University of Virginia Library


34

SCENE VII.

Freeman senr.

I've borne too long the froward temper of a headstrong
woman: this is too much to bear.


Mrs. Freeman.
What have I done to make you treat me thus?
Near thirty years I've been your virtuous wife,
And never had reproach from you before.

Freeman senr.
And therefore you've presum'd upon my easyness of temper: 'tis true,
You've never had reproach from me before;
And much I wish you never had deserv'd it.
Ungenerous dame, look backward to the day
In which I first engag'd my love to you,
And say if you can call to mind a moment
In which I ever cross'd your purposes.
Your beautys, whose attraction once was great,
Have never suffer'd but by the hand of time:
Care never prey'd upon your rosy cheeks;
Nor have your eyes e'er met an angry brow
From me till now: your inclinings
I always with a lib'ral heart indulg'd:
Is it therefore kind, or honourable,
Thus to proclaim an open war with me,
To fight against my will in an affair
On which depends
The whole felicity of a lov'd son?

Mrs. Freeman.
What I have done—

Freeman senr.

By your own confession what you've done is wrong.
After I told you of our son's settled love for Briar's


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daughter, and of my own approbation of his choice,
what but a spirit of malignity cou'd drive you on to
break a match, which seems to be the chain that
holds the life and safety of your son?


Mrs. Freeman.
The honour of my family's concern'd:
Why shou'd my blood contaminate itself,
By mixing with so low and vile a race,
If I am able to prevent the evil?

Freeman senr.
That pride
Shou'd thus survive the mem'ry of your love!
Presume to talk of family no more to me;
That has been bandy'd in my ear too long:
Our currents, which have thirty years been join'd,
Make but one stream in him. Have you forgot
That your son's case was once your own? If you have,
I'll wake that nature in your breast which you
Shou'd ne'er have suffer'd to have sleep'd.

Mrs. Freeman.
I never saw this rage in him before.
(To herself.
If I have acted wrong,
You need not tell me of that wrong in thunder:
I can receive rebuke, or hear advice,
If you deliver it with a softer voice.

Freeman senr.

You've been unus'd to my rebuke, and deaf to my
advice: when therefore the peace, the interest, of my
family's concern'd,

I must not, as in slight affairs I've done,
Suffer your pride and humours to direct,
Where honour, and where wisdom, shou'd preside.

Mrs. Freeman.
I see my error, and repent sincerely my late misdoings.
(To herself.
Your former lenity and tenderness

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Convince me of your goodness and your love:
And your resentment in a cause so just
Speaks the resolution of a manly mind,
To which my weakness ought always to submit.
If you'll forget, or if you can forgive,
All my pass'd conduct which has giv'n you pain,
My future life shall all be pass'd
In humble resignation to your will,
And in submission
To your superior wisdom and your pow'r:
And may my life be long with you, that I
May earn your pardon
By a long practice of obedient love.

Freeman senr.
Divested of your pride, and cloath'd with this humility,
You are as lovely to my eyes as when
I led you blushing to the bridal bed,
'E're seventeen summers
Had call'd the full-blown roses to your cheeks.
To-morrow I'll go myself to treat of my son's marriage:
this night I will devote to you.
Wou'd woman learn what is her lovely'st dress,
She'd not by grandeur strive to make her less;
She wou'd not wish to make admirers gaze
At the rich tissue, or the di'mond's blaze:
In humble beauty cloath'd, her best attire,
She'd either keep alive, or wake desire.