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Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
friend_n	worst_a	write_v	young_a	12	3	5.2347	4	false

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ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A36717	The husband his own cuckold a comedy, as it is acted at the Theater in Little Lincolns-Inn-Fields, by His Majesty's servants / written by Mr. John Dryden ...	Dryden, John, 1631-1700.; Congreve, William, 1670-1729.; Dryden, John, 1631-1700.	1696 (1696)	Wing D2403; ESTC R3993	52,780	69

unnatural sort of laughter the common effect of Buffoonry and the Rabble which takes this for Wit will endure no better because 't is above their Understanding This account I take from the best Judges for I thank God I have had the grace hitherto to avoid the seeing or reading of their Gallimaufries But 't is the latter end of a Century and I hope the next will begin better This Play I dare assure the Reader is none of those it may want Beauties but the faults are neither gross nor many Perfection in any Art is not suddenly obtain'd the Author of this to his misfortune left his Country at a time when he was to have learn'd the Language The Story he has treated was an Accident which happen'd at Rome though he has transferr'd the Scene to England If it shall please God to restore him to me I may perhaps inform him better of the Rules of Writing and if I am not partial he has already shewn that a Genius is not wanting to him All that I can reasonably fear is that the perpetual good success of ill Plays may make him endeavour to please by writing worse and by accommodating himself to the wretched capacity and liking of the present Audience from which Heaven defend any of my Progeny A Poet indeed must live by the many but a good Poet will make it his business to please the few I will not proceed farther on a Subject which arraigns so many of the Readers For what remains both my Son and I are extreamly oblig'd to my dear Friend Mr. Congreve whose Excellent Prologue was one of the greatest Ornaments of the Play Neither is my Epilogue the worst which I have written though it seems at the first sight to expose our young Clergy with too much freedom It was on that Consideration that I had once begun it otherwise and deliver'd the Copy of it to be spoken in case the first part of it had given offence This I will give you partly in my own justification and partly too because I think it not unworthy of your sight Only remembring you that the last line connects the sense to the ensuing part of it Farewell Reader if you are a Father you will forgive me if not you will when you are a Father Time was when none cou'd Preach without Degrees And seven years toil at Universities But when the Canting Saints came once in play The Spirit did their bus'ness in a day A Zealous Cobler with the gift of Tongue If he cou'd Pray six hours might Preach as long Thus in the Primitive Times of Poetry The Stage to none but Men of sense was free But thanks to your judicious tast my Masters It lies in common now to Poetasters You set them up and 'till you dare Condemn The Satire lies on you and not on them When Mountebanks their Drugs at Market cry Is it their fault to sell or yours to buye 'T is true they write with ease and well they may Fly-blows are gotten every Summers day The Poet does but buz and there 's a Play Wit 's not his business c. PROLOGUE Written by Mr. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Mr. Betterton THIS Year has been Remarkable two ways For Blooming Poets and for Blasted Plays We 've been by much appearing Plenty mock'd At once both tantaliz'd and over-stock'd Our Authors too by their success of late Begin to think third days are out of date What can the Cause be that our Plays won't keep Unless they have a Rott some Years like Sheep For our parts we confess we 're quite 〈◊〉 To read such Weekly-Bills of Poets damn'd Each Parish knows 't is but a mournful Case When Christnings fall and Funerals encrease Thus 't is and thus 't will be when we are dead There will be Writers that will ne'er be read W●…y will you be such Wits and write such things You 're willing to be Wasps but want the stings Let not your Spleen provoke you to that 〈◊〉 ' Od●…ife you don't know what you do Sirs when you write You 'll find that Pegasus has tricks when try'd Tho' you make nothing on 't but up and ride Ladies and all I faith now get astride 〈◊〉 Characters and Scenes and Plots Is grown as common now as knitting Knots With the same ease and negligence of thought The Charming Play is writ and Fringe is wrought Tho' this is frightful yet we 're more afraid When Ladies leave that Beaux will take the Trade Thus far 't is well enough if here 't would stop But should they write we must e'en shut up shop How shall we make this Mode of Writing sink A 〈◊〉 said I 'T is a Disease I think A 〈◊〉 Tetter that 's not Cur'd with Ink. