Selected quad for the lemma: soul_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
soul_n	blood_n	life_n	lord_n	4,921	5	3.7317	3	false

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

all a flant like Ship full vnder saile As swift to gather as the Ante and slowe to giue as Snaile The Ante in Sommer tyme prouides for Winters foode The Snaile as slowly doeth he clime so doeth he little good The one learnes man to saue the other slowly glides To bid men worke as tyme thei haue to walke watch their tides That lesson of the Snaill is slowlie lookte vnto So that this sillie creepyng soule full little good can doe And hourders vp of wealthe are in the selfsame plite Yet doeth the Ante for deepe foresight mans iudgement more delite But flantyng late came vp the gise is somewhat newe The Rainboes collours doeth it beare and yet it hath no hewe The glorie of the same tenne thousande stains will take And scarce the wisest men doe knowe of flantyng what to make He ●lants with others flowres she brau's in boroude weedes But neuer none could reape good fruite of sutche vain rotten séedes This flantyng squares it out and keeps a cruell coile But in the ende this newe founde toye doth bryng them all to spoile On braury it begonne with beggrie shall it ende This bowe is shapte of sutche a wood shall either breake or bende A flant a flant my boyes but flante to farre farewell Make mutche of worlde ye neither come in heauen nor in hell The saincts disdaine your pompe the Deuills feare your pride Then purchace Purgatorie nowe and there let flantyng bide So flounce and flant your fill good worlde should wearie waxe Of strange deuise that sturrs the state to strife through newe founde knacks Finis Of a fantasticall dreame taken out of Petrarke THe thyng I likte in slepe I founde a dreame vntrue What me mislikt was true I sawe with open eyes A slepe I dreamt and thought my chere had changed hue A wake I felt and founde my former greef aryes You wakened senses now why heare you not and see Those things I heard and sawe when dreames apperde to mee What foolishe custome keeps my wretched eyes accurste In slepe to see the beste awake beholde the worste When pleasantly I slepe a peace was promisde me When wofully I wakt my warres renued againe When pleasantly I slept in blisse I thought to bee When wofully I wakte of hell I felt the paine If truthe annoye me then and falshood please me beste With all my harte I wishe no truthe in me maie reste Since wakyng workes me woe and slepe contents my will God graunt I neuer wake but liue by slepyng still Thrise happie are the beastes by slombryng sleepe that liue Sixe months in quiet rest with eyes iclosed faste I doe not saie sutche slepe a shape of death doeth giue Nor wakyng represent the life that aye doeth laste Contrary humours loe posses my mased minde In wakyng death I feele in slepyng life I finde If slepe the figure be of death as moste men saie Come quickly death O death and close myne eyes in claie Finis A fancie as an answere to that dreame SOme feele by dreams more ioye then any other waie And those doe steale suche sport by nights thei care not for the daie The sicke as well as sounde hath sutche consaits in breste By slombryng slepes and sweuons sweete thei dreame thei haue some reste The thirstie thinks by dreame he drinks and cool's his heate But that I call a cow deuise to quenche a feuer greate So loue that liu's with dreams on fancies foode maie feede Yet want as mutche a slepe or wake as thei that starue for neede If pleasure we conceiue through sight the same doeth growe Then wakyng is the cheefest freend and slepe a mortall foe The eye must first be fixt ere senses feelyng finde And so in slepe some watchyng sprite awakes the drousie minde Though body seems to slepe and takes his ease in bedde The vitall vaines are woorkyng still and soule is neuer dedde Thus proue I that we wake when slepe beclipps the ghoste And wakyng witts and stirryng blood doeth comfort nature moste A dreame more life doeth showe then death or lompishe slepe And by the motion of suche dreams our soule and life we kepe So graunt I that our sleepes a wakyng Nature haue For slepe it self is noughe but death as bedde presents the graue Though beast is praisde for slepe yet man hath better moode To wake and seeke through breathyng brest to liue by angels foode Then let leude fancie slepe with beast and if you please It is the quicke and wakyng muse that moste my sence