 | The Witch of Edmonton |  |
SCÆN. 2.
Enter Carter, Warbeck, Somerton.Cart.
How now Gentlemen, cloudy? I know Mr. Warbeck,
you are in a fog about my Daughters marriage.
Warb.
And can you blame me, Sir?
Cart.
Nor you me justly. VVedding and hanging are tied up
both in a Proverb; and Destiny is the Juggler that unties the knot.
My hope is, you are reserved to a richer fortune then my poor
Daughter.
Warb.
However, your promise.
Cart.
Is a kinde of debt, I confess it.
Warb.
VVhich honest men should pay.
Cart.
Yet some Gentlemen break in that point, now and then,
by your leave, Sir.
I confess thou hast had a little wrong in the VVench: but
patience is the onely salve to cure it. Since Thorney has won the
VVench, he has most reason to wear her.
Warb.
Love in this kinde admits no reason to wear her.
Cart.
Then love's a fool, and what wise man will take exception?
Som.
Come, frolick Ned, were every man master of his own fortune,
Fate might pick straws; and Destiny go a wool-gathering.
Warb.
You hold yours in a string though. 'Tis well: but if there
be any equity, look thou to meet the like usage e're long.
Som.
In my love to her Sister Katherine? Indeed, they are a
pair of Arrows drawn out of one Quiver, and should flie at an even
length, if she do run after her Sister.
Warb.
Look for the same mercy at my hands, as I have received
at thine.
Som.
She'll keep a surer compass. I have too strong a confidence
to mistrust her.
Warb.
And that confidence is a winde, that has blown many a
married Man ashore at Cuc0kolds Haven, I can tell you: I wish
yours more prosperous though.
Cart.
VVhate're you wish, I'll master my promise to him.
Warb.
Yes, as you did to me.
Cart.
No more of that, if you love me. But for the more assurance,
the next offer'd occasion shall consummate the Marriage:
and that once seal'd,
Enter Young Thorney and Susan.
Som.
Leave the mannage of the rest to my care. But see, the
Bridegroom and Bride comes; the new pair of Sheffeild-Knives
fitted both to one sheath.
Warb.
The Sheath might have been better fitted, if some body
had their due. But—
Cart.
No harsh language, if thou lovest me. Frank Thorney
has done—
Warb.
No more then I, or thou, or any man, things so standing,
would have attempted.
Som.
Good morrow Mr. Bridegroom.
Warb.
Come, give thee joy. Mayst thou live long and happy
in thy fair choice.
Y. Thor.
I thank yee Gentlemen. Kinde Mr. Warbeck, I find
you loving.
Thorney, that creatute, (much good do thee with her)
Vertue and beauty hold fair mixture in her.
She's rich no doubt in both. Yet were she fairer,
Thou art right worthy of her. Love her, Thorney,
'Tis nobleness in thee, in her but duty.
The match is fair and equal: the success
I leave to censure. Farewel, Mrs. Bride:
Till now elected, thy old scorne deride.
Exit.
Som.
Good, Mr. Thorney.
Cart.
Nay, you shall not part till you see the Barrels run a-tilt,
Gentlemen.
Exit.
Sus.
VVhy change you your face, sweet-Heart?
Y. Thor.
VVho? I? For nothing.
Sus.
Dear, say not so: a Spirit of your constancy cannot endure
his change for nothing. I have observ'd strange variations in you.
Y. Thor.
In me?
Sus.
In you, Sir. Awake: you seem to dream, and in your sleep
you utter sudden and distracted accents, like one at enmity with
peace. Dear loving Husband, if I may dare to challenge any
interest in you, give me the reason fully: you may trust my brest as
safely as your own.
Y. Thor.
VVith what? you half amaze me, prithee.
Sus.
Come, you shall not; indeed, you shall not shut me from
partaking the least dislike that grieves you. I am all yours.
Y. Thor.
And I all thine.
Sus.
You are not, if you keep the least grief from me: but I find
the cause; it grew from me.
Y. Thor.
From you?
Sus.
From some distaste in me or my behaviour: you are not
kinde in the concealment. 'Las, Sir, I am young, silly, and plain;
more strange to those contents a wife should offer. Say but in
what I fail, I'll study satisfaction.
Y. Thor.
Come, in nothing.
Sus.