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 it spreads 'till each th' infection takes And seizes ten for one that it forsakes Our Play to day is sprung from none of these Nor should you Damn it tho' it does not please Since born without the bounds of your four Seas 〈◊〉 if you grant no savour as 't is new Yet as a Stranger there is something due From Rome to try its fate this Play was sent Start not at Rome for there 's no Popery meant Where e'er the Poet does his dwelling chuse Yet still he knows his Country claims his 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 an 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Born he sends 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 on you depends Yet he 〈◊〉 hope some kindness may be shown As due to greater Merit than his own And begs the Sire may for the Son attone There 's his last Refuge if the PLAY don't take Yet spare Young Dryden for his Father's sake EPILOGUE Spoken by Mrs 〈◊〉 Written by Mr. Dryden LIKE some raw Sophister that mounts the Pulpit So trembles a young Poet at a full Pi●… Unus'd to Crowds the Parson quakes for fear And wonders how the Devil he durst 〈◊〉 there Wanting three Talents needful for the Place Some Beard some Learning and some little Grace Nor is the Puny Poet void of Care For 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 our new 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Have not much Learning nor much Wit to spare And as for Grace to tell the truth there 's scarce one But 〈◊〉 as little as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Parson Both say they Preach and Write for your Instruction But 't is for a Third Day and for Induction The difference is that tho' you like the Play The Poet's gain is ne'er beyond his Day But with 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 't is another Case 〈◊〉 without 〈◊〉 may rise to Grace The Poet 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 more That if his Play be dull 〈◊〉 Damm'd all o'er Not only a damn'd Blockhead but damn'd Poor But Dullness well becomes the Sable 〈◊〉 I warrant that ne'er spoil'd a Priest's 〈◊〉 Wit 's not his Business and as Wit now go●…s Sirs 't is not so much yours as you suppose For you like nothing now but nauseous Beaux You laugh not Gallants as by proof appears At what his Beauship says but what he wears So 't is your Eyes are tickled not your

THE HUSBAND His own CUCKOLD A COMEDY As it is Acted at the Theater in Little Lincolns Inn Fields By His MAJESTY'S Servants Written by Mr. John Dryden Jun. Et Pater Aeneas Avunculus excitet Hector Virg. LONDON Printed for J. Tonson at the Judge's-Head in Fleetstreet near the Inner Temple-Gate 1696. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE Sir ROBERT HOWARD c. SIR ATrifle of this kind is so little worthy your attention that I know not how to make a fair way for its appearance and beg you to give it audience The Muses are become so prostitute that every Enthusiast begets a work on 'em Plays are grown meer Foundlings and generated so fast that we find one or more laid at the door of every Noble-Man and these impudent Begetters are not satisfy'd that you give their unlawful Issue a maintenance and reering but have the Conscience also to expect a Reward for easing themselves on you of their ungodly burthen Sir I must confess I am little better than a lewd Sinner of this Order but have so much Grace and Modef●…y at least to require no Recompense where I ought to be begging Pardon for committing a slip of this nature I am confident I cou'd not chuse a more indulgent Foster-Father and tho' my very Name bears an accusation against me yet I have the honour also to be related to the Muses by the Mothers side for you your self have been guilty of Poetry and a Family Vice is therefore the more excusable in me who am unluckily a Poet by descent Poe●…e is a Noble Exercise and like a reserv'd Game seems intended wholly for the recreation of Learned Gentlemen or such at least as have had liberal Education and these have still succeeded best in it But we see the illiterate breaking in daily on the Quarry and even those assuming to themselves the name of Poets who never had any other call to that Art beside the hope of a third day If one half of us who set up for making Plays understood what Horace says in these Lines it may be we should not vainly presume to think our selves what indeed we are not Descriptas servare Vices operumque Colores Cur Ego si nequeo ignoroque Poeta salutor Shakespear among all the Writers of our Nation may stand by himself as a Phoenix the first and last of his Order in whom bounteous Nature wonderfully supply'd all the parts of a great Poet and Excellent Oratour and of whom alone one may venture boldly to say that had he had more Learning perhaps he might have been less a Poet. 