 | The Wife's Secret |  |
Scene First.
—Court of Sir Walter Amyott's House.A loud knocking heard, L. Enter 1st Servant, R. 1 E.
1st Servant.
Yes, it's a knocking—and Sir Walter absent—
And no one but my lady left at home,
And us poor servants. (knocking repeated)
Yes, it is a knocking.
What can it be? It's William's business
To answer that front gate. (knocking louder)
Most certainly
It is a knocking. Should it now be thieves,
Or cavalier malignants! Well, I'm glad
It's not my duty. (knocking louder still)
There can't be a doubt
That it's a knocking; but I'm not the man
To take another's office.
Courier.
(without)
Ho! Hilloa!
Hilloa there! Ho! Within the house! (knocking)
Why, knaves!
'Tis easy seen the master is from home.
Within there! Ho!
Enter 2nd and 3rd Servants, R. 1 E., they cross and exeunt, L. 1 E., and return with Courier.
1st Serv.
I wonder if they are armed.
Verily, honest man, thou mak'st a noise—
(looking at him)
What, Robert? Welcome back to Dorsetshire.
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to keep good Robert waiting!
3rd Serv.
(R.)
Why, boy, thou'lt bring rare news, I warrant now.
Cour.
(C.)
The best of news.
Sir Walter's coming home; and sends me first
With this to greet his lady.
(giving a letter to 1st Servant)
1st Serv.
(L. C.)
Verily
'Twill cheer her soul, I doubt not. She hath pined
Most fondly in his absence—like as one
Whose heart clings to its creature idol.
Cour.
Quick then,
And bear that comfort to her.
1st Serv.
Honest lady!
Ay, as thou say'st, 'twill comfort her. Here, William,
(giving the letter to 2nd Servant, L.)
It is thine office; bear this to my lady,
And look thou loiter not. Her spirit hungers
For tidings of my lord. There's food for her.—
And so—the news, good lad?
Cour.
You've heard, belike,
Cromwell is now Protector, and His Highness—
(all excited)
2nd Serv.
Aye marry! the good brewer's ale grows strong!
1st Serv.
What, thou'rt not gone! I'll have thee whipt, thou knave!
(2nd Servant crosses slowly behind to R.)
And so His Highness—well, good lad—His Highness—
Cour.
Aye, the malignant Royalists broke out
So mad upon this title, that they rose
And entered Salisbury.
1st Serv.
Good lack! good lack!
The cut-throat men of war! But Salisbury,
That's far from here—there is no danger?
Cour.
Danger!
A single troop of horse dispersed them all.
1st Serv.
(crosses to L. and back)
Aha! The knaves! I wish some few of them
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We're men of valour here. 'Twould well content me
To make a prisoner.
3rd Serv.
And me.
2nd Serv.
(advancing, R. C.)
And me.
Cour.
Why look, that varlet holds the letter still.
2nd Serv.
(giving the letter to 3rd Servant)
Francis, fly with it; art thou not ashamed
To keep my lady waiting?
3rd Serv.
Nay, but Robert—
For these malignants?
Cour.
To prevent more mischief
Cromwell sends men of trust to every province.
Sir Walter comes commissioned here—
3rd Serv.
Sir Walter?
Oh my brave master!
(the Servants all exhibit boisterous joy, turning up the Stage as the Page enters, R. 1 E.)
Page.
Why what hubbub's here?
Knocking and shouting, and all heads together?
My lady sends to know of this disturbance.
What's this—a letter? (snatches it and crosses to R.)
3rd Serv.
(R.)
William should have took it.
2nd Serv.
(R. C.)
No, it was given Peter.
1st Serv.
Robert brought it
Page.
My life now; but if swearing were permitted
You'd make me swear! A letter for my lady,
And none of all these idle knaves will stir
To bear it to her! Get you gone, you varlets!
Off! or I'll have the dog-whips out!
(the Servants cross behind and slink off, R. 1 E.)
Stay, fellow! (to Courier, who is following)
A letter. (turning it over)
Hem! And from my lord, I think?
Cour.
(L.)
It is so, sir.
Page.
(R.)
My lady will be wild
Till she receive it! Do you guess its tidings?
(turning it over, and trying to look into it)
Cour.
To tell, as I believe, Sir Walter's coming.
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Ha! coming home? I' faith I'm glad to hear it.
We have been sadly moped. I've been, myself,
The only man of any note in the house
These six months past: now we shall have companions.
I think they say my lord is much renowned?
Cour.
So much so, that he comes in full command
Over this district—above all appeal,
Save to the Lord Protector's self.
