 | A Woman Kilde with Kindnesse |  |
Francis.
Some musicke there, none lead the Bride a dance?
Charles.
Yes, would she dance the shaking of the sheetes?
But thats the dance her Husband meanes to lead her?
Wen.
Thats not the dance that euery man must dance
According to the Ballad.
Francis.
Musick ho,
By your leaue Sister, by your Husbands leaue
I should haue said, the hand that but this day
Was giuen you in the Church Ile borrow: Sound,
This marriage musicke hoists me from the ground.
Frank.
I, you may caper, you are light and free,
Marriage hath yoakt my heeles, pray then pardon me.
Francis.
Ile haue you dance to, Brother.
Charles.
Maister Frankford,
You are a happy man sir, and much ioy
Succeede your marriage mirth, you haue a wife
So qualified and with such ornaments
Both of the mind and body. First her Birth
Is Noble, and her education such
As might become the Daughter of a Prince,
Her owne tongue speakes all tongues, and her owne hand
Can teach all strings to speake in their best grace.
From the shrill treble, to the hoarsest base.
To end her many praises in one word,
Shes beauty, and perfections eldest Daughter,
Onely found by yours, though many a hart hath sought her.
But that I know your vertues and chast thoughts,
I should be ielous of your praise sir Charles.
Cran.
He speakes no more then you approue.
Malbie.
Nor flatters he that giues to her her due.
Anne.
I would your praise could find a fitter theame,
Then my imperfect beauty to speake on,
Such as they be, if they my Husband please,
They suffice me now I am married,
His sweet content is like a flattering Glasse,
To make my face seeme fairer to mine eye:
But the least wrinckle from his stormy brow,
Will blast the Roses in my cheekes that grow.
Francis.
A perfect wife already, meeke and patient,
How strangely the word husband fits your mouth,
Not married three houres since sister, tis good,
You that beginne betimes thus, must needs proue
Plyant and dutious in your husbands loue,
Godamercies Brother wrought her to it already,
Sweete Husband, and a curtesie the first day,
Marke this, marke this, you that are Bachelers,
And neuer tooke the grace of honest man,
Marke this against you marry, this one phrase,
In a good time that man both wins and woes,
That takes his wife downe in her wedding shooes.
Frank.
Your sister takes not after you sir Francis,
All his wilde bloud your father spent on you,
He got her in his age when he grew ciuill,
All his mad tricks were to his land intaild,
And you are heire to al: your sister, she
Hath to her dower, her mothers modesty.
Charles.
Lord sir, in what a happy state liue you,
This morning, which to many seemes a burden, too
Heauy to beare, is vnto you a pleasure.
This Lady is no clog, as many are,
She doth become you like a well made suite
In which the Taylor hath vsd all his art:
Not like a thicke Coate of vnseasond freeze,
Forst on your backe in summer; shees no chaine
But shees a chaine of gold to adorne your neck,
You both adore each other, and your hands
Methinkes are matches, theres equality,
In this faire combination; you are both Schollers,
Both young, both being descended nobly:
Theres musick in this simpathy, it caries
Consort and expectation of much ioy,
Which God bestow on you, from this first day,
Vntill your dissolution, thats for aye.
Francis.
We keepe you here to long good brother Franckford,
Into the hal. Away, go, cheare your guests?
What, Bride, and Bride-groom both withdrawne at once?
If you be mist, the guests wil doubt their welcome,
And charge you with vnkindnes?
Frank.
To preuent it,
Ile leaue you here, to see the dance within.
Anne.
And so wil I.
Fran.
To part you it were sin.
Frank.
Now gallants while the Towne Musitians
Finger their frets within, and the mad lads
And country lasses, euery mothers child
With nose-gaies and Bridelaces in their hats,
Dance al their Country measures rounds and Iigges,
What shall we do? Harke, they are all on the hoygh,
They toile like Mil-horsses, and turne as round;
Marry not on the toe, I, and they Caper
But without cutting, you shall see to morrow
The hall floure peckt and dinted like a Milstone,
Made with their high shooes, though their skill be small,
Yet they tread heauy where their Hob-nailes fall.
Char.
Well, leaue them to their sports, Sir Francis Acton
Ile make a match with you, meet me to morrow
At Cheuy-chase, Ile flie my Hawke with yours.
Fran.
For what? for what?
Char.
Why for a hundred pound.
Fran.
Pawne me some gold of that.
Char.
Here are ten angels,
Vpon my Hawkes wing.
Fran.
Tis a match, tis done,
An other hundred pound vpon your Dogs,
Dare you Sir Charles?
Char.
I dare, were I sure to loose
I durst do more then that: heeres my hand,
The first course for a hundred pound.
Fran.
A match.
Wend.
Ten Angels on sir Francis Actons Hawk:
As much vpon his Dogs.
Cran.
I am for Sir Charles Mountford, I haue seene
His hawke and Dog both tride? What clap you hands?
Or ist no bargaine?
Wendoll
Yes and stake them downe,
Were they fiue hundred they were all my owne.
Fran.
Be stirring early with the Larke to morrow,
Ile rise into my saddle ere the sunne
Rise from his bed.
Char.
If there you misse me, say
I am no Gentleman: Ile hold my day.
Fran.
It holds on all sides, come to night lets dance,
Early to morow lets prepare to ride,
We had neede be three houres vp before the Bride.
Enter Nick and Ienking, Iacke slime, Roger Brickbat With countrie Wenches, and two or three Musitians.
Ienk.
Come Nick take you Ioane Miuiuer to trace withal, Iacke
slime, trauerse you with Sisly Milke-pale, I will take Iane trubkin,
& Roger Brikbat shall haue Isbell Motly, and now that they are
busie in the parlor, come strike vp, weele haue a crash heere in
the yard.
Nick.
My humor is not compendious: dancing I possesse not,
though I can foote it, yet since I am falne into the hands of Sisly
Milkpale I assent.
Iack.
Truely Nick though we were neuer brought vp like seruing
Courtiers, yet we haue bin brought vp with seruing creatures,
Sheepe, Oxen, Horses, and Hogs, and such like, and thogh we
be but country fellows, it may be in the way of dancing, we can
do the Horse-tricke as wel as seruingmen.
Roger.
I, and the crosse-point too.
Ienk.
Oh Slime: Oh Brickbat Do not you know that comparisons
are odious, now we are odious our selues to, therfore there
are no comparisons to be made betwixt vs.
Nick.
I am sodaine and not superfluous:
I am quarelsome, and not seditious:
I am peaceable, and not contentious:
I am breefe, and not compendious;
Slime foot it quickely, if the musicke ouercome not my melancholy
I shall quarrell, and if they sodainly do not strike vp, I shal
presently strike thee downe.
Ienk.
No quarelling for Gods sake: truly if you do I shal set a
knaue betweene you.
Slime.
I com to dance, not to quarel: come what shal it be? Rogero
Ienk.
Rogero: no, we, wil dance the beginning of the world.
Sisly.
I loue no dance so well, as Iohn come kisse me now.
Nick.
I, that haue ere nowe deserued a Cushion, call for the
cushion dance.
Rogero.
For my part I like nothing so wel as
Tom tyler.
Ienk.
No weele haue the hunting of the Fox.
Slime.
The hay, the hay, theres nothing like the hay.
Nick.
I haue said, I do say, and I will say againe.
Ienk.
Euery man agree to haue it as Nick saies.
All
Content.
Nick.
It hath bin, it now is, and it shall be.
Sisly.
What maister Nichlas: what?
Nick.
Put on your smocke a Monday.
Ienk.
So the dance wil come cleanly off, come for Gods sake
agree of something, if you like not that put it to the Musitians or
Let me speake for al, and weele haue Sellengers round.
All
That: that: that.
Nick.
No I am resolud thus it shalbe,
First take hands, then take you to your heeles.
Ienk.
Why would you haue vs run away?
Nick.
No but I would haue you shake your heeles,
Musicke strike vp.
Ienk.
Hey liuely my lasses, heres a turne for thee.
Wind hornes. Enter Sir Charles, Sir Francis Malby, Cranwell, Wendoll, Faulkener, and Huntsmen.
Char.
So: well cast off, aloft, aloft, well flowne:
O now she takes her at the sowse, and strikes her
downe to the earth, like a swift thunderclap,
Wendol.
She hath stroke ten Angels out of my way.
Fran.
A hundred pound from me.
Char.
What Faulkener?
Faulk.
At hand sir.
Char.
Now she hath ceazd the Fowle, and gins to plume hir
Rebeck her not, rather stand stil and checke her,
So: ceaze her gets, her Iesses, and hir bels.
Away?
Fran.
My Hawke kild to.
Char.
I, but twas at the querre,
Not at the mount like mine.
Fran.
Iudgement my maisters.
Cran,
yours mist her at the ferre.
Wend.
I but our Merlin first hath plumd the fowle,
And twice renewed her from the riuer to,
Her bels Sir Francis had not both one weight,
Nor was one semitune aboue the other,
Methinks these millaine bels do sound too full,
And spoile the mounting of your Hawke.
Char.
Tis lost.
Fran.
I grant it not: mine likewise ceazd a fowle
Within her talents, and you saw her pawse
Full of the feathers, both her petty singles,
And her long singles, gript her more then other,
The terrials of her legs were staind with blood;
Not of the Fowle onely, she did discomfite,
Some of her feathers, but she brake away,
Fran.
How?
Char.
I, and your Dogs are trindle tailes and Curs.
Fran.
You stir my blood.
Char.
you keepe not a good hound in all your kennell,
Nor one good Hawke vpon your Perch.
Fran.
How Knight?
Char.
So Knight? you will not swagger Sir?
Fran.
Why, say I did?
Char.
Why sir, I say you would gaine as much by swaggring
As you haue got by wagers on your Dogs,
you will come short in al things.
Fran.
Not in this, now ile strike home.
Char.
Thou shalt to thy long home, or I will want my will.
Fran.
All they that loue Sir Francis follow me.
Char.
All that affect Sir Charles draw on my part.
Cranwell.
On this side heaues my hand.
Wendoll.
Here goes my hart.
They deuide themselues.
Sir Charles. Cranwell, Faulkener, and Huntsman, fight against Sir Francis Wendall, his Faulkener, and Huntsman, and Sir Charles hath the better, and beats them away, killing one of Sir Francis his huntsmen.
Charles
My God: what haue I done? what haue I done?
My rage hath plung'd into a Sea of blood,
In which my soule lies drownd poore Innocent,
For whome we are to answere: Well tis done,
And I remaine the victor? A great conquest;
When I would giue this right hand, nay this head,
To breath in them new life, whom I haue slaine,
Forgiue me God, twas in the heat of blood,
And anger quite remoues me from my selfe:
It was not I, but rage, did this vile murder:
Yet I, and not my rage, must answere it.
Sir Francis Acton he is fled the field,
With him, all those that did pertake his quarrell,
And I am left alone, with sorrow dumbe,
And in my height of conquest, ouercome,
Oh God my Brother wounded among the dead,
Vnhappy iest that in such earnest ends,
The rumor of this feare, stretcht to my eares,
And I am come to know if you be wounded.
Char.
Oh sister, sister, wounded at the hart.
Iane
My God forbid.
