Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	die_v	earth_n	live_v	4,065	5	5.2770	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A18769	The vvorthines of VVales vvherein are more then a thousand seuerall things rehearsed: some set out in prose to the pleasure of the reader, and with such varietie of verse for the beautifying of the book, as no doubt shal delight thousands to vnderstand. Which worke is enterlarded with many wonders and right strange matter to consider of: all the which labour and deuice is drawne forth and set out by Thomas Churchyard, to the glorie of God, and honour of his Prince and countrey.	Churchyard, Thomas, 1520?-1604.	1587 (1587)	STC 5261; ESTC S105094	65,030	110

ouerthrowne The gaine were ours if yet they were our owne Though Castle here through trackt of tyme is worne A Church remaines that worthie is of note Where worthie men that hath bene nobly borne Were layd in Tombe which els had bene forgot And buried cleane in graue past mynd of man As thousans are forgot since world began Whose race was great and who for want of Tome In dust doth dwell vnknowne till day of Dome In Church there lyes a noble Knight Enclosde in wall right well Crosselegged as it seemes to sight Or as record doth tell He was of high and princely blood His Armes doth shewe the same For thereby may be vnderstood He was a man of fame A shield of blacke he beares on brest A white Crowe plaine thereon A ragged sléeue in top and crest All wrought in goodly stone And vnder feete a Greyhound lyes Thrée golden Lyons gay Nine Flowerdeluces there likewise His Armes doth full display A Lord that once enioyde that Seate Lyes there in sumptuous sort They say as loe his race was great So auncient men report His force was much for he by strength With Bull did struggle so He broke cleane off his hornes at length And therewith let him go This Lord a Bull hath vnder feete And as it may be thought A Dragon vnder head doth lye In stone full finely wrought The worke and Tombe so auncient is And of the oldest guyse My first bare view full well may mis To shewe how well he lyes A Tombe in déede of charge and showe Amid the Chappell stands Where William Thomas Knight ye knowe Lyes long with stretched hands A Harbert was he cal'd of right Who from great kindred cam And married to a worthie wight Daughter to Dauie Gam A Knight likewise of right and name This Harbert and his Féere Lyes there like one that purchast fame As plainly doth appéere His Tombe is rich and rare to viewe Well wrought of great deuice Though it be old Tombes made but newe Are of no greater price His Armes thrée ramping Lyons white Behind his head in shield A crowned Lyon blacke is hers Set out in most rich field Behind her head is likewise there Loe what our elders did To make those famous euery where Whose vertues are not hid In Tombe as trim as that before Sir Richard Harbert lyes He was at Banbrie field of yore And through the battaile twise He past with Pollax in his hands A manly act in déede To preace among so many bands As you of him may reede Th●● valiant Knight at Colbroke dwelt Nere Aborgaynie towne Who when his fatall destnie felt And Fortune flong him downe Among his enemies lost his head A rufull tale to tell Yet buryed was as I haue said In sumptuous Tombe full well His wife Dame Margret by his side Lyes there likewise for troth Their Armes as yet may be tryed In honor of them both Stands at their heads thrée Lyons white He giues as well he might Thrée Rauens blacke in shield she giues As Daughter to a Knight A sheafe of Arrowes vnder head He hath as due to him Thus there these worthie couple lye In Tombe full fine and trim Now in another passing Tombe Of beautie and of charge There lyes a Squire that Harbert hight With cost set out at large Two Daughters and sixe Sonnes also Are there set nobly forth With other workes that makes the showe And Monument more worth Himselfe his wife and children to Lyes shrouded in that Seate Now somewhat for that Squire I do Because his race was great He was the father of that Earle That dyed Lord Steward late A man of might of spréet most rare And borne to happie fate His father layd so richly here So long agoe withall Shewes to the lookers on full cleere When this to mynd they call This Squire was of an auncient race And borne of noble blood Sith that he dyed in such a cace And left such wordly good To make a Tombe so rich and braue Nay further now to say The thrée white Lyons that he gaue In Armes doth race bewray And makes them