Selected quad for the lemma: grace_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A19912
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VVits bedlam ----vvhere is had, whipping-cheer, to cure the mad.
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Davies, John, 1565?-1618.
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1617
(1617)
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STC 6343; ESTC S105201
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53,198
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157
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Scabbe be as poore as Iobâ Nay now Ilye for Iob though he had nought Yet nought he ow'd but this poore pach is thought Much worse theÌ Nought with wrangling he is âso Poorer then Iob for Iob but scabs did owe. Against Mârnezetus the well knowne Sharker coâseââââ me of a Cloake Epig. 366. SIrrah Marnezetus me no more prouoak Go cheat els where with me y'haue shorn your sheep Y'haue Clok't y'âr knauery so haue got a Cloake By câeating of your friend well safe it keepe Yet it restore to Cloake my Spleene and Mee Or lie vncloake thy name thy shame and Thee But maugre Spâght thy Name and fame shall gaine A Place and Name with Stars call'd great Charles-waine Which stil I wish who doth't not desire Would they were nought as naught or Tow in Fire To the no lesse than most graue Counsellor of Counsellors Thomas Vicount Brackley Lord Chancellor of England Epi. 369. Y 'Aue past the Storms of Youth and Passion too And now in Calmes of Ages Hau'n remayne Now sees your Soule most clearely what to doe And those vndo that doe their Conscience straine In Summe for all that may your glory spread Your pain your Braine to ease please your Head To the true President of Honor William Earle of Pembroke Lord Chamberlain c. Epig. 370. DEare Lord to whom I wish a world of Good If so a World of Grace is vnderstood Agreeing to that World of Worth in Thee Too little Lord that great Worlds Lord to bee Grace Art and Nature still in thee doe striue Which most shall make thy praise Superlatiue And make thee most like Him that all things can And Phillip more than Mâcedonian Then ââll be like thosâ Two as now thou art And as thou hast so ãâã shalt haue my Heart To the Right noble and my much honored Lord Phillip Earle of Montgomery Epi. 371. A Mother sooner can forget her Child Than I Thee Lord of my best Memory Could I mind more thou shouldst be higher stil'd But this is all I can vnlesse to dye For Thee and thy most Noble House whereof I am an Exârement not yet cut off To the true Patterns of Noblesse and Heroicall vertue Richard Earle of Dorset and Sir Edward Sackuill Knight of the âath his most nolle Brother Epigram 372. YOu Starres that in our States Spheare shine as bright As Suns fixt neere our Zenith daying Night Stil on such Dayes-eyes shine though planted low By Fortunes hand as turne to such as you To be set open when âhey hid hang downe Their heads for want of Grace to make theÌ known I need not force the free you shine on such No Starres within our Hemispheare so much So much for that but this much more for you Though more you cannot haue then is your due You for your high Worthes Rayes I 'le Raise to be Castor and Pollux both to Heau'n and me To the Right noble Lord Theophilus Lord Walden Epigram 373. My Cunning sooner shall my right hand leaue Than not to giue where once it did receiue But Golden Ayre to giue for Golden Earth Is lesse Materiall and no cause of Mirth Yet Ca ãâ¦ã Mârth ãâã Papers do infold That I in ãâã do gieue thee for thy Gold But whââ in earnest I would giue with mirth To thee is glory both in Heau'n and Earth To the Right Honorable Sir Francis Bacon Knight c. Epi. 259. THi'admired Sire was Wit Wisdomes Source And thou his Sonne resemblest him in those Thy Hand is open close is thy Discourse For much in few thy thy Iudgement doth inclose But when thou art disposed to set ope A Flood of Eloquence to Whaât all Eares With head-long sway vnto thine vâmosâ scope âhen stubborn'st Rocks of Leâs it ouerbeares So thou do'st grace the Law as it doth Thee But of all Lawyers Thou alone for me To my much honored the Lord Hayes Epigram 375. THou do'st the Court Lord too much grace To be forgotten in this place Where I desire to praise such Ones As worthy are Court-Minions Then this thou art I dare auoâch A Good Great Courtier seldome such That 's honest with due Complement Which is most