Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A35268
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The ambitious statesman, or, The loyal favourite as it was acted at the Theatre Royal by His Majesties servants / written by Mr. Crowne.
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Crown, Mr. (John), 1640?-1712.
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1679
(1679)
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Wing C7374; ESTC R22095
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49,409
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104
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He said my Lord his Excellence was resolv'd To be at Court this Afternoon at farthest Const His Excellence his Excellence is an Ass Aside A Fellow full of Honesty Morality Of Loyalty Philosophy and Foolery But I have laid a Bait to try his Morals Ha! Knocking Enter a Servant Serv. Count La Force my Lord desires Admission to your Lordship Const Bring him in Enter La Force Const Friend you astonish me how dare you approach The unhealthy shade of an old blasted Tree None come to me but he who wants a Gibbet And fain would hang himself the decent'st way La For. I was your Friend my Lord when you were honest No sordid Flatterer of Tyranny Before you climb'd the Mountains of Advancement To feed on Winds as Spanish Horses do Const My Lord you love those Winds as much as I do And hate the Fogs that haunt the dirty Vales. La For. That Dirt is bred by Tempests from above From Clouds of Tyranny where you have liv'd And torn the Kingdom by the thundring power Of Constable of France Const You wou'd ha' mounted To the same Clouds and made a Marshal's Staff A Witches Staff to carry you aloft Cou'd you ha' got one but you were deni'd it The King might cheaper have burnt all his Forests Than sav'd that Staff for you and your good Friends Set in revenge the Kingdom in a Flame La For. I made that Fire to melt down all our Chains I hate to see my Countrymen abus'd Const Hence with dissembling we know one another You and I wou'd not care our Countrymen Were all to Horses turn'd so we might ride ' em La For. I do deny 't I hate to ride my Country Const But I hate more my Country should be ridden By Cowards in the Army Fools in Council Who can endure to see the honest Industries Of many scores of men plunder'd by Law To feed a Fool who is not half a Man La For. Well is Brisac the Dauphin's Favourite To have your Offices Const So 't is design'd La For. Cannot your Son the King 's great Favourite Whom he created lately Duke of Vendosme Assist you Const He A studious moral Fool A Moth who has so long been fed on Books His Skin is Paper and his Blood is Ink. Insensible of all delights of Man La For. Of all Const Almost of all La For. What does he love Const Only his Book his Friend his Honesty And when the King and Kingdom have occasion He love's his Sword else it might rust for ever He would not draw it to procure himself The Empire of the World he says He needs it not And he call's him a miserable Wretch Who needs the Universe to make him happy La For. His temper differs much from yours Const From mine He walks directly backwards from my Steps I wonder in what posture I begot him Or in what humour Surely I was thinking Of something else and if I was I cannot Imagin how he should creep through my Loins Like Alpheus through the Sea and never season Himself with any relish of my Nature La For. Sure he rush'd from you in a mighty Torrent Const Rather I threw him from me with abhorrence La For. Then you can hope for little and from him Const Oh! Yes I have observ'd in my Philosophy Nature an Enemy to Tyranny Doe's alwaies leave some tender place unguarded About unmatchable vast harnest Animals Where Death may give the World revenge and freedom So this proud Fellow's Spirit more invincible Than Whales than Crocodiles or Elephants Ha's a soft place his Heart which has been wounded By the small Needles of a Woman's Eye La For. Then doe's he love Const He does La For. Whom for Heaven's sake Const She whom all love that wonder of the World Madamoiselle de Guise La For. that beautious Creature And what success ha s he Const They are contracted La For. And no one hear of it Const He keep 's it secret I know not why but such ha's been his humour La For. And what of this Const The Dauphin is his Rival La For. Ha! Then is she the talk't of hidden Beauty The Dauphin make's secret addresses to Const The same La