The City Bride (1696) Part 15

_Fri._ Leave thee; yes, forever: Fly thee as I wou'd a Blast from h.e.l.l: Thou art thy self a h.e.l.l; thy base detested hateful Woman's Breath infects the purest Air:

_May my Friend's Blood, which I for thee have spilt, Light on thy Head, and your's be all the Guilt._

[_Exeunt_ severally.

_Enter_ Compa.s.se _new clothed_, Pettifog, _and two or three Men Neighbors._

_Comp._ Gentlemen and Neighbours, as you have been Witnesses to our Divorce, so shall ye now be Evidences to our next Meeting, which I look for every Minute.

1st _Neigh._ I came for that Intent, Neighbour.

_Comp._ I thank you: well, I do not think but you'll all see me come off with as smooth a Forehead, and make my Wife as honest a Woman as a Man wou'd desire sometimes, I mean of her Rank; and a teeming Woman, as you know she has been: Nay, I do not think but the Child too will be found to be as lawful a Child as any Couple of unmarried People can beget.

2d _Neigh._ We long to see it Neighbour _Compa.s.se_, that so some of us may do the like upon the same occasion.

_Comp._ You're in the right, old St.i.tch of the World: But soft, see where she comes with a whole Bundle of as good sound Maidens as her self.

_Enter_ Peg _new cloth'd, with three or four Women Neighbours._

Stand aside a little, and mind me I pray.

_Omnes._ Agreed, agreed.

_Comp._ Good Morrow fair Maid.

_Peg._ In truth Sir you are mistaken in both, for I am neither fair, nor yet a Maid.

_Comp._ No, what are you then I pray, a Wife?

_Peg._ That indeed I was, but alas,--I am now a Widow.

_Comp._ A Widow say you? Nay then I must make bold with you; for look you, your Case is somewhat like mine, I being a Husband without a Wife.

1st _Neigh._ Aye neighbour, this is something like.

_Pett._ They begin well, let them go on.

_Comp._ How long have you been a Widow, good Woman? Nay pray do not weep forsooth.

_Peg._ I can't choose but cry, to think of the great Loss I had.

_Comp._ Why, was he an honest Man?

_Peg._ Honest quoth a', I vow and protest he was as honest a Man as e're broke Bread. O I shall never have such another.

[_Cries out._

_Comp._ By my Faith now Mistress you have had a great Loss indeed, for an honest Man is not to be found every where, nor in every Street.

_Pett._ The Rogue's witty.

2d _Neigh._ Aye, aye, let 'em go on.

_Comp._ And how long is it since you lost this honest Husband?

_Peg._ O dear, his Memory is too fresh; and the Sight of you doubles my Sorrow.

_Comp._ The Sight of me, say you; why, was he so like me?

_Peg._ As one Apple to another; your two Hands are not more alike.

_Comp._ Nay then I cannot blame thee to weep: An honest Man he was I warrant him; and you have had a mighty Loss, that's the Truth on't: But was he proportioned like me, so well limb'd, and of such a wholesom Complexion, heh!

_Peg._ No Twins were ever more alike.

_Comp._ Well I love, his Memory is still better and better: and how many Children did he leave behind him?

_Peg._ Only one, Sir.

_Comp._ A Boy or a Girl?

_Peg._ A dainty fine Boy, Sir.

_Comp._ Just my own case still; my Wife (rest her Soul) left me a Boy too, a l.u.s.ty chopping Boy of his Age (as they tell me, for I never saw it).

_Peg._ So is mine.

_Comp._ And what Profession was your Husband of?

_Peg._ A Seaman.

_Comp._ Heigh! my own Faculty too! And can you like a Man of that Profession again?

_Peg._ Yes surely, for his dear sake, whom I lov'd so tenderly, I shall always esteem a Sailer.

_Comp._ Shall you so? why then here's your Man: What say you, Is't a Match?

_Peg._ Dear me, I am so ashamed, and yet to speak the Truth, I do like you hugely, and wou'd like you better still, if it were not for one thing, which a little troubles me.

_Comp._ What's that?

_Peg._ Why, you know sometimes we are forc'd to endure the Absence of our Husbands a long while, mehappen many Years, and then if there be any Slip in us, (as long Vacations will make Lawyers hungry) the World is apt to censure and scandalize us; and brand us with wanton Living and Incontinency; when alas! if they wou'd but consider our Condition, and the mighty Longings we often naturally have for Flesh and Blood, they wou'd not blame us, so they wou'd not.

_Comp._ Come, come, no Matter, canst thou love me, Widow?

_Peg._ Ah, if I durst but speak my Mind, I know what I wou'd say.

_Comp._ Durst, why who do you fear? here's none but an honest Gentleman, some few Friends and Neighbours; let them hear a G.o.d's Name what you wou'd say, and never blush for the Matter.