Char.
In doing that thing which he forbad,
I am wounded sister.
Iane
I hope not at the hart.
Char.
yes, at the hart.
Iane.
Oh God: a surgion there.
Char.
Cal me a surgeon sister for my soule,
The sin of murder it hath pierst my hart,
And made a wide wound there, but for these scratches,
They are nothing; nothing.
Iane.
Charles what haue you done?
Sir Francis hath great friends, and wil pursue you,
Vnto the vtmost danger of the Law.
Char.
My conscience is become my enemy,
And wil pursue me more then Acton can.
Iane
Oh, flie sweet Brother.
Char.
Shall I flie from thee?
What Iane art weary of my company?
Iane
Flie from your foe,
Char.
you sister are my friend,
And flying you, I shal pursue my end.
Iane
your company is as my eye-ball deere,
Being far from you no comfort can be neare:
yet flie to saue your life, what would I care,
To spend my future age in blacke despaire,
So you were safe, and yet to liue one week,
Without my Brother Charles, through euery cheeke
My streaming teares would downwards run so ranke,
Til they could set on either side a banke,
And in the midst a Channell; so my face
For two salt water Brookes, shal still find place.
Char.
Thou shalt not weepe so much, for I wil stay
In spight of dangers teeth: ile liue with thee:
My Country, and my fathers patrimony,
No, thy sweet sight, for a vaine hope of life.
Enter Shrieffe with Officers.
Shrief.
Sir Charles, I am made the vnwilling instrument
Of your attach and apprehension:
I am sorrie that the blood of innocent men
should be of you exacted. It was told me
That you were garded with a trope of friends,
And therefore I come armd.
Char.
O maister Shriefe
I came into the field with man friends,
But see they al haue left me, onely one
Clings to my sad misfortune, my deere sister:
I know you for an honest Gentleman,
I yeeld my weapons, and submit to you,
Conuey me where you please.
Shrief.
To prison then:
To answere for the liues of these dead men.
Iane
Oh God? oh God?
Char.
Sweet sister, euery straine
Of sorrow from your hart augments my paine,
your griefe abounds and hits against my brest.
Shrief.
Sir will you go?
Char.
Euen where it likes you best.
Enter Maister Franckeford in a studdie.
Frank.
How happy am I amongst other men,
That in my meane estate embrace content:
I am a Gentleman, and by my birth
Companion with a King, a Kings no more:
I am possest of many faire reuenewes,
Sufficient to maintaine a Gentleman:
Touching my mind I am studdied in al Arts;
The riches of my thoughts and of my time,
Haue bin a good proficient, but the chiefe,
Of al the sweet felicities on earth,
I haue a faire, a chast, and louing wife,
Perfection al, al truth, al ornament,
Of these at once possest: sure I am he.
Enter Nicholas.
Nicho.
Sir, theres a Gent. attends without to speak with you.
Franck.
On horsebacke.
Nick.
I on horsebacke.
Franck.
Intreat him to alight, I will attend him:
Knowest thou him Nicke?
Nick.
I know him: his names Wendoll:
It seemes he comes in hast, his horse is booted
Vp to the flanke in mire, himselfe al spotted
And staind with plashing: sure he rid in feare
Or for a wager: horse and man both sweat,
In nere saw two in such a smoaking heat.
Franck.
Intreat him in: About it instantly:
This Wendoll I haue noted, and his carriadge
Hath pleasd me much by obseruation:
I haue noted many good deserts in him:
Hees affable and seene in many things,
Discourses well, a good companion;
And though of smal meanes, yet a Gentleman
Of a good house, somewhat prest by want:
I haue preferd him to a second place
In my opinion, and my best regard.
Enter Wendoll, Maister Franckeford, and Nicke.
Anne.
O maister Franckeford; maister Wendoll here,
Brings you the strangest newes that ere you heard.
Frank.
What newes sweet wife? what newes good M. Wendol?
Wend.
you knew the match made twixt Sir Francis Acton and
Sir Charles Mountford.
Franck.
True: with their Hounds and Hawkes?
Wend.
The matches were both plaid.
Franck.
Ha: and which won?
Wend.
Sir Francis your wiues brother had the worst,
And lost the wager.
Franck.
Why the worse his chance;
Perhaps the fortune of some other day,
Wil change his lucke.
Oh, but you heare not all?
Sir Francis lost, and yet was loth to yeeld:
In briefe the two Knights grew to difference,
From words to blowes, and so to banding sides,
Where valourous Sir Charles slew in his spleene,
Two of your Brothers men: his Faulkener,
And his good Huntsman, whom he lou'd so wel,
More men were wounded, no more slaine out right,
Franck.
Now trust me I am sory for the knight,
But is my brother safe?
Wendol.
Al whole and sound,
His body not being blemisht with one wound:
But poore Sir Charles is to the prison led,
To answere at thassize for them thats dead.
Frank.
I thanke your paines sir; had the news bin better,
your wil was to haue brought it maister Wendol,
Sir Charles will find hard friends, his case is heinous,
And wil be most seuerely censurd on;
I am sorry for him. Sir a word with you,
I know you sir to be a gentleman
In al things, your possibilities but meane,
Please you to vse my table and my purse,
They are yours?
Wend.
O Lord sir, I shal neuer deserue it?
Frank.
Oh sir, disparadge not your worth too much,
you are ful of quality and faire desert,
Chuse of my men which shal ettend on you,
And he is yours, I wil allow you sir,
your man, your gelding, and your table,
Al at my owne charge, be my companion.
Wen.
M. Frankeford, I haue oft bin bound to you
By many fauors, this exceeds them all
That I shal neuer merit your least fauour,
But when your last remembrance I forget,
Heauen at my soule exact that weighty debt.
Franck.
There needs no protestation, for I know you.
Vertuous, and therefore grateful: prethy Nan,
vse him with al thy louingst curtesie.
As far as modesty may wel extend,
It is my duty to receiue your friend.
Frank.
To dinner, come sir, from this present day,
Welcome to me for euer: come away.
Nick.
I do nor like this fellow by no means,
I neuer see him but my hart stil earnes,
Zounds I could fight with him, yet know not why,
The Deuil and he are al one in my eie.
Enter Ienkin.
Ienk.
O Nick, what Gent, is that comes to lie at our house, my
maister allowes him one to waite on him, and I beleeue it wil fal
to thy lot.
Nick.
I loue my Maister, by these hilts I do,
But rather then Ile euer come to serue him,
Ile turne away my maister.
Enter Sisly.
Sisly.
Nichlas, where are you Nicklas, you must come in Nicklas
and helpe the young Gentleman off with his boots.
Nick.
If I plucke off his boots, Ile eat the spurs,
And they shal sticke fast in my throat like burs.
Exit.
Sisly.
Then Ienkin, come you?
Ienk.
Tis no boot for me to deny it, my Maist. hath giuen me a
coat here, but he takes paines himselfe to brush it once or twice
a day with a holly-wand.
Sisly.
Come, come, make hast, that you may wash your hands
againe, and helpe to serue in dinner.
Ienk.
You may see my maisters, though it be afternoone with
you, tis but earlie daies with vs, for we haue not dind yet: stay
but a little, Ile but goe in, and helpe to bear vppe the first course
and come to you againe presently.
Exit.
Enter Malby, and Cranwell.
Mal.
This is the Sessions day, pray can you tell me
How young Sir Charles hath sped: Is he acquit,
O must he try the Lawes strict penalty?
Cran.
Hees cleard of al, spight of his enemies,
Whose earnest labors was to take his life,
But in this sute of pardon, he hath spent
And he is now turnd a plaine Country-man,
Reformd in al things; see sir, heere he comes.
Enter Sir Francis and his keeper.
Keep.
Discharge your fees and you are then at freedome?
Char.
Heere maister keeper, take the pore remainder,
Of al the wealth I haue, my heauy foes
Haue made my purse light, but alas to me,
Tis wealth inough that you haue set me free.
Mal.
God giue you ioy of your deliuery,
I am glad to see you abroad Sir Charles.
Char.
The poorest knight in England M. Malby,
My life hath cost me al the patrimony
My father left his sonne; wel, God forgiue them
That are the Authors of my pennury.
Enter Shafton.
Shaf,
Sir Charles a hand, a hand, at liberty:
Now by the faith I owe, I am glad to see it:
What want you? wherein may I pleasure you?
Char.
Oh me? oh most vnhappy Gentleman?
I am not worthy to haue friends stird vp,
Whose hands may helpe me in this plunge of want:
I would I were in heauen to inherit there,
Thimortal birth-right which my sauior keeps,
And by so vnthrift can be bought and sold,
For here on earth, what pleasures should we trust?
Shaf.
To rid you from these contemplations,
Three hundred pounds you shal receiue of me,
Nay fiue for faile, come sir, the sight of Gold
Is the most sweet receipt for melancholy,
And wil reuiue your spirits, you shal hold law
With your proud aduersaries. Tush, let Franke Acton
Wage with Knighthood like expence with me,
And he wil sinke, he wil: nay, good Sir Charles
Applaud your Fortune, and your faire escape,
From al these perils.
Oh Sir, they haue vndone me:
Two thousand and fiue hundred pound a yeare
My father at his death possest me of,
All which the enuious Acton made me spend:
And notwithstanding all this large expence,
I had much ado to gaine my liberty:
And I haue now onely a house of pleasure
With some fiue hundred pounds, reserued
Both to maintaine me and my louing sister.
Shaf.
That must I haue: it lies conuenient for me,
If I can fasten but one finger on him,
With my ful hand Ile gripe him to the hart.
Tis not for loue I proferd him this coyne,
But for my gaine and pleasure: come Sir Charles,
I know you haue need of mony, take my offer.
Char.
Sir I accept it, and remaine indebted
Euen to the best of my vnable power:
Come Gentlemen and see it tendred downe.
Exeunt.
Enter Wendol melancholy.
Wend.
I am a villan, if I apprehend
But such a thought, then to attempt the deed:
Slaue, thou art damnd without redemption;
Ile driue away this passion with a song,
A song, ha, ha, a song as if fond man
Thy eies could swim in laughter, when thy soule
Lies drencht and drownd in red teares of blood.
Ile pray, and see if God within my hart
Plant better thoughts? why prayers are meditations,
And when I meditate, oh God forgiue me
It is on her diuine perfections.
I will forget him, I wil arme my selfe
Not to entertaine a thought of loue to her,
And when I come by chance into hir presence
Ile hale these bals vntil my eye-strings cracke,
From being puld and drawne to looke that way.
Enter ouer the stage, Franckeford, his wife and Nicke.
I am hurried to my owne destruction,
There goest thou the most perfectst man
That euer England bred a Gentleman,
And shal I wrong his bed, thou God of Thunder,
Stay in thy thoughts of vengeance and of wrath,
Thy great Almighty, and all Iudging hand,
From speedy execution on a villain,
A villain, and a Traitor to his friend.
Entor Ienkin.
Ienk.
Did your worship cal?
Wend.
He doth maintaine me, he allowes me largely
Mony to spend?
Ien.
By my faith so do not you me, I canot get a crosse of you
Wen,
My gelding and my man.
Ienk.
Thats Sorrel and I.
Wend.
