A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Ix Part 2

PIP. The maid gave me not my supper yesternight, so that indeed my belly wambled, and standing near the great sea-coal fire in the hall, and not being full, on the sudden I crack'd, and you know, mistress, a pipkin is soon broken.

MRS ART. Sirrah, run to the Exchange, and if you there Can find my husband, pray him to come home; Tell him I will not eat a bit of bread Until I see him; prythee, Pipkin, run.

PIP. By'r Lady, mistress, if I should tell him so, it may be he would not come, were it for no other cause but to save charges; I'll rather tell him, if he come not quickly, you will eat up all the meat in the house, and then, if he be of my stomach, he will run every foot, and make the more haste to dinner.

MRS ART. Ay, thou may'st jest; my heart is not so light It can digest the least conceit of joy: Entreat him fairly, though I think he loves All places worse that he beholds me in.

Wilt thou begone?

PIP. Whither, mistress? to the 'Change?

MRS ART. Ay, to the 'Change.

PIP. I will, mistress: hoping my master will go so oft to the 'Change, that at length he will change his mind, and use you more kindly. O, it were brave if my master could meet with a merchant of ill-ventures, to bargain with him for all his bad conditions, and he sell them outright!

you should have a quieter heart, and we all a quieter house. But hoping, mistress, you will pa.s.s over all these jars and squabbles in good health, as my master was at the making thereof, I commit you.

MRS ART. Make haste again, I prythee. [_Exit_ PIPKIN.] Till I see him, My heart will never be at rest within me: My husband hath of late so much estrang'd His words, his deeds, his heart from me, That I can seldom have his company; And even that seldom with such discontent, Such frowns, such chidings, such impatience, That did not truth and virtue arm my thoughts, They would confound me with despair and hate, And make me run into extremities.

Had I deserv'd the least bad look from him, I should account myself too bad to live, But honouring him in love and chast.i.ty, All judgments censure freely of my wrongs.

[_Exit_.

_Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, YOUNG MASTER LUSAM, _and_ PIPKIN.

Y. ART. Pipkin, what said she when she sent for me?

PIP. 'Faith, master, she said little, but she thought [The] more, for she was very melancholy.

Y. ART. Did I not tell you she was melancholy, For nothing else but that she sent for me, And fearing I would come to dine with her.

Y. LUS. O, you mistake her; even, upon my soul, I durst affirm you wrong her chast.i.ty.

See where she doth attend your coming home.

_Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR.

MRS ART. Come, Master Arthur, shall we in to dinner?

Sirrah, begone, and see it served in.

Y. LUS. Will you not speak unto her?

Y. ART. No, not I; will you go in, sir.

MRS ART. Not speak to me! nor once look towards me!

It is my duty to begin, I know, And I will break this ice of courtesy.

You are welcome home, sir.

Y. ART. Hark, Master Lusam, if she mock me not!

_You are welcome home, sir_. Am I welcome home?

Good faith, I care not if I be or no.

Y. LUS. Thus you misconstrue all things, Master Arthur.

Look, if her true love melt not into tears.

Y. ART. She weeps, but why? that I am come so soon, To hinder her of some appointed guests, That in my absence revel in my house: She weeps to see me in her company, And, were I absent, she would laugh with joy.

She weeps to make me weary of the house, Knowing my heart cannot away with grief.

MRS ART. Knew I that mirth would make you love my bed, I would enforce my heart to be more merry.

Y. ART. Do you not hear? she would enforce her heart!

All mirth is forc'd, that she can make with me.

Y. LUS. O misconceit, how bitter is thy taste!

Sweet Master Arthur, Mistress Arthur too, Let me entreat you reconcile these jars, Odious to heaven, and most abhorr'd of men.

MRS ART. You are a stranger, sir; but by your words You do appear an honest gentleman.

If you profess to be my husband's friend, Persist in these persuasions, and be judge With all indifference in these discontents.

Sweet husband, if I be not fair enough To please your eye, range where you list abroad, Only, at coming home, speak me but fair: If you delight to change, change when you please, So that you will not change your love to me.

If you delight to see me drudge and toil, I'll be your drudge, because 'tis your delight.

Or if you think me unworthy of the name Of your chaste wife, I will become your maid, Your slave, your servant--anything you will, If for that name of servant and of slave You will but smile upon me now and then.

Or if, as I well think, you cannot love me, Love where you list, only but say you love me: I'll feed on shadows, let the substance go.

Will you deny me such a small request?

What, will you neither love nor flatter me?

O, then I see your hate here doth but wound me, And with that hate it is your frowns confound me.

Y. LUS. Wonder of women! why, hark you, Master Arthur!

What is your wife, a woman or a saint?

A wife or some bright angel come from heav'n?

Are you not mov'd at this strange spectacle?

This day I have beheld a miracle.

When I attempt this sacred nuptial life, I beg of heaven to find me such a wife.

Y. ART. Ha, ha! a miracle, a prodigy!

To see a woman weep is as much pity As to see foxes digg'd out of their holes.

If thou wilt pleasure me, let me see thee less; Grieve much; they say grief often shortens life: Come not too near me, till I call thee, wife; And that will be but seldom. I will tell thee, How thou shalt win my heart--die suddenly, And I'll become a l.u.s.ty widower: The longer thy life lasts, the more my hate And loathing still increaseth towards thee.

When I come home and find thee cold as earth, Then will I love thee: thus thou know'st my mind.

Come, Master Lusam, let us in to dine.

Y. LUS. O, sir, you too much affect this evil; Poor saint! why wert thou yok'd thus with a devil? [_Aside_.

[_Exeunt_ Y. ART. _and_ Y. LUS.

MRS ART. If thou wilt win my heart, die suddenly!

But that my soul was bought at such a rate, At such a high price as my Saviour's blood, I would not stick to lose it with a stab; But, virtue, banish all such fantasies.

He is my husband, and I love him well; Next to my own soul's health I tender him, And would give all the pleasures of the world To buy his love, if I might purchase it.

I'll follow him, and like a servant wait, And strive by all means to prevent his hate.

[_Exit_.

_Enter_ OLD MASTER ARTHUR _and_ OLD MASTER LUSAM.

O. ART. This is my son's house; were it best go in?