Selected quad for the lemma: woman_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
woman_n	child_n	mother_n	womb_n	3,217	5	9.6644	5	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A15792	Sir Thomas Wrothe his sad encomion, vpon his dearest consort, Dame Margaret Wrothe Who died of a fever at Petherton Parke, in the countie of Somerset, about midnight of the 14. day of October, 1635. And was buried in the parish church of St. Stephen, in Coleman Street, London, the 11. of November, next ensuing.	Wroth, Thomas, Sir, 1584-1672.	1635 (1635)	STC 26053; ESTC S120430	3,268	12

SIR THOMAS WROTHE HIS SAD ENCOMION Vpon his Dearest Consort Dame MARGARET WROTHE Who died of a Fever at Petherton Parke in the Countie of Somerset about Midnight of the 14. day of October 1635. And was Buried in the Parish Church of St. STEPHEN in Coleman Street London the 11. of November next ensuing Sequitur post gaudia luctus LONDON Printed for HENRY SEILE 1635. A SAD ENCOMION CAn any Sorrow be like Mine whose Losse Is more than Toung may tell or Heart conceive Am I pick● out to beare this heavie Crosse And in obedience what is dearest leave With bleeding Heart I must avow that no man Did ever lose more vertuous worthy Woman An Angels Tongue were fitter than my Pen To blaze abroad Her worth and Vertues rare She daily walkt with God more than with Men Yet Men and Women often had a Share Of Her defused Good from Mouth and Hand And blest the House was where She did command A chearefull Spirit and a patient both Her sweet-composed Body did possesse Neatnesse She highly priz'd and hated Sloth As did Her words and actions all expresse She had no Warrant often would She say To spend a Minute idle of a day Gracious Her words but few small Wrongs She hid them The greatest Injuries that ere were done Her She did remit and nourisht those who did them So mercifull She was good words soone woon Her There 's not an Heart that is not foule and rotten Which lov'd not Her who ne'r shall be forgotten A MARGARITE She was a Iewell rare Fit for His Cabinet who now hath tane Her The World nor I was worthy for to share So RICH a Gem but Heav'n is now the gainer To summe up all this Woman this my Wife She was the Honour Comfort of my Life The Bird that warned PETER of his Fall Nor yet the fatall Bell-man of the Night Did ever startle Her or Her apall So circumspect She walkt and so upright Nor Death nor Sicknesse tooke Her unaware For ev'ry houre for both She did prepare And when they came no Lambe that goes to slaughter More meeke than She more willing to submit To such a temper love of Heav'n had brought Her That for no other Mansion She was fit Come Father Come Come quickly oft She cry'd Lord Iesu quickly come He came She dy'd And so She dy'd as by Her Soul's migration She lives againe in such a blest estate That I doe wish and long for such mutation Her paines in Sicknesse who can explicate Th'Almightie's Arrowes often did She crie Sticke fast within me oh I die I die And so doe I sweet Soule my dearest Deere Because in life I did no more respect thee And now all hopes are lost to have thee heere My great neglect most deepely doth affect mee And just it is because I was no wiser That He should have Her who much more doth prize Her Yet She did freely par'ne my faults and errors As much as in Her lay would Heav'n doe so I should be quit of many hideous terrors Which my neglect of Her may bring me to Worth'est of Women now too late I see Thou wast too good and I too bad for thee If Pray'rs incessant from a bleeding Heart If Sighes heart-renting Groanes and flouds of Teares If Gold and Silver or Physicians Art If mercifull and helpefull Womens Cares Had beene of force with losse of my deare Life They had redeem'd from Death my dearer Wife But who can ransome or redeeme his Brother From Deaths impartiall Stroake if any My part in this hath beene beyond all other For by Her Death my Losse is more than many But since it is decreed that all must die All must submit to that and so must I. Yet this great God of Heav'n is my Request Because I must without this Comfort live Teach Me to live as She did who is blest That I may die as She did lastly give Thy Servant leave to see Her with his Eyes After this Life then happie when He dyes And that which add's more sorrow to my heart Is my enjoyn'd progression with Her Corps From that same place where Life from Her did part Through Townes and Hamlets Villages and Dorps Twice fiftie miles and ten and in those Townes Be made a gazing