This kindnes growes of no alliance twixt vs.
Ienk.
Nor is my seruice of any great acquaintance.
Wend.
I neuer bond him to be by desert,
Of a meere stranger, a poore Gentleman,
A man by whom in no kind he could gaine.
He hath placst me in the height of al his thoughts,
Made me companion with the best and chiefest
In Yorke-shire: he cannot eat without me,
Nor laugh without me, I am to his body
As necessary as his digestion,
And equally do make him whole or sicke,
And shal I wrong this man? base man, ingrate,
Hast thou the power straite with thy gory hands
To rip thy Image from his bleeding hart?
To scratch thy name from out the holy booke
Of his remembrance, and to wound his name,
Thats holds thy name so deere, or rend his hart
To whom thy hart was ioynd and knit together.
And yet I must, then Wendol be content,
Thus villains, when they would cannot repent.
What a strange humor is my new maister in, pray God
he be not mad, if he should be so, I shold neuer haue any mind
to serue him in Bedlam: It may bee he is madde for missing of
me.
Wend.
What Ienkin? wheres your Mistris?
Ienk.
Is your worship married?
Wend.
Why dost thou aske?
Ionk.
Because you are my M. and if I haue a mistris, I wold be
glad like a good seruant to do my duty to her.
Wend.
I meane wheres Mistris Frankeford.
Ienk.
Marry sir her husband is riding out of Towne, and shee
went very louingly to bring him on his way to horse: doe you
see sir here she comes, and here I go.
Wen.
Vanish.
Enter Mistris Frankeford.
Anne.
You are wel met sir, now introth my husband
Before he tooke horse had a great desire
To speake with you: we sought about the house,
Hallowed into the fields, sent euery way
But could not meet you, therefore he inioyned me
To do vnto you his most kinds commends:
Nay more, he wils you as you prize his loue,
Or hold in estimation his kind friendship,
To make bold in his absence and command
Euen as himselfe were present in the house,
For you must keepe his table, vse his Seruants,
And be a present Frankeford in his absence.
Wend.
I thanke him for his loue,
Giue me a name you, whose infectious tongues
Are tipt with gall and poison, as you would
Thinke on a man that had your father slaine,
Murdered thy children, made your wiues base strumpets,
So cal me, cal me so? print in my face,
The most stigmaticke title of a villaine,
For hatching treason to so true a friend.
Anne
Sir you are much beholding to my husbande,
You are a man most deere in his regard.
Wend.
I am bound vnto your husband and you to,
I will not speake to wrong a Gentleman
I will not (Zounds I wil not) I may chuse,
And I wil chose? Shall I be so misled?
Or shal I purchase to my fathers crest
The Motto of a villaine. If I say
I will not do it, what thing can inforce me?
Who can compell me? What sad desteny
Hath such command vpon my yeilding thoughts?
I wil not? Ha: some fury pricks me on,
The swift fates drag me at their chariot wheele,
And hurry me to mischiefe: speake I must:
Iniure my selfe, wrong hir, deceiue his trust.
Anne
Are you not well sir, that you seeme thus troubled?
There is sedition in your countenance?
Wend.
And in my hart faire Angel, chast, and wise,
I loue you; start not, speake not, answere not,
I loue you: nay, let we speake the rest,
Bid me to sweare, and I wil cal to record
the hoast of Heauen.
Anne.
The hoast of heauen forbid,
Wendol should hatch such a disloyall thought.
wend.
Such is my fate, to this sute I was borne
To weare rich pleasures Crowne, or fortunes scorne.
Anne.
My husband loues you.
wend.
I know it.
Anne.
He esteemes you
Euen as his braine, his eye-bal, or his hart.
Wen.
I haue tried it.
Anne.
His purse is you exchequer, and his table
Doth freely serue you.
wen.
So I haue found it.
Anne.
Oh with what face of brasse, what brow of steele,
Can you vnblushing speake this to the face
Of the espoused wife of so deare a friend:
It is my husband that maintaines your state,
Wil you dishonor him? I am his wife,
That in your power hath left his whole affaires,
It is to me you speake?
O speake no more
For more then this I know and haue recorded
Within the red-leau'd table of my hart;
Faire, and of al belou'd, I was not feareful
Bluntly to giue my life into your hand,
And at one hazard al my earthly meanes.
Go, tel your husband he wil turne me off,
And I am then vndone, I care not I,
Twas for your sake: perchance in rage heel kil me,
I care not, twas for you: say I incurre
The general name of villain through the world,
Of traitor to my friend, I care not I,
Beggery, shame, death, scandal, and reproach,
For you Ile hazard all, what care I:
For you ile liue, and in your loue Ile dy.
Anne
you moue me sir to passion and to pitty,
The loue I beare my husband is as pretious
As my soules health.
Wend.
I loue your husband to,
And for his loue I wil ingage my life,
Mistake me not, the augmentation
Of my sincere affection borne to you,
Doth no whit lessen my regard of him,
I will bee secret Lady, close as night,
And not the light of one smal glorious star
Shal shine heer in my forehead, to bewray
That act of night.
Anne.
What shal I say?
My soule is wandring, and hath lost her way.
Oh maister Wendol: oh,
Wend.
Sigh not sweet saint.
For euery sigh you breath, drawes from my hart
A drop of blood.
Anne.
I nere offended yet,
My fault I feare, wil in brow be writ;
Women that fal not quite bereft of grace,
Haue their offences noted in their face.
I blush and am asham'd, oh maister Wendol
That hath inchanted me. This maze I am in,
I feare will proue the laborinth of sin.
Enter Nick.
Wend.
The path of pleasure, and the gate to blisse,
Which on your lips I knocke at with a kisse.
Nick.
Ile kil the rogue.
Wend.
your husband is from home, your beds no blab:
Nay looke not downe and blush.
Nick.
Zounds Ile stab:
I Nick, was it thy chance to come
Iust in the nicke, I loue my maister, and I hate that slaue,
I loue my mistris, but these tricks I like not,
My Master shal not pocket vp this wrong;
Ile eat my fingers first, what saist thou mettle?
Dos not the rascall Wendol go on legs
That thou must cut off, hath he not Hamstrings
That thou must hough? Nay mettal thou shalt stand
To al I say, Ile henceforth turne a spy,
And watch them in their close conueyances,
I neuer lookt for better of that Rascal
Since he came miching first into our house,
It is that Sathan hath currupted her,
For she was faire and chast, Ile haue an eie
In al their gestures, thus I thinke of them,
If they proceed as they haue done before,
Wendols a knaue, my Mistris is a &c.
Exit.
Enter Charles and Susan.
Char.
Sister, you see we are driuen to hard shift
To keepe this poore house we haue left vnsold,
I am now inforcst to follow husbandry,
And you to milke, and do we not liue wel?
Wel I thanke God.
Susan.
O brother heeres a change,
Since old Sir Charles died in our fathers house
Char.
Al thinges on earth thus change, some vp, some downe,
Contents a kingdome, and I weare that Crowne,
Shaf.
God morrow, god morrow sir Charls what with your sister
Plying your husbandry: Sergeant stand off,
You haue a pretty house here, and a garden,
And goodly ground about it, since it lies
So neare a Lordship that I lately bought,
I would faine buy it of you, I will giue you.
Char.
O pardon me, this house successiuely
Hath long'd to me and my progenitors
Three hundred yeare, my great great Grandfather,
He in whom first our gentle stile began,
Dwelt here, and in this ground increast this Molehil
Vnto that mountaine which my father left me,
Where he the first of all our house begun,
I now the last will end and keepe this house,
This Virgin title neuer yet deflourd
By any vnthrift of the Mountfords line;
In breefe I will not sel it for more gold
Then you could hide or paue the ground withall.
Shaf.
Ha, ha, a proud mind and a Beggers purse,
Wheres my three hundred pounds beside the vse,
I haue brought it to an execution
By course of Law, what is my money ready?
Char.
An execution sir, and neuer tell me,
You put my bond in suite, you deale extreamely
Shaf.
Sell me the land and Ile acquit you straight.
Char.
Alas, alas, Tis all trouble hath left me
To cherrish me and my poore sisters life,
If this were sold our meanes should then be quite
Raced from the Bed roule of gentility:
You see what hard shift we haue made to keepe it
Allied still to our owne name, this palme you see
Labor hath gloud within her siluer brow,
That neuer tasted a rough winters blast
Without a Maske or Fan, doth with a grace
Defie cold winter and his stormes outface.
Susan
Sir, we feed sparing and we labor hard,
We lie vneasie, to reserue to vs.
Char.
I haue so bent my thoughts to husbandry,
That I protest I scarcely can remember
What a new fashion is, how silke or satten
Feeles in my hand: why pride is growne to vs
A meere meere stranger: I haue quite forgot
The names of all that euer waited on me,
I cannot name ye any of my hounds,
Once from whose echoing mouths I hard al the musicke
That ere my hart desired: what should I say?
To keepe this place I haue chang'd my selfe away.
Shaf.
Arest him at my suit, actions and actions,
Shall keepe thee in perpetuall bondage fast,
Nay more Ile sue thee by a laite appeale,
And call thy former life in question,
The keeper is my friend, thou shalt haue yrons
And vsage such as Ile deny to dogs: Away with him.
Char.
You are too tymerous, but trouble is my maister,
And I will serue him truely my kind sister:
Thy teares are of no force to mollifie
This flinty man, go to my fathers Brother,
My kinsmen and allies, entreat them from me
To ransome me from this iniurious man
That seekes my ruine.
Shaf.
Come Irons, Irons away,
Ile see thee log'd far from the sight of day.
Exeunt.
Enter Acton and Malby.
Susan.
My harts so hardned with the frost of griefe,
Death cannot pierce it through, Tyrant too fel,
So lead the Fiends condemned soules to hel.
Fran.
Againe to prison, Malby hast thou seene,
A poore slaue better torturd: shal we heare
The musicke of his voice cry from the grate
Meat for the Lord sake: no, no, yet I am not
Throughly reuengd: they say he hath a pretty wench
Vnto his sister, shal I in mercy sake
To him and to his kindred bribe the foole,
Ile profer largely, but the deed being done
Ile smile to see her base confusion.
Mal.
Methinks Sir Francis you are ful reueng'd,
For greater wrongs then he can profer you,
See where the poore sad Gentlewoman stands.
Fran.
Ha, ha, now I will flout her pouerty,
Deride her fortunes, scoffe her base estate,
My very soule the name of Mountford hates.
But stay, my hart, or what a looke did flie
To strike my soule through with thy piercing eie,
I am inchanted, al my spirits are fled,
And with one glance my enuious splene stroke dead.
Susan.
Acton that seekes our blood.
(Run away.
Fran.
O chast and faire.
Mal.
Sir Francis, why Sir Francis, zounds in a trance,
Sir Francis, what cheare man? Come, come, how ist?
Fran.
Was she not faire, or else this Iudging eie
Cannot distinguish beauty.
Mal.
She was faire.
Fran.
She was an Angel in a mortals shape,
And nere descended from old Mountfords line.
