A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Ix Part 17

[_Exeunt_ MISTRESS SPLAY _and_ BRABO.

Y. ART. What, Mistress Mary?

MRS MA. O good Master Arthur, Where have you been this week, this month, this year?

This year, said I? where have you been this age?

Unto a lover ev'ry minute seems Time out of mind: How should I think you love me, That can endure to stay so long from me?

Y. ART. I' faith, sweetheart, I saw thee yesternight.

MRS MA. Ay, true, you did, but since you saw me not; At twelve o'clock you parted from my house, And now 'tis morning, and new-strucken seven; Seven hours thou stay'd'st from me; why didst thou so?

They are my seven years' 'prentices.h.i.+p of woe.

Y. ART. I prythee, be patient; I had some occasion That did enforce me from thee yesternight.

MRS MA. Ay, you are soon enforc'd; fool that I am, To dote on one that nought respecteth me!

'Tis but my fortune, I am born to bear it, And ev'ry one shall have their destiny.

Y. ART. Nay, weep not, wench; thou wound'st me with thy tears.

MRS MA. I am a fool, and so you make me too; These tears were better kept than spent in waste On one that neither tenders them nor me.

What remedy? but if I chance to die, Or to miscarry with that I go withal, I'll take my death that thou art cause thereof; You told me that, when your wife was dead, You would forsake all others, and take me.

Y. ART. I told thee so, and I will keep my word, And for that end I came thus early to thee; I have procur'd a licence, and this night We will be married in a lawless[20] church.

MRS. MA. These news revive me, and do somewhat ease The thought that was new-gotten to my heart.

But shall it be to-night?

Y. ART. Ay, wench, to-night.

A se'nnight and odd days, since my wife died, Is past already, and her timeless death Is but a nine-days' talk; come, go with me, And it shall be despatched presently.

MRS. MA. Nay, then, I see thou lov'st me; and I find By this last motion thou art grown more kind.

Y. ART. My love and kindness, like my age, shall grow, And with the time increase; and thou shalt see The older I grow, the kinder I will be.

MRS. MA, Ay, so I hope it will; but, as for mine, That with my age shall day by day decline. [_Aside_.

Come, shall we go?

Y. ART. With thee to the world's end, Whose beauty most admire, and all commend.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE III.

_The Street near the House of Anselm's Mother_.

_Enter_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER.

ANS. 'Tis true, as I relate the circ.u.mstance, And she is with my mother safe at home; But yet, for all the hate I can allege Against her husband, nor for all the love That on my own part I can urge her to, Will she be won to gratify my love.

FUL. All things are full of ambiguity, And I admire this wond'rous accident.

But, Anselm, Arthur's about a new wife, _a bona roba_; How will she take it when she hears this news?

ANS. I think, even as a virtuous maiden should; It may be that report may, from thy mouth, Beget some pity from her flinty heart, And I will urge her with it presently.

FUL. Unless report be false, they are link'd already; They are fast as words can tie them: I will tell thee How I, by chance, did meet him the last night:-- One said to me this Arthur did intend To have a wife, and presently to marry.

Amidst the street, I met him as my friend, And to his love a present he did carry; It was some ring, some stomacher, or toy; I spake to him, and bad G.o.d give him joy.

G.o.d give me joy, quoth he; of what, I pray?

Marry, quoth I, your wedding that is toward.

'Tis false, quoth he, and would have gone his way.

Come, come, quoth I, so near it and so froward: I urg'd him hard by our familiar loves, Pray'd him withal not to forget my gloves.

Then he began:--Your kindness hath been great, Your courtesy great, and your love not common; Yet so much favour pray let me entreat, To be excus'd from marrying any woman.

I knew the wench that is become his bride, And smil'd to think how deeply he had lied; For first he swore he did not court a maid; A wife he could not, she was elsewhere tied; And as for such as widows were, he said, And deeply swore none such should be his bride: Widow, nor wife, nor maid--I ask'd no more, Knowing he was betroth'd unto a wh.o.r.e.

ANS. Is it not Mistress Mary that you mean?

She that did dine with us at Arthur's house?

_Enter_ MISTRESS ARTHUR.

FUL. The same, the same:--here comes the gentlewoman; O Mistress Arthur, I am of your counsel: Welcome from death to life!

ANS. Mistress, this gentleman hath news to tell ye, And as you like of it, so think of me.

FUL. Your husband hath already got a wife; A huffing wench, i' faith, whose ruffling silks Make with their motion music unto love, And you are quite forgotten.

ANS. I have sworn To move this my unchaste demand no more. [_Aside_.]

FUL. When doth your colour change? When do your eyes Sparkle with fire to revenge these wrongs?

When doth your tongue break into rage and wrath, Against that sc.u.m of manhood, your vile husband?'

He first misus'd you.

ANS. And yet can you love him?

FUL. He left your chaste bed, to defile the bed Of sacred marriage with a courtesan.

ANS. Yet can you love him?

FUL. And, not content with this, Abus'd your honest name with sland'rous words, And fill'd your hush'd house with unquietness.

ANS. And can you love him yet?

FUL. Nay, did he not With his rude fingers dash you on the face, And double-dye your coral lips with blood?

Hath he not torn those gold wires from your head, Wherewith Apollo would have strung his harp, And kept them to play music to the G.o.ds?

Hath he not beat you, and with his rude fists Upon that crimson temperature of your cheeks Laid a lead colour with his boist'rous blows?

ANS. And can you love him yet?