Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	body_n	soul_n	way_n	6,089	5	4.7618	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A55276	Poems on affairs of state from the time of Oliver Cromwell, to the abdication of K. James the Second. Written by the greatest wits of the age. Viz. Duke of Buckingham, Earl of Rochester, Lord Bu-------st, Sir John Denham, Andrew Marvell, Esq; Mr. Milton, Mr. Dryden, Mr. Sprat, Mr. Waller. Mr. Ayloffe, &c. With some miscellany poems by the same: most whereof never before printed. Now carefully examined with the originals, and published without any castration.	Buckingham, George Villiers, Duke of, 1628-1687.	1697 (1697)	Wing P2719A; ESTC R26563	139,358	261

Think fit as useless Tools to lay you by Besides what title or pretence have you To any thing ye hold as right and due Since they were setled first on us alone And could no other Lords and Masters own Till ye by Rapine Sacrilege and Force Discas'd us of our Rights and made them yours Nor can a Case more Legal e're appear At Court of Conscience or at Chanc'ry Barr Than what ye did by violence obtain Should to their ancient Lords return again But that which you so much insist upon Your boasted Loyalty and Service done From whence ye most erroneously inferr'd The Justice of your Claim to a Reward Is a meer trifle and a weak defence With no validity of Consequence For there 's no reason he should be repaid Who undesignedly a Kindness did When all the while his thoughts were fix'd upon His own advancement and increase alone And all the profit that to me he brings Is by the bye and natural course of things 'T was rancour envy meer revenge and spite That made ye thus against Fanaticks fight And the dear dread of losing all ye had That first engag'd your malice on our side To plead the Royal Cause and to promote The King's Concern and for Succession vote When could ye any other way have kept The Saddle and in ease and safety slept The King might have been banish'd hang'd or drown'd E're Succour or Relief from you have found But matters and affairs as yet are not To such a difficult Conjuncture brought But that an handsome fetch may bring ye off With Honour and Security enough One gentle turn will all the business do Advance your Livings and secure them too Safe ye shall lie from all Fanatick harms Encircled in your Mother-Churches Arms From which ye've stray'd so long and now to whom Ye ought in duty and respect to come The mournfull Levite straight prick'd up his Ears As glad that things were better than his fears And joyfull heard what means the Priest had found That might for his dear Benefice compound Compos'd his Band and wip'd his blubber'd Cheeks Stood up again and thus demurely speaks The Proverb to my case I may apply Winners may justly laugh and losers cry For when I thought my Livelihood was gone It was no wonder that I so took on As 't is none now Smiles should my gladness shew For these good tydings I receive from you Therefore dear Sir let us our Hearts combine And both in league against Dissenters joyn My self I under your tuition place For Management and Method in the case How to proceed The Cloak who all this while Had unprovok'd and unconcern'd sate still And wisely what they 'd both be at he guest Stood up to speak and to compleat the Jest But glowing Anger had so now prevail'd That in the first attempt he stopp'd and fail'd And when he found his Tongue to be confin'd He made his active Hands declare his Mind The one engag'd the Levite on the place And with the Directory smote his Face Confounded with the Stroke he stagger'd round And falling in his wrath tore up the Ground T'other he laid directly o'er the Chest Sent Ecchoes from the hollow Breast of Priest Who stumbling as he went to take his flight Fell prostrate o'er his new made Proselyte On both their bodies mounts the nimble Cloke And this his Epicinium manly spoke Dejected Wretches there together lie Unpitied unbewail'd by every Eye May after-Ages your curst Names deride As we your damn'd Hypocrisies and Pride No mark remain to know what ye have been But the remembrance of your Curse and Sin Which shall down time 's continual Tide descend To propagate your fatal shame and end