But soft, soft, let me cal my wits together,
A poore, poore wench, to my great aduersary
Sister, whose very soules denounce sterne warre
One against other, how now Franke turnd foole,
Or madman, whether, but no maister of
My perfect sences and directest wits,
Then why should I be in this violent humor
Of passion, and of loue, and with a person
So different euery way, and so oppos'd
In al contractions and stil warring actions:
Fie, fie, how I dispute against my soule,
Come, come, Ile gaine her, or in her faire quest
Purchase my soule free and immortal rest.
Exeunt.
Enter 3. or 4. seruingmen, one with a Uoyder and a Woodden knife, to take away all, another the salt and bread; another the Table-cloth and Napkins, another the carpet. Ienkin with two lights after them.
So, march in order and retyre in battel ray, my maister
and the guests haue supt already, als taken away, here now spred
for the seruingmen in the hal, Butler it belongs to your office.
But.
I know it Ienkin: what do you cal the Gentleman that
supt there tonight?
Ienk.
Who my maister?
But.
No, no, maister Wendol, hee is a daily ghuest, I mean the
Gentleman that came but this afternoone.
Ienk.
His name is M. Cranwel: Gods light, hark within there,
my M. cals to lay more billets on the fire: Come, come, Lorde
how wee that are in office here in the house are troubled: one
spred the Carpet in the parlor, & stand ready to snuffe the lights,
the rest be ready to prepare their stomacks. More lights in the
hal there: come Nicklas.
Nick.
I cannot eat, but had I Wendols hart,
I would eat that, the rogue grows impudent:
Oh I haue seene such vild notorious tricks
Ready to make my eies dart from my head,
Ile tel my maister, by this ayre I wil,
Fal what may fal, Ile tel him: Here he comes.
Enter Franckeford as it were brushing the crums from his cloths with a Napkin, and newly risen from supper.
Frank.
Nicklas what make you here? Why are not you
At supper in the hal there with your fellowes.
Nick.
Master I staid your rising from the boord,
To speake with you.
Frank.
Be briefe then gentle Nicklas,
My wife and guests attend me in the parlor:
Why dost thou pause? Now Nicklas you want mony,
And vnthrift like would eat into your wages
Ere you haue earnd it: heres sir halfe a crowne,
Play the good husband and away to supper.
Nick.
By this hand an honourable Gentleman, I will not see
him wrongd: sir I haue serud you long, you entertaind me seuen
yeares before your beard, you knew we sir, before you knew my
mistris.
Frank.
What of this good Nicklas.
I neuer was a make-bate or a knaue
I haue no fault but one, I am giuen to quarrel,
But not with women, I wil tel you maister
That which wil make your hart leape from your brest,
Your haire to startle from your head, your ears to tingle.
Frank.
What preparations this to dismal newes?
Nick.
Sblood sir I loue you better then your wife,
Ile make it good.
Frank.
Thou art a knaue, and I haue much ado
With wonted patience to containe my rage
And not to breake thy pate: thou art a knaue,
Ile turne you with your base comparisons
Out of my dores.
Nick.
Do, do,
Theres not roome for Wendoll and mee to,
Both in one house: oh maister, maister,
That Wendol is a villen.
Frank.
I, saucy.
Nick.
Strike, strike, do strike, yet heare me, I am no foole,
I know a villen when I see him act
Deeds of a villen, maister, maister, that base slaue
Inioyes my mistris, and dishonors you.
Frank.
Thou hast kild me with a weapon whose sharpned point
Hath prickt quite through and through my shiuering hart,
Drops of cold sweat sit dangling on my haires,
Like mornings dew vpon the golden flowers,
And I am plungd into a strange agony,
What didst thou say? If any word that toucht
His Credit or her reputation,
It is as hard to enter my beleefe,
As Diues into Heauen.
Nick.
I can gaine nothing, they are two
That neuer wrongd me, I knew before
Twas but a thankles office, and perhaps
As much as my seruice or my life is woorth,
Al this I know, but this and more,
More by a thousand dangers could not hire me
To smother such a heinous wrong from you,
I saw, and I haue said.
Tis probable, though blunt, yet he is honest,
Though I durst pawne my life, and on their faith
Hazard the dere saluation of my soule,
Yet in my trust I may be too secure:
May this be true: Oh may it: can it be:
Is it by any wonder possible,
Man, woman, what thing mortal may we trust,
When friends and bosome wiues proue so vniust;
What instance hast thou of this strange report?
Nick.
Eyes, eies.
Frank.
Thy eies may be deceiu'd I tel thee,
For should an Angel from the heauens drop down
And preach this to me that thy selfe hast told,
He should haue much ado to winne beleefe
In both their loues I am so confident.
Nick.
Shall I discourse the same by circumstance?
Frank.
No more, to supper, and command your fellowes
To attend vs and the strangers: not a word,
I charge thee on thy life be secret then,
For I know nothing.
Nick.
I am dumbe, and now that I haue eas'd my stomacke
I wil go fill my stomack
Exit.
Frank.
Away, be gone:
She is wel borne, descended Nobly,
Vertuous her education, her repute
Is in the general voice of all the country
Honest and faire, her carriage, her demeanor
In al her actions that concerne the loue
To me her husband, modest, chast, and godly.
Is al this seeming gold plaine Copper.
But he; that Iudas that hath borne my purse,
And sold me for a sin, oh God, oh God;
Shal I put vp these wrongs? no, shal I trust
The bare report of this suspitious groome
Before the dubble guilt, the wel hatch ore
Of their two harts? No, I wil loose these thoughts,
Destraction I wil banish from my brow,
And from my lookes exile sad discontent,
Till I know al, Ile nothing seeme to know?
Lights and a Table there wife, Master Wendol and gentle
Maister Cranwell.
Enter Mistris Frankeford, maister Wendoll, maister Cranwell, Nick and Ienkin, with Cards, Carpet, stooles and other necessaries.
Fran.
O yon are a stranger maister Cranwel you,
And often balke my house: faith you are a Churle,
Now we haue supt, a table and to cards.
Ienk.
A pair of Cards Nicklas, and a carpet to couer the table,
wheres Sisly with her Counters and her box, candles and candle
sticks there, fie we haue such a householde of seruing creatures,
vnles it be Nick and I, theres not one amongst them al can saye,
boe to a goose: wel said Nick.
They spred a Carpet, set downe lights and Cards.
Anne.
Come maister Frankeford, who shal take my part.
Frank.
Marry that wil I sweet wife.
Wend.
No by my faith sir, when you are togither I sit out, it must
be Mistris Frankeford and I, or else it is no match.
Frank.
I do not like that match.
Nick.
You haue no reason marry knowing al.
Frank.
Tis no great matter neither, come M. Cranwel shal you
and I take them vp?
Cran.
At your pleasure sir.
Frank.
I must looke to you M. Wendol, for you wil be playing
false, nay so will my wife to.
Nick.
I, I will be sworne she wil.
Anne.
Let them that are taken playing false forfet the set.
Franck.
Content; It shal go hard but Ile take you.
Cran.
Gentlemen what shal our game be?
wend.
maister Frankeford you play best at Noddy,
Frank.
you shal not find it so: Indeed you shal not?
Anne
I can play at nothing so wel as dubble ruffe.
Frank.
If maister wendol and my wife bee together, theres no
playing against them at dubble hand.
Nick.
I can tel you sir the game that master Wendol is best at?
What game is that Nick.
Nick.
Marry sir, Knaue out of dores.
Wend.
She and I, wil take you at Lodam.
Anne.
Husband shal we play at Saint.
Franke.
My Saints turnd Deuill: no, weele none of Saint,
your best at new Cut wife: youle play at that.
Wend.
If you play at new cut, I am soonest hittet of any heere
for a wager.
Franck.
Tis me they play on: wel you may draw out
For al your cunning: twil be to your shame:
Ile teach you at your new Cut, a new game,
Come, come.
Cran.
If you cannot agree vpon the game to post and paire.
Wend.
We shal be soonest paires, and my good hoast,
When he comes late home, he must kisse the post.
Frank.
Who euer wins, it shalbe to thy cost.
Cran.
Faith let it be Vide-ruffe, and lets make honors.
Frank.
If you make honors, one thing let me craue,
Honor the King, and Queene: except the knaue.
Wend.
Wel as you please for that, lift who shal deale.
Anne
The least in sight: what are you maister Wendol.
Wend.
I am a knaue.
Nick.
Ile sweare it.
Anne.
I a Queene?
Frank.
A queane thou shouldst say? wel the Cards are mine,
They are the grosest paire that ere I felt.
Anne.
Shuffle, Ile cut, would I had neuer dealt?
Frank.
I haue lost my dealing.
Wend.
Sir the faults in me,
This Queene I haue more then my owne you see,
Giue me the stocke.
Frank.
My minds not on my game,
Many a deale I haue lost, the mores your shame,
you haue seru'd me a bad tricke maister Wendol?
Wend.
Sir you must take your lot: to end this strife,
I know I haue delt better with your wife.
Frank.
Thou hast dealt falsely then.
Anne.
Whats Trumpes.
Harts, partner I rub.
Frank.
Thou robst me of my soule, of her chast loue
In thy falfe dealing, thou hast robd my hart,
Booty you play, I like a looser stand,
Hauing no hart, or here, or in my hand:
I will giue ore the set, I am not well,
Come who wil hold my Cards?
Anne.
Not well sweet Maister Franckford,
Alas, what ayle you: tis some sodaine qualme.
Wend.
How long haue you bin so maister Frankford?
Frank.
Sir I was lusty, and I had my health,
But I grew ill when you began to deale.
Take hence this table, gentle maister Cranwell
You are welcome, see your chamber at your pleasure,
I am sorry that this Megrim takes me so
I cannot sit and beare you company,
Ienkin some lights, and shew him to his chamber.
Anne.
A night gowne for my husband quickly there,
It is some rhewme or cold?
Wend.
Now in good faith this Ilnesse you haue got
By sitting late without your gowne.
Frank.
I know it maister Wendol,
Go, go, to bed, least you complaine like me,
Wife, prethy wife into my bed-chamber,
The night is raw, and cold, and rheumatick,
Leaue me my gowne and light, Ile walke away my fit.
Wend.
Sweet sir good night.
Frank.
My selfe good night.
Anne.
Shall I attend you husband?
Frank.
No, gentle wife thout catcht cold in thy head,
Prethy begone sweet, Ile make hast to bed.
Anne.
No sleepe will fasten on mine eies you know
Vntill you come.
Exit.
Frank.
Sweet Nan I prethy go,
I haue bethought me, get me by degrees
The keyes of all my dores which I will mold
In wax, and take their faire impression,
To haue by them new keyes: This being compast,
And when they thinke they may securely play,
They are nearest to danger: Nick, I must rely
Vpon thy trust and faithfull secrecy.
Nick.
Build on my faith.
Frank.
To bed then, not to rest,
Care lodges in my braine, griefe in my brest.
Exeunt.
Enter Sir Charles, his sister, old Mountford, Sandy, Roder, and Tydy.
Mount.
You say my Nephew is in great distresse,
Who brought it to him but his owne lewd life:
I cannot spare a crosse: I must confesse
He was me brothers sonne: why Niece, what then?
This is no world in which to pitty men.
Susan.
