Selected quad for the lemma: duty_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
duty_n	good_a	great_a	see_v	2,610	5	3.2126	3	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A18760	A pleasaunte laborinth called Churchyardes chance framed on fancies, vttered with verses, and writte[n] to giue solace to euery well disposed mynde: wherein notwithstanding are many heauie epitaphes, sad and sorowfull discourses and sutche a multitude of other honest pastymes for the season (and passages of witte) that the reader therein maie thinke his tyme well bestowed. All whiche workes for the pleasure of the worlde, and recreation of the worthie, are dedicated to the right honourable sir Thomas Bromley knight, lorde Chancelour of Englande.; Churchyardes chance	Churchyard, Thomas, 1520?-1604.	1580 (1580)	STC 5250; ESTC S105045	53,461	90

for pleasure and delite and dedicated where I desire my duetifull good will maie be embraced The matters I treate of are written of sutche sondrie humours and subiectes that thei are more to be redd for the varietie of woordes then for the goodnesse of the verses and the cause why and wherefore I dedicate sutche a matter to your Lordship is for that I would be sorie that my daies and yeres should bee spent with the losse of tyme and that my labour and studie well ment should be forgotten and caste in a corner for wāt of the printing The strange motions and maner of the writyng showes nothyng but the nature of mans fansies that neuer continueth in one kinds of consait The occasions of so many seuerall discourses rose but on the innumerable deuises of the hed that euer in one pointe or other by imagination is occupied And the whole somme and substance of that whiche is written is but to publish to the worlde that ill is better to be meanely exercised in honest pastymes then basely bent and giuen to barraine slothe and Idelnesse Thus trustyng your good Lordship will take in good part a part of the portion that from the heauens is giuen me I presente vnto your handes this newe yere some of mine old labors studies Printed al bound in one newe volume for sutche as pleases to buye them And so as beste becommeth me and duetie commaundes I remaine a well willer to your honour duryng my life moste willyngly at commaundemente Thomas Churchyard Churchyardes Chance My Ladie of Lennoyes graces Epitaphe YOU noble dames of greatest birth whose fame to clouds would flye On this cold cors with warme good will bowe doune your iudgyng eye To see how fleshe and blood must fall to dust when race is ronne And worldly brute and honours blaste shall ende where it begonne If stately name or high renowne might make her bodie liue Or Princes blood to life and breath might here a patente giue This Ladie had not tasted death nor felte in sondrie thyngs Suche crossyng chance and froward fate as to her graue she brings Was neuer wight with troubles toste so sore and past them soe For in her breast from tender yeres a gulffe of greef did floe Scan that whiche best can skill of woe her sorrowes were so greate That when I waie a dram thereof my face and browes doe sweate But though she founde her fortune harde a staied mynde she bore A worthie hedde where sober witte by heapes laie hid in store Her gesture shewd from whence she came her words moste graue wyes And honours beame like burnyng Lampe did blase amid her eyes A presence that could freends cōmaunde and hold her foes full mute A noble harte where bounties budds did blome and beare good frute What needs more words to proue a trothe so rare her vertues were That who presumes to hit them right maie misse the marke I fere As you that mourne are cladde with blacke in white her soule doeth shine Transformd frō fleshe to angels kinde or sacred shape deuine Where fortunes threate cā doe no harme nor worldly foile she fears And eche good ghost in glorie greate doeth make an ende of tears Her life my gaine her death my losse her fauour helpt my state Her laste farewell leaues freends behinde to waile the losse too late FINIS ¶ An Epitaphe of sir Nicholas Bacon Knight late Lorde Keeper THE lodestarre that good Pilotts likt crept vnder cloude of late A suddaine storme hath knapt in twoo a staffe of publicke s●ate Out of our goodlie golden Ryng is falne a precious stone The lande that sutche a Iewell lacks hath cause to morne and mone The babes that seeth their parents dye of duetie sheds some teares But when a Pillar falleth doune that countries burthen beares The common wealth doeth bide a shocke and ioynts in sonder shake If not in steade of auncient propp a newe defence we make A father to all forward witts who fostred lawe and right A Sunne that shone through highest clouds yet gaue belowe greate light Who will not waile that knowes the want well Englande sutche a glas Shall seldome shine in thee againe as worthie Bacon was A flood of sence and sugred sappe came flowyng from his braine Ne Tulles toung nor Petracks penne nor stoute wise Catoes vaine Maie not surmount the philed phrase and reche of Bacons hedd His voice was smothe as Organe pipe and looke what Bacon sedd Was held for Lawe iudgement greate the sentence was so swete The words were of so deepe a fetche and sprong from suche a sprete He spent no