Selected quad for the lemma: hand_n
Text snippets containing the quad
|
ID |
Title |
Author |
Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
STC |
Words |
Pages |
|
A19558
|
Amanda: or, The reformed whore. Composed, and made by Thomas Cranley gent. now a prisoner in the Kings-bench, Anno Dom. 1635
|
Cranley, Thomas, fl. 1635.
|
1635
(1635)
|
STC 5988; ESTC S118905
|
47,524
|
98
|
shall injure thee 89. This said we both together left the roome And I conducted her along the street Vntill I brought her to my Mothers home Whereas at doore my Sister did her meete And then my Mother did her kindly greete And entertain'd her in most courteous wise As either of them could in heart devise 90. Then did Amanda live and spend her time In holy duties reading and in prayer With griefe lamenting her fore-passed crime Till she was even brought unto the staire Through horror of her sinn of blacke despaire But of Gods speciall grace he did impart The joy of his good Spirit to her heart 91. For many good Divines did flocke unto her Applying godly comforts to her soule And greatly striving their best good to doe her Taught her so well her follies to condole And mortifie her sinnes erewhile so foule That they at length by daily information Wrought in her a good hope of her salvation 92. Then with more comfort would she pray and talke Yet pensive still of sinne she would complaine Forth of the house she seldome times would walke Vnlesse it were to Church and backe againe If she were well she would not thence abstaine Sermons and Service she did oft frequent And to no place as Church so gladly went 93. There would she listen with her best attention And pray as earnestly as any prai'd Avoiding sinne by diligent prevention And workes with faith to couple she assai'd Desires of pleasure were in her decai'd The onely path in which she striv'd to trace Was to repent for sinne and pray for grace 94. Oh how she loath'd the very name of whore And all that led a wicked wanton life Their sinfull courses she did much deplore The unmarried wench the widow and the wife As she knew many in those actions rise So she endeavour'd moving them by letter For to reclaime them and to make them better 95. No roaring youngster came within her sight Nor lustfull Prodigall did see her face Her secret friend that was her sole delight Was now forsaken and quite out of grace Whereas she lay he must not know the place Nor he nor any now must looke upon her That had before attempted her dishonour 96. Thus did she leade her life unto her death Dying to sinne and living unto grace To goodnesse wholly she did her bequeath She tooke no pleasure in her comely face Nor any evill motion did embrace But spent her time in holy contemplation To beate downe sin shame the worlds temptation 97. Two yeeres she liv'd in sound and perfect health The most reformed creature on the earth She had not much and yet desir'd no wealth Humble she was as one of meanest birth And more inclin'd to sadnesse then to mirth Vaine pratling and much talking she despises Delighting most in pious exercises 98. She did no company at all admit But modest vertuous and of good report To talke of Plaies she would not heare of it She tooke no joy in any kinde of sport Meetings at Tavernes now she car'd not for t She did not seeke for to augment her store And what she had to give she gave the poore 99. She did abandon every earthly pleasure Delighting onely in religious bookes Her godly zeale did make the heavens her treasure From thence alone she for her comfort lookes Her studie was to shun the divels hookes And all her hopes on which she did depend Was on Christs merits at her latter end 100. After two yeeres that she had lived thus She fell through griefe into a heckticke feaver The which at length did grow so dangerous That of all hopes of health it did bereave her And never left her till her life did leave her Weaker and weaker still she pin'd away And saw how nature in her did decay 101. She knew her thred of life was almost spun And with great patience tooke her visitation She did rejoyce her life so neere was done Being acquainted long with tribulation And now her heart with heavenly consolation Was so replenisht and with such delight She would not longer live if that she might 102. Her griefe grew stronger still as she grew weake Hasting apace to bring her to her end At length she did desire with me to speake Where at her bed I straight way did attend Then reaching me her hand she said my friend My onely friend thy love through heavens grace Hath-sav'd the sinfull'st soule that ever was 103. The booke thou sent'st that little Paper booke Wherein thou did'st unmask my foule offence Behold and see what true effect it tooke That booke I say did worke in me the sence Of my owne follie and my impudence I blesse the time for this thy blessed favour And blesse the Lord that blest thy good endeavour 104. And here my latest thankes