So may they fall and all they that design Whoe'er in league against the truth combine By an unarm'd defenceless hand like mine Pleas'd with the Conquest of victorious Cloke I laugh'd aloud methought and so awoke An Epitaph upon Felton who was hang'd in Chains for Murdering the Old Duke of Buckingham Written by the late Duke of Buckingham HEre uninterr'd suspends though not to save Surviving Friends th' Expences of a Grave Felton's dead Earth which to the World will be Its own sad Monument his Elogy As large as Fame which whether Bad or Good I say not by himself 't was wrote in Blood For which his Body is intomb'd in Air Arch'd o'er with Heaven set with a thousand fair And glorious Stars a noble Sepulchre Which time it self can't ruinate and where Th' impartial Worm that is not brib'd to spare Princes corrupt in Marble cannot share His Flesh which oft the charitable Skies Imbalm with Tears daining those Obsequies Belong to Men shall last till pitying Fowl Contend to reach his Body to his Soul An Answer to Mr. Waller's Poem on Oliver's Death called the Storm Written by Sir W G n. 'T IS well he 's gone O had he never been Hurried in Storms loud as his crying Sin The Pines and Oaks fell prostrate at his Urn That with his Soul his Body too might burn Winds pluck up Roots and fixed Cedars move Roring for Vengeance to the Heavens above From Theft like his Great Romulus did grow And such a Wind did at his Ruin blow Strange that the lofty Trees themselves should fell Without the Axe so Orpheus went to Hell At whose descent the stoutest Rocks were cleft And the whole Wood its wonted station left In Battle Hercules wore the Lyon's Skin But our fierce Nero wore the Beast within Whose Heart was brutish more than Face or Eyes And in the shape of Man was in Disguise Where-ever Men where-ever Pillage lies Like ravenous Vultures our wing'd Navy flies Under the Tropick we are understood And bring home Rapine through a purple Flood New Circulations found our Blood is hurl'd As round the lesser to the greater World In civil Broils he did us first engage And made Three Kingdoms subject to his Rage One fatal Stroke slew Justice and the Cause Of Truth Religion and our Sacred Laws So fell Achilles by the Trojan Band Though he still fought with Heaven its self in 's hand Nor would Domestick Spoil confine his Mind No Limits to his Fury but Mankind The British Youths in Foreign Courts are sent Towns to destroy but more to Banishment Who since they cannot in this Isle abide Are confin'd Prisoners to the World beside No wonder then if we no Tears allow To him that gave us Wars and Ruin too Tyrants that lov'd him griev'd concern'd to see There must be Punishment for Cruelty Nature her self rejoyced at his Death And on the Waters sung with such a Breath As made the Sea dance higher than before While here glad Waves came dancing to the Shore Clarindon's House-Warming Printed formerly with the Directions to a Painter Writ by an unknown hand WHen Clarindon had discern'd before hand As the Cause can eas'ly foretell the Effect At once three Deluges threatning our Land 'T was the season he thought to turn Architect

she laid me panting at her feet But with more joy does his recovery meet Her trembling hand first gently rais'd his head She almost dies for fear lest he is dead Then does support him with a busie hand And with that Balm enables him to stand Till by her Charms she conquers him once more And wounds him deeper than she did before Now faln from the top of pleasure's hill With longing Eyes we look up thither still Still thither our unwearied wishes tend Till we that height of happiness ascend By gentle steps th' ascent it self exceeds All Joys but that alone to which it leads First then so long and lovingly we kiss As if like Doves we knew no other bliss Still in one mouth our Tongues together play Whilst groping hands are pleas'd no less than they Thus cling'd together now awhile we rest Breathing our Souls into each others Breast Then give a general kiss of all our parts Whilst this blest way we make exchange of hearts Here would my praise as well as pleasure dwell Injoyments self I scarcely like so well What little this comes short of rage and strength Is largely