Selected quad for the lemma: soul_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A01428
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Linsi-woolsie. Or Two centuries of epigrammes. Written by William Gamage Batchelour in the Artes
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Gamage, William.
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1621
(1621)
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STC 11545; ESTC S113824
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25,856
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94
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themselues doe wholly frame Epig 53. To the faire fac'd Margaret WHat odd's 'twixt Margarit a precious pearle And Margaret a sweet and peerelesse Girle No odd's I see for we must buy the one And Gratis thee I thinke possesse shall none Epig. 54. The voluble wheele of Fortune To the interne friend Mounsier Hie and Mr. Low Lo THou clim'st the wheele of fortune Mounsier Hit And gap'st for glorie and preferment great Hie. True Mr. Low and thou as fast do'st flie And lowe descend'st from fortunes highest seat Despaire not yet if fortune fortune be Shee may thy name appropriate vnto me Epig. 55. To the worthy Gent. Mr. Rawley Bussie in voluing the earthly Globe tossing of the Tents ball most expert THy solace is to volue the Orbicke ball Of this round earth and eke this Tenis Pile Th' one in sporting which we pastime call Th' other when thy fluent Muse do'st file Epig. 56. To Mistris Lightfoot I Chaunc'd as once I trauail'd to o'retake One Mistris Quick being found'red making mone I ask'd what did her pace so halting make I did my foot quoth she hurt 'gainst a stone T is nothing so said I kind Mistrisse Quicke Your griefe I take came rather of a pricke Epig. 57. Uincit qui patitur To his lo fr. Rich. Gibons a Teacher IF any wish his patience for to try Let him but practise sole thy Ministrie Epig. 58. To his fragile firtree staffe THe Prouerbe se's t is better for to bow Then for to breake a note of gentlenesse But thou my prop dost scorne to stoope so lowe As bend a signe se'st thou of basefulnesse But breake wi lt rather my most brittle Tree Yet doe not so I prethee vnder me Epig. 59. On Stephen the bloody Persecutor GOod Gardiners doe vse for to supplant Their bad grow'n weeds their fruitfull hearbes to saue But Gard'ner thou the a flowre of Troynouant Did'st thinke to weed and burie in her graue To heauens Reapers far vnlike wast thou To weed the wheat and let the Euer grow Epig. 60. To the worthy Knight Sr Ro. Wroth of his house call'd Durnnce THy Durance keeps in durance none I heare ' Lesse be to pertake of thy bounteous cheere Epig. 61. On our Popish fugitiues THey say o'refasting doth procure a paine Virtigo hight the turning of the head Which true we find in male contents most plaine When of preferments long they haue not sped And Arrius like which mist his Bishopprick Th' ill change their faith and shewe a Popish tricke Epig. 62. Mother B's Tranflation GOode'n most antique zelous mother B This salutation well befits your age For while you liue a vestall you decree To be and shun the toies of Pupillage And as of old on Beds you lou'd to play So now on Beades you wholy like to pray Epig. 63. * Licentia Poetica To the carping Criticke IVdge not so hard that Poēts still doe lie For what they write 't is ' llow'd by Libertie Epig. 64. On the Popes Holinesse THe Romish Canons shamelesly auer Their holy Father God nor man to be What is he then if that I doe not erre H 'is no Angell of heauens Hierarchie Vnlesse be Him that puts on euery Hue For to deceaue and this I thinke is true Epig. 65. To the Paracelfian Empricke IF all the World were like to Socrates That neuer stood in need of Phsicks hand How then couldst liue if this thy art should cease Poore Iack in this or any other Land Wouldst thou thenbe a graue Sr. Iohn by skill So sure more soules then bodies wouldst thou kill Epig. 66. Of H. 1 King of England whose inuenomed braine being dead kill'd his owne Physitian WHat men aliue being sick would oft fulfill Thou being dead did'st thy Physitian kill Epig. 67. To Mr. Monoculus the Sagittarie VVHat dire mishap befell you Mounsier Blinck That you haue lost your most respected eie You tell me tush you shall the better winck To hit the marke and l◅t the arrow flie I' st so your shot ◅I gesse will be farre wide When that you shut the other eie beside Epig. 68. To Zantippa the Scold VVHat mary muffe what makes thee sweet of hew And sowre of speech most bitter waspish bad I thinke thon art a most detested shrew Or with the Ague or burnt feuer clad Which euer fils thy tongue most full of Gawle To all distastfull but to ban and brawle Epig. 69. The Epitaph of his deerely beloued Schoolemaster Mr. W. Edwards HEre lies the picture of pure honestie Here lies the sire of many a learned Sonne Here lies the zeale of Christianitie Here lies the Patron of Religion Here lies that man whose life was naught to none Here lies that friend whom yong and old bemone Epig. 70. To Rome with her Romish brood PAule saith a Bishop should a husband be Of one wife for to liue a sober life But the great Bishop of the high'st degree Will haue his Bishops for to haue no wife I wonder how from all he cuts this band They' are either Eunuches or play vnder hand Epig. 71. To Gill the fingring Lawyer and ambodexter VVHat mak's thee Gill the perfect vse to haue As well of left as of thy right hand faire Thou Galen-like wilt answer very graue 'T is o'remuch heat that doth from heart repaire I thinke not so but thy poore Clients gold Mak's thee to be an Ambodexter bold Epig. 72. A new formo of finding out Petigrees To Don Stolidus MY vpstart Gull that would'st right noble be In Royall blood thy labour quite is vaine In voluing bookes of old Antiquitie For thy base line not worth thereof the paine B' aduis'd by me ope thou an old made Graue There thou thy first Genologie shalt haue Epig. 73. Tom of Christ Church in Oxford To our ceremonious Papists THe clapping sound of Antichristian Bels They say expels from them their airie Ghosts So Tom thy sound which all thy mates excels Doth thine Oxonians cause to flie their Hoasts But if thy sound could sound as far as Spaine Their bodies Ghosts I thinke would them refraine Epig. 74. God and the Pope THe sacred Scripture doth for truth record That God is only of the liuing God And of the dead he claimes to be no Lord But father Pope recalleth with a nod They say the dead from Purgatories griefe Th' are dead in sinne that makes this their beleefe Epig. 75. To glorious Mopsa of her stolen feathers WHy Mistris Noll dost thou Adulterate From others Royall lines thy selfe to grace Their noble birth and titles high of state That wast at first but poore obscure and base If each should pluck from thy patch't Pedegree His feathers of right Aesops Iay might'st be Epig. 76. On Cornutus the Monster To his lo friend Wil Arne OF all wilde Birds I loth the monstrous Batte Which is a bird and eke a filthy beast But of tame birds I do most deadly hate That 's