I was not borne a begger, though his extreames
Enforce this language from me, I protest
No fortune of mine could lead my tongue
To this base key. I do beseech you vncle,
For the names sake, for Christianity,
Nay for Gods sake to pitty his distresse:
He is denied the freedome of the prison,
And in the hole is laid with men condemnd,
Plenty he hath of nothing but of yrons,
And it remaines in you to free him thence.
Mount.
Money I cannot spare: men should take heed,
He lost my kindred when he fell to need.
Exit.
Susan.
Gold is but earth: thou earth inough shalt haue
When thou hast once tooke measure of thy graue:
You know me maister Sandy and my sute.
San.
I knew you Lady when the old man liud,
I knew you ere your brother sold his land,
Then you were mistris Sue trickt vp in Iewels,
Than you sung well, plaid sweetly on the flute,
But now I neither know you nor your sute.
Su.
You maister Roder was my brothers tennant.
Of which you are possest.
Roder.
True he did,
And haue I not there dwelt still for his sake:
I haue some busines now, but without doubt
They that haue hurld him in wil helpe him out.
Exit.
Susan.
Cold comfort stil: what say you chosen Tydy?
Tydy.
I say this comes of roysting, swaggring,
Call me not Cosen: each man for himselfe,
Some men are borne to myrth and some to sorrow.
I am no Cosen vnto them that borrow.
Exit.
Susan.
Oh charity why art thou fled to heauen,
And left al things on this earth vneuen,
Their scoffing answeres I wll nere returne,
But to my selfe his griefe in silence mourne.
Enter Sir Francis and Malby.
Fran.
She is poore, Ile therefore tempt her with this gold,
Go Malby in my name deliuer it,
And I wil stay thy answere.
Mal.
Faire mistris as I vnderstand, your griefe
Doth grow from want, so I haue here in store
A meanes to furnish you, a bag of gold
Which to your hands I freely tender you.
Susan
I thanke you Heauens, I thanke you gentle sir?
God make me able to requite this fauor.
Mal.
This Gold Sir Francis Acton sends by me,
And prayes you &c.
Susan.
Acton: oh God that name I am borne to cursse,
Hence Bawd: hence Broker: see, I spurne his gold,
My honor neuer shal for gaine be sold.
Fran.
Stay, Lady stay.
Susan
From you Ile posting hie,
Euen as the Doues from feathered Eagles flie.
Fran.
She hates my name, my face, how should I wo?
I am disgracst in euery thing I do.
The more she hates me, and disdaines my loue,
The more I am wrapt in admiration
Of her diuine and chast perfections.
Sent in my name she spurnes. With lookes I cannot,
For she abhors my sight. Nor yet with letters,
For none she wil receiue. How then? how then?
Well I wil fasten such a kindnes on her,
As shal orecome her hate and conquer it.
Sir Charles her Brother lies in execution
For a great sum of mony, and besides
The appeale is sued stil for my Huntsmans death,
Which onely I haue power to reuerse,
In her Ile bury al my hate of him,
Go seeke the keeper Malby, bring me to him:
To saue his body I his debts wil pay,
To saue his life, I his appeale wil stay.
Exeunt
Enter Sir Charles in prison with yrons, his face bare, his garments al ragged and torne.
Char.
Of al on the earths face most miserable,
Breath in the hellish dungeon thy laments,
Thus like a slaue, ragd like a fellon giued,
That hurles thee headlong to this base estate.
Oh vnkind Vncle: oh my friends ingrate:
Vnthankeful kinsmen, Mountfords al too base
To let thy name lie fettered in disgrace,
A thousand deaths here in this graue I die,
Feare, hunger, sorrow, cold, al threat my death,
And ioyne togither to depriue my breath,
But that which most torments me, my dere sister
Hath left to visite me, and from my friends
Hath brought no hopeful answere, therefore I
Diuine they wil not helpe my misery,
If it be so, shame, scandal, and contempt,
Attend their couetous thoughts, need make their graues,
Vsurers they liue, and may they die like slaues.
Enter Keeper.
Keep.
Knight, be of comfort for I bring thee freedome
From al thy troubles.
Then I am doomd to die,
Death is thend of al calamity.
Keep.
Liue, your appeale is stayed, the execution
Of al your debts discharg'd, your creditors
Euen to the vtmost penny satisfied,
In signe whereof, your shackles I knock off,
you are not left so much indebted to vs
As for your fees, al is dischargd, al paid,
Go freely to your house, or where you please,
After long miseries, imbrace your ease.
Char.
Thou grumblest out the sweetest musicke to me,
That euer Organ plaid: is this a dreame?
Or do my waking sences apprehend
The pleasing tast of these applausiue newes?
Slaue that I was, to wrong such honest friends,
My louing kinsmen, and my neare allies,
Tongue I wil bite thee for the scandal breath,
Against such faithful kinsmen: they are all
Compos'd of pitty and compassion,
Of melting charity, and of mouing ruth,
That which I spake before was in my rage,
They are my friends, the mirrors of this age:
Bountious and free, the Noble Mountfords race,
Nere bred a couetous thought, or humor base.
Enter Susan.
Susan
I can no longer stay from visiting
My woful brother, while I could I kept
My haples tidings from his hopeful eare.
Char,
Sister how much am I indebted to thee
And to thy trauel.
Susan
What, at liberty?
Char.
Thou seest I am thanks to thy industry:
Oh vnto which of al my curteous friends
Am I thus bound, my vncle Mountford he,
Euen of an infant lou'd me: was it he?
So did my cozen Tydy: was it he?
So maister Roder, maister Sandy to,
Which of al these did this hie kindnes doe.
Charles, can you mocke me in your pouerty,
Knowing your friends deride your misery,
Now I protest I stand so much amas'd
To see your bonds free, and your yrons knockt off,
That I am wrapt into a maze of wonder,
The rather for I know not by what meanes,
This happines hath chancst.
Char.
Why by my vncle,
My cosens, and my friends, who els I pray,
Would take vpon them al my debts to pay.
Susan.
O brother they are men all of flint,
Pictures of Marble, and as void of pitty
As chased Beares: I begd, I sued, I kneeld,
Laid open al your griefes and miseries,
Which they derided: more then that, denied vs
A part in their alliance, but in pride,
Said that our kindred with our plenty died.
Char.
Drudges to much: what did they; oh knowne euil
Rich fly the poore, as good men shun the Deuil:
Whence should my freedome come, of whom aliue,
Sauing of those; haue I deserud so wel,
Gesse sister, cal to mind, remember me,
These I haue raisd, these follow the worlds guise
Whom rich in honor, they in wo despise.
Susan.
My wits haue lost themselues, lets aske the keeper.
Char.
Gayler.
Keep.
At hand sir.
Char.
Of curtesie resolue mee one demand?
What was he tooke the burden of my debts
From off my backe, staid my appeale to death,
Dischard my fees, and brought me liberty?
Keep.
A curteous knight, one cald sir Francis Acton,
Susan
Acton.
Char.
Ha: Acton. Oh me, more distrest in this
Then al my troubles: haile me backe,
Dubble my yrons, and my sparing meales
Put into halues, and lodge me in a dungeon
More deepe, more darke, more cold, more comfortles.
Could fetter so my heeles, as this one word
Hath thrald my hart, and it must now lie bond
In more strict prison then thy stony Iaile:
I am not free, I go but vnder baile.
Keeper
My charge is done sir, now I haue my fees,
As we get little, we wil nothing leese.
Exit.
Char.
By Acton freed, my dangerous opposite,
Why to what end? or what occasion? ha:
Let me forget the name of enemy,
And with indifference ballance this hy fauor; ha.
Susan
His loue to me, vpon my soule tis so,
That is the root from whence these strange thinges grow.
Char.
Had this proceeded from my father he
That by the law of nature is most bound
In offices of loue, it had deserued
My best imploiment to requite that grace?
Had it proceeded from my friends, or him,
From them this action had deseru'd my life,
And from a stranger more, because from such
There is lesse execution of good deeds:
But he, nor father, nor ally, nor friend,
More then a stranger both remoat in blood,
And in his hart oppos'd my enemy,
That this hie bounty should proceed from him?
Oh there I loose my selfe, what should I say?
What thinke? what do? his bounty to repaie.
Susan.
you wonder I am sure whence this strange kindnes
proceeds in Acton, I wil tel you Brother,
He dotes on me, and oft hah sent me guifts,
Letters and tokens, I refus'd them al.
Char.
I haue inough, though poor, my hart is set
In one rich guift to pay backe al my debt.
Exeunt.
Enter Franckeford and Nick with keyes, and a letter in his hand.
Frank.
This is the night, and I must play the tuch,
To try two seeming Angels, whers my keies?
They are made according to your mold in wax,
I bad the Smith be secret, gaue him mony,
And there they are.
Nick.
The Letter sir.
Frank.
True take it, there it is,
And when thou seest me in my pleasantst vaine
Ready to sit to supper, bring it me.
Nick.
Ile doote, make no more question but Ile doot.
Exit.
Enter Mistris Frankeford Cranwell, Wendoll, and Ienkin.
Anne
Sirra, tis six a clocke already stroke,
Go bid them spred the cloath and serue in supper.
Ienk.
It shalbe done forsoth: mistris where is Spiggot the butler,
to giue vs out salt and trenchers.
Wend.
We that haue bin a hunting all the day
Come with prepard stomacks maister Frankeford,
We wisht you at our sport.
Franke.
My hart was with you, and my mind was on you;
Fie maister Cranwel, you are stil thus sad:
A stoole, a stoole, wheres Ienkin, and wheres Nick?
Tis supper time at least an hower ago.
Whats the best newes abroad?
Wend.
I know none good.
Franck.
But I know too much bad.
Enter Butler, and Ienkin with a table-cloath, bread, trenchers, and salt.
Cran.
Methinkes sir you might haue that intrest
In your wiues brother, to be more remisse
In this hard dealing against poore Sir Charles,
Who as I heare lies in Yorke castle, needy,
And in great want.
Frank.
Did not more weighty busines of my owne
Hold me away, I would haue labourd peace
Betwixt them, with al care, indeed I would sir.
Anne.
Ile write vnto my brother earnestly
In that hehalfe.
Wend.
A charitable deed,
Of all your friends that loue you maister Frankeford.
Frank.
Thats you for one, I know you loue Sir Charles
And my wife too well.
Wend.
He deserues the loue
Of al true Gentlemen, be your selues iudge.
Frank.
But supper ho: now as thou louest me Wendol
Which I am sure thou doest, be merry, pleasant,
And frolicke it to night: sweet master Cranwell,
Do you the like; wife, I protest my hart
Was nere more bent on sweet alacrity:
Where be those lazy knaues to serue in supper?
Enter Nick.
Nick.
Sir heres a letter.
Frank.
Whence comes it? and who brought it?
Nick.
A stripling that below attends your answere,
And as he tels me it is sent from Yorke.
Frank,
Haue him into the seller, let him tast a cup
Of our March beere: go, make him drinke.
Nick.
Ile make him drunke, if he be a Troyan.
Frank.
My boots and spurs: wheres Ienkin? God forgiue me
How I neglect my busines, wise looke here,
I haue a matter to be tride to morrow
By eight a clock, and my Attorney writes me
I must be there betimes with euidence,
Or it wil go against me: wheres my boots?
