Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	worst_a	write_v	year_n	19	3	4.1380	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A50616	Recreation for ingenious head-peeces, or, A pleasant grove for their wits to walk in of epigrams 700, epitaphs 200, fancies a number, fantasticks abundance : with their addition, multiplication, and division.	Mennes, John, Sir, 1599-1671.; Smith, James, 1605-1667.	1654 (1654)	Wing M1714; ESTC R31890	117,409	410

Ne'r none-such here her Corps interred lye 165. On a beautifull Virgin In this Marble buri'd lyes Beauty may inrich the Skyes And adde light to Phaebus eyes Sweeter then Aurora's aire When she paints the Lilies faire And gilds Cowslips with her haire Chafter then the Virgin spring Ere her blossomes she doth bring Or cause Philomel to sing If such goodnesse live 'mongst men Bring me it I know then She is come from heaven agen But if not ye standers by Cherish me and say that I Am the next design'd to dy 166. An ancient Epitaph on Martin Mar-Prelate The Welshman is hanged Who at our Kirk flanged And at her state banged And breaded are his Bukes And though he be hanged Yet he is not wranged The Devill has him fanged In his kruked klukes 167. Vpon Hodge Pue's Father Oh cruell death that stop● the view Of Thoms Parishioner good-man Pue Who lived alwayes in good order Untill that death stopt his Recorder Which was betwixt Easter and Pentecost In the year of the great frost At New-Market then was the King When as the Bells did merrily ring The Minister preached the day before Unto his Highnesse and no more Returning home said prayers and Buried the man as I understand 168. On our prime English Poet Geffery Chaucer an ancient Epitaph My Master Chaucer with his fresh Comedies Is dead alas chiefe Poet of Britaine That whilome made full piteous Tragedies The fault also of Princes did complaine As he that was of making Soveraigne Whom all this Land should of right preferre Sith of our Language he was the Load-sterre 169. On Mr. Ed● Spencer the famous Poet. At Delphos shrine one did a doubt propound Which by the Oracle must be released Whether of Poets were the best renown'd Those that survive or they that are deceased The Gods made answer by divine suggestion While Spencer is alive it is no question 170. On Iohn Owen Well had these words been added to thy herse What e'r thou spak'st like Ovid was a verse 171. On Michael Drayton buryed in Westminster Doe pious Marble let thy Readers know What they and what their Children ow To Draytons sacred name whose dust We recommend unto thy trust Protect his memory preserve his story And a lasting Monument of his glory And when thy ruines shall disclaime To be the Treasury of his name His name which cannot fade shall be An everlasting Monument to thee 172. On Mr. Beaumont He that hath such acutenesse and such wit As well may ask six lives to manage it He that hath writ so well that no man dare Deny it for the best let him beware Beaumont is dead by whose sole death appears Wit 's a disease consumes men in few years 173. On William Shakespeare Renowned Spencer lye a thought more nigh To learned Chaucer and rare Beaumont lye A little nearer Spencer to make room For Shakespeare in your threefold fourfold tomb To lodge all four in one bed make a shift Untill Dooms-day for hardly will a fifth Betwixt this day and that by Fates be slain For whom your curtains may be drawn again If your precedency in death doe bar A fourth place in your sacred Sepulcher Under this sacred Marble of thine owne Sleep rare Tragoedian Shakespeare sleep ●lone Thy unmolested peace in an unshared cave Possesse as Lord not Tenant of thy grave That knto us and others it may be Honour hereafter to be laid by thee 174. On Ben Iohnson Here lyes Iohnson with the rest Of the Poets but the best Reader wo'dst thou more have known Ask his story not this stone That will speak what this can't tell Of his glory So farewell 175. Another on Ben I. The Muses fairest light in no dark time The wonder of a learned Age the line That none can passe the most proportion'd wit To Nature the best Judge of what was fit The deepest plainest highest clearest pen The voyce most Eccho'd by consenting men The soul which answer'd best to all well said By others and which most requitall made Tun'd to the highest key of ancient Rome Returning all her musick with her owne In whom with nature study claim'd a part And yet who to himself ow'd all