Selected quad for the lemma: heaven_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A46270
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A royal arbor of loyal poesie consisting of poems and songs digested into triumph, elegy, satyr, love & drollery / composed by Tho. Jordan.
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Jordan, Thomas, 1612?-1685?
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1663
(1663)
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Wing J1058; ESTC R3145
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52,735
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162
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Fell fast asleep which made another strait Grow something witty and to break a jeast This fellow sayes he sure hath none to arrest And in meer spightfulness this envious Elf The Serjeant is Arresting of himself 7. Epigr. On Mr. Garrat and Mr. Chambers Garrat and his Friend Chambers having done Their City business went to Padington And coming near that fatal place where men I mean Offenders ne're return agen Looking on Tyburn in a merriment Quoth Chambers here 's a pretty Tenement Had it a Garrat Garrat hearing that Reply'd Friend Chambers I do wonder at Your simple censure you prate like a Parrat There must be Chambers e're there be a Garrat 8. Epigram On a Lady whose name was Mrs Brown We praise the fair and our Inventions wrack In pleasing Sonnets to applaud the Black We court this Ladies Eye that Mistress Hair The fair love black the black affect the fair Yet neither sort I court I doat upon Nor fair nor black but a complexion More rare then either she that is the Crown Of my intire affection is Brown And yet she 's fair 't is strange how can it be That two Complexions can in one agree Do I love Brown my Love can please my eye And sate my narrowest Curiosity If I like faâ—r she hath so sweet a grace A man might leave an Angel for her face Let any judge then which Complexion 's rarest In my opinion she is Brown that 's fairest 9. Epigram On a little Gentleman and Mr. Story a tall man This little Blade by th' other mans vain glory It seems was roughly us'd so sayes the Story But being strongly heated and high flown In rage he flies on Story pulls him down But when they ris I know not how it fated One got the worst the Story was translated From white to red but e're the fight was ended It seems one whom the little man befriended Came in and parted them the little Blade There 's no man could intreat nor yet perswade But he would fight still till another came And with perswasions counsell'd 'gainst the same 'T was in this manner Friend you shall not fight With one that 's so unequal to your height Story is tall the other made reply I 'de pluck him down were he three Stories high 10. Epigram On May-poles Hypocrites are like those May-poles they mock Rootless and fruitless with a Weathercock 11. Epigram On a red nosed Parson A jolly Parson of a comely grace Who partly carried his hot zeal in 's face Being at 's Inn and sitting by the fire A pipe of good Tobacco doth require The boy straight brings it him and to his hand Commits it with a kindled fire-brand But as he was at lighting on 't some small Sparks from the coal upon his hand did fall The witty boy perceiving these mishaps Cryes Mr. Parson hold Sir your nose drops 12. Epigram There was a time a difference began Betwixt a Welchman and an English man Each praising of his Countrey did express How much they did abound in fruitfulness The Englishman did tell the Welchman that There was a piece of ground he had been at In York shire which so fruitful was of grass That when a staff was thrown into 't it was In one nights time so overgrown they could Not see 't next day The Welchman cryes out hold That was not worth the praising In our Land Quoth Taffie I would have you understand We have such grass that turn your horse i' th' ground And before morning come he sha'nt be found End of the Epigrams Elegies and Epitaphs of two sorts woful and witty An Elegy and Epitaph composed acrostichally on two names occasioned by the Death of Mrs. MARY KETTLE Wife to Mr. HUMPHREY KETTLE of Hollow-way beyond Islington she dyed in Childe-bed Hang all the Rooms with Black let none appear Unless he can dissolve into a tear Modesty Loyalty and Love are all Put in this Cosâ—in 't is their Funeral Heaven hath took more good then 't will I fear Return the world again these hundred year Every Grace that makes a happy life You might have found in this dead vertuous Wife Knowledge and true Humility were met Exactly in this curious Cabinet Truth was her guide for she wee 'l boldly say Travell'd from Hollow-way the Holy way Let all therefore that wish their own souls safe Endeavour to deserve her Epitaph The Epitaph on her Name Mourn good Reader here lies one As chaste in life as this cold stone Religion Grace and so much good Yet ne're dwelt in flesh and blood Kinde as Saints no sweeter Bride Ever blest a Husband's side That in Childe-bed sheet was driven To be truly Church't in Heaven Led by Angels where the King Eternal Crowns the Gossipping An Elegy and Epitaph on the Death of William Barckley Esquire one of the Aldermen of the City of London STay and release my wonder you that can Resolve what may compleat a perfect man So absolute that future times may well Admire at but shall never parallel Let him be wise and learn'd his better part Be richly furnish'd with transcendent Art Let nature be his friend and in his minde Let Vertues choice endowments be refin'd He will come short of him whose body lies At this time â—loating in his Mourners eyes For in this Monument is one in whom Faith Hope and Charity took up their room One who hath gather'd Vertues since his Birth Enough to crown a man in Heaven and Earth When Acts of Equity were in his trust He ever was both merciful and just The Poor he pittied but his soul was ne're To wicked greatness an Idolater He had indeed a heart which the worst times Could never tempt to profitable Crimes His thoughts were pure his actions free his store Was made a good Exchequer for the Poor Though Envy oft on Envy doth attend He forced Envy's self to be his friend Forbear more words my fant'sie thou' rt too weak Great griefs are silent when small sorrows speak Although his body sleep till the day come That shall unite him to his ancient home His soul is mounted on Seraphick Wings Unto the Mansion of the King of Kings The Epitaph Weep Reader weep for if we see Thy Fountains dry no man will be Perswaded to relent for thee In this Monumental clay Lies pious dust till it obey The Summons of the latter day You that ransack Earth and Skyes For all worth which good men prize Look no further Here it lies But to sum up all in brief He whose eyes are void of grief Hath a heart without belief He whose soul doth not desire To weep before it do retire Would laugh were all the world on fire An Epitaph on a Childe Ladies that are young and wise Shall I tell you of a prize Here a box of beauty lies A Jewel hid from vulgar view Whose excellency if you knew Your eyes would drop like morning dew Dame Nature's Diamond which when She saw it was too