me to the bowre Whereas she lay that mourned dayes and nights To see hir selfe so matchte and so deceivde And when the wretch I cannot terme him bet Had me on seas ful farre from friendly help A sparke of lust did kindle in his brest And bad him harke to songs of Satyra I selly soule which thought no body harme Gan cleere my throte and straue to sing my best Which pleasde him so and so enflamde his hart That he forgot my sister Poesys And rauisht me to please his wanton minde Not so content when this foule fact was done Yfraught with feare least that I should disclose His incest and his doting darke desire He causde straight wayes the formost of his crew VVith his compeare to trie me with their tongues And when their guiles could not preuaile to winne My simple mynde from tracke of trustie truth Nor yet deceyt could bleare mine eyes frō fraud Came Slander then accusing me and sayde That I entist Delyght to loue luste Thus was I caught poore wretch that thought none il And furthermore to cloke their own offence They clapt me fast in cage of Myserie And there I dwelt full many a doleful day Vntil this theefe this traytor vaine Delight Cut out my tong with Raysor of Restraynte Least I should wraye this bloudy deede of his And thus my Lord I liue a weary life Not as I seemd a man sometimes of might But womālike whose teares must venge hir harms And yet euen as the mighty gods did daine For Philomele that thoughe hir tong were cutte Yet should she sing a pleasant note sometimes So haue they deignd by their deuine decrees That with the stumps of my reproued tong I may sometimes Reprouers deedes reproue And sing a verse to make them see themselues Then thus I sing this selly song by night Like Phylomene since that the shining Sunne Is now eclypst which wont to lend me light And thus I sing in corner closely cowcht Like Philomene since that the stately cowrts Are now no place for such poore byrds as I. And thus I sing with pricke against my brest Like Philomene since that the priuy worme Which makes me see my reckles youth mispent May well suffise to keepe me waking still And thus I sing when pleasant spring begins Like Philomene since euery ianglyng byrd Which squeaketh loude shall neuer triumph so As though my muze were mute and durst not sing And thus I sing with harmelesse true intent Like Philomene when as percase meane while The Cuckowe suckes mine eggs by foule deceit And lickes the sweet which might haue fed me first And thus I meane in mournfull wise to sing A rare conceit God graunt it like my Lorde A trustie tune from auncient clyffes conueyed A playne song note which cannot warble well For whyles I mark this weak and wretched world Wherin I see howe euery kind of man Can flatter still and yet deceiues himselfe I seeme to muse from whence such errour springs Such grosse cōceits such mistes of darke mistake Such Surcuydry such weening ouer well And yet in dede such dealings too too badde And as I stretch my weary wittes to weighe The cause therof and whence it should proceede My battred braynes which now be shrewdly brusde With cānon shot of much misgouernmēt Can spye no cause but onely one conceite Which makes me thinke the world goeth stil awry I see and sigh bycause it makes me sadde That peuishe pryde doth al the world possesse And euery wight will haue a looking glasse To see himselfe yet so he seeth him not Yea shal I say a glasse of common glasse Which glistreth bright and shewes a seemely shew Is not enough the days are past and gon That Berral glasse with foyles of louely brown Might serue to shew a seemely fauord face That age is deade and vanisht long ago Which thought that steele both trusty was true And needed not a foyle of contraries But shewde al things euen as they were in deede In steade whereof our curious yeares can finde The christal glas which glimseth braue bright And shewes the thing much better than it is Beguylde with foyles of sundry subtil sights So that they seeme and couet not to be This is the cause beleue me now my Lorde That Realmes do rewe from high prosperity That kings decline from princely gouernment That Lords do lacke their auncestors good wil That knights consume their patrimonie still That gentlemen do make the merchant rise That plowmen begge and craftesmen cānot thriue That clergie quayles and hath smal reuerence That laymen liue by mouing mischiefe stil That courtiers thriue at latter Lammas day That officers can scarce enrich their heyres That Souldiours sterue or prech at Tiborne crosse That lawyers buye and purchase deadly hate That merchants clyme and fal againe as fast That roysters brag aboue their betters rome That sicophants are counted iolly guests That Lais leades a Ladies life alofte And Lucrece lurkes with sobre bashful grace This is the cause or else my Muze mistakes That things are thought which neuer yet were wrought And castels buylt aboue in lofty skies Which neuer yet had good foundation And that the same may seme no feined dreame But words of worth and worthy to be wayed I haue presumde my Lord for to present With this poore glasse which is of trustie Steele And came to me by wil and testament Of one that was a Glassemaker in deede Lucylius this worthy man was namde Who at his death bequeathd the christal glasse To such as loue to seme but not to be And vnto those that loue to see themselues How foule or fayre soeuer that they are He gan bequeath a glasse of trustie