his Art Here lyes Ben Iohnson every age will look With sorrow here with wonder on his Book 176. On Mr. Francis Quarles To them that understand themselves so well As what not who lies here to ask I 'l tell What I conceive envy dare not deny Far both from falshood and from flattery Here drawn to land by death doth lye A Vessell fitter for the skye Then Iasons Argo though to Greece They say it brought the Golden Fleece The skillfull Pilot steer'd it so Hither and thither to and fro Through all the Seas of Poetry Whether they far or near doe lye And fraught it so with all the wealth Of wit and learning not by stealth Or Piracy but purchase got That this whole lower world could not Richer Commodities or more Afford to adde unto his store To heaven then with an intent Of new discoveries he went And left his Vessell here to rest Till his return shall make it blest The bill of Lading he that looks To know may find it in his Books 177. On Doctor Donnes death He that would write an Epitaph for thee And doe it well must first begin to be Such as thou wert for none can truly know Thy worth thy life but he that hath liv'd so He must have wit to spare and to hurle down Enough to keep the Gallants of the Town He must have learning plenty both the Laws Civill and Common to judge any Cause Divinity great store above the rest None of the worst edition but the best He must have language travall all the Arts Judgement to use or else he wants thy parts He must have friends the highest able to do Such as Maecenas and Augustus too He must have such a sicknesse such a death Or else his vain descriptions come beneath Who then shall write an Epitaph for thee He must be dead first let alone for me 176. On Doctor Whaly What is the young Apollo grown of late Conscious his tender years are nothing fit To rule the now large Heliconian S●ate Without a sage Competitor in it And therefore sen● death who might Whaly bring To be a Guardian to this stripling King Sure so it is but if we thought it might Be worse then this namely that th' Gods for spight To earth had ta'n him hence wee 'd weep amain Wee 'd weep a Phlegethon an Ocean Which might without the help of Charous Oares Ferry his soule to the Elysian shoares 179. On Doctor Bambrigg Were but this Marble vocall there Such an Elogium would appear As might though truth did dictate move Distrust in either faith or love As ample knowledge as could rest Inshrined in a Mortals breast Which ne'rethelesse did open lye Uncovered by humility A heart which piety had chose To be her Altar whence arose Such

still was conversant 'mongst beds of dust 86. On a Drunkard Bibax the Drunkard while he liv'd would say The more I drink the more methinks I may But see how death hath prov'd his saying just For he hath drunk himselfe as dry as dust 87. On a Child Tread softly passenger for here doth lye A dainty Jewell of sweet Infancy A harmlesse babe that onely came and cry'd In baptism to be wash'd from sin and dy'd 88. Another In this marble Casket lyes A matchlesse Jewell of rich pri●e Whom nature in the worlds disdain But shew'd and put it up again 89. On Mr. Sands Who would live in others breath Fame deceives the dead mans trust When our names doe change by death Sands I was and now am dust 90. On Mr. Goad Go adde this Verse to Goad's herse For Goad is gone but whither Goad himselfe is gone to God 'T was deaths Goad drove him thither 91. On Monday Hallowed be the Sabbath And farewell all worldly pelf The week begins on Tuesday For Munday hath hang'd himself 92. On a Child Here a pretty Baby lyes Sung asleep with Lullabies Pray be silent and not stir Th' easie earth that covers her 93. On a Matron Here lies a wife was chast a mother blest A modest Matron all these in one chest Sarah unto her Mate Mary to God Martha to men whilst here she had aboad 94. In Latine thus Vxor casta Parens felix Matrona pudica Sara viro mundo Martha Maria Deo 95. On a Souldier When I was young in Wars I shed my blood Both for my King and for my Countries good In elder years my care was chief to be Souldier to him that shed his blood for me 96. On Mr. Dumbelow that dyed of the winde Collicke Dead is Dick Dumbelow Would you the reason know Could his tail have but spoken His stout heart had not broken 97. On Mr. Kitchins death Kitchin lyes here for so his name I found I see Death keeps his Kitchin under ground And the poor worms that flesh of late did eat Devour their Kitchin now for want of meat 98. On Isabella a Curtezan He who would write an Epitaph Whereby to make fair Is'bell laugh Must get upon her and write well Here underneath lies Isabell. 