recompenc't with endless length This is a Joy if we could last and stay But Love's too eager to admit delay And hurries us along so smooth a way Now wanton with Delight we nimbly move Our pliant Limbs in all the shapes of Love Our motion 's not like those of idle fools Whose active Bodies shew their heavy Souls But sports of Love in which the willing mind Makes us as able as our Souls are kind At length all languishing and out of breath Panting as in the agonies of Death We lie entranc't till one provoking kiss Transports our ravisht Souls to Paradise Oh heaven of Love thou moment of Delight Wrong'd by my words my fancy does the right Methinks I lie all melting in her Charms And fast lockt up within her Legs and Arms. Bent are our minds and all our thoughts on fire Still striving in the pangs of hot desire At once like Misers wallowing in their store Of full possession yet desiring more Thus with repeated pleasures do we wast Our happy hours which like short minutes past To such a summ of Bliss our Joys amount The number now becomes too great to count And Nature now denying farther force From Deeds alas we fall into Discourse A fall which each of us in vain bemoans A greater fall than that of Kings from Thrones The tyde of pleasure flowing now no more We lie like Fishes gasping on the shore And now as after fighting wounds appear Which we in heat did neither feel nor fear She for my sake intreats me to give o're And yet confest she 'd gladly suffer more Her words are coy while all her motions wooe And when she askt if that it pleas'd me too I rag'd to shew how well but could not doe Thus does fond Man run himself out of breath And seeking rest would find it soon in death Did not kind Nature with a double force Restrain its strength and stop its headlong course Indulgently severe she well does spare This Child for hers that most deserves her care A Satyr against Marriage by the same HUsband thou dull unpitied Miscreant Wedded to noise to misery and want Sold an eternal Vassal for thy Life Oblig'd to cherish and to hate thy Wife Drudge on till Fifty at thy own expence Breathe out thy Life in one Impertinence Repeat thy loath'd Embraces every night Prompted to act by duty not delight Christen thy forward Bantling once a year And carefully thy spurious Issue rear Go once a week to see the Brat at nurse And let the young Impostor drain thy Purse Hedge-Sparrow like what Cuckows have begot Do thou maintain incorrigible Sot Oh I could curse the Pimp who could do less He 's beneath pity and beyond redress Pox on him let him go what can I say Anathema's on him are but thrown away The wretch is married and hath known the worst And his great'st Blessing is he can't be curst Marriage Oh hell and furies name it not Hence hence ye holy Cheats a Plot a Plot Marriage 't is but a licens'd way to Sin A Noose to catch Religious Woodcocks in Or the Nick-name of Love's malicious Fiend Begot in Hell to persecute Mankind 'T is the destroyer of our peace and health Mispender of our time our strength and wealth The Enemy of Valour Wit Mirth all That we can vertuous good or pleasant call By Day 't is nothing but a needless noise By Night the eccho of forgotten Joys Abroad the sport and wonder of the crowd At home the hourly breach of what they vow'd In Youth 't is Opium to our lustfull rage Which sleeps awhile but wakes again in Age. It heaps on all men much but useless care For with more trouble they less happy are Ye Gods that Man by his own slavish Law Should on himself such inconvenience draw If he would wiser Nature's Laws obey Those chalk him out a far more pleasant way When lusty Youth and flagrant Wine conspire To fan the blood into a generous fire We must not think the Gallant will endure The puissant Issue of his Calenture Nor always in his single pleasures burn Tho' Nature's handmaid sometimes serves the turn No he must have a sprightfull youthfull Wench In equal floods of Love his flames to quench One that will hold him in her clasping Arms And in that circle all his Spirits charms That with new motion and unpractis'd art Can raise his Soul and re-insnare his Heart Hence spring the noble fortunate and great Always begot in passion and in heat But the dull