Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	day_n	henry_n	king_n	4,203	5	4.0986	3	false

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ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A35289	The misery of civil-war a tragedy, as it is acted at the Duke's theatre, by His Royal Highnesses servants / Mr. Crown.	Crown, Mr. (John), 1640?-1712.; Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616. King Henry VI.	1680 (1680)	Wing C7395; ESTC R14018	49,723	78

THE MISERY OF CIVIL-WAR A TRAGEDY As it is Acted at the DUKE's Theatre By His Royal Highnesses Servants Written by Mr. CROWN LONDON Printed for R. Bentley and M. Magnes in Russel-Street in Covent-Garden 1680. PROLOGUE REligious Broyles to such a height are grown All the sweet sound of Poetry they drown Were Orpheus here his Lute might charm our Beasts Our Mastiffs not our Robble or our Priests Good Heaven Sirs are there no other ways To damn the Pope but damning all our Plays To our Religion 't is no Praise at all That if our Wit must stand our Faith must fall All parties in a Play-House may agree The Stage is priviledg'd from Piety 'T is pleasant Sirs to see you fight and brawl About Religion but have none at all Most fiercely for the Road to Heav'n contend But never care to reach the Journeys end Though you lose Heaven you will keep the Way The Pope sha'n't have you though the Devil may These things such business for the Criticks find They 're not at leasure Poetry to mind Well for the Poet 't is they 're so employ'd Else this poor Work of his wou'd be destroy'd For by his feeble Skill 't is built alone The Divine Shakespear did not lay one Stone Besides this Tragedy a Rod will prove To whip us for a Fault we too much Love And have for ages liv'd call'd Civil Strife The English Nation like a Russian Wife Is to a gentle Husband always curst And loves him best who uses her the worst This Poet though perhaps in Colours faint Those scurvy Joys does in all Postures Paint Fools take in pelting out each others Brains A joy for which this Nation oft takes pains If any like the Ills he shews to day Let them be damn'd and let them damn the Play The Persons Represented in the Tragedy KIng Henry the Sixth Prince Edward King Henry's Son By Mr. Joseph Williams Richard Plantagenet Duke of York By Mr. David Williams Edward eldest Son of Richard Plantagenet and after his Fathers death King of England By Mr. Smith George Duke of Clarence second Son of the Duke of York By Mr. Bowman Richard the third Son called Crook-back By Mr. Gillow Rutland a Child the youngest Son   The Great Earl of Warwick By Mr. Batterton Old Lord Clifford By Mr. Pearcival Young Clifford his Son By Mr. Wiltshire Queen Margaret Wife of King Henry Mrs. Leigh Lady Grey the Widow of Sir John Grey belov'd and at length married by King Edward the fourth By Mrs. Batterton Lady Elianor Butler a young Lady of great quality that was one of King Edward's Mistresses By Mrs. Currer SCENE ENGLAND THE MISERIES OF Civil-War ACT. I. SCENE I. A Noise of Fighting a Shout for Victory Enter Cade and his Rabble Cade FLing all my dead Subjects into the Thames Now say what place is this Butch 'T is London-Stone Cade Then am I Mortimer Lord of this City And here I sitting upon London-Stone Declare this is the first day of our Reign So I command the Conduits all Piss Claret And I proclaim it Treason now for any man To call me other than Lord Mortimer Enter a Souldier running Sould. Jack Cade Jack Jack Cade Knock down that sawcy Fellow A Butcher kill 's him Butch If he has wit he 'll never call thy Honour Jack Cade again Cade I think he has fair warning Enter a Cobler with a Scrivener Cob. My Lord my Lord Cade Well said a mannerly Fellow Cob. I have catch'd a Scrivener here setting Boyes Copies Cade Oh! there 's a Villain a corrupter of Youth Cob. He has a Book in 's pocket with red Letters in 't Cade Then he 's a Conjurer Cob. He can write Bills and Bonds and Obligations to bind People to undo themselves and pay Money whether they Can or no such a Rogue is enough to undo a Nation Cade I 'm sorry for it for on my honour he 's a proper fellow He shall not dye unless I find him Guilty Cob. He shall die Guilty or not Guilty I brought him to be Hang'd and I will not lose my labour I love hanging there 's Never any hanging but I leave my Stall to go see it Hanging-day is my holy-day and I will keep Coblers holy-day Cade We 'll hang him but we 'll examine