I know I do. Knew I as well in what, you should not long
be sullen. Prithee Love, if I have been immodest or too bold,
speak't in a frown: if peevishly too nice, shew't in a smile. Thy
liking is the glass by which I'll habit my behaviour.
Y. Thor.
Wherefore dost weep now?
You, Sweet, have the power to make me passionate as an
April-day: now smile, then weep; now pale, then crismson red.
You are the powerful Moon of my bloods Sea, to make it ebb or
flow into my face, as your looks change.
Y. Thor.
Change thy conceit, I prithee:
Thou art all perfection: Diana her self
Swells in thy thoughts, and moderates thy beauty.
VVithin thy left eye amorous Cupid sits
Feathering Love-shafts, whose golden heads he dip'd
—In thy chaste brest. In the other lies
Blushing Adonis scarft in modesties.
And still as wanton Cupid blows Love-fires,
Adonis quenches our unchaste desires.
And from these two I briefly do imply
A perfect Embleme of thy modesty.
Then, prithee Dear, maintain no more dispute,
For where thou speakst, it's fit all tongues be mute.
Sus.
Come, come, those golden strings of flattery
Shall not tie up my speech, Sir; I must know
The ground of your disturbance.
Y. Thor.
Then look here;
For here, here is the fen in which this Hydra
Of discontent grows rank.
Sus.
Heaven sheild it: where?
Y. Tho.
In mine own bosom: here the cause has root;
The poysoned Leeches twist about my heart,
And will, I hope, confound me.
Sus.
You speak Riddles.
Y. Tho.
Take't plainly then: 'twas told me by a woman
Known and approv'd in Palmestry,
I should have two wives.
Sus.
Two wives? Sir, I take it exceeding likely. But let not
conceit hurt you: you are afraid to bury me?
Y. Thor.
No, no, my Winnifride.
Sus.
How say you? Winnifride? you forget me.
Y. Thor.
No, I forget my self, Susan.
Sus.
In what?
Y. Thor.
Talking of wives, I pretend Winnifride,
A Maid that at my Mothers waited on me
Before thy self.
I hope, Sir, she may live to take my place. But why should
all this move you?
Y. Thor.
The poor Girl, she has't before thee, and that's the
Fiend torments me.
Sus.
Yet why should this raise mutiny within you? such presages
prove often false: or say it should be true?
Y. Thor.
That I should have another wife?
Sus.
Yes, many; if they be good, the better.
Y. Thor.
Never any equal to thee in goodnes.
Sus.
Sir, I could wish I were much better for you;
Yet if I knew your fate
Ordain'd you for another, I could wish
(So well I love you, and your hopeful pleasure)
Me in my grave, and my poor vertues added
so my successor.
Y. Thor.
Pritheee, prithe, talk not of death or graves; thou
it so rare a goodness, as Death would rather put it self to death,
hen murther thee. But we, as all things else, are mutable and
hanging.
Sus.
Yet you still move in your first sphere of discontent. Sweet,
chase those clouds of sorrow, and shine cleerly on me.
Y. Thor.
At my return I will.
Sus.
Return? ah me! will you then leave me?
Y. Thor.
For a time I must: but how? as Birds their young, or
loving Bees their Hives, to fetch home richer dainties.
Sus.
Leave me? Now has my fear met its effect. You shall
not, cost it my life, you shall not.
Y. Thor.
Why? your reason?
Sus.
Like to the Lap-wing have you all this while with your
false love deluded me? pretending counterfeit senses for your discontent,
and now at last it is by chance stole from you.
Y. Thor.
What? what by chance?
Sus.
Your pre-appointed meeting of single combate with young
Warbeck.
Y. Thor.
Hah!
Sus.
Even so: dissemble not; 'tis too apparent. Then in his look
I read it: deny it not; I see 't apparent: cost it my undoing, and
unto that my life, I will not leave you.
Not until when?
Sus.
Till he and you be Friends.
Was this your cunning? and then flam me off
With an old VVitch, two VVives, and Winnifride?
Y'are not so kinde indeed as I imagin'd.
Y. Thor.
And you more fond by far then I expected.
It is a vertue that attends thy kinde.
But of our business within: and by this kiss,
I'll anger thee no more; troth Chuck I will not.
Sus.
You shall have no just cause,
Y. Thor.
Dear Sue, I shall not.
Exeunt.
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