speeche nor words in waste and where his promes past Performance hasted out of hande and followd on as faste To God to Prince and Iustice rules a greate regard he tooke Not on the man but on the cause and matter would he looke Disposde and bente to doe muche good but namely vnto those To whom dame vertues learned lore did gifts of grace disclose His countries care cutts of his daies and brings thē dim dark night That wisely cannot waye the weight and worth of sutche a wight He liues in laude and lanterne like he lastes with blasyng fame We die world weares out our praise where shines his noble name Moste noble are those burnyng lampes moste clerest light thei shoe That leaues a torche which giues vs light whē hēce frō vs thei goe FINIS ¶ Sir Hugh Pauletts Epitaphe NO verse a vailes ne teares maie serue to waile the want at full My witts are weake my words but bare my penne but base and dull To frame in forme and stately stile the lines I ought to write I finde my muse orecome with cares my reason banishe quite My hedde so fraught with cold conceits of newes I knowe full well That I had rather crie and rore and shrillie houle and yell Then treate of dreadfull deaths despite who daiely doeth deuoure The noblest fruits of Natures mould and pluckes the purest flowre Death neither looks on mens renowne nor who maie best be spard But like a Theef stealls life awaie and striks without regard Not takyng those that vertue wants and fills the worlde with vice But snapps vp suche that people praise worlde holds moste in price As loe of late to well was seen when Paulet left his life Forsooke his freends desired the graue and went from worthy wife To liue and lodge in loftie Skies where blessed angells are And good mens souls doe suretie finde and rest from worldly care No maruell though our troubled sprits doe make a swete exchange And leaues this sowre and bitter soile and will some coūtrie strāge To goe where Gods in glorie sitts and where our home must bee Yet in my mynde suche partyng is a wonder greate to see When men by toile and labour long haue purchast suche a praise Attainde to wealth and honour bothe through seruice sondrie waies And on the suddaine leaue these pomps and

A pleasaunte Laborinth called Churchyardes Chance framed on Fancies vttered with verses and writtē to giue solace to eury well disposed mynde wherein notwithstanding are many heauie Epitaphes sad and sorowfull discourses and sutche a multitude of other honest pastymes for the season and passages of witte that the reader therein maie thinke his tyme well bestowed All whiche workes for the pleasure of the worlde and recreation of the worthie are dedicated to the right honourable sir Thomas Bromley knight lorde Chancelour of Enlande ¶ Imprinted at London by Ihon Kyngston 1580. ¶ To the right honourable Sir Thomas Bromley Knight Lorde Chauncellour of Englande one of the Quenes Maiesties priuie Councell Thomas Churchyarde wisheth greate blessednesse of life continuance of vertue and perfite felicitie AS custome and continuaunce of tyme bredes a lawe in Nature and cōuertes mannes mynde to many a laudable excercise so moste honourable the good will of men is neuer vnoccupied if either honest labour or stdious diligence maie please those greate personages that affection and duetie commaundes vs to honor And as it hath bin through tyme out of mynde an auncient maner in the beginnyng of a newe yere to present vnto freendes and sutche as we beste fauour some signe of freendshipp by waie of newe yeres giftes so I trust the maner so mutche commended emong the wise and so long vsed with all sortes of people for the purchasyng of good liking shall excuse my ouer greate boldnesse and make my simple gifte accepted For as I vnderstande and my betters farre haue reported it is not the valewe of the presentes nor the ritchnesse of the Iewels that makes our giftes welcome and bringes the giuer in the good opiniō of the worthies in this worlde but it is the vertuous intent of the minde that maketh free passage to that whiche is presented and causeth as well little trifles to bee estemed as greate treasure to bee made of If otherwise the worthinesse of thynges were to be iudged my triflyng booke might blushe in my behalfe and the vaine verses therein would rather argue my disgrace then further my good fame And therefore my good Lorde since euery mans gift is receiued waied accordyng to the good will of the giuer I haue this present new yeres daie presented vnto your good Lordshipp good Chaunce and so with this good Chaunce salutyng your honor with all seruisable dueties I honor your Lordshipps vertues procede to the purpose of my matter The people of this worlde whose sondrie wittes and iudgementes lookes deepely into the deuises of the writers in our age if thei would straitly and narrowly beholde how busie I haue bin in settyng out bookes and printyng of pamfletts might paraduenture make a wonder of my wearisome woorkes for that many woordes hath bin spent to little profite either of my Countrey or commoditie to my self because my small learnyng and capacitie could neuer reche to any greate knowledge nor searche out the ground of any profounde seeret or science But how so euer my woorkes maie bee construed