'T is certain the good nature of the Town suffers any thing for the sake of Novelty and Entertainment however meagre and the encouraging some miserable Writers is to be allow'd more an act of Charity than Judgment for tho' Poverty be generally the end of a Poet I think it is but a very lamentable beginning There is a large difference between those who following the itch of gaining empty applause mispend their time in writing themselves into necessity and such who spend their time in writing themselves out of it and where the Muse begins with the want of a Meals-meat The former might be any thing else better than what they chuse to be the latter because they can be nothing else wou'd fain be Poets 'T is dangerous making a Pastime of any one thing so long that at last we are glad to embrace it as a Profession like those who after they have melted all their Substance in search of the Philosopher's-Stone are forc'd in the end to turn Chymists But of this enough for I am already conscious to my self of deviating something from my Theme and can only form this application out of what I have said that you Sir have prudently known how to make the best use of your Excellent Talent in this kind by applying it to your diversion and the unbending your Mind By these means you have happily given our Country a great Poet in your Writings and at the same time have not omitted the more necessary part of giving her a Great States-Man and Heroe to which Emi●…ncy your Birth Courage and Capacity have equally rais'd you And shou'd I enlarge on these Heads I am confident the World wou'd not tax me of the least flattery and I shou'd only be guilty of not giving you your due but you are reserv'd for a better Pen and silence therefore is a good fault in me I have only now to beg pardon for sending so mean a Trifle so long a Voyage 't is so full of faults I know not how to give it the name of a Play The Italians when they know not what to make of a thing call it Un Pasticcio Inglese what kind Complement they intend our Country in the Expression I know not but I believe they mean no better than a Hotch-podge 'T is my first Poetical Cookery of this sort and whatever it be I humbly submit it to your Censure but more to your Patronage and with it Sir Your most oblig'd humble Servant and Nephew John Dryden Rome August the 20th 1695. New-Style THE PREFACE OF Mr. Dryden to his Son's Play I Have thought convenient to acquaint the Reader with somewhat concerning this Comedy though perhaps not worth his knowledge It was sent me from Italy some years since by my second Son to try its fortune on the Stage And being the Essay of a young unexperienc'd Author to confess the truth I thought it not worthy of that honour 'T is true I was not willing to discourage him so far as to tell him plainly my Opinion but it seems he guess'd somewhat of my Mind by my long delays of his expectation And therefore in my absence from the Town last Summer took the boldness to Dedicate his Play to that Person of Honour whose Name you will find before his Epistle It was receiv'd by that Noble Gentleman with so much Candor and Generosity as neither my Son nor I cou'd deserve from him Then the Play was no longer in my power the Patron demanding it in his own right it was deliver'd to him And he was farther pleas'd during my Sickness to put it into that Method in which you find it the loose Scenes digested into order and knit into a Tale. As it is I think it may pass amongst the rest of our New Plays I know but two Authors and they are both my Friends who have done better since the Revolution This I dare venture to maintain that the Tast of the Age is wretchedly deprav'd in all sorts of Poetry nothing almost but what is abominably bad can p●…se The young Hounds who ought to come behind now lead the pack but they miserably mistake the scent Their Poets worthy of such an Audience know not how to distinguish their Characters the Manners are all alike inconsistent and interfering with each other There is scarce a Man or Woman of God's making in all their Farces yet they raise an

John your most humble Servant Sir John You shall give me leave to wait on you down Stairs ●…rch Sir John my Wife and I have been troublesom too long to you and your Lady and therefore will take our leaves also Mrs. Lurch I hope Madam I shall find another occasion to shew how much I am your Ladyship 's most humble Servant L. Cros. Madam you may command me you will pardon me that I leave Sir John to accompany you I am so faint with the Vapours I dare not venture out of doors Sir John Repose your self my Dear in your Chamber and leave me to ●…rve the Company Ex. Sir John the Doctor Lurch and his Wife Lady Crossit and Grace remain Grace Ay you are much discompos'd Madam L. Cros. I am all confusion prithee call 'em to Sing the Song I love SONG HElp help ye Pow'rs Divine For sure from you this Lightning came That from his Eyes shot thorough mine Down to my Heart a subtile flame 2. I try to get 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 always in vain For as fast as I fly I fly with my pain There 's nothing my Love and my Life can divide For equally both to my Heart-strings are ty'd L. Cros. D' ye hear shut the door close Well we Ladies of Quality are all Slaves to our Waiting-Women We are forc'd to trust them with our Secrets and then they become our Mistresses Aside Have you shut the Door Grace I have lock'd it on the inside Madam