him first Cob. No hang him first for now no man will confess Till after he 's hang'd Cade I will examine him Sirrah what 's thy Name Scriv. Emanuel Cob. Emanuel That 's a strange Name Friend 't will go very hard with you Cade Let me alone Friend dost thou write thy Name Or use a mark like a plain honest man Scriv. Sir I thank Heaven I have been so well bred That I can write my name All. He has confest He 's a stranger and a Villain hang him Cade Hang him with his Pen and Ink about his Neck Enter others with the Lord Say Prisoner My Lord my Lord a prize an 't like thy Honour Here 's the Lord Say who sold the Townes in France And made us pay one and twenty Fifteens And a shilling to the pound last Subsidy Cade I will behead him one and twenty times Come scurvy Lord what canst thou say To our Mightiness for giving up our Towns To Monsieur Basimecu the Dolphin of France Be it known unto thee Traytor by these presents Even by the presence of my self Lord Mortimer That I will sweep the world clean of such filth Thou Trayterously hast built a Grammar-School To debauch all the youth and whereas formerly Our Grandsiers us'd no Book but Score and Tally Thou hast caus'd wicked Printing to be us'd And contrary to the King his Crown and Dignity Hast built a Paper-Mill It will be prov'd That thou hast Servants talk of Nouns and Verbs And such vile Words no Christian er'e can here Thou hast appointed Justices of Peace To call poor men before 'em about matters They cou'd not answer yes and thou hast hang'd 'em Because they cou'd not read Cob. There was a Villain Cade Thou rid'st upon a foot-cloth dost thou not Say Well what of that Cade Why is it not a shame Thy Horse shou'd weare a Cloak when honest men Go in their Hose and Doublets Say Well I find You men of Kent All. What of us men of Kent Say That Kent is bona terra mala gens Cade Bold Traytor he speaks Latin in my presence Go hang him hang him Say Hear me Country-men Cade Hear Latin Villain hang him All. Hang him hang him They drag him away Butch We 'll hang up every man that can speak-Latin Cade Well counsel'd Butcher counsel'd like a Butcher We will and more for they are but few Tay. We 'll hang up any man that can speak French For I 'm a Taylour and there is no man That can speak French will let me work a stitch for ' em Cob. We 'll hang up all the Lords and Gentlemen Spare none but such as go in clouted shoes For I 'm a Cobler

much already Why wou'd you cruelly kill the poor Boy I struck him in my Choler but I meant him No farther harm Ric. Who cou'd forbear besides Shou'd we have let him live to cut our Throats Geo. What wou'd have grown up with him but Rebelion Why shou'd a Sprig grow up to be a Tree That wou'd breed nothing else but Caterpillars Ed. His Mother Swoon's use means for her recovery Qu. Oh my dear Son is kill'd my Son is kill'd Speak to thy Mother Son can'st thou not speak Oh murd'rers Butchers Traytors Cannibals Ric. Hence with this rayling Woman Qu. Ay hence with me Out of the world I prithee Richard kill me Murder is all the Almes thou givest the miserable Bestow thy bloudy Charity upon me Have pity on a Queen that begs it of thee Ric. We pity not those that are born to beggery If thou dost beg 't is but thy native poverty Ed. Insult not o're a miserable Woman Madam I pray go hence you shall be us'd With all respect Qu. All the respect of Murderers Is death Oh! bloudy George do thou bestow it Geo. I swear I will not do thee so much kindness Qu. Ay but thou usest to for swear thy self Ed. Madam pray go Qu. Oh! Edward Richard George Be it to you and yours as to this Prince For 't were a shame the Sons of Executioners Shou'd e're be Kings Ric. Away with her away with her The Guard lead out the Qu. and carry out the Pr. Now I will to the Tower to dispatch Henry Aside Till he be kill'd our work is done by halves Ex. Geo. Sir If you please I 'll visit my young Bride Ex. Ed. I have a Beautious Bride to visit too Ex. Scene a Room in the Tower Henry Sleeping Enter the Ghost of Richard the Second Gh. Wake Henry wake to weep then sleep for ever Thy Kingdom 's gone thy only son is kill'd A Dagger is preparing for thy Bosom And when thy bloud is shed my bloud will sleep I 'm that King Richard whom thy Grandfather Depos'd and murder'd and both long and loud My bloud for vengeance call'd and vengeance had First in the wounded Conscience of thy Grandfather Whom all the Royal Oyntment cou'd not heal He liv'd