blush and hold downe browe That babble out of square Rest there and to my matter now Upon this Tombe there are Three Lyons and three white Bores heads The first thrée are his owne The white Bores heads his wife she gaue As well in Wales is knowne A Lyon at his feete doth lye At head a Dragon gréene More things who lists to search with eye On Tombe may well be seene Amid the Church Lord Hastings lay Lord Aborgaynie than And since his death remou'd away By fine deuice of man And layd within a windowe right Full flat on stonie wall Where now he doth in open sight Remaine to people all The windowe is well made and wrought A costly worke to see In which his noble Armes are thought Of purpose there to bee A ragged sléeue and sixe red Birds Is portrayd in the Glasse His wife hath there her left arme bare It seemes her sléeue it was That hangs about his necke full fine Right ore a Purple wéede A robe of that same colour too The Ladie weares in déede Under his legges a Lyon red His Armes are rare and ritch A Harrold that could shewe them well Can blase not many fitch Sire Lyons white the ground fayre blew Thrée Flowerdeluces gold The ground of them is red of hew And goodly to behold But note a greater matter now Upon his Tombe in stone Were foretéene Lords that knées did bow Unto this Lord alone Of this rare worke a porch is made The Barrons there remaine In good old stone and auncient trade To shewe all ages plaine What homage was to Hastings due What honour he did win What Armes he gaue and so to blaze What Lord had Hastings bin Right ore against this windowe loe In stone a Ladie lyes And in her hands a Hart I troe She holds before your eyes And on her breast a great fayre shield In which she beares no more But thrée great Flowerdeluces large And euen loe right ore Her head another Ladie lyes With Squirrell on her hand And at her feete in stone likewise A couching Hound doth stand They say her Squirrell lept away And toward it she run And as from fall she sought to stay The little pretie Bun Right downe from top of wall she fell And tooke her death thereby Thus what I heard I doe you tell And what is seene with eye A friend of myne who lately dyed That Doctor Lewis hight Within that Church his Tombe I spyed Well wrought and fayre to sight O Lord quoth I we all must dye No lawe nor learnings lore No iudgement déepe nor knowledge hye No riches lesse or more No office place nor calling great No worldly pompe at all Can kéepe vs from the mortall threat Of death

when God doth call Sith none of these good gifts on earth Haue powre to make vs liue And no good fortune from our birth No hower of breath can giue Thinke not on life and pleasure héere They passe like beames of Sunne For nought from hence we carrie cléere When man his race hath runne ❧ An Introduction for Breaknoke Shiere IS bodie tyerd with trauaile God forbid That wearie bones so soone should seeke for rest Shall sences sleepe when head in house is his As though some charme were crept in quiet brest And so bewitch the wits with too much ease That duls good spréete and blunts quicke sharpe deuice Which climes the Clowdes and wades through déepest Seas And goes before and breakes the frozen Ice To cléere the coast and make the passage free For trau'lers all that will great secrets see When quick conceyt by slouth is rocke asléepe And fresh deuice goes faynt for lacke of vse Along the limmes doth lazie humours créepe And daylie bréedes in bodie great abuse If mettall fine be not kept cleane from rust The brightest blade will sure some cancker take And when cléere things are staynd with drosse and dust They must be skour'd by skill for profites sake Wit is nought worth in ydle braine to rest Nor gold doth good that still lyes lockt in chest The soft Downe bed and Chamber warm'd with fire Or thicke furd gowne is all that sluggard seckes But men of spréete whose hearts do still aspire Do labour long with leane and lentten cheekes To trye the world and taste both sweete and sower Who much doth see may much both speake and write Who little knowes hath little wit or power To winne the wise or dwell in worlds delight Feare not to toyle for he that sowes in paine Shall reape with ioye for store good Corne againe In reachlesse youth whiles fancie flewe with winde Féete could not stay the bodie mou'd so fast For euery part thereof did answer minde Till aged yéeres sayd wanton daies were past If that be true sound iudgement should be fraught With grauer thoughts and greater things of weight Sith