Off-spring of the Marriage-bed What is it but a humane lump of lead A sottish lump ingender'd of all ills Begot like Ca●s against their Fathers wills If it be basterdiz'd 't is doubly spoil'd The Mother's fears entail'd upon the Child Thus whether illegitimate or not Cowards and Fools in Wedlock are begot Let no ennobled Soul himself debase By lawfull means to basterdize his race But if he must pay Nature's debt in kind To check his eager Passion let him find Some willing Female out what though she be The very dregs and scum of infamy Though she be Linsey-woolsey Bawd and Whore Close-stool to Venus Nature's common shore Impudent foolish bawdy and disease The Sunday Crack of Suburb Prentices What then she 's better than a Wife by half And if thour' t still unmarried thou art safe With Whores thou canst but venture what thou 'st lost May be redeem'd again with care and cost But a damn'd Wife by inevitable fate Destroys Soul Body Credit and Estate FINIS ADDENDA In Opposition to Mr. Dryden's Essay on Satyr 1680 NOW the Reformer of the Court and Stage The common Beadle of this wilfull Age Has with impartial Hand whipt Soverain Sin In me it is but manners to begin To correct Vice keen Satyr may prevail Beyond the Law when preaching Blockheads fail For

the Reins and give the Realm away With lavish Hands they constant Tributes give And Annual Stipends for their Guilt receive Corrupt with Gold they Wives and Daughters bring To the Black Idol for an Offering All but Religious Cheats might justly swear He true Vice-gerent to old Molock were Priests were the first Deluders of Mankind Who with vain Faith made all their Reason blind Not Lucifer himself more proud than they And yet perswade the World they must obey 'Gainst Avarice and Luxury complain And practise all the Vices they arraign Riches and Honour they from Lay-men reap And with dull Crambo feed the silly Sheep As Killigrew Buffoons his Master they Droll on their God but a much duller way With Hocus Pocus and their Heavenly slight They gain on tender Consciences at Night Who ever has an over zealous Wife Becomes the Priest's Amphitrio during life Who would such Men Heavens Messengers believe Who from the Sacred Pulpit dare deceive Baal's wretched Curates Legerdemain'd it so And never durst their Tricks above-board shew When our first Parents Paradise did grace The Serpent was the Prelate of the place Fond Eve did for this subtil Tempter's sake From the Forbidden Tree the Pippin take His God and Lord this Preacher did betray To have the weaker Vessel made his Prey Since Death and Sin did humane Nature blot The chiefest Blessings Adam's Chaplain got Thrice wretched they who Nature's Laws detest And trace the ways fantastick of a Priest Till native Reasons basely forc'd to yeild And Hosts of upstart Errors gains the Field My Muse presum'd a little to digress And touch their holy Function with my Verse Now to the State again she tends direct And does on Giant L dale reflect This haughty Monster with his ugly Claws First temper'd Poyson to destroy our Laws Declares the Councils Edicts are beyond The most Authentick Statutes of the Land Sets up in Scotland A-la-mode de France Taxes Excise and Armies does advance This Saracen his Country's Freedom broke To bring upon our Necks the heavier Yoke This is the Savage Pimp without dispute First brought his Mother for a Prostitute Of all the Mescreants that e'er went to Hell This Villain Rampant bears away the Bell. Now must my Muse deplore the Nation 's Fate Like a true Lover for her dying Mate The Royal Evil so malignant grows Nothing the dire Contagion can oppose In our Weal-publick scarce one thing succeeds For one Man's weakness a whole Nation bleeds Ill-luck starts up and thrives like evil Weeds Let Cromwell's Ghost smile with contempt to see Old England strugling under Slavery His Meager Highness now has got a stride Does on Britannia as on Churchil ride White-liver'd D for his swift Jack-call To hunt down's Prey and hopes to Master all Clifford and Hide before had lost the Day One hang'd himself and the other ran away 'T was want of Wit and Courage made them fail But O ne and the D ke must need prevail The D ke now vaunts with Popish Mermydons Our Fleets