noble in eâtent Heere sith no further Grace hath gon ââe put a Prick To driue It on To my Noble highly valued friend Pupill and Alyes Man Sir Edward Herbert of Montgomery Knight of the Bath Epi. 376. SIth thou thy Name and Nation honorest With Worth like Britains Crown past price at least Giue me leaue âeast worth of thy least Alyes To tell the World thus much and then it dyes For in this World where Grace doth liue by Sin Can nothing liue that is not dead within To my honorable ingenious worthy friend Sir Iohn Constable Knight Epâ 377. DIdst thou but know deer Knight how much my heart Desires to Stellifie thee for thine Art And what e're else by Worth can be possest Thou would'st beleeue my Heart âs thine at least TheÌ take my Heart which thus on thee is whorl'd And loue it so my Heart is worth a World To my much honored and intirely beloued Sir William Alexander Knight Epâ 378. THy Peâ which from some Angel is acquir'd With heauenly Grace to shew thy Wit skil So farre out-shines my poore Rookes ruder Quil That in it's beames mine seemes a Cole vnâir'd But let them lie till they become intir'd Then thine shall mine with equall glory fill Yet so as knowne t' was so by thine attir'd That al the Glory thine may merit still Yet here my lauish Pen runs o're so much With blurring inck be blotting blacker Crimes That loosly it the Times too neere doth touch That is too brâadly blots these looser Times But sooth to say my Muse became thus loose Through vice at which she hisseth like a goose To my venerable friend Master Doctor Goade Epi. 379. THou art not lâke but cu n a reall Goad Sharpe at one End thy Head to driue men on That are opprest with sad sinnes heauie Load Where they may rest from being weâbeâgon Then he that will not goe when thou dost prick Is dull in sense or else an Halter-sick To my worthy and beloued friend Doctor Pierce Parson of Saint Christophers London Epigram 380. IN this but Froth of Wit to sowse your name Is but to soile it so incurre your blame These Purgings of my Braine become not you In any sort to See much lessâ alowe You needs must say my Leisure I abuse To make these lests the Stasions of my Muse. What will you more deere Doctor I confesse I am all yours but not my Foolishnesse Yet Garce Art Wit and Worth and all diuine May make you bright Sun on this Dunghill shine Without defiling of your spotlesse Raies Then scowre my guilt with Birch but gilde my Baââs To my best beloued friend and aliz-man Master Iohn Sanford Epi. 381. IOhn thou art like a Hand that changeth not His Name or Nature clouched or dilated So thou art
One what euer be thy Lot And still by Fortune rather chekt than Mated North But if she had but Eyes to see thy Worth The North should grace thee as thou dost the North With radiant Beames On Learnings Streames In Fortunes Spheare long be his Grace place That like the Sunne exhald thy streames to grace To the all witty Sir Io Har SIR you and I but Oh I doe you wrong To rank with you for friends means wit or art Are like they say in setting of a Song Tho you sing more in tune in euery Part. But as I can by Nature I doe hit Those Notes you strike vpon a iarring string And it is true we haue one fashion'd Wit Which may alike to vs displeasure bringe But shall wee cease to sing for this Oh no We can no more doe that than cease to say God saue the Kinge and they that would not so Would some straite lines had trust out of the way But on our gamesome Numbers who doth âorce Their Sence not Ours to vexe vs ill they wot What powre are in our Pates the wodden Horse To doe their Names away with Wits hot-shot But wee will Lâbeâl none for t is vnfit The world 's not worth a Libell of rich Wit To my inâenious deere friend and Country-man Mr. âohn Hoskins Councellor at Law ONe County first susteind our weight yet wee Doe liâe no burthen to the place so prest Buâ Luster else some flatter thee and mee Yet say they what they will our soules know best And for my part I hope that Thou and I Ere wee 'le disgrace it wee with Grace will dye To my worthy ingennus and ingenius Pupill Mr. Thomas Bond. VNder my hand I had you once and now Y'ate failen vnder but my Pen my Plow Wherewith your Name I culture thus you bee A Bond that binds because you aâe so Free To my witty and worthy friend Inigo Iohnes Esquieâ surueigher of his Maiestieâ workes VVITS mirrour Iââgâ wherein Men see Their Figure which thou dost to them reflect By forming or to them conformiâg