Page.
Nay, faith then
Such trust is very creditable to him!
You come, I think, from London? Met you any
Who asked for me? for when I last was there
I left some bright eyes wet. I should be sad
To learn the foolish things had pined too deeply.
Enter Maud, L., Courier takes off his hat.
Maud.
(crosses to C.)
How now, sir Page! They say there's tidings come
Of my good lord. My lady waits impatient,
And sends me down to ask of your delay.
Page.
I did but pause, sweet Maud, to rate this fellow
For loitering on the road.
Maud.
A letter, too!
Give it to me—I'll bear it her myself.
Page.
Thank you; I know a page's duty better.
(crosses to L.)
I'll spare your pains, and win myself the largess
For the good news. Fellow! (to Courier)
go to the buttery
And bid the cellarer fill thee with ale.
Exit, R. 1 E.
Cour.
I humbly thank your Pageship; and I'll go
Drink to your better beard.
Exit, R. 1 E.
Maud.
(looking after Page)
Well, this is cool!
These imps of Pages are the very devil—
Oh, mercy on me! what a naughty word!
It's well none heard me. But 'tis really hard
To stroke oneself down to the sleek demureness
Of these smooth-spoken times. Now here comes one
Would read a homily a good hour long
On my enormity; yet, I'll be sworn
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Without a blush—but mum!
Suddenly changing her manner as Jabez Sneed enters, R. 1 E.
So, master steward,
They say the man, called carnally our master,
Returneth home.
Jabez.
(C.)
They speak without a lie then—
A most rare grace.
Maud.
'Twill be a joyous day
For my dear lady.
Jabez.
(sourly)
Will it?
Maud.
Do you doubt it?
Jabez.
No. Walter Amyott is rich and young:
Such ever find a welcome.
Maud.
(warmly)
Sir! my master—
(And bear in mind he is your master too)—
Is noble, generous, faithful, honest, brave!
Some servants might well take him for their pattern.
And, for my lady's love—the doting fondness
Of their first courtship was but cold and weak
Gauged by the wife's devotion.
Jabez.
(with a sneer)
They've been married
Almost a twelvemonth!
Maud.
Well—and if they have, sir?
Twelve ages would not change a love like theirs.
Jabez.
Hem!
Maud.
Jabez Sneed, you do not love my lady.
Jabez.
I'm not her husband—wherefore should I love her?
Because she came a wolf among our lambs?
Bred of a family of hot malignants—
Daughter of that Lord Arden who at Naseby
Fell fighting by the man Charles Stuart's side;
Sister of that Lord Arden, his successor,
Who, after Worcester's crowning mercy, fled
To pitch his tent among his country's foes,
And plot against the rulers of his people?
I tell thee there be those would hold the deed
A pious one to smite, with the sword's edge,
The Amalekitish woman!
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She's no woman,
Thou saucy knave! She is a noble lady!
And for thy hate of her, thou cankerous varlet,
It is not that she's daughter to a lord,
Nor sister to a banished nobleman;
But that she's wife to thy too trusting master,
And more than doubts thy long accustomed plunder!
That she knows figures—looks to thy accounts—
Balances incomings and outgoings,
And keeps thee straight in all. Why thou'rt grown thinner
By half thy substance since thou canst not thieve!
Jabez.
(R. C.)
Verily, Maud, the world is strong in thee.
Thou talk'st of carnal things.
Maud.
(C.)
I talk of thee,
A very carnal thing! My lady too
Talks of thee, Jabez Sneed, and will talk more
When my good lord is come. Aha! sir knave,
She has some rare discoveries for his ear
Of thy past doings, and she'll make thee known
For what thou art.
Jabez.
Thou'rt somewhat out of breath—
Better sit down and rest.
Maud.
I've breath enough
To tell my lady what thou say'st of her;
Ay, and I'll do it too! A woman quotha!
Out on the scurvy knave! My lord shall know
He's married to a woman when he comes!
Marry, I marvel what he'll say to that.
Exit, R.
Jabez.
(looking after her)
Sweet mistress Maud; 'tis sometimes well to cross thee
For thou speak'st plainly then. I am suspected!
'Tis well I know it. And the pretty doubts
Are to be prattled in Sir Walter's ear.
This daughter of the land—this painted doll—
This plaything of a wife would overturn
My forty years of service! I will gird
The loins of my discretion, and do battle
To hold my credit and to weaken hers.
'Twere best she walk advisedly, or I
May trip her. Then, my dainty Lady Eveline,
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May find some specks of black in all thy snow.
Exit, R. 1 E.
| The Wife's Secret | |