our Ports our Cities and our Towns Are Man'd by him or by his Holiness Bold Irish Ruffians to his Court Address This is the Collony to plant his Knaves From hence he picks and culls his Murthering Braves Here for an Ensign or Lieutenant's place They 'll kill a Judge or Justice of the Peace At his Command Mac will do any thing He 'll burn a City or destroy a King From Tiber came th' Advice-Boat monthly home And brought new Lessons to the Duke from Rome Here with curs'd Precepts and with Councils dire The godly Cheat-King would be did inspire Heaven had him Chieftain of Great Britain made Tells him the Holy Church demands his Aid Bad him be bold all Dangers to defy His Brother sneaking Heretick should dye A Priest should do it from whose sacred stroke All England strait should fall beneath his Yoke God did Renounce him and his Cause disown And in his stead had plac'd him on his Throne From Saul the Land of Promise thus was rent And Jess's Son plac'd in the Government The Holy Scripture vindicates his Cause And Monarchs are above all humane Laws Thus said the Scarlet Whore to her Gallant Who streight design'd his Brother to supplant Fiends of Ambition here his Soul possest And thirst of Empire Calentur'd his Breast Hence Ruine and Destruction had ensu'd And all the People been in Blood imbru'd Had not Almighty Providence drawn near And stopt his Malice in its full career Be wise you Sons of Men tempt God ●o more To give you Kings in 's wrath to vex you sore If a King's Brother can such Mischiefs bring Then how much greater Mischiefs such a King Hodges's Vision from the Monument December 1675 By A. Marvell Esq A Country Clown call'd Hodge went up to view The Pyramid pray mark what did ensue WHen Hodge had numbered up how many score The Airy Pyramid contain'd he swore No Mortal Wight e're Climb'd so high before To the best best vantage plac'd he views around The Imperial Town with lofty Turrets Crown'd That wealthy Store-house of the bounteous Flood Whose Peaceful Tides o'●eflow our Land with good Confused forms flit by his wondring Eyes And his rapt ●ouls o'erwhelm'd with Extasies Some God it seems had encer'd his plain Brest And with 's abode the rustick Mansion blest Almighty change he feels in every part Light shines in 's Eyes and Wisdom rules his Heart So when her Pious Son fair Venus shew'd His flaming Troy with Slaughter'd Dardans strew'd She Purg'd his Opticks fill'd with mortal Night And Troy's sad Doom he read by Heaven's light Such light Divine broke on the Clouded Eyes Of humble Hodge Regions remote Courts Councils Polices The circling wills of Tyrants treacheries He Views Discerns Unc●phers Penetrates From Charle's Dukes to Europes armed States First he beholds Proud Rome and France Combin'd By double Vassallage to enslave Man-kind That wou'd the Soul this wou'd the Body sway Their Bulls and Edicts none must disobey For these with War sad Europe they inflame Rome says for God and France declares for Fame See Sons of Satan know Religions force Is Gentleness Fame bought with Blood a Curse He whom all stil'd Delight of humane kind Justice and Mercy Truth with Honour joyn'd His kindly Rays cherish the teeming Earth And struggling Virtue blest with prosperous Birth Like Chaos you the tott'ring Globe Invade Religion cheat and War ye make a Trade Next the lewd Palace of the Plotting King To 's Eyes new Scenes of Frantick Folly bring Behold says he the Fountain of our Woe From whence our Vices and our Ruin flow Here Parents their own Off-spring prostitute By such vile Arts t' obtain some viler Suit Here blooming Youth adore Priapus's shrine And Priests pronounce him Sacred and Divine The Goatish God behold in his Alcove The secret Scene of Damn'd incestuous Love Melting in Lust and Drunk like Lot he lies Betwixt two bright Daughter Divinities Oh! that like Satura he