my penne hath kept me from slothe and Idelnesse and little hath bin loste by my studie and labors For freendes and fauourars hath bin gotten through diligence and tyme hath bin entertained in muche contentation of minde And though it was my Chaunce to light on a pleasant disposition in making of verses whē others happened by Fortunes election on a multitude of benifites yet blessed is the Chaunce that breedeth merrie thoughtes and vnlodes the harte and hedde of a nomber of heauie cogitations For though small abilitie simple callyng bryngeth no greate reputation and credite yet it sitteth free from the bitter blaste of Fortunes tempestes VVhen the mindes of the mightie are shocked and shaken with the blusteryng stormes of worldes vnstablenesse And though my Chaunce was to trauaill abroade to seeke after Fortune whiles others at home found themselues happie yet beyng so smally prefarred by Chaunce euery where I am neither troubled with her mutabilitie nor driuen to giue her thankes for any good tourne she hath doen me And yet my Chaunce is indifferent that bothe in warres and peace possessyng my little portion I haue seen thousandes depart from this worlde and sodainly taken from their abondance My chance is to be in court well knowen and mutche made of though smally considered or aduaunced My Chaunce is to liue awhile and write Epitaphes Sonets and sedules on many a worthie personage whiles my life and footesteps drawes the bodie to his long home and leades the restlesse daies to the quiet graue And so as Chance hath fallen out and alotted me by a bond of causes through the originall ground of all goodnesse the pleasure of penne and the pain of studie euen so in like maner I gladly plaie out my part on the stage in this toilesome and tragicall pilgrimage where nothyng easeth our labours so mutche as the sweete contentatiō of minde But to what purpose trouble I your honourable iudgement and grauitie with the rehersall of trifles or why doeth rashenesse in so bolde a maner dedicate sutche a woorke scarce worthie the looking on to sutche a worthie Magistrate whose wisedome maie disdaine the reading of so simple a discourse The trothe is my right good Lorde this present is offered as a peece of a meane to passe awaie the tyme amid great affaires and weightie causes whiche with light matters findes recreation by the inuention of pretie deuised sportes the studie and care of commonweale seemeth lesse tedius and troublesome For the minde wearied with ouer long labours and sadde motions of the spirite that through continuaunce maie dull the senses is sharpened and made better at commaundement when chaunge of pastymes with some pleasaunt exercises hath eased the bodie and refreshed the memorie My verses God wot are voide of sutche deuine vertue And I wantyng the grace of Mercurie or Pipe of Appollo presumeth to farre to please the eares of Minerua with the rashe sounde of rusticall Musicke But though the harmonie be not so sweete and delicate as is to be wished the desire to doe well is the instrument onely that maie bryng suche delite whiche maie for euer purchace good acceptation And for that to the art of Musicke and harmonie belongeth seuerall sortes of partes to make good concordance I haue tuned all my notes and songes worthie the hearyng into one kind of voice and order Meanyng that where many a peece of descant is to bee seen and some iarres maie happen by misliking of discordes yet a nomber of partes soundyng together maie couer the faultes and imperfectiōs of an ignoraunt Musition And because in the sweete soile of Salop in whiche parties your Lordshippe was nourished whiche seate I honour of nature and toke some sauor and taste of Science in the gladder are my muses to reuerence with verses a speciall sparke and spectacle of the countrey I was borne in either with Musicall melodie or Poeticall pastymes and passages delated

A grace to winne and purchace freends at vewe and present sight A Toby to his children all yea Iob for happie state A father graue that well bestowd the worldly goods he gate A Iewell to Kilkenie sure when toune besieged was A worthie Burges stoute of harte that could through perills passe Of stature meane of maner milde and sure as I haue hard A verie shadowe of a sainct so shapte in some regard His ende did showe what life he ledd his neighbours doe recorde He was a plant of speciall grace and member of the Lorde Wherefore dere freends y t reads these lines be sure his soule is well And he through Christ doeth triumph still on dreadfull death and hel And sitts as safe in Abrams breast as babe in mothers lappe Moste glad are Adams ofspring all that meets sutche blessed happe FINIS ¶ The Lorde Braies Epitaphe CRie out thou worlde and Court and saie that loste ye haue A better Iewell for his daies then your desarts doe craue But small ye waie the losse of hym and others eke Of whose good nature when ye neede ye are full farre to seeke Whiche maks your plague the more though least ye thinke thereon When ofte ye wishe them here againe that long are dedde and gon As Gold from Lead is knowne sutche diffrence is in deede In men and more vnlike thei are then flowre is vnto weede Lorde Braie declares the same who was so clere a Lampe