A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Ix Part 96

SCAR. Ay, till death us depart,[342] love.

CLARE. Why, then, I thank you, sir, and now I am like to have That I long look'd for--a husband.

How soon from our own tongues is the word said Captives our maiden-freedom to a head!

SCAR. Clare, you are now mine, and I must let you know, What every wife doth to her husband owe: To be a wife, is to be dedicate, Not to a youthful course, wild and unsteady, But to the soul of virtue, obedience, Studying to please, and never to offend.

Wives have two eyes created, not like birds To roam about at pleasure, but for[343] sentinels, To watch their husbands' safety as their own.

Two hands; one's to feed him, the other herself: Two feet, and one of them is their husbands'.

They have two of everything, only of one, Their chast.i.ty, that should be his alone.

Their very thoughts they cannot term their own.[344]

Maids, being once made wives, can nothing call Rightly their own; they are their husbands' all: If such a wife you can prepare to be, Clare, I am yours: and you are fit for me.

CLARE. We being thus subdued, pray you know then, As women owe a duty, so do men.

Men must be like the branch and bark to trees, Which doth defend them from tempestuous rage, Clothe them in winter, tender them in age: Or as ewes love unto their eanlings gives,[345]

Such should be husbands' custom to their wives.

If it appear to them they've stray'd amiss, They only must rebuke them with a kiss; Or clock them, as hens chickens, with kind call, Cover them under wing, and pardon all: No jars must make two beds, no strife divide them, Those betwixt whom a faith and troth is given, Death only parts, since they are knit by heaven: If such a husband you intend to be, I am your Clare, and you are fit for me.

SCAR. By heaven--

CLARE. Advise, before you swear, let me remember you,[346]

Men never give their faith and promise marriage, But heaven records their oath: if they prove true, Heaven smiles for joy; if not, it weeps for you: Unless your heart, then, with your words agree, Yet let us part, and let us both be free.

SCAR. If ever man, in swearing love, swore true, My words are like to his. Here comes your father.

_Enter SIR JOHN HARCOP, ILFORD, WENTLOE, BARTLEY, _and Butler_.

HAR. Now, Master Scarborrow.

SCAR. Prepar'd to ask, how you like that we have done: Your daughter's made my wife, and I your son.

HAR. And both agreed so?

BOTH. We are, sir.

HAR. Then long may you live together, have store of sons!

ILF. 'Tis no matter who is the father. [_Aside_.]

HAR. But, son, here is a man of yours is come from London.

BUT. And brought you letters, sir.

SCAR. What news from London, butler?

BUT. The old news, sir. The ordinaries are full of cheaters, some citizens are bankrupts, and many gentlemen beggars.

SCAR. Clare, here is an unwelcome pursuivant; My lord and guardian writes to me, with speed I must return to London.

HAR. And you being ward to him, son Scarborow, And no ingrate,[347] it fits that you obey him.

SCAR.[348] It does, it does; for by an ancient law We are born free heirs, but kept like slaves in awe.

Who are for London, gallants?

ILF. Switch and Spur, we will bear you company.

SCAR. Clare, I must leave thee--with what unwillingness, Witness this dwelling kiss upon thy lip; And though I must be absent from thine eye, Be sure my heart doth in thy bosom lie.

Three years I am yet a ward, which time I'll pa.s.s, Making thy faith my constant looking-gla.s.s, Till when--

CLARE. Till when you please, where'er you live or lie, Your love's here worn: you're present[349] in my eye.

_Enter_ LORD FALCONBRIDGE _and_ SIR WILLIAM SCARBOROW.

LORD. Sir William, How old, say you, is your kinsman Scarborow?

WIL. Eighteen, my lord, next Pentecost.

LORD. Bethink you, good Sir William, I reckon thereabout myself; so by that account There's full three winters yet he must attend Under our awe, before he sue his livery: Is it not so?

WIL. Not a day less, my lord.

LORD. Sir William, you are his uncle, and I must speak, That am his guardian; would I had a son Might merit commendations equal[350] with him.

I'll tell you what he is: he is a youth, A n.o.ble branch, increasing blessed fruit, Where caterpillar vice dare not to touch: He bears[351] himself with so much gravity, Praise cannot praise him with hyperbole: He is one, whom older look upon as on a book: Wherein are printed n.o.ble sentences For them to rule their lives by. Indeed he is one, All emulate his virtues, hate him none.

WIL. His friends are proud to hear this good of him.

LORD. And yet, Sir William, being as he is, Young and unsettled, though of virtuous thoughts By genuine disposition, yet our eyes See daily precedents, [how] hopeful gentlemen, Being trusted in the world with their own will, Divert the good is look'd from them to ill; Make their old names forgot, or not worth note: With company they keep such revelling, With panders, parasites, prodigies of knaves, That they sell all, even their old fathers' graves.

Which to prevent we'll match him to a wife: Marriage restrains the scope of single life.

WIL. My lord speaks like a father for my kinsman.

LORD. And I have found him one of n.o.ble parentage, A niece of mine; nay, I have broke with her, Know thus much of her mind, that[352] for my pleasure, As also for the good appears in him, She is pleased of all that's hers to make him king.

WIL. Our name is bless'd in such an honoured marriage.

_Enter_ DOCTOR BAXTER.

LORD. Also I have appointed Doctor Baxter, Chancellor of Oxford, to attend me here: And see, he is come. Good Master Doctor.

BAX. My honourable lord.

WIL. I have possess'd you[353] with this business, Master Doctor.

BAX. To see the contract 'twixt your honoured niece And Master Scarborow?

LORD. 'Tis so, and I did look for him by this.

BAX. I saw him leave his horse, as I came up.

LORD. So, so.