brought In Exile and in Death to England true What more could Brutus or just Cato do What can the Villains spread to blast thy fame Unless thy former Loyalty they blame To be concern'd the Stuarts to restore Is a reproach that hardly can be bore The utmost Plague a Nation could befall Like the forbidden Fruit it curst us all Yet thou in season a brave Convert grew Abhorr'd their counsels and their int'rest too And death at last before their smiles preferr'd So holy Cranmer burnt the hand that err'd Let 'em now place thy Quarters in the Air 'T will please thy soul to think they flourish there Thou scorn'st to hope for freedome in the Grave And slumbring lie whilst England was a Slave Thy Carcass stands a Monument to all Till the whole Progeny a Victim fall And like their Father tread that Stage which some In a blasphemous strain call Martyrdom For they in guilt transcendently excell All that e'er Poets or Historians tell To act fresh Murders and by Flames devour Is but the recreation of their power For they alone are for destruction chose Who either Rome or Tyranny oppose Tarquin and Nero were but Types of these In whom all crimes are in their last degrees Swelling like Nile in a prodigious Flood Of execrable Villanies and Blood Yet how the age their Lives and Peace betray And those whom th' ought to sacrifice th' obey They lick up Poyson and to Tortures run And madly hugg all Egypt's Plagues in one Degenerous Slaves such Monsters to adore Was ever Sodom so caress'd before Quick vengeance put a period to their breath By their destruction ease the groaning earth For Mortals attempt the righteous work in vain Heaven it self does th' immediate glory claim For they 're reserv'd by Thunder to be slain The Royal Game or A Princely new Play found in a Dream c. 1672 PROLOGVE WHoever looks about and minds things well And on Affairs abroad doth take a view May think the Story which I here do tell Was never dream't it falleth out so true I do confess it 's something hard to find A crooked Path directly in the dark And while a Man 's asleep you know he 's blind And can't easily hit on a Mark Well be it so yet this you know is right What 's seen i' th' Day is dreamt again at Night A Dream I hope will no Wise man offend Nor will it Treason be I trow to lend A Copy of my Dream unto my Friend Cabal beware your Shins For thus my Tale begins The Dream of the Cabal A Prophetick Satyr Anno 1672 AS 'tother Night in Bed I thinking lay How I my Rent shou'd to my Landlord Pay Since Corn nor Wool nor Beast would Money make Tumbling perplex'd these Thoughts kept me awake What will become of this mad World quoth I What●s its Disease what is its Remedy Where will it issue whereto does it tend Some ease to Misery 't is to know its end Till Servants Dreaming as they us'd to doe Snor'd me asleep I fell a Dreaming too Methought there met the Grand Cabal of Seven Odd numbers some Men say do best please Heaven When sate they were and Doors were all fast shut I secret was behind the Hangings put Both hear and see I could but he that there Had placed me bad me have as great a care Of stirring as my life and ere that out From thence I came resolv'd shou'd be my Doubt What would become of this mad World unless Present Designs were cross'd with ill success An awful Silence there was held some space Till trembling thus began one call'd his Grace Great Sir your Goverment for first twelve years Has spoil'd the Monarchy and made our Fears So potent on us that we must change quite Th' old Foundations and make new wrong or right For too great mixture of Democracy Within this Goverment allay'd must be And no allay like nulling Parliaments O' th' Peoples Pride and Arrogance the vents Factious and Saucy disputing Royal Pleasure Who your Commands by their own humours measure For King in Barnacles and to th' Rack-Staves ty'd You must remain if these you will abide So spake the Long blue-Ribbon then a Second Though not so tall yet quite as wise is reckon'd Did thus begin Great Sir you are now on A tender Point much to be thought upon And thought on only for by Ancient Law 'T was Death to mention what my Lord fore-saw His trembling shew'd it wherefore I am so bold To advise its standing lest it shou'd be told We did attempt to change it for so much Our Ancestors secur●d it that to touch Like Sacred Mount 't is Death and such a Trick I no-no-ways like my Tongue shou'd break my Neck Thus said he sate Then Lord of Northern Tone In Gall and Guile a second unto none Inraged rose and Col'rick thus began Dread Majesty Male beam of Fame a Son Of th' hundred and tenth Monarch