Selected quad for the lemma: england_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
england_n	duke_n	earl_n	york_n	4,500	5	9.8623	5	true

Text snippets containing the quad

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