Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	work_n	write_a	write_v	22	3	6.0607	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A39808	The pilgrim a comedy as it is acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane / written originally by Mr. Fletcher and now very much alter'd with several additions ; likewise a prologue, epilogue, dialogue and masque written by the late great poet Mr. Dryden just before his death, being the last of his works.	Fletcher, John, 1579-1625.; Dryden, John, 1631-1700.; Vanbrugh, John, Sir, 1664-1726.	1700 (1700)	Wing F1349; ESTC R226220	42,417	63

THE PILGRIM A COMEDY As it is Acted at the THEATRE-ROYAL IN DRURY-LANE Written Originally by Mr. Fletcher and now very much Alter'd with several Additions LIKEWISE A Prologue Epilogue Dialogue and Masque Written by the late Great Poet Mr. DRYDEN just before his Death being the last of his WORKS LONDON Printed for Benjamin Tooke near the Middle-Temple-Gate in Fleet-street 1700. PROLOGUE Written by Mr. DRYDEN HOW wretched is the Fate of those who write Brought muzled to the Stage for fear they bite Where like Tom Dove they stand the Common Foe Lugg'd by the Critique Baited by the Beau. Yet worse their Brother Poets Damn the Play And Roar the loudest tho' they never Pay The Fops are proud of Scandal for they cry At every lewd low Character That 's I. He who writes Letters to himself wou'd Swear The World forgot him if he was not there What shou'd a Poet do 'T is hard for One To pleasure all the Fools that wou'd be shown And yet not Two in Ten will pass the Town Most Coxcombs are not of the Laughing kind More goes to make a Fop than Fops can find Quack Marus tho' he never took Degrees In either of our Vniversities Yet to be shown by some kind Wit he looks Because he plaid the fool and writ Three Books But if he wou'd be worth a Poet's Pen He must be more a Fool and write again For all the former Fustian stuff he wrote Was Dead-born Doggrel or is quite forgot His Man of Uz stript of his Hebrew Robe Is just the Proverb and As poor as Iob. One wou'd have thought he cou'd no longer Iog But Arthur was a Level Job's a Bog There tho' he crept yet still he kept in sight But here he founders in and sinks down right Had he prepar'd us and been dull by Rule Tobit had first been turn'd to Ridicule But our bold Britton without Fear or Awe O're-leaps at once the whole Apocrypha Invades the Psalms with Rhymes and leaves no room For any Vandal Hopkins yet to come But what if after all this Godly Geer Is not so Senceless as it wou'd appear Our Mountebank has laid a deeper Train His Cant like Merry Andrew's Noble Vein Cat-Call's the Sects to draw 'em in again At leisure Hours in Epique Song he deals Writes to the rumbling of his Coaches Wheels Prescribes in hast and seldom kills by Rule But rides Triumphant between Stool and Stool Well let him go 't is yet too early day To get himself a Place in Farce or Play We know not by what Name we should Arraign him For no one Category can contain him A Pedant Canting Preacher and a Quack Are Load enough to break one Asses Back At last grown wanton he presum'd to write Traduc'd Two Kings their kindness to requite One made the Doctor and one dubb'd the Knight EPILOGUE By Mr. Dryden PErhaps the Parson stretch'd a point too far When with our Theatres he wag'd a War He tells you That this very Moral Age Receiv'd the first Infection from the Stage But sure a banisht Court with Lewdness fraught The Seeds of open Vice returning brought Thus Lodg'd as Vice by great Example thrives It first debauch'd the Daughters and the Wives London a fruitful Soil yet never bore So plentiful a Crop of Horns before The Poets who must live by Courts or starve Were proud so good a Government to serve And mixing with Buffoons and Pimps profain Tainted the Stage for some small Snip of Gain For they like Harlots under Bawds profest Took all th' ungodly pains and got the least Thus did the thriving Malady prevail The Court it 's Head the Poets but the Tail The Sin was of our Native growth 't is true The Scandall of the Sin was wholly new Misses there were but modestly conceal'd White-hall the naked Venus first reveal'd Who standing as at Cyprus in her Shrine The Strumpet was ador'd with Rites Divine E're this if Saints had any Secret Motion 'T was Chamber Practice all and Close Devotion I pass the Peccadillo's of their time Nothing but open Lewdness was a Crime A Monarch's Blood was venial to the Nation Compar'd with one foul Act of Fornication Now they wou'd Silence us and shut the Door That let in all the barefac'd Vice before As for reforming us which some pretend That work in England is without an end Well we may change but we shall never mend Yet if you can but bear the present Stage We hope much better of the coming Age. What wou'd you say if we shou'd first begin To Stop the Trade of Love behind the Scene Where Actresses make bold with maried Men For while abroad so prodigal the Dolt is Poor Spouse at home as ragged as a Colt is In short we 'll grow as Moral as we can Save here and there a Woman or a Man But neither you nor we with all our pains Can make clean work there will be some Remains While you have still your Oats and we our Hains Persons Represented Men. ALphonso an Old Angry Gentleman Mr. Iohnson Curio His two Friends Seberto His two Friends Pedro The Pilgrim A Noble Gentleman Servant to Alinda Mr. Wilks Roderigo Rival to Pedro Captain of the Outlaws M. 〈◊〉 Lopez Two Outlaws under Roderigo Iaques Two Outlaws under Roderigo An Old Pilgrim Governour of Segovia Mr. Simson Verdugo A Captain under him A Gentleman of the Country Courtiers Porter Beggars Master and Keeper of the Mad folks A Scholar Madmen Mr. Thomas A Parson Madmen Mr. Haynes An Englishman Madmen Mr. Cibber A Welshman Madmen Mr. Norris A Taylor Madmen Mr. Pinkeman Servants Peasants Women Alinda Daughter to Alphonso in Love with Pedro. Mrs. Oldfield Iuletta Alinda's Maid a smart Lass. Mrs. Moor. A Fool. THE PILGRIM c. ACT I. SCENE I. Enter Alphonso Curio and Seberto Cur. SEignior Alphonso you are too rugged with her too harsh indeed you are Alph. Yes it seems so Feb. A Father of so sweet a Child so good so beautiful Fye Sir fye so excellent a Creature Alph. She 's a Fool away Seb. Can you be angry Can any wind blow rough upon a blossom so fair and tender Can a Father's Nature a Noble Father's too Alph. All this is but prating Let her be rul'd let her observe my Humour with my Eyes let her see with my Ears let her hear I am her Father I begot her I bred her and by Iupiter I will Seb. No doubt you may compel her but think how wretched you by force may make her Alph. Wretched wretched Is' t not a Man I force her to A noble Man A Rich Man A Handsome Man A Young Man A Strong Man none of your piec'd Companions none of your washy Rogues that fly to fitters upon every puff of Weather I force her to a strong Dog don't I What wou'd the Flirt have Seb. I grant you Roderigo is all these and a brave Gentleman But does it therefore follow she must doat upon him Will you allow no