Marke for Fooles and Clownes There some Mens Pittie will augment my Sadnesse And Mendicants perhaps will shed a Teare For Her who often gave them Cause of Gladnesse By scattering Her Money here and there Perhaps Necessitie may force me stay In that same Inne where we Both living lay Oh here 's a Tryall helpe me gracious Lord To shoulder up the weight of this Affliction Sad Thoughts will meet me here at Bed and Boord Nor Meat nor Drinke nor Sleepe can be refection A sadder March than this may no man have No better Wife was ever brought to Grave And now me thinkes the dolefull March I make One calls Lead on Stay Stand another cryes And all this while the Suffering part I take With bleeding Heart and overflowing Eyes Each Pase a Mile and every Mile seemes double So tedious all things are to minds in trouble Who what whence and Prithy Coach-man tarry And Whither goe you Passengers demand Others enquire what doth the Carriage carrie A Man or Woman Then anon we stand To breathe our Horses some thing mend amisse All which a Tryall of my Patience is Yet this not all The neerer I approach Vnto the Place desired for my rest Friends unexpected meet the leading Croach And unto it and me much Griefe exprest But to my Losse their Teares give no Reliefe They rent my heart and aggravate my Griefe At last foure Dayes conclude this sad Progression But not my Sorrow that like angry Wounds Bleeds fresh againe and swells beyond expression As did Her Love to mee which had no Bounds The House I built Her living to content Now seems Her Grave which makes me more lament Inevitable Force constraines it so Till Buriall Rites may well prepared bee That to her Grave She decently may goe With Kindred Friends and Neighbours of Degree In this I doe but what another must Performe for me when Dust is brought to Dust. No sooner noys'd that I am come to Towne But my Religious well-affected Friends Come to Condole and raise my Heart cast downe With sweet advice some write some servants sends Perswading not to give my Griefe such scope Nor sorrow as a Man that 's void of hope How easie those in Health the Sicke advise When brought themselves unto the like condition Such Counsell is a Cor'sive oh my Eyes Where shall they turne to find Contents fruition I cannot Sleepe Eat Drinke Stand Sit or Walke But still me thinkes I see Her heare Her talke Discourteous Ladies who doe governe Life Can Ladies to a Lady be so cruell Ye might have taken mee and spar'd my Wife In mee there is no Worth She was a Iewell But cease a while mine Eyes to waile and weepe Till She be layd where She shall ever sleepe The Day is come the dolefull Funerall Day When nought appeares but what may Sorrow move Sad Visages sad Hearts Teares Blacke Aray Yet I must sorrow most who most did Love This this the saddest Day I ere did see Would it had beene Sweet-heart for mee not Thee Yet thou hast finished thy Worke thy Race And well improv'd the Talents which were lent thee And to a glorious Life from this of Grace Thy mercifull Creator he hath sent thee Lesse cause I have thy absence to deplore Since lost thou art not onely gone before And made free Citizen of Heav'n when I Who have not serv'd my Time compleatly out Am subject to the Worlds servilitie The Flesh and Satan with his cursed Rout. Harke pensive heart the Bell toules friends are come And I must take the chiefest Mourners roome On on afore the Temple see is nie Make hast to bring Her to Her Inne of Rest And ease your shoulders of Mortalitie Which is Immortall now and ever blest Though now thy Sheets not Linnen are but Lead High time it is deare Heart thou wert in Bed I must interre thee by thine owne Desire Where I will lye by Thee who lay by Mee For twentie yeeres and one and there my Sire And vertuous Mother also lodged bee In that same Bed of Rest and likewise there The Child which once thy fruitful Womb did beare Rest then sweet Woman in that silent Cell Vntill the Resurrection bring thee forth Meane while thy Life these Lines Toungs shall tell Thou wert a Woman of a matchlesse worth A Patterne to all Ladies who out-live Thee More would I say if more praise I could give Thee Consilium amantis O Man who boasts of Strength or Wittie Flashes Or ought beside thou art but Dust and Ashes And sure thou shalt at Christs Tribunall give A strict account how thou didst die and live Deferre no moment under vaine pretences Amend thy Life repent of thine Offences FINIS ☞ ☞ ☞ ☞ ☞ Clotho Lachesis Atrapos Ladies of Destinie Non amittitur sed praemittit●●