to thee I give And with these thankes of mine this little Ring My houre is come I can no longer live Wear 't for my sake although a worthlesse thing I cannot recompence thy meriting My tongue doth faile goe toule the passing bell A thousand times sweet friend farewell farewell 105. This said she drew her hand into the bed The time approaching of her latest 〈◊〉 Then turning up her eyes to heav'n she sed Lord to thy hands I doe my spirit commend Then to the wall her body did she bend And with a feeble voice againe she cri'd Iesus receive my soule so she did 106. And so she did so she di'd to live And living as she did she sweetely di'd Her death to her a lasting life did give Her life before her death was mortisi'd And at her death her life beatifi'd Death vanquisht life concluding of her paine Shee liv'd to die and di'd to live againe FINIS A Meditation upon Death NOthing more wisht then wealth yet that must leave us Nothing more sweete then love that lasts not ever Nothing more kinde then friends yet they l deceive us Nothing more fast then wedlocke yet they sever The world must end all things away must fly Nothing more sure then death for all must dy More honours may be got but they 'l away More beauty may be had but t will not last More wealth may be obtain'd but t will decay More joyes may follow but those soone are past For long continuance t is in vaine to try Nothing more sure then death for all must dy Sure love must dy though rooted in the heart Sure t is that all things earthly are unstable Sure friends are pure friends yet such friends must part Sure t is that all things here are variable Nor two nor one may scape nor thou nor I Nothing more sure then death for all must dy Then let the rich no longer covet wealth Then let the proud vaile his ambitious thought Then let the sound not glory in his health Then let all dy since all must come to nought The elder sish as well as younger fry Nothing more sure then death for all must dy Death tooke away King Herod in his pride Death spar'd not Hercules for all his strength Death strooke great Alexander that he did Death long spar'd Adam yet he di'd at length The begger and the King the low the high Nothing more sure then death for all must dy For Scepters Crownes Emperiall Diadems For all the beauties that on Earth doe live For pleasures treasures jewels costly jems For all the glories that the world can give She will not spare her dart but still replie Nothing more sure then death for all must dy All from the highest to the low'st degree All Nations People Kingdomes Countries Lands All in the Earth or Aire or Sea that be All all must yeeld to her all conquering hands She wounds them all with an impartiall eye Nothing more sure then death for all must dy Must all then dy then all expect their death Must ' all things vanish Sunne and Moone and Starres Must every living creature yeeld his breath Must all things end our joyes delights and cares Yes all with an united voice doe cry Nothing more sure then death for all must dy Dy let us then but let us dy in peace Dy to our sinnes that dying we may live Dy to the world that grace may more increase Dy here to live with him that life doth give Die we must needs let wealth and pleasure ly Nothing more sure then death for all must dy FINIS Nothing More Sure Then Death For All Must Dy.
a little space He takes his leave of thy so late-knowne face And tels thee when the morning comes that then At thy beds side he 'll visit thee agen 69. To bed thou go'st about the houre of three Drunke as a begger else it were a wonder Where thou continu'st till eleven it be And never pul'st thine eye-lids once asunder Nor wak'st by any stormy winde or thunder Vnlesse it commeth in the Youngsters head To take thee napping early in thy bed 70. Then he comes ruffeling ere his braynes be steady With drinking Sacke and Claret over night Vntrust unbutton'd and scarce halfe made ready Of his new Mistris for to have a sight Hoping in time to be thy favorite And needs must feele if that thy brests are soft And give thee in thy bed thy mornings draft 71. Then thou sit'st up to bid him welcome in And striking of thy locks to eyther side Display'st thy brest to shew thy milke white skin And if he list a journey for to ride Thou art a Hackney that hast oft beene tride And art not coy to grant him such a favour To try the courage of so young a shaver 72. Thus having had his pleasure as he list With much good mirth to eythers sweet content He goes his way as soone as he hath kist Vsing some plaine familiar complement And for his sport perchance benificent No sooner gone as t is thy daily guise Iust about twelve thou think'st it time to rise 73. Thy coates put on and having left thy bed Vnto the Looking-glasse thou straite dost goe Whereas two houres thou spend'st about thy head At two a clocke thou goest to dinner tho With thy Land lady and her mayd below At three unto the Play-house