99. On a vertuous wife In brief to speak thy praise let this suffice Thou wert a wife most loving modest wise Of children carefull to thy neighbours kind A worthy Mistresse and of liberall mind 100. On Mr. Christopher Lawson Death did not kill unjustly this good man But death in death by death did shew his power His pious deeds and thoughts to heaven fore-ran There to prepare his soule a blessed bower 101. On a Welshman Here lyes puryed under these stones Shon ap Williams ap Shinkyn ap Shones Her was porn in Whales her was kill'd in France Her went to Cot by a very mis-shance La ye now 102. On Mr. Carter burnt by the great powder-mischance in Finsbury Here lies an honest Carter yet no clown Unladen of his cares his end the Crown Vanish'd from hence even in a cloud of smoke A blown-up Citizen and yet not broke 103. On a Lady dying in Childbed Born at the first to bring another forth She leav● the world to leave the world her worth Thus Phoenix-like as she was born to bleed Dying her selfe renews it in her seed 104. On a Faulconer Death with her talon● having seiz'd this prey After a tedious flight trus●'d him away We mark'd him here he fell whence he shall rise At call till then unretriv'd here he lyes 105. On Ioan Truman who had an issue in her legge Here lyes crafty Ioan deny it who can Who liv'd a false maid and dy'd a Truman And this trick she had to make up her cunning Whilst one leg stood still the other was running 106. On a youth Now thou hast heaven for merit but 't is strange Morality should envy at thy change God thought us unfit for such as thee And made thee consort of eternity We grieve not then that thou to heaven art taken But that thou hast thy friends so soon forsaken 107. On Prince Henry Did he dye young O no it could not be For I know few that liv'd so long as he Till God and all men lov'd him then behold The man that lives so long must needs be old 108. On borne before his time Greiv'd at the world and times this early Bloom Look'd round and sigh'd and stole into his Tomb His fall was like his Birth too quick this Rose Made hast to spread and the same hast to close Here lyes his dust but his best Tomb's fled hence For Marble cannot last like Innocence 109. On a very fat man Under this pebble stone Here fast sleepeth one And that is not two Yet was without doubt Far bigger about Then both I and you His kidneys encreast So much that his wast Was hooped all round But his girdle death cuts And down fell his guts ' Bouts heels to the ground 110. On Iohn Newter Reader Iohn Newter who erst plaid The Jack on both sides here is laid Who like the herb Iohn indifferent Was not for King or Parliament Yet fast and loose he could not play With death he took him at a Bay What side his soule hath taken now God or Devil we hardly know But this is certain since he dy'd He hath been mist of neither side 111. On Hocas Pocas Here Hocas lyes with his tricks and his knocks Whom death hath made sure as his Juglers box Who many hath cozen'd by his leiger-demain I● presto convey'd and here underlain Thus Hocas he 's here and here he is not While death plaid the Hocas and brought him to th'pot 112. On a Child of two years old being born and dying in July Here is laid a Iuly flowre With surviving tears bedew'd Not despairing of that houre When her spring shall be renew'd Ere she had her summer seen She was gather'd fresh green 113. On a Cobler Death at a Coblers door oft made a stand And alwayes found him on the mending hand At last came death in very foul weather And ript the sole from the upper leather Death put a trick upon him and what was 't The Cobler call'd for 's Awle death brought his last 114. On a young Gentlewoman Nature in this small volume was about To perfect what in woman was left out Yet carefull least a piece so well begun Should want preservatives when she had done Ere she could finish what she undertook Threw dust upon it and shut up the Book 115. On a Scholler Forbear Friend t'unclaspe this book Only in the forefront look For in it have errours bin Which made the Author call it in Yet know this 't shall have more worth At the second coming forth 116. On a young Woman The body which within this earth is laid Twice six weeks knew a wife a Saint a maid Fair maid chast wife pure Saint yet 't