For. Good Heaven What doe's the Dauphin mean Is not the match with Burgundy concluded Const It is and therefore is this kept so secret By the King 's strict Commands who strove to break it But cou'd not La For. How came you to find it out Const A Servant of my own happen'd to love Madamoiselle's chief Woman and sole Confident Whom I perceiving always vext and thoughtful With a Face full of Guilt strictly examin'd And got it out of him and how his Mistriss And he design'd to ruin my Son's Interest And raise their Fortunes by this greater Marriage La For. Here was a Mine cut to your Hand already Const It was I pardon'd him bid him proceed Because he serv'd in it his Prince the Dauphin And I woul'd join with ' em Whilst I was plotting Fortune which always take's into her Favour A hundred Villains for one honest Man Gave my Design a noble rise brought news To Court that whilst my Son quartered at Metz He and the fair young Princess of Lorrain Had charm'd each other La For. This inconstancy Wou'd enrage Madamoiselle de Guise to madness For she is the haughtiest young Woman living Const Yes had you seen her Letters you wou'd say so My Instrument her Woman always brought 'em to me I 'de see if they were fit to go at opening 'em I thought I had untied a Witch's knot And let a Tempest out La For. And you I warrant Answer'd these Letters in your Son's hand counterfeited Const Exactly guess'd I stop't the good Fool 's Letters Wherein the Wretch prov'd himself very innocent And in their room I sent my forged ones to her Wherein I made my Son own the inconstancy Desire a mutual release of Vows He wou'd give her the Glories of the Dauphin If she 'd give him the beauties of his Princess La For. Did she not tear the Letters and her Hair Const Yes and her Flesh and to compleat her madness I brib'd some cowardly Officers my Son Had thrown out of his Army to attest All my false Letters said and more how he Spoke of her openly with much contempt La For. Was ever a design manag'd like this The Dauphin after this sure had small difficulty To press her to accept his Love and Glory Const That you may guess La For. What are they married then Const They were the other night in such great Privacy The King scarce know's it yet La Force But can the Dauphin's Amour be wholly hidden from your Son Const No but he nere distrusts his Mistriss's falshood He only think 's her jealous and sent Messengers T' appease her anger whom she wou'd not see La For. Most excellent Const Now when my Son returns I will charge all my tricks upon the
my Prince's Dwarf I wou'd scorn more to be his Marble Statue To weep when ever the Court weather's damp Const Damp it is stormy one tempestious blast Tore from me all my shining Robes at once Duk. They were too heavy for your Years to carry For all the envy of the Kingdom hung on ' em Const But they have drest up Fools and Blocks in ' em Such blockish Fools are rais'd one wou'd imagin The Court is rather pitching of the Bar Then raising Men to Honour I can name Some Counsellors who cannot speak good sence The Wretches have no other use of Tongues Then Dogs of Tails to wag 'em when they fawn The shining Tongue of their chief leading Orator Ha's neither edge nor point but finely scabberded In Velvet Words is like a Sword of State Borne before publick business for a shew Duk. Why shou'd this grieve you Const I abhor that Fools Shou'd go before me in Command and Power Duk. He is not honour'd most who goe's before Mace and Sword bearers go before a King Methinks when e're I see Authority Lugger a heavy Fool upon her Sholders Before me I have State bestowed upon me And have a Leaden Mace carried before me Const Come 't is unnatural Fools shou'd be uppermost D. 'T is very natural vain things shou'd be uppermost In such a World of Vanity as this Where massy substances of things sink down And nothing stay 's but Colours Sounds and Shadows What mighty things derive their power from Colours Courts owe their Majesty to Pomp and Shew Altars their Adoration to their Ornaments Women their Lovers to their Paint and Washes Fools their esteem to Perewigs and Ribbons How many Trades are there that live by tones The cheating Beggar whine's our Money from us The Player by his tone will make us weep When Men's substantial sorrows cannot do it An Orator will set the World a dancing After his pipe when Reason cannot stir it Fanatick canting Priests will o'return Kingdoms Only by tones and thumping upon Pulpits And silly human heards as