doeth ease Finis ¶ A fantasie on fifteene woordes endyng all in one letter IF freendship faint or Fortune faile and flood forsakes to flowe Yet call for hope to hoise vp saile a gale of winde maie blowe When sorrowe comes and sighes encrease with wicked worldly woe Beleue the beste of badde mischaunce and ease thy burthen soe The child that neuer felt the rodde maie out of order goe The horse that can no bridell bide no pace nor traine will showe Tis better freend reforme thy fauts then take rebuke of foe The wood y t breaks whē it should bend will neuer make good bowe That hart is weake which for small greef cōsums melts like snow The rose nor flowre is nere the worse that doeth nere nettell growe A man maie suffer mutche in harte though shooe doe nipp his toe A quiet man maie liue full long that dwells in house with shroe The Faucon flies a stately gate in spite of carraine Crowe Some maks a merry gladsome chere yet feles great care ye knowe Some haue a sadde and heauie minde and walks as light as Doe Thus sutche as beare a pacient brest doe conquere that thei craue And those that striu's against the stream shall seldome pleasure haue Finis ¶ Of the strong and the weake THe weakest goes to wall who wanteth freends must faste Thei saie the strongest will haue all would God that worlde were paste For féeble force I haue with worlde to tugge and toile And lackyng tooles to poule and shaue I yéeld me to the spoile Of those that spares no sleight nor witte to winne their will Who seems to make the crooked streight yet liu's by fleecyng still The weake hath feble knees to clime the clouds ye knowe The strong takes home from the Bees and seru's his fancie soe The strong and mightie flood swéeps all before hym cleane And tourns vp drosse bothe sande and mudde and kéepes no kinde of meane A sillie shallowe streame can doe but little boote It neither breaks doune massie banks nor tears vp trees by roote The weake is vanquisht still the strong will victor bee The strong with weake nor weake w t strong will neuer well agree When sound and sicke doe like and colde and heate are one Or mosse mucke for might maine maie matche w t marble stone Then strong and weake shall ioyne till then saie naie who shall The strong will triumphe on the weake weake

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

and talke together still When distance of the tyme and place denies them of their will When furthest of thei seeme thei ioyne in ioye and blis And eurie smart that absence breeds a present pleasure is The fraude and finesse now and tickle trothe in man Maks faithe and freendship thrise as sweete as when it first began In these dessemblyng daies who findes a freende I trowe Hath founde a seconde Phenix sure and needes no further goe Shrine vp that sainct in golde locke vp that Iewell riche Ye cannot in no measures meane of freendship make too mitche FINIS A warnyng from Courte LOoke not for deedes when wordes driu's of the tyme Thei reape but weedes that sowes on barraine grounde Trust not to age when youth is paste his prime Showe not plaine face where finenesse doeth abounde Hope not for grace where Flattrie faunes like whelpe But haunt the place where hope hath readie helpe Spende little wealthe where witte and tyme is loste Creepe from colde Court where freendshipps fire goes out Matche not with Pride nor leane to painted poste Seeke rather Death then liue in daiely doubt Where Enuie liu's and Loue is tournde to luste Good minds doe dye and worlde is not to truste The Sirens song deceiu's the simple eare The hissyng Snake giu's warnyng eare he styng Greate pitts are hid in water smothe and feare The hollowe bell doeth make the sweetest ryng Thus daunger dwells where least the doubt appeers And pleasant feelds doe yeeld moste scratchyng Breers The plainest folke are in the roughest soile The subtlest hedds to golden h●ules repaire Who shuns gaie showes shall scape from Fortunes foile Foule weather hangs in Cloudie smilyng aire I can no more but bidde the wise beware Of gallant Court that weares vaine glorie bare FINIS Of a Courtiers life and how the worst sorte findes beste Furtune THis parshall worlde prefarres the fained face And beates hym backe that beares the blotlesse browe As one might saie thei stande in Fortunes grace That worst deseru's and best can flatter now He reaps no Corne that helps to holde the Plowe His gaine is small that labours till he grones He bears the loade that hath the