That fewe or none my iudgement giues are left vs of that stampe So currant for the Court so comely in the felde So right a sparke of Natures moulde hath here been seen but selde His face did full present a manly worthie minde His woords set forthe a further skill then all mens heds could finde His life could none mislike his Nature throughly good His hande more freely gaue awaie then worlde well vnderstood A harte where honour dwelt a corps full trimly knitte A shape as kinde had breath'd hym out a hedde where lackt no witte O Braie thou borest awaie the banner of renowne Let none thinke scorne to followe thee in feeld in court nor toune I take a heauie leaue of thee and so I cease And leaue thee flikeryng in the aire before the God of peace FINIS Sir Ihon Constables Epitaphe IN lookyng through these worldly happs so walkyng where I would And waiyng well with equall paies the weight of yearthly mould I heard a sadd and priuie voice as though some fearfull spreete In hollowe Caue or vaute of stone had spoke from shroudyng sheete It badde me looke to true report that Tymes cheef daughter is And sett a side all fonde affects whiche leads the penne amis Thou hast ꝙ he for fauours sake prais'd some thou didst not knowe I was thy freende wherefore in verse my course of life doe showe These woords pronouncst he silence kept and vanisht so awaie His soule to Skies his fame to worlde his corps to clotts of claie Then to my Muse I gan repaire with harte as cold as stone And so with dolefull verse bewaield the death of good sir Ihon. Who ledde his life in greate renowne and neighbours loue with all And seru'd the state on his owne charge when prince did please to call By Northen broils that bred mutche bale and subiects trothes were tried His great good will to dueties bounds loiall faith was spied He alwaies stoode to rightfull thyngs and would not swaie a wrie To any pointe wherein reproche or losse of name did lye A freende that was not lightly loste and did good tournes bestowe Where cause requirde librall hart through bounties springs should flowe A house he kept of greate expence and daiely at his doore With that good store that God him blest he helpt to feede y ● poore He married twise in noble race and kept a noble traine And freely gaue good seruaunts Farms to recompence their paine He bare to freends sutche perfite loue that to the howre of death He neuer failed any one as long as he had breath He had greate suites and troubles too that many sorrows bryngs Yet ere he died with worship greate he ended all those thyngs He gaue good lands for Scholers weale as was the auncient gies And made an Almes house for the poore in Halsham where he lyes All Holdernesse that knewe hym well doeth misse his presence now So iuste and worthie eurie waie were all his doyngs throw But when the fruite of tree is ripe or men be at the beste Doune doe thei drop at the length in yearth with worms thei rest Yet good mens ghosts do clime the clouds drawes where God in trone Brings chosen lambs to endlesse ioy frō worldly care mone FINIS The phantasticall Monarkes Epitaphe THough Da●t be dedde and Marrot lies in graue And Petrarks sprite bee mounted past our vewe Yet some doe liue that Poets humours haue To keepe old course with vains of verses newe Whose penns are prest to paint out people plaine That els a sleepe in silence should remaine Come poore old man that boare the Monarks name Thyne Epitaphe shall here set forthe thy fame Thy climyng mynde aspierd beyonde the Starrs Thy loftie stile no yearthly titell bore Thy witts would seem to see through peace and warrs Thy tauntyng tong was pleasant sharpe and sore And though thy Pride and pompe was somewhat vaine The Monarcke had a deepe discoursyng braine A lone with freend he could of wonders treate In publike place pronounce a sentence greate No matche for fooles if wisemen were in place No mate at meale to sit with common sort Bothe graue of looks and fatherlike of face Of Iudgement quicke of comely forme and port Moste bent to words on hye and solempne daies Of diet fine and daintie diuerse waies And well disposde if Prince did pleasure take At any mirthe that he poore man could make On gallant robes his greatest glorie stood Yet garments bare could neuer daunt his minde He feard no state nor ●aerd for worldly good Helde eche thyng light as fethers in the winde And still he saied the strong thursts weake to wall When sworde bore swaie the Monarke should haue all The man of might at length shall Monarke bee And greatest strength shall make the feeble flee When straungers came in presence any wheare Straunge was the talke the Monarke vttred than He had a voice could thonder through your eare And speake mutche like a merrie Christmas man But sure small mirthe his matter harped on His forme of life who lists to looke vpon Did shewe some witte though follie fedde his will The man is dedde yet Monarke liueth still FINIS Epitaphes alreadie printed or out of my handes THe Epitaphe of Kyng Henry the eight 1 The Erle of Surries Epitaphe 2 The Lorde Cromwells Epitaphe 3 The Ladie Wentworthes Epitaphe 4 The Lorde Graies of Wilt on his Epitaphe 5 The Lorde Poinynges Epitaphe 6 Maister Audleis the greate Soldiours Epitaphe 7 The worthie