Enter Ienkin with boots and spurs.
Anne.
I hope your busines craues no such dispatch,
That you must ride to night.
Wend.
I hope it doth.
Frank
Gods me: no such dispatch?
Ienkin my boots, wheres Nick, saddle my Roane,
And the gray dapple for himselfe: Content ye,
It much concernes me gentle master Cranwell:
And maister Wendoll in my absence vse
The very ripest pleasure of my house.
Wend.
Lord, maister Frankeford wil you ride to night?
The waies are dangerous.
Therefore wil I ride,
Appointed wel, and so shal Nick my man.
Anne.
Ile cal you vp by fiue a clock to morrow.
Frank.
No by my faith wise, Ile not trust to that,
Tis not such easie rising in a morning
From one I loue so deerely: no by my faith,
I shal not leaue so sweet a bed-fellow,
But with much pain: you haue made me a sluggard
Since I first knew you.
Anne.
Then if you needs wil go
This dangerous euening: maister Wendoll
Let me intreat you beare him company.
Wend.
With al my hart, sweet mistris: my boots there?
Frank.
Fie, fie, that for my priuate busines
I should disease my friend, and be a trouble
To the whole house: Nick?
Nick.
Anon sir.
Frank.
Bring forth my gelding as you loue me sir,
Vse no more words, a hand good master Cranwel.
Cran.
Sir God be your good speed.
Frank.
Goodnight sweet Nan: nay, nay, a kisse, and part,
Dissembling lips, you suit not with my hart.
Wend.
How businesse, time, and houres, all gratious proues
And are the furtherers to my new borne loue.
I am husband now in maister Franckfordes place,
And must commaund the house, my pleasure is
We will not sup abroad so publikely
But in your priuate Chamber mistresse Franckford.
Anne.
O sir, you are too publike in your loue,
And maister Franckfordes wife.
Cran.
Might I craue fauour,
I would intreat you I might see my Chamber,
I am on the sodaine growne exceeding ill,
And would be spard from supper.
Wen.
Light their hoe?
See you want nothing sir, for if you do
You iniury that good man, and wrong me to.
Cran.
I will make bold: godnight.
How al conspire
To make our bosome sweet and ful intire,
Come Nan, I prethy let vs sup within.
Anne.
O what a clog vnto the soule is sin,
We pale offenders, are stil ful of feare,
Euery suspitious eie brings danger neare,
When they whose cleare hart from offence are free,
Dispise report, base scandals to outface,
And stand at mere defiance with disgrace.
Wend.
Fie, fie, you talke too like a Puritant.
Anne.
You haue tempted me to mischiefe maister Wendol,
I haue done I know not what: wel, you plead custome,
That which for want of wit I granted erst,
I now must yeeld through feare: Come, come, lets in
Once ore shooes, we are strait ore head in sinne.
Wend.
My iocond soule is ioyfull aboue measure,
Ile be profuse in Frankefords richest treasure.
Exeunt.
Enter Sisly, Ienkin, Butler, and other Seruingmen.
Ienk.
My mistris and M. Wendol my maister, sup in her chamber
to night, Sisly you are preferd from being the cooke to bee
chamber maid, of all the loues betwixt thee and me, tel me what
thou thinkest of this.
Sisly
Mum, theres an old prouerbe, when the Cats away, the
mouse may play.
Ienk.
Now you talke of a Cat Sisly, I smel a Rat.
Sis.
Good words Ienkin, least you be cald to answere them.
Ienk.
Why God make my mistris an honest woman: are not
these good words? pray God my new maister play not the knau
with my old maister, is there any hurt in this? God send no villany
intended, and if they do sup together, pray God they doe
not lie togither: god keepe my mistris chast, and make vs al his
seruants, what harme is there in al this? Nay more, heere is my
hand, thou shalt neuer haue my hart vnlesse thou say, Amen.
Sis.
Amen I pray God I say.
Enter Seruingmen.
Ser.
My mistris sends that you should make lesse noise, to lock
vp the dores, and see the houshold al got to bed: you Ienkin for
Ienk.
Thus by little and little I creepe into office: Come to
kennel my masters to kennell, tis eleuen a clocke already.
Ser.
When you haue lockt the gates in, you must send vp the
keyes to my mistris.
Sis.
Quickly for Gods sake Ienkin; for I must carry them: I
am neither pillow nor bolster, but I know more then both.
Ienk.
To bed good Spiggot, to bed good honest seruing creatures,
and let vs sleepe as snug as pigs in pease-straw.
Exeunt.
Enter Franckeford and Nick.
Frank.
Soft, soft, we haue tyed our geldings to a tree two flight
shoot off, least by their thundring hoofes they blab our coming
backe, Hearst thou no noise?
Nick.
Heare, I heare nothing but the Owle and you.
Frank.
So: now my watches hand points vpon twelue,
And it is dead midnight: where are my keyes?
Nick.
Heere sir.
Frank.
This is the key that opes my outward gate,
This is the Hal dore, this my withdrawing chamber.
But this, that dore thats Bawd vnto my shame:
Fountaine and spring of al my bleeding thoughts,
Where the most hallowed order and true knot
Of nuptial sanctity hath bin prophand,
It leads to my polluted bed-chamber,
Once my terrestrial heauen, now my earths hel,
The place where sins in al their ripenes dwell:
But I forget my selfe, now to my gate.
Nick.
It must ope with farre lesse noise then Cripple-gate, or
your plots dasht.
Frank.
So reach me my darke Lanthorne to the rest,
Tread softly, softly.
Nick.
I wil walke on Egges this pace.
Frank.
A general scilence hath surprizd the house,
And this is the last dore, astonishment,
Feare and amazement, play against my hart,
Euen as a madman beats vpon a drum:
O keepe my eies you heauens before I enter,
From any sight that may transfix my soule,
Oh strike mine eies starke blind, or if not so,
Lend me such patience to disgest my griefe,
That I may keepe this white and virgin hand
From any violent outrage, or red murder,
And with that praier I enter.
Nick.
Heres a circumstance,
A man may be made Cuckold in the time
That hees about it, and the case were mine
As tis my masters, sblood that he makes me sweare,
I would haue placst his action entred there,
I would, I would.
Frank.
Oh: oh.
Nick.
Master, sblood, master, master.
Frank.
oh me vnhappy, I haue sound them lying
Close in each others armes, and fast asleepe,
But that I would not dam two precious soules
Bought with my Sauiours blood, and send them laden
With al their scarlet sins vpon their backs
Vnto a fearefull Iudgement, their two liues
Had met vpon my rapier.
Nick.
Sblood master haue you left them sleeping stil? let me
go wake them.
Frank.
Stay, let me pause a while:
Oh God, oh God, that it were possible
To vndo things done, to cal back yesterday;
That time could turne vp his swift sandy glasse,
To vntel the daies, and to redeeme these howres:
Or that the sunne
Could rising from the West, draw his coach backward
Take from the account of time so many minutes
Til he had al these seasons cald againe,
Those minutes and those actions done in them,
Euen from her first offence, that I might take her
As spotles as an Angel in my armes,
But oh: I talke of things impossible,
And cast beyond the moone, God giue me patience,
For I wil in to wake them.
Exit.
Heres patience perforce,
He needs must trot a foot that tyres his horsse.
Enter Wendol running ouer the stage in a night-gowne, he after him with his sword drawn, the maid in her smocke staies his hand, and clasps hold on him, he pauses a while.
Frank.
I thanke thee maid, thou like the Angels hand
Hast staied me from a bloody sacrifice:
Go villen, and my wrongs sit on thy soule
As heauy as this griefe doth vpon mine:
When thou recordst my many curtesies,
And shalt compare them with thy trecherous hart,
Lay them together, weygh them equally,
T wilbe reuenge inough, go, to thy friend
A Iudas, pray, pray, least I liue to see
Thee Iudas like, hang'd on an Elder-tree.
Enter mistris Frankeford in her smocke, night-gowne, and night attyre.
Anne
O by what word, what title, or what name
Shal I intreat your pardon: pardon: oh,
I am as far from hoping such sweet grace
As Lucifer from heauen: to cal you husband,
Oh me most wretched; I haue lost that name
I am no more your wife.
Nick.
Sblood sir she sounds.
Frank.
Spare thou thy teares, for I wil weepe for thee;
And keepe thy countenance, for Ile blush for thee;
Now I protest I thinke tis I am tainted,
For I am most asham'd, and tis more hard
For me to looke vpon thy guilty face,
Then on the suns cleare brow, what wouldst thou speake?
An.
I would I had no tongue, no eares, no eies,
No aprehension, no capacity,
When do you spurne me like a Dog? when tread me
Vnder your feet? when drag me by the haire?
Though I deserue a thousand thousand fold.
More then you can inflict: yet once my husband,
For womanhood to which I am ashamd,
That hath redeemd our soules, marke not my face
Nor hacke me with your sword, but let me go
Perfect and vndeformed to my tomb.
I am not worthy that I should preuaile
In the least sute, no not to speake to you,
Nor looke on you, nor to be in your presence:
Yet as an abiect this one sute I craue,
This granted I am ready for my graue.
Frank.
My God with patience arme me: rise, nay rise,
And Ile debate with thee: Was it for want
Thou plaiedst the strumpet? Wast thou not supplied
With euery pleasure, fashion, and new toy,
Nay euen beyond my calling.
Anne.
I was.
Frank.
Was it then dissability in me,
Or in thine eie seemd he a properer man?
Anne.
Oh no.
Frank.
Did I not lodge thee in thy bosome? weare thee
Here in my hart.
Anne.
You did.
Frank.
I did indeed, witnes my teares I did,
Go bring my infants hether: oh Nan, oh Nan,
If either feare of shame, regard of honor,
The blemish of my house, nor my deere loue,
could haue withheld thee from so lewd a fact:
Yet for these infants, these young harmeles soules,
On whose white browes thy shame is characterd,
And growes in greatnes as they wax in yeares,
Looke but on them, and melt away in teares.
Away with them, least as her spotted body
Hath staind their names with stripe of bastardy,
So her adultrous breath may blast their spirits,
With her infectious thoughts: away with them?
An.
In this one life I die ten thousand deaths.
Frank.
Stand vp, stand vp, I will do nothing rashly,
I wil retire a while into my study,
And thou shalt heare thy sentence presently.
Exit.
Tis welcome be it death: oh me, base strumpet,
That hauing such a husband, such sweete children;
Must inioy neither: oh to redeeme my honor
I would haue this hand cut off, these my breasts seard,
Be rackt, strappadode, put to any torment,
Nay, to whip but this scandall out, I would hazzard
The rich and deere redemption of my soule.
He cannot be so base, as to forgiue me?
Nor I so shamelesse, to accept his pardon:
Oh women, women, you that haue yet kept
Your holy matrimoniall vow vnstaind,
Make me your instance, when you tread awry,
Your sins like mine will on your conscience lye.
Enter Sissily, Spiggot, all the Seruingmen, and Ienkin as newly come out of bed.
All.
Oh mistris, mistris, what haue you done, mistris?
Nick.
Sbloud what a Caterwauling keepe you here.
Ienkin.
O Lord mistris, how comes this to passe, my maister
is run away in his shirt, and neuer so much as cald mee to bring
his cloathes after him.