sober sence at lightnesse now hath laught Thy reason should set crooked matters streight And newly frame a forme of fine deuice That vertue may bring knowledge most in price To treate of tyme and make discourse of men And how the world doth chop and chaunge estate Doth well become an auncient writers pen If skill will serue such secretes to debate If no hold on the course thou hast begun To talke of Townes and Castles as they are And looke thou doe no toyle nor trauaile shun To set foorth things that be both straunge and rare If age doe droope and can abide no toyle When thou comest home yet set out some swéete Soyle Though ioynts waxe stiffe and bodie heauie growes And backe bends downe to earth where corps must lye And legges be lame and gowte créepes in the toes Cold crampe and cough makes groning goast to crye When fits are past if any rest be found Plye pen againe for that shall purchase praise Yea though thou canst not ride so great a ground As all ore Wales in thyne old aged daies Forget no place nor Soyle where thou hast bin With Breaknocke Shiere than now this booke begin Shewe what thyne eyes are witnesse of for troth And leaue the rest to them that after liues When man is cal'd away to graue he goeth Death steales the life that God and nature giues Thou hast no state nor pattent here on earth But borrowed breath the bodie beares about Death daylie wayts on life from hower of birth And when he lists he blowes thy candle out Then leaue some worke in world before thou passe That friends may say loe here a writer was My Muse thus sayd and so she shranke aside As though some Spréet a space had spoke to mée With that I had a friend of myne espyde That stood farre of behind a Lawrell trée For whom I cal'd and told him in his eare My Muses tale but therewithall his eyes Bedeaw'd his chéekes with many a bitter teare For sorrowe great that from his heart did rise Oh friend quoth he thy race I see so short Thou canst not liue to make of Wales report For first behold how age and thy mishap Agréed in one to tread thée vnder foote Thou wast long since flong out of Fortunes lap When youths gay blowmes forsooke both braunch and roote And left weake age as bare as barraine stocke That neither fruite nor leaues will growe vpon Can feeble bones abide the sturdie shocke Of Fortunes force when youthfull strength is gon And if good chaunce in youth hath fled from thée Be sure in age thou canst not happie bée Tis hap that must maintaine thy cost and charge By some such meane as great good turnes are gote Els walke or ride abroade the world at large And yet great mynd but makes old age to dote Thy trauaile past shewes what may after fall Long iourneys breedes disease and sicknesse oft Thou hast not health nor wished wealth at call That glads the heart and makes men looke aloft No sorer snib nor nothing nips so néere As feele much want yet shewe a merrie chéere My newfound friend no sooner this had sayd Which tryall knowes both true and words of weight But that my mynd from trauaile long was stayd Saue that I tooke in hand a iourney streight To Breakenoke Towne whose Seate once throughly pend With some such notes as season serues therefore There all the rest of toyle should make an end Sith aged limmes might trauaile Wales no more Right sorie sure I can no further go Content perforce sith hap will haue it so Some men begin to build a goodly Seate And frames a worke of Timber bigge and large Yet long before the workmanship be greate Another comes and takes that plot in charge Men may not doe no more then God permits The mynd it thinkes great things to bring to passe But common course so soone orecomes the wits In péeces lyes mans state like broken glasse We purpose much but little power we finde With good successe to answer mightie minde Well that discourse let goe as matter past To Breakenoke now my pen and muse are prest And sith that Soyle and towne shalbe the last That here I meane to touch of all the rest In briefest sort it shalbe written out Yet with such words as caries credit still As other works in world can bréede no dout So this small peece shall shewe my great good will That for farewell to worthie Wales I make That followes here before my leaue I take O Happie princely Soyle my pen is farre to bace My muse but serues in sted of foyle to giue a Iewell grace My bare inuention cold and barraine verses vaine When they thy glory should vnfold they do thy Coūtrie staine Thy worth some worthie may set out in golden lines And blaze y e same w t