of the Nore De'l split the Weam of th' Loon that spoke afore Shame faw the Crag of that ill-manner'd Lord That nent his King durst speak so faw a word And aw my Saul right weell the first man meant De'l hoop his Luggs that loves a Parliament Twa Houses aw my Saul are too too mickle They 'll gar the Leard shall ne'er have a more prickle No money get to gee the bonny Lass But full as good be Born without a Ten thousand Plagues light on his Cragg that gang To make you be but third part of a King De'l take my Saul I 'll ne'er the matter mince I 'd rather subject be then sike a Prince To Hang and Burn and Slay and Draw and Kill And measure aw things by my awn gude will Is gay Dominion a Checkmate I hate Of Men or Laws it looks so like a State This eager well-meant Zeal some Laughter stirr'd Till Nose half Plush half Flesh the Inkhorn Lord Crav'd Audience thus Grave Majesty Divine Pardon that Cambridge Title I make mine We now are enter'd on the great'st Debate That can concern your Throne and Royal State His grace hath so spoke all that we who next Speak after can but comment on his Text Only 't is wonder at this sacred Board Shou'd sit 'mongst us a Magna Charta Lord A Peer of old Rebellious Barons breed Worst and great'st Enemies to Royal Seed But to proceed well was it urg'd by s Grace Such Liberty was given for twelve years space That are by past there 's no necessity Of new Foundations if safe you 'll be What Travel Charge and Art before was set This Parliament we had you can't forget Now force cajole and court and bribe for fear They wrong should run e'er since they have been here What diligence what study day and night Was on us and what care to keep them right Wherefore if good you can't make Parliament On whom such costs such art and pains were spent And Moneys all we had for

well you 've thought upon the chiefest Cause Change nothing of Religion nor the Laws Let the great Monarch this good Motto wear Not only in his Arms but every-where Integer Vitae is my whole Defence Scelerisque purus a most strong Defence Non eget Mauri that no Forces need Jaculis nec Arcu which contentions breed Nec venenatis gravida Sagittis Pharetra to make Loyal his own Cities Vpon the Execrable Murder of the Honourable Arthur Earl of Essex MOrtality wou'd be too frail to hear How ESSEX fell and not dissolve with fear Did not more generous Rage take off the Blow And by his Blood the steps to vengeance show The Tow'r was for the Tragedy design'd And to be slaughter'd he is first confin'd As fetter'd Victims to the Altar go But why must noble ESSEX perish so Why with such fury dragg'd into his Tomb Murther'd by Slaves and sacrific'd to Rome By Stealth they kill and with a secret Stroke Silence that Voice which charm'd when'er it spoke The bleeding Orifice o'erflow'd the Ground More like some mighty Deluge than a Wound Through the large space his Blood and Vitals glide And his whole Body might have past beside The reeking Crimson swell'd into a Flood And stream'd a second time in Capel's Blood He 's in his Son again to death pursu'd An instance of the high'st Ingratitude They then malitious Stratagems employ With Life his dearer Honour to destroy And make his Fame extinguish with his Breath And act beyond the Cruelties of Death Here Murther is in all its shapes complete As Lines united in their Centre meet Form'd by the blackest Politicks of Hell Was Cain so dev'lish when his Brother fell He that contrives or his own Fate desires Wants Courage and for fear of Death expires But mighty ESSEX was in all things brave Neither to Hope nor to Despair a Slave He had a Soul too Innocent and Great To fear or to anticipate his Fate Yet their exalted Impudence and Guilt Charge on himself the precious Blood they spilt So were the Protestants some Years ago destroy'd in Ireland without a Foe By their own barbarous Hands the Mad men dye And massacre themselves they know not why Whilst the kind Irish howl to see the Gore And pious Catholicks their Fate deplore If you refuse to trust erroneous Fame Royal Mac-Ninny will confirm the same We have lost more in injur'd Capel's Heir Than the poor Bankrupt Age can e'er repair Nature indulg'd him so that there we saw All the choice Stroakes