L. Cros. Do you remember how many Rich Gowns and Petticoats how many lac'd Pinners Hoods Scarfs and Nightrails I have given you since the three Years you have serv'd me together with many other Vails Perquisites and Profits you have enjoy'd in my Service Grace aside What Tune will this Prelude end in I wonder L. Cros. I do not call to mind my Favours implying that you are ungrateful but only to encourage you to persevere in the Love and Duty you owe me and in that Faithfulness and Secresie I have always found in you Secresie Grace is a most necessary Gift and Accomplishment for one in your Station Grace 'T is a Gift with which very few of our Sex are bless'd L. Cros. Art thou sure thou can'st be Secret Proof Grace I think I am Madam L. Cros. But 't is such a Secret that if ever it shou'd be discover'd especially by my Husband I am a ruin'd Wife for ever Hast thou the gift of Secresie May I make thee my Confessour But first to stop thy Mouth I give thee that fresh Manteau and Petticoat I wore yesterday Grace Now Madam I am sure I have the Gift of Secresie you may Confess with safety L. Cros. Swear thou wilt be true to me Grace What Oath shall I 〈◊〉 by 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ●…hat L. Cros. Swear by any 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Grace ●…hen may I never wear ●…ood Scarf Manteau or Petticoat more of your Ladyships when ever I am guilty of betraying my Trust. L. Cros. Well I must tell thee then I am in Love Grace O that Doctor that Doctor that Charming Doctor I dye for him Grace 'T is pity your Ladyship shou'd dye for want of a Physician L. Cros. O this Doctor will be the Death of me Grace That may be too for 't is one part of his Profession L. Cros. Didst thou never observe how often I have chan●…d Colour at the sight of Dr. Lorman my frequent Sighs and languishing Looks that have spoke too plainly my Passion Grace Yes indeed I always thought your Ladyship had a kind of a grudging to him L. Cros. Ah wou'd it were no worse I love him even to Madness Grace Nay now I find your Ladyship is 〈◊〉 a desperate Condition L. Cros. Well since I have made thee my Confident I must inform thee what Service thou must do me in this Business Knowing my Husband was to go to Barnet this day and not return till to Morrow Morning I went privately yesterday to the Change and bought a dozen of the finest Holland Shirts lac●…d with the best Flanders Lace I cou'd lay hands on These I have put up in a Band-Box and intend you shall convey 'em to Dr. Lorman in form of a Present Grace A whole dozen of Shirts does your Ladyship intend he shall wear 'em all out in your Service L. Cros. Leave your idle Questions I intend to place a Letter in the Band-Box which will sufficiently unriddle the meaning of my Favours Grace I think the Riddle of your Favours is not so very dark that it should want an Explanation Those Coats of Arms as soon as seen are blazon'd and declare your Ladyship of the Family of Love without a Herald to pronounce it L. Cros. However don't you fail in your Duty and when the Doctor Reads my Letter be sure you say a world of tender Things to him such as I wou'd were I present thou hast Wit at command Grace I warrant you Madam he 's ours he must be a Doctor of Marble to resist such a Letter as you have writ Besides there 's a Present will bring him with a Vengeance Love and a Bribe will make him soon surrender Such pow'rful Forces make all Hearts grow tender Exeunt ACT II. SCENE the Street Enter Feewell and Belleville meeting each other Feew. DEar Harry well met may I presume to guess whither you are bound in such haste Bell. No my Friend I 'll ease you of that trouble and let you know I am bound with all my Sails full to the Port of Love Mrs. Lucy your fair Cousin Rich old Landy's Daughter Feew. 'T is as I thought you are a happy Man you have the young Lady's heart and ●…er Father's liking you cannot fail of making a prosperous Voyage and carrying the Golden-Fleece off in Triumph Bell. True indeed I steer as 〈◊〉 with fair weather and a prosperous gale in sight of the Port but my Friend there are so many Sands Rocks and shallows to be pass'd e'er I can enter that if a Man be not an expert Pilot indeed he may perhaps founder in sight of it I shall never think my self out of danger 'till I have cast Anchor in the Harbour Feew. Never doubt your Person Vertues and Repute you have in the World with the deserts of a Thousand Pounds a year are sufficient to secure you without other helps Bell. Of which I must own your Friendship to be the chief but why does old Landy torture me thus with these delays and puts off it throws me into continual agonies and 〈◊〉 Feew. O my Friend these Rich old miserable Fathers are always more considerate than other Men they never clap up a Marriage in haste but haggle to the last farthing and love to have a lumping Penniworth of a Husband Bell. I wish he were less Rich then I wou'd convince him I value not his paltry dust and that I Court your fair Cousin for her own sake not for the sake of what he has to give her But 't is