âhee For which thou win'st both riches and respect Fortune and Fauour with great Art conspir'd To make thee Modell out each Edisce Ere it be squar'd for Court which thee hath Squird And may doe SIR for many a rare Deuice Thy Place I wish not but thy wake full Wits To make my Place fit mee as thine thee fits Then lend me while thou sleepst thy pure acumen To Knight me old Boy after many Neâ-men To my learnedly witty friend Mr Beniamin Iohnson THy sconse that guards thy wits as it they guard Is sound large yet no whit can be spard For thy Wits throng that Plenty makes thee scarce Which makes thee slow as sure in Prose or Verse As say thy worst detractors then if thou For all eternity writ'st Sure and Slowe Thy Wits as they come thronging out of Dore Do sticke a while to spread their praise the more To my darling-friend Mr. Richard Dorington DIcke I am thine then thou hast to the end A sore disease that Physicke will not mend Yet t is no Falling-sicknes for I le stand As fast to thee as is thy Heart and Hand And I haue reason for it for thou art As deere to mee as is my Hand or Heart Then if I doe disease thee it shall bee As Physicke doth of good to better thee Sith thou aforehand giuâst mee Fee on Fee To my beloued and most praise worthy friend Mr. Lyte of Lytes-cary SIth Art and Nature did agree To make thee Lyte of Lyte Thou art a Type of Christ sith hee Is very Light of Light Though light'st like him with Wit and grace Whose Fame like his fils Time and Place To my beloued Mr. Robert Branthwaite I Loue thee Robin If I should not I Should giue my heart the sâab my tongue the lie The Sword of sorrow still should pierce my heart If it should not affect thy deere desert In few I know no man more worthy loue For all that may Affection Stay or Moue To my worthy approued deere friend Mr. Iackson Manciple of All Soules Colledge in Oxford IF wee must speake as we haue found why then Th' hast beene to me and mine the best of Men For of all those that euer yet I prou'd Thou best deseru'st of mee to be belou'd Thine Out-sides plaine but yet within thy Brest A Heart I finde as braue and free doth rest As that great Caesars who would euer moane The paffed day wherein he pleasur'd none Thou art a Townseman yet the Countrey mend'st glad'st it with what there thou get'st spend'st For two Months in a time of pestilence There freely cheer'd I saw thy great expence While thou in Oxford plagu'd wast then expos'd To death thy family and mine dispos'd In safety there where wee besides were fed While thou for vs did'st liue among the dead Iackson's thy name then thou art mine alâcke Th art haplesse so for soâe doe caâl me Iacke But like a Father thou to Iacke hast bin That is in kindnesse farre beyond his Kin. Then Iack's thy sonne to loue and honour thee And so for fostring both must Iack's Sonne bee Thus enough Iacke can not giue thee reason for 't Hee 'le giue thee Rime Renowne good report And if that be too thyn for thy desert Wer 't thou not all heart thou shouldst haue his Heart Yet for thine may be sicke when his is sound He giues it thee sith so to thee it 's bound To my worthy approued friend Mistris Sisley Tyle THy Vertues do intice me Tyse to set Thy name for Loue and Fames sake in my Rimes Least Time should either Them or Thee forgett Whose Wisdome Woman-hood parts like crimes Do staine most Wiues as Phoebus doth the Fire Then liue thou in my Râme till Time expire Of my Selfe and my Booke I Must confesse my Muse is in the wrong Though rightly she doth scourge what is amisse But being pregnant Shee to lash doth longe Though her complexion quite be mar'd by this For most will say Shee like a Diuell lookes Yet let none iudge but such as can write Bookes Against Yellow starcht bands For a Farewell THese Ruffes sick of the Iaâââize black or Yellow Do shew their Wearers are or Deep or Shallow In Pouerty or Wit Then would they were Al black with Cuffes that Yellow Ruffes do weare And he whose Wife doth weare them I suppose With Cause still feares he weares the Yellow-hose To my deare Mother the Citty of Hereford THou gau'st me breath and I wil giue thee fame By writing in a double Kind thy Name I Borrow'd once to adde to mine and yet I hold it to it still for which the debt Is clearest fame I le pay thee at long running Else shall my hand and head forget their cunning FINIS EPITAPHS On him that was said to be pull'd in peeces in playing the Beare Epitaph 1. HEre lies a Man nay who