Selected quad for the lemma: lord_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
lord_n	day_n	night_n	time_n	11,545	5	3.7585	3	false

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

me By making you unhappy in a Wife War Were you the first of Widows that talk'd thus I must confess I think 't wou'd damp my courage But when this is the constant language spoke In the dark shady Land of Vailes and mourning Shou'd I be scar'd I were as rank a fool As the dull Heroe that shou'd leave a pleasant Country he conquer'd ' cause the people speak A strange odd Language you are a conquer'd Province And you may keep your Language and your Customs But I will have the Government and Tribute La. Gr. My Lord I have affairs of greater consequence Then this fond talk and so your humble Servant War So have not I and therefore you shall stay La. Gr. What do you mean my Lord War I mean my Lady To marry you this day enjoy you this night La. Gr. My Lord I tell you plainly I do not love you War All 's one I tell you plainly I will have you I know you are a woman of great virtue And time will file away these rugged humours But if it do not though your soul be rough Your body will be smooth your Cheeks be soft Your eyes be sparkling and your lips be tempting And more perhaps might make me mad with love Ho! call a Parson La. Gr. Now my Lord VVar. Ay! now La. Gr. What and my Husband dyed so very lately War What then what has the dead to do with us La. Gr. I 'll rather go a begging with my Children War Come leave this fooling by this kiss you shall La. Gr. I 'll dye e're suffer all this barb'rous rudeness War VVell thou art a most beauteous Creature I 'm going now Embassadour for France I 'll let thee keep thy humour one month more But then at my return be sure I find thee Divorc'd from sorrow and the dead for ever Give not one sigh or to the dead or living Sigh thou for any Man alive but me And though a King he had better be a slave Sigh for the dead I 'll tear him from his Grave Ex. La. Gr. What shall I do for I abhor this man What comes into my thoughts is it not said King Edward for we now must call him so Lodges to night at his own Neighb'ring Castle Wom. Yes Madam La. Gr. I 'm inform'd he is a Prince Of a most noble Nature I 'm resolv'd To fling my self in sorrow at his Feet And beg him to have pity on my Children What e're their Father was they are not his Enemies And if I can obtain their Father's Lands Then I shall ' scape this man I so much hate Ex. Scene a Room of State Enter Edward Richard Guards Ed. The Scituation of this Castle pleases me Rich. But Sir not me for I 'm afraid it stands Too near a Beauty that once stopt your way And I 'm afraid will do it once again Ed. Women are moving Creatures and may follow us Rich. Pardon my confidence I love to serve My Friends as boldly as I fight my Enemies Ed. You say well Brother and I 'll promise you Nothing shall stay me here beyond this night Enter a Lord. Lord. A Lady Sir desires to kiss your hands Ric. A Lady Poxo ' Ladies he is tinder To every Lady and will catch new fire Enter Lady Grey and her Women She kneels kisses King Edward's hand he raises her and Salutes her Rich. A very lovely woman he is ruin'd Ed. I ne're had Eyes or my eyes ne're saw beauty Till this amazing minute Ric. So he 's gone Any one may have London now that will La. Gr. Sir I present you humbly the petition Kneels again and the King gazes Of a poor Widow and her little Orphans I am the Widow of one Sir John Grey Who in S. Alban's Battel lost his life In the defence of him we thought our King If my poor Husband's Loyalty did err He dearly for that fatal error paid My humble prayer is that my poor Orphans May not be punish'd for their Fathers Faults If erring Loyalty can be a fault Ed. I am so rapt I mind not what she say Nor that she is all this while upon her knees Pray Madam rise leave us To the Attendants Ric. So she I find Must grant a thing before her thing be granted Ex. Ed. Had you a Husband Madam did you say La. Gr. Yes Sir I had one at S. Alban's Battel His Name was Sir John Grey Ed. Oh happy man What excellence had he above mankind That he shou'd be more blest than all mankind And have you Children La. Gr. Many poor young Orphans Ed. Oh! wondrous happy man t' enjoy this Woman I must inquire about her I was never Aside Never so charm'd before My Lord come hither Pray do you know this Lady Lord. Yes Sir well She is the Widow of Sir John Grey of Grooby A man of Quality and great Estate But a most vehement Lancastrian Ed. No matter of what Family is she Lord. Her quality does far exceed her Husbands And yet her Virtue does exceed her quality She is the Daughter of Sir Richard Woodvile Her Mother was sometimes Dutchesse of Bedford Ed. Dutchesse of Bedford Ha! Lord. Dutchesse of Bedford And Daughter of the Earl of S. Pool Ed. Of noble birth and by her Mothers side Related to the house of Lancaster Lord. She is by Marriage Sir that was the cause That Sir John Grey was such a sierce Lancastrian Ed. She has Beauty she has Virtue she has Birth Aside Why may not this fair Lady be a Queen But she 's a Subject England will not like it And th' English Nation like the Sea it governs Is bold and turbulent and easily mov'd And always beats against the shore that bounds it What is the people free and not the King Not free where every Slave is free his bed Yes so it is it seems and English fury Will easily with any wind be rais'd To dash the Palaces and Beds of Kings Come what come will this Lady shall be mine She shall be or my Mistress or my Wife What was it Madam you desir'd o' me La. Gr. To give poor Orphans Sir their Father's Lands Ed. Heaven forbid I shou'd retain 'em from ' em La. Gr. Then Sir with humble thanks I take my leave Ed. Hold Madam for I must have one word more I must impose a Tax upon this Land La. Gr. It shall be thankfully and gladly paid Ed. It will I 'm sure more gladly be receiv'd It is an easie Tax no more but Love La. Gr. No Loyal Subjects Sir but love their King Ed. But this is love that none but you can grant La. Gr. I do not understand your meaning Sir Ed. Truly I scarcely understand my self For I have gaz'd my self out of my Reason La. Gr. With your permission Sir I 'll take my leave Ed. Oh! you shall never never part from me La. Gr. VVhat do you mean Sir Ed. I mean all the Love E're was or can be in the heart of man La.

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