Selected quad for the lemma: book_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A41818
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Gratiae theatrales, or, A choice ternary of English plays composed upon especial occasions by several ingenious persons.
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T. W., fl. 1662. Thorny-abbey.; Watson, Thomas, d. 1686.
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1662
(1662)
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Wing G1580; ESTC R26436
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30,642
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73
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I a King's Son Mother An. I dare not say thou art yet heaven weâ— knowes it Wilt. Our good King 's fair soul hath confest it An. My duty on my knees I render him Beseeching you to assure his Majesty That if the holy vows of faithfull hearts Witnest by heaven may make a marriage lawfull Without this earthly ceremonious state This câ—ild is onely hiâ— legâ—t mate Edm. I can forbear no longer I believe thee Come to my soul thou best of women Within this small circumference of my armes I hold a jâ—wel That which â— prise more then my diadem Come my dear love An. Oh my dear Lord Abb. The King turn'd Friar Edm. Come I must take away your Votariâ— Abb. Your Highness may command so she be pleas'd I could my self change states to be so rais'd Edm. Dry up these tears all grief is overthrown An. Content be yours I am no more my own But Oh! my Father Edm. Has lost himself in grief but when he hears Our sacred union he 'll find new joys Come my fair Queen set forward to our Court Where we 'l espouse thee On Reverend Bishop Thy hand shall joyn us let all people sing Anne Thorny's wife unto Great Englands King Exit Ent. Old Thorny led by an Angel Th. Oh! stay thou Minister yet speak to me Why hast thou led me all this silent night 'Bout this large building as if y 'ould survey Their workmanship and statelinesse I did not for my self erect this pile I have a Pallace for my proper use Ang. From the white path of blest Eternitie I 'me sent to comfort thy mortality Persevere Thorny as thou hast begun Thou shalt be made a bright-Celestiall Sun And with a quire of Angels thou shalt sing Thy pilgrimage and toyl is almost ended And now arriv'd whither thy steps have tended Leaving the world and her abortive race And sit as King in an immaculate place Exit Thor. Into what Sphear is my transcending soul Climb'd from the earth me thinks even now I see How death comes in to part this world and me I 'le hast me to my tombe and meet thee there What ho my man wake Sirrah rise and leave My silent tomb I 'le now go sleep my self Lob. I can never rest sleeping nor waking· This 't is to serve a Master that 's troubled with Chollimolly Some talk of taking pleasure in their bed I 'm sure I take none there for I am almost asleep before I go to bed and I am call'd up before I wake And this my masters bed that he sayes shall be his grave is none of the softest and surely none of the easiest neither for if it were he would not talk so much of it He thinks says and speaks of nothing else but of that and his dying two things I can't abide to hear of If he would mention good provision as plum-PUDDING good pouder'd beef mutton or veal turkies or capons pasties or tarts there were some comfort towards the keeping up of this poor frail flesh But he 's alwayes peeping on a bare deadman's head talking of grim death of an hourglasse run out and of tapers that are burnt and such like heavy stuffe that my weak stomack can't digest Well I 'le walk easily home and see what â—oan hath provided for us for unlesse I do look after all we shall have nothing Exit Thorney awakes and enters Thus thus my joyes are quite extinguisht never To be reviv'd thus gon thus gon for ever Oh world what art thou naught but discontent A Chaos of confusion making man repent All his delight and pleasure he hath past That bringeth naught but misery at last Oh heaven how much unto thee am I bound That I an end of this my grief have found And through this pilgrimage of life at last Wiâ—h patience through it I have gone and past But oh the sad remembrance of my child Has drawn back my grief that now was quite exil'd Still gripes my heart but being now to die All dying men should end in charity I doe forgive her now doe thou so heaven And then the debt of her defame is even Enter Young Edmund Wiltshire and Woodford Young Edm Good Sir where where 's my grandfather Pray shew him me That I may ask his blessing on my knee Thorn Ha! what apparition's this I was awake even now Why doe you kneel or thus stand bare about me You doe not worship me I 'me sure I am no Idol You hear me speak I hope VVood. We think no less but that you are a man And living This Mr. Thorney is the Royal Prince Thorn Pray pardon me I doe not come at Court You see good Sir what doting age can doe It is my duty then to kneel to you VVood. Stand up good Sir alas why doe you kneel Why doe you turn aside Thorn Stand up my Daughters Son And tempt no more my resolution I 'le ne're more see thee nor thy worthy Mother Queen Though trap't with all the ornaments of state And for her memory even Thee I hate Yet though I see thee not thus on thy head I 'le backward lay my hand and bend my knee With sighs and tears to pull a blessing down Shall be more pretious then thy fathers Crown Let heaven and holy Angels ever spread Their blest beatitudes upon thy head Peace crown thy days all graces thee attend And to thy race let thy race never end Live long in virtue let thy good o'regrow thee Or die before thy bad shall overthrow thee Nay rise my Child thy face ne're more I 'le see But pray to send thee blest eternitie Commend me to thy Mother say that I Freely forgive her and to heavens doe pray To wipe her deep insculped sins away And though on earth she now is placed high Oh! let her ne're transcend Humility My starrs burn dim my times sand-glass is run Record what for a daughter I have done And to the King my Royal Son say thus That his baâ—e Father dy'd ambitious For when his fainting body thus sunk down His soul flew up to heav'n to gain a Crown Young Edm. O my Grandsire Dyes VVood. I want tears to lament his misery VVilt Where 's the Reverend man VVood. He 's dead he 's dead My good Lord of Wiltshire Before the gasp of his last breath was gon His speech being usher'd with a deep fetcht groan Through the sad confluence and mistie throng Of his distracted thoughts his feeble tongue Dropt forth these words Thus fleet thus transitory Is mans delight and all that painted glory Poor earth can give Nor wealth nor bloud nor beauty Can quit the debt that necessary duty They owe to change and time but like a flow'r They flourish now and fade within an hour Wilt. The world is like a Play his glass is run Death acts the Epilogue and thus his dayes are done The King and Queen are come to comfort him VVood. They come too late Whirlewinds of grief has overwhelm'd lifes state VVilt He is then dead Alas this suddain death Will strike the Court with grief and heaviness But hark they come Ent. King Queen and Attendants King Where 's aged Thorny Quee. Where 's my displeased Father VVoodf Here 's his Effigies drawn unto the life By the grave workman of mortality All dreading death this doth prefigurate Man's pilgrimage on earth whose steps do tend To bring his life unto his journyes end Queâ—n O me unhappie eyes rain down bring drops And with them here embalme my Father's Corps Had I but got his blessing e'â—e he died I had bin happy Young Edm. You want not that Mother For in his blessing me he did name you And sent to you a blest Beatitude Queen Heaven quit him for 't let all the Court In black lament his death And let 's in sighes chaunt forth his requiem And to express my love unto the Hearse From whence I came the Nuns I 'le freely give Five hundred pounds a year whiles that I live King And I 'le make sure thy gift And now His old lamented Corps let be convai'd Upon a Chariot lin'd and oâ—erlaid With Sables then to receive the Crown Prepar'd for Virtue and deserv'd Renown Where now we leave him to be full pâ—sâ—est Of endlesse peace and everlasting Rest. Set on to Court 'till a fit time doth call To solemnize this mournfull Funeral And while the world shall last old Thorny's name Shall live recorded in the book of Fame FINIS ⸫ 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ⸫ Here the Candles are putting out