in trouble and he dy'd with horror And next on the short life of thy great Father Who liv'd no longer than to beget thee Who hast lost all the glories of thy Father And dost inherit nothing but the curses Due to thy Grand-father nor doe's the storm Of vengeance only fall on the Usurpers But on the Souls and miserable Race Of all the Traytors and the Fools that Flatter'd Thy Grandfather's successful Villany Who did not know Kings cannot dye alone And now their names are rotting Children dying Their Houses burnt on Earth their Souls in Hell Grin at your Grandfathers you dying wretches Cover'd all o're with shame and dust and bloud For this Estate their Villany conveigh'd you Th' ascending dirty Vapours of the Earth Breed all the storms i th' Ayr. When e're Oh! England Thou hast a mind to see thy Cities fir'd Thy people slaughter'd and thy Country desolate Send-all the dirty Traytours in the Kingdom To climb the Royal Rights and Throne invade Then a high road for vast destruction's made The Ghost goes out and enters with soft Musick one clad in a white Robe Spir. Let not this frightful Vision pious Henry Disturb thy gentle Soul it is not rais'd To breed a storm now thou art near thy Haven Rather to calm the Tempest in thy mind By pointing to thee on what dismal Rock Thy Kingdom and thy life are cast away The bloudy usurpation of thy Grandfather The Crown of England is not made of Clay The Common people so can ne're be crumbled Into that dirt 't is not compos'd if it Nor made of Iron the Sword so cannot rust But of unmingled solid lasting Gold Of Antient Rights and 't is the gift of Heav'n Therefore to Heaven only can be forfeited Therefore 't is call'd Imperial and Sacred And therefore carefully rail'd in by Laws And torn will be his sacrilegious hand Who has no Right to it and yet dares reach it And dares presumptuously pretend a Right Because he stands upon the peoples heads Such was the bold Ambition of thy Grandfather And heav'n frowns upon his Sins not thee Then do not think thy self unkindly us'd Religious Henry that Heaven takes away What is not thine all that is truly thine Thou shalt not part with but for great advantages Thy Son is taken from thee here to live with thee Above for ever thou shalt lose thy life Only to exchange it for Eternity Lose humble quiet for exalted Joy A taste of which wafted in Heavenly Harmony Pure as this lower drossy air admits I bring thee down to raise thy Spirits high A SONG Sung by Spirits to King Henry as he lies asleep COme Heavenly Spirits comforts bring To the most miserable thing Can be on Earth a Ruin'd King As all the Joyes on Earth Vnite To make his prosp'rous Fortune bright So every woe to shade his Night He has but one poor Joy the Grave A thing that 's free to every Slave And that with ease he cannot have For Daggers Swords and Poyson lye To guard his Tomb and make him buy With pain the wretched ease to dye But comfort Prince thy death is near For Dead thou hast no more to fear A fallen Monarchs Hell is here To Fortune he can nothing owe For all that e're she did bestow He payes again in heavy woe They Vanish and Henry wakes Hen. What have I seen and heard Oh! come my murderers And set me forwards on my way to Heaven Whilst I 've such rich provisions for my journey Enter Richard and the Keeper Here comes my murderer less horrid to me In bringing Death than bringing to my sight The horrid Author of my sweet Son's death For so in dream it was reveal'd to me My bloudy Grandfather destroy'd King Richard And now a bloudy Richard destroys me Ric. Go leave us to our selves we must confer Hen. What bloudy Scene has Roscius now to Act Ric. Do you suspect me fear haunt's guilty minds The Thief thinks every bush an Officer Hen. The Bird that sees the Bush where once it self Was lim'd and it 's sweet young lim'd caught and kill'd Cannot but hover round it with misdoubt Ric. What an aspiring Fool was he of Creet VVho taught his Son the office of a Fowl And drown'd the Boy by teaching him to fly Hen. Indeed my Boy was Icarus thy Brother Edward the Sun that did dissolve his wings And thou the gulph that swallowed up his life But many a thousand wretched Father more And many an Orphans water-standing-eye And many a Widows Groan and old man's Sigh Shall rue the Hour that ever thou wast born When thou wast born nature by horrid signes Gave notice to the world of coming Mischief The Birds of night did shrieke and cry to tell