Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	work_n	world_n	year_n	277	4	4.3748	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A01909	Eglogs epytaphes, and sonettes. Newly written by Barnabe Googe: 1563. 15. Marche	Googe, Barnabe, 1540-1594.; Blundeston, Laurence.	1563 (1563)	STC 12048; ESTC S106441	40,386	170

al theyr harms blud that happens them in lyfe Theyr Cōscience prickt theyr barren theyr toyle theyr grief theyr stryfe With mischiefes heaped many a one which they do neuer trye That Lou● Feare the myghty God that rules and raynes on hye To long it we are to make discourse and Phebus downe descends And in the Clowdes his beames doth hyde which tempest sure portends Looke how the beastes begin to sling and cast theyr heades on hye The Hear on shew mountes aboue the Clouds y e Crowes ech wher do cry All this showes rayn tyme byds vs go com Coridon awaye Take vp thy Staffe fetch ī thy beasts let vs go whyle we maye Cornix agreed go thou before you cursed Bull of myne I must go dryue he neuer bydes among my Fathers Kyne Finis Egluge octaue ¶ An Epytaphe of the Lorde Sheffeldes death WHen Brutysh broyle and rage of war in Clownysh harts began When Tigres stoute in Tāners bonde vnmusled all they ran The Noble Sheffeyld Lord by byrth and of a courage good By clubbish hāds of crabbed Clowns there spent his Noble blud His noble byrth auayled not his honor all was vayne Amyd the prease of Mast ye Curres the valyant Lorde was slayue And after suche a sorte O ruth that who can teares suppresse To thynke y e Dunghyll Dogs shuld dawnt the Floure of worthynes Whyle as the rauenyng Wolues he prayed his gylteles lyfe to saue A bluddy Butcher byg and blunt a vyle vnweldy knaue With beastly blow of boysterous byll at hym O Lorde let dryue And cleste his head and sayd therwith shalt thou be lefte alyue O Lorde that I had present ben and Hectors force withall Before that from his Carlysh hands the cruell Byll dyd fall Then shulde that peasaunt vyle haue felt the clap vpon his Crowne That shuld haue dazed his dogged hart from dryuyng Lordes adowne Then shuld my hands haue saued thy lyfe good Lord whō deare I loued Then shuld my hart in doutfull case full well to the ben proued But all in vayne thy death I wayle thy Corps in earth doth lye Thy kyng and Countrey for to serue thou dydste not feare to dye Farewel good Lord thy deth bewayle all suche as well the knewe And euerye man laments thy case and Googe thy death doth rewe ¶ An Epytaphe of M. Shelley slayne at Musselbroughe VVan Mars had moued mortall hate and forced sumysh heate And hye Bellona had decreed to syt with Sworde in Seate The Scottes vntrue with fyghtynge hande theyr promys to denye Assembled fast England thought the trothe with them to trye Chose Musclebroughe theyr fyghtynge place amyd those barrayne fyelds Theyr breche of fayth there not to try with trothe but trotheles Shyeldes In battayle braue and Armye strong Encamped soore they laye Ten Scottes to one a dredeful thyng a dolfull fyghtyng daye That Englysh men were all agaste with quakyng staues in hande To se theyr enemyes lye so neare and death with them to stande No other remedye there was but fyght it out or flye And who shuld fyrst the Onset gyue was sure therin to dye Thus al dismayde and wrapt in feare with doutfull mynde they stande If best it be with flyght of foote to stryue or fyght of hande Tyll at the length a Captayn stoute with hawtye mynde gan speake O Towards all and maydly men of Courage faynt and weake Vnworthye com of Brutus race is this your manhode gon And is there none you Dastardes all that dare them set vpon Then Shelley all inflamed with heate with heate of valyaunt mynde No Towardes we nor maydly men ne yet of Dastards kynde I wold you wyste dyd euer com but dare be bolde to trye Our manhode heare thoughe nought appeare but deth to all mens eye And with these wordes O noble hart no longer there he stayde But forth before them all he sprang as one no whyt dismayed With charged staffe on fomyng horse his Spurres with heeles he strykes And forewarde ronnes with swyftye race among the mortall Pykes And in this race with famous ende to do his Countrey good Gaue Onset fyrst vpon his Foes and lost his vitall blud ¶ Finis ¶ An Epytaphe of Maister Thomas Phayre THe hawtye verse y e Maro wrote made Rome to wonder mu●he And meruayle none for why the Style and waightynes was suche That all men iudged Parnassus Mownt had clefte her selfe in twayne And brought forth one that seemd to drop from out Minerua●s brayne But wonder more maye Bryttayne great wher Phayre dyd florysh late And barreyne tong with swete accord reduced to suche estate That Virgils verse hath greater grace in forrayne foote obtaynde Than in his own who whilst he lyued eche other Poets stayned· The Noble H. Hawarde once that raught eternall fame With mighty Style did bryng a pece of Virgils worke in frame And Grimaold gaue the lyke attempt and D●uglas wan the Ball whose famouse wyt in Scottysh ryme had made an ende of all But all these same dyd Phayre excell I dare presume to wryte As muche as doth Appoll●es Beames the dymmest Starre in lyght The enuyous fates O pytie great had great disdayne to se That vs amongst there shuld remayn so fyne a wyt as he And in the mydst of all his toyle dyd force hym hence to wende And leaue a Worke vnperfyt so that neuer man shall ende ¶ An Epytaphe of the Death of Nicolas Grimaold BEholde this fletyng world how al things fade Howe euery thyng doth passe and we are awaye Eche state of lyfe by comon course and trade Abydes no tyme but hath a passyng daye For looke as lyfe that pleasaūt Dame hath brought Tht pelasaunt yeares and dayes of lustynes So Death our Foe consumeth all to nought Enuyeng thefe with Darte doth vs oppresse And that whiche is the greatest gryfe of all The gredye Grype doth no estate respect But wher he comes he makes them down to fall Ne stayes he at the hie sharpe wytted sect For yf that wytt or worthy Eloquens Or learnyng deape coulde moue hym to forbeare O Grima●ld then thou hadste not yet gon hence But heare hadest sene full many an aged yeare Ne had the Muses loste so fyne a Floure Nor had Minerua wept to leaue the so If wysdome myght haue fled the fatall howre Thou hadste not yet ben suffred for to go A thousande doltysh Geese we myght haue sparde A thousande wytles heads death might haue found And taken them for whom no man had carde And layde them lowe in deepe obliuious grounde But Fortune fauours Fooles as old men saye And le ts them lyue and take the wyse awaye ¶ Finis ¶ To Mayster Alexander Nowell THe Muses ioye and well they may to se So well theyr laboure com to good successe That they sustayned long agoe in the Minerua smyles Phebus can do no lesse But ouer all they chyefly do reioyse That leauyng thyngs which are but fond and vayne Thou dyddest chuse O good