Anne.
See what guilt is, here stand I in this place,
Ashamd to looke my seruants in the face.
Enter maister Frankeford and Cranwell, whom seeing she fals on her knees.
Franke.
My wordes are registred in heauen already,
With patience hear me: Ile not martyr thee,
Nor marke thee for a strumpet, but with vsage
Of more humility torment thy soule,
And kill thee, euen with kindnesse.
Cran.
Maister Frankford.
Frank.
Good maister Cranwell: woman, heare thy iudgment:
Goe make thee ready in thy best attire,
Take with thee all thy gownes, all thy apparrell,
Leaue nothing that did euer call thee mistris,
Or by whose sight being left here in the house
I may remember such a woman by,
Chuse thee a bed and hangings for a Chamber,
Take with thee euery thing that hath thy marke,
Where liue, tis thine, I freely giue it thee,
My Tennants by shall furnish thee with waynes
To carry all thy stuffe, within two houres,
No longer will I limit thee my sight,
Chuse which of all my seruants thou likest best,
And they are thine to attend thee.
Anne.
A milde sentence.
Frank.
But as thou hopst for heauen, as thou beleeust
thy names recorded in the booke of life,
I chardge thee neuer after this sad daie
To see me, or to meete me, or to send
By word, or writing, guift, or otherwise
To moue me, by thy selfe, or by thy friends,
Nor challenge any part in my two children;
So farewell Nan, for we will henceforth be
As we had neuer seene, nere more shall see.
Anne.
How full my hart is in my eyes appeares,
What wants in words, I will supply in teares.
Frank.
Come take your Coach, your stuffe, all must along,
Seruants and all make ready, all be gone,
It was thy hand cut two harts out of one.
Enter Sir Charles gentlemanlike, and his Sister gentlewomanlike.
Susan.
Brother, why haue you trict me like a bride?
Bought me this gay attire, these ornaments?
forget you our estate, our pouerty?
Charles.
Call me not brother, but imagine me
Some barbarous Outlaw, or vnciuil Kerne,
For if thou shutst thy eye, and onely hearst
The words that I shall vtter, thou shalt iudge me
Some staring Ruffin, not thy brother Charles
Oh Susan.
Susan.
Oh brother, what doth this strange language meane?
Charles.
Dost loue me sister? Wouldst thou see me liue
A bankrupt begger in the worlds disgrace,
And die indebted to my enemies?
In the worldes eye, a by-word and a scorne?
It lies in thee of these to acquit me free,
And all my debt I may outstrip by thee.
Susan.
By me: why? I haue nothing, nothing, left,
I owe euen for the clothes vpon my backe,
I am not worth, &c.
Charles
Oh sister say not so,
It lies in you my downe-cast state to raise,
To make me stand on euen pointes with the world:
Come Sister, you are rich? Indeede you are:
And in your power you haue, without delaie,
Actons fiue hundred pound backe to repaie.
Susan.
Till now I had thought you loud me, by mine honor
Which I had kept as spotlesse as the Moone,
I nere was mistris of that single doite,
Which I reserud not to supply your wants:
And do you think that I would hoord from you.
Now by my hopes in heauen, knew I the meanes
To buy you from the slauery of your debts,
Especially from Acton whom I hate,
I would redeeme it with my life or bloud.
Charles
I challenge it, and kindred set apart
Thus Ruffian like I lay siedge to your hart:
What do I ow to Acton?
Susan.
Why some fiue hundred pounds, toward which I swear
In all the world I haue not one deneare.
Charles
It will not proue so: sister, now resolue me,
What do you thinke, and speake your conscience?
Would Acton giue might he enioy your bed?
Susan.
He would not shrinke to spend a thousand pound,
To giue the Mountfords name so deep a wound
Charles
A thousand pound, I but fiue hundred owe,
Grant him your bed, hees paid with interest so.
Susan.
Oh brother:
Charles
O sister onely this one way,
With that rich Iewell you my debts may pay,
In speaking this my cold hart shakes with shame,
But in a strangers: shall I die in debt
To Acton my grand foe, and you still weare
The pretious Iewell that he holds so deere?
Susan.
My honor I esteeme as deere and pretious,
As my redemption.
Charles.
I esteeme you sister,
As deere, for so deere prizing it.
Susan.
Will Charles
Haue me cut of my hands, and send them Acton:
Rip vp my breast, and with my bleeding hart,
Present him as a token.
Charles.
Neither Iane:
But heare me in my strange assertion,
Thy honor and my soule are equall in my regard,
Nor will thy Brother Charles suruyue thy shame,
His kindnesse like a burden hath surcharged me,
And vnder his good deedes I stooping go,
Not with an vpright soule: had I remaind
In prison stil, there doublesse I had dyed:
Then vnto him that freed me from that prison,
Still do I owe that life: what mou'd my foe
To infranchise me? Twas sister for your loue?
With full fiue hundred pounds he bought your loue,
And shall he not inioy it? Shall the waight
Of all this heauy burden leane on me,
And will not you beare part? you did pertake
The ioy of my release, will you not stand
In ioynt bond bound to satisfie the debt,
Shall I be onely charged?
Susan.
But that I know
These arguments come from an honord mind,
As in your most extremity of need,
Scorning to stand in debt to one you hate,
Nay rather would ingage your vnstaind honor,
Then to be held ingrate, I should condem you.
I see your resolution, and assent,
So Charles will haue me, and I am content.
For this I trickt you vp.
Susan.
But heres a knife,
to saue mine honor, shall slice out my life.
Charles.
I know thou pleasest me a thousand times
More in that resolution then thy grant:
Obserue her loue to sooth them in my suite,
Her honor she will hazzard though not loose,
To bring me out of debt, her rigorous hand
Will pierce her hart: Oh wonder, that will chuse
Rather then staine her bloud, her life to loose.
Come, you sad sister to a wofull brother,
This is the gate: Ile beare him such a present,
Such an acquittance for the knight to seale
As will amaze his senses, and surprize
With admiration all his fantasies.
Enter Acton and Malbie.
Susan.
Before his vnchast thoughts shal seize on me,
Tis here shall my imprisoned soule set free.
Acton.
How: Mountford with his sister hand in hand,
What Miracles a foot?
Malby.
It is a sight
Begets in me much admiration.
Charles.
Stand not amasd to see me thus attended,
Acton I owe thee mony, and being vnable
To bring thee the full summe in ready coyne,
Loe for thy more assurance heres a pawne:
My sister, my deere Sister, whose chast honor
I prise aboue a Million: here, nay take her,
Shees worth your mony man, do not forsake her.
Francis.
I would he were in earnest.
Susan.
Impute it not to my immodesty,
My Brother being rich in nothing else
But in his interest that he hath in me,
According to his pouerty hath brought you
Me, all hir store, whom howsoere you prise
As forfeit to your hand, he valewes highly,
And would not sell, but to acquit your debt
For any Emperors ransome.
Francis.
Sterne hart, relent
Was euer knowne in any former age,
Such honorable wrested curtesie,
Lands, honors, liues, and all the world forgoe
Rather then stand ingagde to such a foe.
Charles.
Acton she is too poor to be thy Bride,
And I to much opposd to be thy brother,
There take her to thee, if thou hast the hart
To ceize her as a Rape or lustfull prey,
To blur our house that neuer yet was staind,
To murder her that neuer meant thee harme,
To kill me now whom once thou sauedst from death,
Do them at once on her, all these relie
And perish with her spotted chastity.
Francis
You ouercome me in your loue sir Charles,
I cannot be so cruell to a Lady
I loue so deerely, since you haue not spard
To engage your reputation to the world,
Your sisters honor which you prise so deere,
Nay, all the comforts which you hold on earth
To grow out of my debt being your foe,
Your honored thoughts, loe thus I recompence
Your metamorphisd foe, receiues your guift
In satisfaction of all former wrongs,
This Iewell I will weare, here in my hart,
And where before I thought her for her wants
Too base to be my Bride, to end all strife,
I seale you my deere brother, her my wife.
Susan.
You still exceede vs, I will yeeld to fate,
And learne to loue, where I till now did hate.
Charles
With that inchantment you haue charmd my soule,
And made me rich euen in those very words,
I pay no debt but am indebted more
Rich in your loue I neuer can be poore
Francis.
Alas mine is yours, we are alike in state,
Lets knit in loue what was opposd in hate:
Come, for our Nuptials we will straite prouide,
Blest onely in our brother and faire bride.
Exeunt.
Cran.
Why do you search each roome about your house.
Now that you haue dispatcht your wife away?
Frank
O sir to see that nothing may be left
That euer was my wiues, I loued her deerely,
And when I do but thinke of her vnkindnesse,
My thoughts are all in Hell, to avoyd which torment
I would not haue a Bodkin or a Cuffe,
A bracelet, necklace, or Rebato wier,
Nor any thing that euer was hers,
Left me, by which I might remember her,
Seeke round about?
Nick.
Sbloud master, heres her lute flonge in a corner,
Frank.
Her Lute, oh God vpon this instrument,
Her fingers haue run quicke diuision,
Sweeter then that which now deuides our harts.
These frets haue made me pleasant, that haue now,
Frets of my hart-strings made, oh maister Cranwell,
Oft hath she made this melancholy wood,
Now mute and dumbe for her disastrous chance,
Speake sweetly many a note, sound many a straine,
To her owne rauishing voyce which being well strung,
What pleasant strange ayres haue they ioyntly sung.
Post with it after her, now nothings left,
Of her, and hers, I am at once bereft.
Nick.
Ile ride and ouertake her, do my message,
And come backe againe.
Cran.
Meane time sir, if you please,
Ile to sir Francis Acton, and informe him
Of what hath past betwixt you and his sister.
Frank.
Do as you please how ill am I bestoad
To be a widower ere my wife be dead.
Enter mistris Frankeford, with Ienkin, her maid Sislie, her Coach-man, and three Carters.
Anne.
Bid my Coach stay, why should I ride in state?
Being hurld so low downe by the hand of fate.
A seat like to my Fortunes let me haue,
Ienkin.
Comfort good mistris, you haue watered your Coach
with teares already, you haue but two myle now to goe to your
mannor, a Man cannot say by my olde Maister Franckford as he
may say by me, that he wants maners, for he hath three or foure,
of which this is one, that we are going to.
Sisly.
Good mistris be of good cheere, sorrow you see hurtes
you, but helpes you not, we all mourne to see you so sad.
Carter.
Mistris I spy one of my Landlords men
Come riding post, tis like he brings some newes.
Anne.
Comes he from maister Franckford, he is welcome,
So are his newes, because they come from him.
Enter Nick.
Nick.
There.
Anne.
I know the Lute, oft haue I sung to thee,
We both are out of tune, both out of time.
Nick.
Would that had beene the worst instrument that ere
you played on: my maister commends him to ye, theirs all hee
can find that was euer yours, he hath nothing left that euer you
could claim to lay, but his own hart, & he could afford you that:
Al that I haue to deliuer you is this he prayes you to forget him,
and so he bids your farwell.
Anne.
I thanke him, he is kind and euer was,
All you that haue true feeling of my griefe,
That know my losse, and haue relenting harts,
Gird me about, and help me with your teares,
To wash my spoted sins, my Lute shall grone
It cannot weepe, but shall lament my mone.