weakest bones The wiely hedde hath witte to watche his howres Like Foxe and Wolfe that seru's them selu's you see The idell hands that neuer planted flowres Takes Honie sweete from sillie labryng Bee Though Fauken faire for Ducke or Partrige flee He feedes on Beefe or other baser meate Thus are thei seru'd that oft doe toile and sweate Some rouns full swift yet still the wager loes Men haue sutche sleight to tripp their fellowes doune We knowe not how the wheele of Fortune goes Nor wherein rests our wealth or right renowne The tromp of Fame giu's sutche vncertaine sowne That badd are good and good haue but badd lucke In happie thyngs or gaine of worldly mucke Next walkyng Iaads and whipyng horses heeles Is Soldiours craft and waityng Courtiers trade The one in feeld bothe cold and honger feeles The other here at home a drudge is made Well all is one to sitt in Sonne or shade If happ giue all no matter who doeth sowe He reaps moste Corne whose Sieth shall furthest goe FINIS Of woordes spoken by a greate personage I Liue that dieth eurie howre my glasse is nere hande roime I fall awaie as doeth a flowre that withers in the Sonne O death dispatche my dolefull daies defar no tyme here in Good Lachis make thou no delaies my fatal threde to spin Thou Clarke I saie that for thy fee doeth ryng the carefull knell Now let me haue some helpe of thee to tolle my passyng bell If by the waie I maie prouoke to shorten now my life This hande of myne shall strike the stroke y t sone shall stint my strife I muse why God did me create and breathd life in my breste And brought me vp to this estate that nere enioyed no reste Why was I fed with milke so oft and pampred vp so long Why was I rockt and laied so softe and lullde with many a song Why was not I vntymely borne when Nature had me wrought That liueth thus as man forlorne and still consumes with thought The Midwife might haue cas'd all this if strangled had I bin Then had my soule been saffe in blis that now lyes dround in sin But looke what God assignde is doen what should I reason more O Lorde my God what hast thou won in plagyng me so sore What honour canst thou haue by me what glorie canst thou haue What seruice can I doe to thee that wisheth thus my graue And in this plite to dye thou knowest so farre from quiet frame Before I should yeeld vp the ghost I might blaspheme thy name The worlde disdains to see my wealth the heauens on me froune The yearth and aire denies me health and Fortune keeps me doune The daie I driue awaie with care the might I waile and weepe The sighes sobs that comes vnware doeth wake me in my slepe The foode that should my life sustaine I finde therein small taste My blood dries vp in eurie vaine loe how I weare and waste Thus eurie thing doeth change his kinde to worke my woe you see And nothyng seru's me to my minde I fall in sutche degree Would God my graue were ready found my shroudyng shete al And dreadfull Death were surely bounde to come when I doe call Finis ¶ A description of Desire LEd by Desire a thrall where fréedome lyes Helde backe by witte when fancie forward hales My greedie will begiles my gasyng eyes Calde home from craft yet caught in cunnyng stales Drawne from my self and made to others call If daunger come Desire is cause of all Prepard for flight my wings are faste in Lyme I swimme in hope and sincke with deepe consaite Deceiu'd by happ yet learnd by losse of tyme To knowe the hooke and yet must misse the baite But bound and ledde a long by swéete Desire I scorche or burne before I féele the fire Desire lackes sight yet leades the sences blinde And wilfull Will waites hard at Daungers héeles Good spéede full leane comes laggyng farre behinde Close harte saies nought that all the sorrowe féeles So thus the man to Death like captiue goes Ledde by Desire that knowes not freends from foes Our life declares Desire can take no reste In soundest sléepes it keepes the minde awake It is a sprite that closely créepes in breste A priuie thought that Warres and Peace doeth make And whom it leads it either throwes hym doune Or liftes hym vp by happ to greate renowne The Soldiour builds his hope on greate Desire The Marchant getts his gaine and wealth thereby The trauelyng wight it paies with noble 〈◊〉 It heales the harte that in Dispaire doeth lye And though some sparks of vice flee from that flame A good Desire maintaines a vertuous name Then blushe I not to yeelde where force doeth faile Desire doeth daunt the strong