soon as e're They hear the wooden thunder prick up Ears And Tails and frighted run they know not whither Const Go angle not for me with rotten Hairs The combings of Philosophers old Pates We have all our several Passions that command us I am a Slave to Honour and Ambition And thou to fair Madamoselle de Guise Du. Ha! Starts Const Have I touch'd you Sir Now Sir suppose This beantious parcel of your Soul this parcel This soul of yours were torn out of your Body Wou'd you not feel it ha Du. He stabbs me Aside In my old Wound Const Oh! Are you startled Sir Say she were Whor'd Sir Du. Oh! I am abus'd Aside All all agree about this cursed story Const What now you are awake I have rous'd you Out of your Dream of Stoical Phylosophy And you have Blood and Passions stirring in you I thought your Veins were only Veins in Marble Du. No no my Lord I am a Man no Statue No Pasquin only to hang Libels on Const Then since thou art a Man and hast some feeling I will not say she 's whor'd but I will say A married man enjoys her Du. Do not say it my Lord. Const 'T is true I have seen 'em folded in embraces Have seen their souls skip from their Eyes and dance On wanton looks like Tumblers upon Ropes Have seen their tilting Lipps meet close and grapple As they wou'd tugg each other from their Faces Then with what breath their pleasant strife had left 'em They 'd fling with scorn out of their laughing mouthes The Name of Vendosme more they scarce cou'd say But when they had breath they 'd cry Phi-lo-so-pher Du. Who does she play this modest game withall Const With one whose Sport you dare not spoil The Dauphin Du. Oh! It is so This Woman has been false To get a Crown Oh! Const Are you pain'd Be comforted You quickly shall have ease for know your death Is plotted by 'em both Du. My Death Const Your Death I 'me ruin'd cause I know all their Designs For now Court secrets are like Fairy's Revels Or Witches Conventicles men are spoiled With sudden blasts that either tell or see ' em They do not spare their Fovourites and Creatures Brisac once lov'd both by the King and Dauphin Because he honestly oppos'd your Murder Is falsely charg'd with Treason and tormented To make him own it and name you a party Du. Can there be wickedness enough in Hell To furnish out with truth this horrid Story Const I know thy thoughts are calling me a lyar Ho! there Enter a Servant Ser. My Lord. Const Open those folding Doors The Scene is drawn and Brisac is shewn bloody and asleep Sleeps he Ser. He 's fallen into so deep a sleep Hâ—s sense is sunk out of the loudest call Const I gave him Opium to ease his pains I cou'd not bear to hear his piercing groans Now Sir I hope you will believe your Eyes Du. This horrid barb'rous sight confounds my soul Const Oh! now it works him I shall fool him finely Aside D. I 'le search the depth of this though it reach Hell Aside Wake him Ser. We cannot Du. Cannot you Ser. We cannot Du. Then shut the door I cannot see him longer I 'me strangely mov'd Const What if we went to Prayers And recommend to Heaven the King and Dauphin Du. To Prayers To Arms fit Weapons to reveng us But I am justly serv'd for having th' Impudence To put on Vertue in this dirty World And drag the Robes of Angels on a dunghil Const Indeed those Robes starve every man that wear ' em Du. But I did only put 'em on to act in Const To act in Du. Yes and wrapt my self so cunningly The Devil with all his Flambeaus cou'd not see me Const How Art thou not what thou pretend'st to be A man of Vertue Loyalty and Honour Du. The pretty jingling of the Chains of Fools Const Ha! Is it so this is most wonderful I always thought thee a poor Mountaineer That liv'd on Vertue 's cold and barren Hill Till all thy blood was froze and sense benumm'd Du. No no my blood is hot and my pulse beat 's As strong as any man's ring's all the Changes Of Love Ambition Fury and revenge I 'le give my self Revenge my Country Freedom I will transform my enslav'd Nation From Mules and burthen-bearing Beasts to Men. No beast is half so wretched as a Frenchman He always has a Bridle in his mouth And he has nothing but his Bit to champ on Const Right He is forc'd to give his Meat for Salt Du. He 's flead and salted Const He 's a pickled Mandrake An Englishman will eat him for a Sallad And pluck him by the roots out of his Trenches When e're he has a mind in spite of all The pretty Gardning way you now have got Of keeping your Muskmellons from the Weather No wonder the stout English always beat