Enter wendoll.
Wendoll.
Pursued with horror of a guilty soule,
And with the sharpe scourge of repentance lasht,
I flye from my owne shadow: oh my stars
What haue my parents in their liues deserud,
That you should lay this penance on their sonne?
When I but thinke of maister Franckfords loue,
And lay it to my treason, or compare
My murdring him for his releeuing me,
It strikes a terror like a lightnings flash,
To scorch my bloud vp: thus I like the Owle
Afraid of euery leafe or murmuring blast,
Yet longing to receiue some perfect knowledge
How he hath dealt with her: Oh my sad fate,
Here, and so far from home, and thus attended:
Oh God, I haue deuorst the truest Turtles
That euer liud together, and being diuided
In seuerall places, make their seuerall mone;
She in the fieldes laments, and he at home.
So Poets write that Orpheus made the trees,
And stones to dance, to his melodious harp,
meaning the rusticke and the barbarous Hinds,
That had no vnderstanding part in them,
So she from these rude Carters teares extracts,
Making their flinty harts with griefe to rise,
And draw Riuers from their rocky eyes.
Anne.
If you returne vnto your maister say:
Though not from me, for I am all vnworthy
To blast his name with a strumpets tongue,
That you haue seene me weepe, wish my selfe dead:
nay, you may say to, for my vow is past,
Last night you saw me eate and drinke my last.
This to your maister you may say and sweare,
For it is writ in heauen and decreed here.
Nick.
Ile say you wept, Ile sweare you made me sad,
Why how now eyes; what now, whats here to do?
I am gone, or I shall strait turne baby to.
Wen.
I cannot weep, my hart is all on fire,
Curst be the fruits of my vnchast desire.
Anne
Go breake this lute my Coaches whele,
As the last musicke that I ere shall make,
not as my husbands guift, but my farewel,
To all earths ioy, and so your maister tell.
Nick.
If I can for crying.
Wen.
Griefe haue done,
Or like a Madman I shall frantick run.
Anne.
You haue beheld the wofullest wretch on earth,
A woman made of teares, would you had words
No tongue can vtter, yet vnto your power
You may discribe my sorrow, and disclose
To thy sad maister my aboundant woes.
Nick.
Ile do your commendations.
Anne.
O no:
I dare not so presume, nor to my children,
I am disclaimd in both; alasse I am,
Oh neuer teach them when they come to speake,
To name the name of Mother: chide their tongue
If they by chance light on that hated word:
Tell them tis nought: for when that word they name,
Poore pretty soules they harpe on their owne shame.
Wen.
To recompence her wrongs, what canst thou do?
Thou hast made her husbandlesse, and childlesse to.
Anne.
I haue no more to say: speake not for me
Yet you may tell your maister what you see?
Nick.
Ile doot.
Exit
Wen.
Ile speake to her, and comfort her in griefe,
Oh but her wound cannot be cur'd with words:
No matter though, Ile do my best goodwill,
To wroke a cure on her whom I did kill.
Anne.
So, now vnto my Coach, then to my home,
So to my deathbed, for from this sad houre,
I neuer will, nor eate, nor drinke, nor tast
Of any Cates that may preserue my life:
I neuer will nor smile, nor sleepe, nor rest,
But when my teares haue washt my blacke soule white,
Sweete Sauiour to thy hands I yeeld my sprite.
Wen.
Oh mistris Frankford?
Anne.
Oh for Gods sake fly,
The Diuell doth come to tempt me ere I dye:
My Coach: this sinne that with an Angels face,
Courted mine honor till hee sought my wracke,
In my repentant eyes seemes vgly blacke.
Exeunt all: the Carters whisling.
Ienk.
What my young maister that fled in his shirt, how come
you by your clothes againe? you haue made our house in a sweet
cleaue to the old house?
Wen.
Hence slaue, away with thy vnseasoned mirth,
Vnlesse thou canst shed teares, and sigh, and houle,
Curse thy sad fortunes, and exclaime on fate,
Thou art not for my turne.
Ienk.
Marry and you will not another will: farewell and be
hangd, wold you had neuer come to haue kept this quoile within
our doores, we shall ha you run away like a sprite againe.
Wen.
Shees gone to death, I liue to want and woe,
Her life, her sins, and all vpon my head,
And I must now go wander like a Cain
In forreine Countries, and remoted clymes,
Where the report of my ingratitude
Cannot be heard, Ile ouer, first to France,
And so to Germany, and Italy,
Where when I haue recouered, and by trauell
Gotten those perfect tongues, and that these rumors
May in their height abate, I will returne,
And I deuine, how euer now deiected
My worth and parts being by some great man praisd,
At my returne I may in Court be raisd.
Exit.
Enter sir Francis, sir Charles, Cranwell, and Susan.
Francis.
Brother, and now my wife, I thinke these troubles
Fall on my head, by Iustice of the heauens,
For being so strict to you in your extremities,
But we are now attonde, I would my sister
Could with like happinesse, o'recome her griefes,
As we haue ours.
Susan.
You tell vs maister Cranwell wonderous things,
Touching the patience of that gentleman,
With what strange vertue he demeanes his griefe.
Cran.
I told you what I was witnesse of,
It was my fortune to lodge there that night.
Francis.
O that same villen Wendoll, t'was his tongue
That did corrupt her, she was of her selfe,
Chast and deuoted well. Is this the house?
Cran.
Yes sir, I take it here your sister lies.
My brother Franckford showd too mild a spirit
In the reuenge of such a loathed crime;
Lesse then he did, no man of spyrit could do,
I am so far from blaming his reuenge
That I commend it: had it bin my case
Their soules at once had from their brests bin freed,
Death to such deedes of shame is the due meede.
Enter Ienkin and Sislie.
Ienk.
O my mistris, my mistris, my poore mistris.
Sislie.
Alas that euer I was born, what shall I do, for my poor
mistris.
Charles,
Why, what of her?
Ienk.
O Lord sir, she no sooner heard that her brother
And his friends were come to see how she did,
But she for very shame of her guilty conscience, fell
Into a swoune, and we had much ado to
Get life into her.
Susan.
Alasse that she should beare so hard a fate,
Pitty it is, repentance comes to late.
Acton.
Is she so weake in body?
Ienk.
O sir I can assure you thers no help of life
In her, for she will take no sustenance, she hath plainly
Starued her selfe, that now she is as leane
As a lath, she euer
Lookes for the good hower: many
Gentlemen and gentlewomen of the country are come to,
Comfort her.
Enters Mistris Frankeford in her bed.
Malby.
How fare you mistris Frankford?
Anne.
Sicke, sicke, oh sicke, giue me some aire I pray you.
Tell me, oh tell me, wheres maister Frankford?
Will not he daigne to see me ere I dye?
Malby.
Yes mistris Frankford, diuers gentlemen,
Your louing neighbors with that iust request,
Haue mou'd and told him of your weake estate,
Who though with much adoe to get beliefe.
Seeing your sorrow and your penitence
And hearing there withall the great desire
You haue to see him ere you left the world,
He gaue to vs his faith to follow vs,
And sure he will be here immediatly.
Anne.
You halfe reuiude me with those pleasing newes,
Raise me a little higher in my bed.
Blush I not maister Frankford? blush I not sir Charles?
Can you not read my fault writ in my cheeke?
Is not my cryme there? tell me gentlemen?
Charles.
Alasse good mistris, sicknesse hath not left you
Bloud in your face enough to make you blush:
Then sicknesse like a friend my fault would hide,
Anne.
Is my husband come? My soule but tarries
His ariue and I am fit for heauen.
Charles.
I came to chide you, but my wordes of hate,
Are turnd to pitty and compassionate griefe:
I came to rate you, but my bralles you see,
Melt into teares, and I must weepe by thee.
Enter Frankeford.
Heres maister Frankford now.
Fran.
Good morrow brother, good morrow gentlemen,
God that hath laid this crosse vpon our heads,
Might had he pleasd haue made our cause of meeting
On a more faire and a more contented ground,
But he that made vs, made vs to this woe.
Anne.
And is he come, methinks that voyce I know:
Frank.
How do you woman?
Anne.
Well, maister Franckford, well: but shall be better
I hope within this hower? will you vouchsafe
Out of your grace and your humanity,
To take a spotted strumpet by the hand?
Frank.
That hand once held my hart in faster bonds
Then now tis gripte by me: God pardon them
That made vs first breake hold.
Amen, amen,
Out of my zeale to heauen whether I am now bound,
I was so impudent to wish you here,
And once more beg your pardon oh Good man.
And father to my children pardon me.
Pardon, oh pardon me, my fault so heynous it,
That if you in this world forgiue it not,
Heauen will not cleare it in the world to come.
Faintnesse hath so vsurpt vpon my knees,
That kneele I cannot: but on my harts knees,
My prostrate soule lyes throwne downe at your feet,
To beg your gracious pardon: pardon, O pardon me.
Frank.
As freely from the low depth of my soule,
As my redeemer hath forgiuen his death,
I pardon thee, I will shed teares for thee,
Pray with thee, and in meere pitty
Of thy weake state, Ile wish to die with thee.
All.
So do we all,
Nick.
So will not I,
Ile sigh and sob, but by my faith not dye.
Acton
Oh maister Frankford all the neere alliance,
I loose by her, shall be supplyde in thee,
you are my brother by the neerest way,
Her kindred hath fallen off, but yours doth stay.
Frank.
Euen as I hope for pardon at that day,
When the great Iudge of Heauen in Scarlet sits,
So be thou pardoned, though thy rash offence,
Diuorsd our bodies, thy repentant teares
Vnite our soules.
Charles
Then comfort mistris Frankford,
You see your husband hath forgiuen your fall,
Then rouse your spirits, and cheere your fainting soule.
Susan.
How is it with you?
Acton.
How do you feele your selfe?
Anne.
Not of this world.
Frank.
I see you are not, and I weepe to see it,
My wife the mother to my pretty Babes,
Both those lost names I do restore thee back.
Though thou art wounded in thy honord name,
And with that griefe vpon thy death-bed liest,
Honest in hart, vpon my soule thou diest.
Anne.
Pardond on earth, soule, thou in heauen art free,
Once more thy wife, dyes thus imbracing thee.
Frank.
New married, and new widdowed, oh shees dead,
And a cold graue must be our Nuptiall bed.
Charles
Sir be of good comfort, and your heauy sorrow,
Part equally amongst vs, stormes deuided
Abate their force, and with lesse rage are guided.
Cran.
Do maister Frankford, he that hath least part,
Will find enough to drowne one troubled hart.
Acton.
Peace with thee Nan: Brothers and Gentlemen,
All we that can plead interest in her griefe.
Bestowe vpon her body funerall teares;
Brother, had you with threats and vsage bad,
Punisht her sin, the griefe of her offence
Had not with such true sorrow tutcht her hart.
Frank.
I see it had not, therefore on her graue,
I will bestow this funeral Epitaph,
Which on her Marble Tombe shall be ingrau'd,
In Golden letters shall these words be fild,
Heere lies she, whom her husbands kindnesse kild.
FINIS.
| A Woman Kilde with Kindnesse | |