her steady Hand cou'd draw He the Old English Glory did revive In him we had Plantagenets alive Grandeur and Fortune and a vast Renown Fit to support the Lustre of a Crown All these in him were potently conjoyn'd But all was too ignoble for his Mind Wisdom and Vertue properties Divine Those God-like ESSEX were entirely thine In this great Name he 's still preserv'd alive And will to all succeeding Times survive With just Progression as the constant Sun Doth move and through its bright Ecliptick run For whilst his Dust does unextinguish'd lye And his blest Soul is soar'd above the Sky Fame shall below his parted Breath supply An Essay upon Satyr By J. Dr en Esquire HOW dull and how insensible a Beast Is Man who yet would Lord it o'er the rest Philosophers and Poets vainly strove In every Age the lumpish Mass to move But those were Pedants when compar'd with these Who know not only to instruct but please Poets alone found the delightful way Mysterious Morals gently to convey In charming Numbers so that as men grew Pleas'd with their Poems they grew wiser too Satyr has always shone among the rest And is the boldest way if not the best To tell men freely of their foulest Faults To laugh at their vain Deeds and vainer Thoughts In Satyr too the Wise took different ways To each deserving its peculiar praise Some did all Folly with just sharpness blame Whilst others laugh'd and scorn'd them into shame But of these two the last succeeded best As men aim rightest when they shoot in jest Yet if we may presume to blame our Guides And censure those who censure all besides In other things they justly are preferr'd In this alone methinks the Ancients err'd Against the grossest Follies they disclaim Hard they pursue but hunt ignoble Game Nothing is easier than such blots to hit And 't is the Talent of each vulgar Wit Besides t is labour lost for who would preach Morals to Armstrong or dull Aston teach 'T is being devout at Play wise at a Ball Or bringing Wit and Friendship to Whitehall But with sharp Eyes those nicer faults to find Which lie obscurely in the wisest Mind That little speck which all the rest does spoil To wash off that would be a noble Toil Beyond the loose-writ Libels of this Age Or the forc'd Scenes of our declining Stage Above all Censure too each little Wit Will be so glad to see the greater hit Who judging better though concern'd the most Of such Correction will have cause to boast In such a Satyr all wou'd seek a share And every Fool will fancy he is there Old Story-tellers too must pine and dye To see their antiquated Wit laid by Like her who miss'd her Name in a Lampoon And grieved to find her self decay'd so soon No common Coxcomb must be mention'd here Not the dull train of dancing Sparks appear Not fluttering Officers who never fight Of such a wretched Rabble who would write Much less half Wits that 's more against our Rules For they are Fops the other are but Fools Who would not be as silly as Dunbarr As dull as Monmouth rather than Sir Carr The cunning Courtier should be slighted too Who with dull Knavery makes so much adoe Till the shrew'd Fool by thriving too too fast Like Aesop's Fox becomes a Prey at last Nor shall the Royal Mistresses be nam'd Too ugly or too easie to be blam'd With whom each rhyming Fool keeps such a pother They are as common that way as the other Yet santering Charles between his beastly Brace Mee●s with dissembling still in either place Affected Humour or a painted Face In Loyal Libels we have often told him How one has Jilted him the other sold him How that affects to laugh how this too weep But who can rail so long as he can sleep Was ever Prince by two at once mis-led False foolish old ill-natur'd and ill-bred Earnely and Aylesbury with all that Race Of busie Block-heads shall have here no place At Council set as foils on D 's score To make that great false Jewel shine the more Who all that while was thought exceeding wise Only for taking pains and telling lies But there 's no medling with such nausceous Men Their very Names have tyr'd my lazy Pen 'T is time to quit their company and chuse Some fitter Subject for a sharper Muse. First let 's behold the merriest Man alive Against his careless Genius