backe agen To be acquainted with some other men 74. Thou turn'st the day into a sleepy night And changest night into a waking day To Gods appointment thou art opposite What he commands thee that thou dost gainsay And neyther him nor nature dost obey Thy wicked heart that 's onely bent to evill Doth make thee for thy God to serve the divell 75. Thou laugh'st indeed and liu'st in pleasant mirth And fal'st in travell strongly with delight But yet it doth not come unto its birth Thou groanst at noone but bring'st not forth till night Of a strange issue that doth loathe the light Curst be those joyes that bring with lasting sorrow For this daies mirth eternall death to morrow 76. Thou feed'st thy pleasures as the Pelican Doth feed her young ones with her hearts deare bloud They likewise doe conspire against thee than To take thy life and like that viperous broode Gnaw through thy bowels for to gaine their foode Accursed crew of all things else most vilde Both murtherers the mother and the-childe 77. Thus dost thou spend thy time to please thy will As if thou wert made onely for to sinne Thinking on nothing but on what is ill Keeping out God to let the divell in Bending thy whole endeavours for to winne A shamefull pleasure that 's not worth a thought And lose a soule that was so dearely bought 78. Thou dost not keepe one Sunday in a yeere Nor hear'st a Sermon once in two yeeres space Thou carest neither for to read nor heare Devotion dwels not in thee nor yet grace No divine thought hath in thy heart a place Thou hast no resolution or intent Once to take comfort of the Sacrament 79. Thou know'st not what to prayer doth belong Private or publique nor to meditation Thou dost not use to exercise thy tongue In vocall sound or silent adoration Nor send'st thy thoughts up by ejaculation Nor worship'st any Deity above But Venus and her sonne the god of love 80. Who followes after fashions more then thou And who more rich in Iewels Silke and Gold Yet thou esteem'st them not halfe good enough For thee to weare if better may be sold. Thy pride makes thee so impudently bold Thou dar'st compare thy selfe with any woman Though faithfull she to all thou true to no man 81. What honour doth thy cloathing purchace thee Or what respect attends on thy attire Thy Iewels are like blossomes on a tree That 's cutting downe for fewell for the fire Gold worne by thee is prizde as Copper wyre Rich sumptuous garments if thy body beare them They are of no regard whilst thou dost weare them 82. What glory hast thou gotten by thy face Or is thy beauty honoured at all To others such a feature were a grace And such a beauty were angelicall But thou that makst such gifts mechanicall Haynous reproach and calumny dost doe them And tak'st away the honour due unto them 83. Me thinkes I heare thee pleading an excuse And asking me what I would have thee doe Thou sayst to worke it never was thy use Thy friends did never bring thee up thereto And therefore knowst not how thou shouldst so doe Nor left thee meanes enough for to defray The charge of life to feede thee once a day 84. Vnable therefore any paines to tack And destitute of meanes whereby to live Since all thy Friends and Kindred thee forsak And no man unto thee will comfort give Or in thy wants or troubles thee relieve These are the reasons that doe thee enforce To take so wicked and so lewd a course 85. But will these reasons purge thee of thy crime And take away the guilt of thy offence Will these to cleanse thy blot at any time Wipe off the scandall of thy impudence Or will they supersede thy indigence Is it more credit to be cal'd a Whore Then to be counted honest though but poore 86. Must riches onely make a woman civill And modesty be limited by wealth Wilt thou extract thy vertue from the divell Being once sicke wilt thou dispaire of health And reckon lesse of honesty then stealth Shall not faire vertue thy foule vice controule Wilt thou to please thy body kill thy soule 87. Wherefore did the Almighty give thee hands For nothing but to trim and decke thy face What is he bound to give thee meanes and Lands And more of thy deserts then of his grace Art thou not bound his Statutes to embrace How art thou puft in minde to thinke that thou Shouldst live by sweating of anothers brow 88. God made thee not to live in idlenes Nor to depend on nothing else but pleasure Thou ought'st not so to wanton in excesse But for to bound thy will within a measure And patiently for to attend his leasure If he will have thee poore be thou content By honest labour earne thy aliment 89. Learne to preferre an honest poverty Before a wealthy and a wicked life Riches doe often make us runne awry And stirs us up to hatred and to strife Then is a poore and beautious mayd or wife Nothing more comely nor deserving prayse She is esteem'd the mirrour of her daies 90. How would'st thou be unfit to manage wealth If such a blessing had betyded thee When