Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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ID |
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Author |
Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
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A55493
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The villain a tragedy / written by T. Porter, Esq.
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Porter, T. (Thomas), 1636-1680.
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1663
(1663)
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Wing P2995; ESTC R12291
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55,522
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104
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le ts go take out last farewel Exeunt Brisac laid in his Bed D'orvile Beaupres Bellmont Charlotte D'elpech La'mar. D'or How is it Sir Bris The Surgeon best can tell D'or May we not learn the full of all this business Bris A difference I had with the General What would you learn more Pray Sir retire and take the Company with you I 'm â—eak and have some business I 〈◊〉 would end before I go D'or Religion does forbid that we should trouble you â—eâ—ven grant your Pray'râ— and make ye happy Sir Bris I thâ—nk you Sir Nay friend Beaupres stay you here And you Sister do not leave the room Governour may I entreat the presence of your Daughter 〈◊〉 be my last request Exit D'or D'or Most willingly Charlotte stay you here Bris Adieu dear friend I shall not see you more La ' Ma. May all your hopes prove prosperous I cannot endure to stay and see you thus Exit La March. D'elp. And I must leave you like a Girle Blind with my tears I wish I could but do you better service Exit D'elpech Bris 'T is now too late and yet I thank you for your wish Beau. O Heav'ns must we then part Curse on my hand it was too slow Bris Blame not a thing that did so much Alas we were all born to die And if we do anticipate the time That bearded Elders languish in we scape A thousand miseries that they have surely stoop'd to Death is a bug-bear never fear'd when known Weep not dear Sister I will leave you one Shall be a Brother and a kind one to you Will you not Beaupres Beau. You cannot doubt my love to all that 's yours But I will not dissemble now the tie I have upon me to be ever kind Shall I have your pardon I would have told it you er'e long But hoâ—'d for better opportunity Then the sad Fates allow me now Bris What e're it be I do forgive thee freely For I dare sooner doubt my being happy Then that thou e're didst wrong me in thy friendship Beau. I am her husband Sir Bris That merits more my thanks then blame For it was to thy dear Arms I would bequeath her Bell. Heav'n meant me nor so great a blessing To have you living and this bounteous gift Bris I give her to thee friend with all my heart Use her well for her poor Brothers sake And Sister be you still to him Such as may make him in you love his friend His poor departed friend So I hope you two are happy Now to my Love and then I die in quiet Bell. Speak not of dying Sir it wounds my soul Bris Ha what means that Lady Sister She weeps she weeps O if those tears be but for my misfortune I will not envy Emperours that live But think it greater glory thus to die Piti'd by the beauteous good Charlotte Bell. You are not only piti'd but belov'd Beyond all what the world contains besides She kneels by him Bris Mock not my hopes 't were double death If now I should but find it otherwise Char. May I then be believ'd O my Stars Is this the good you have ordain'd me Shew me such worth To tell me what I 've lost Bris I know to leave this world is death But I leave more when I leave thee What heaven can I expect hereafter When all the Idea I can e're receive Of happiness I here do leave behind me Will you be kind unto my memory My dear Charlotte And when your thoughts do entertain themselves Of me your servant being gone Remember then Pray remember often How much your poor Brisac did love you Char. You speak as it I did intend to leave you No my Brisac I will not long out-live you Bris O yes I do conjure you live By all our Love and then I shall live in you For how should I be curst of all the world If I deprive it of its chiefest Jewel My soul shall wait upon you here My mind does tell me I shall bear that Office For I am penitent for all my sins And that will be a glorious station More then I e're durst hope for But that I guess I have your wishes for'â— Char. We 'll hand in hand unto the other world And there confirm the union of our souls Then 't will immortal be and we sha'nt need To fear a fatal separation Beau. Deny us not fair Maid thy company We all must die and be I hope Together happy in the other world Bris It is not fit any of you should die For when you'â— gone The world will be neglected and not own A Subject worth a care You shall not think of leaving one another Dear friend would you thus leave alone My dearest Mistress and your poor Bellmont Charlotte in you may see what I have lov'd And in her friendship to you think on me Char. Whilst memory retains a place Or life but motion giveth to my heart Each breath I draw and every bow I make Shall be for my Brisac The organs of my soul shall frame no sound But what shall eccho still my dear Brisac Master of all my hopes and all my joy Poor fickle joy alas how soon thou leav'st me Never O never to return again Bris And you dear friend when you shall see that face That much adored person I have lov'd Pay her the zeal of all your friendship to me And Sister as you ever did affect Your Brother turn that kindnesse all To my Charlotte and to Beaupres your duty Enter Malig Beau. Your Major Sir is come to take his leave Malig. Heavens bless my Colonel how is 't Sir Bris O Beaupres come hither I had forgot to tell you But I grow wondrous faint Have a care of Maligni Oh Charlotte your hand for I am going Farewel farewel I 〈◊〉 no more Dies Beau. Farewel the thoughts of worldly things What are thâ— Pomps of greatest Kings But empty titles State foreshew Idols we make to which we bow Nothing that 's certain here below But death and certain that we know How glorious is the fabrick when Ill to the Maker likens men But this the cleerest ever was Retain'd the brittleness of glass Bell. Through which we ought to see how fair Are Blisses that eternal are Led by perswasion of our blood We here expect a certain good And frame our best of what is worst Since by great Heav'n the earth we curst Char. My thoughts to Heav'n their wishes send And to Heav'ns will in reverence bend Leave tempting me thou dismal care Mistress of ruine and despair The strings of my poor heart I 'm sure Are not so strong they can endure This cruel weight then be thou gone And leave my Love to act alone Beau. Maligni ha canst thou weep I shall enamouâ—'d grow of what I could not love before Bell. Poor Major What have we here lost Malig. I Madam the world can yield no recompence for this Chair