 | A Cure for a Cuckold |  |
ACT. 4.
SCENE 1.
Enter Compass, Wife, Lyonel, and Pettifog the Attorney, and one Boy.Comp.
Three Tuns do you call this Tavern? it has a good
neighbor of Guild-hall, Mr. Pettifog. Show a room boy.
Boy.
Welcome Gentlemen.
Comp.
What? art thou here
Hodge!
Boy.
I am glad you are in health, sir.
Comp.
This was the honest Crack-roap first gave me tidings of
my wifes fruitfulness. Art bound Prentice?
Boy.
Yes, Sir.
Comp.
Mayest thou long jumble Bastard most artificially, to
the profit of thy Master, and pleasure of thy Mistriss.
Boy.
What Wine drink ye, Gentlemen?
What Wine rellishes your pallate, good Mr. Pettifog?
Pet.
Nay, ask the woman.
Comp.
Ellegant for her, I know her Diet.
Pet.
Believe me, I con her thank for't, I am of her side.
Comp.
Marry, and reason, sir, we have entertain'd you for
our Atorney.
Boy.
A Cup of neat Allegant?
Comp.
Yes, but do not make it speak Welch, boy.
Boy.
How mean you?
They sit down, Pettifog pulls our papers.
Comp.
Put no Metheglin in't, ye rogue.
Boy.
Not a drop, as I am true Britain.
Enter Franckford, Eustace, Luce, and Mr. Dodge a Lawyer to another Table, and a Drawer.
Fr.
Show a private room, Drawer.
Dr.
Welcome Gentlemen.
Eust.
As far as you can from noise, boy.
Dr.
Further this way then, sir; for in the next room there are
three or four Fish-wives taking up a brabling business.
Fr.
Let's not sit near them by any means.
Dodge.
Fill Canary, sirrah.
Fr.
And what do you think of my Cause, Mr. Dodge?
Dodge.
Oh we shall carry it most indubitably: you have money
to go through with the business, and ne're fear it but we'l
trownce 'em, you are the true Father.
Luce.
The mother will confess as much.
Dodge.
Yes Mistriss, we have taken her Affidavit. Look you
sir, here's the Answer to his Declaration.
Fr.
You may think strange, sir, that I am at charge to call a
Charge upon me: but 'tis truth, I made a Purchase lately, and in
that I did estate the Childe, 'bout which I'm sued, Joynt-purchaser
in all the Land I bought: now that's one reason that I should
have care, besides the tye of blood, to keep the Childe under my
wing, and see it carefully instructed in those fair Abilities may
make it worthy hereafter to be mine, and enjoy the Land I have
provided for't.
Luce.
Right, and I councel'd you to make that Purchase; and
therefore Ile not have the Childe brought up by such a Coxcomb
as now sues for him, he'd bring him up onely to be a Swabber:
he was born a Merchant and a Gentleman, and he shall live and
die so.
Worthy Mistriss, I drink to you: you are a good woman,
and but few of so noble a patience.
Score a quart of Allegant t'oth'Woodcock.
Enter 1 Boy like a Musician.
1 Boy.
Will you have any musick, Gentlemen?
Comp.
Musick amongst Lawyers? here's nothing but discord.
What, Rafe! here's another of my young Cuckoes I heard last
April, before I heard the Nightingale: no musick, good Rafe:
here boy, your father was a Taylor, and methinks by your leering
eye you should take after him. A good boy, make a leg handsomly,
scrape your self out of our company. And what do you
think of my Suit, sir?
Pet.
Why, look you, sir: The Defendant was arrested first by
Latitate in an Action of Trespass.
Comp.
And a Lawyer told me it should have been an Action
of the Case, should it not wife?
Wife.
I have no skill in Law, sir: but you heard a Lawyer say so.
Pet.
I, but your Action of the Case is in that point too ticklish.
Comp.
But what do you think, shall I overthrow my adversary?
Pet.
Sans question: The childe is none of yours: what of that?
I marry a widow is possest of a Ward, shall not I have the tuition
of that Ward? Now sir, you lye at a stronger Ward; for partus
sequitur ventrem, says the Civil Law: and if you were within compass
of the four Seas, as the common Law goes, the childe shall
be yours certain.
Comp.
There's some comfort in that yet. Oh your Atorneys
in Guild-hall have a fine time on't.
Lyon.
You are in effect both Judge and Jury your selves.
Comp.
And how you will laugh at your Clients when you sit
in a Tavern, and call them Coxcombs, and whip up a Cause, as a
Barber trims his Customers on a Christmass Eve, a snip, a wipe,
and away.
Pet.
That's ordinary, sir: you shall have the like at a Nisi Prius.
Oh you are welcome, Sir.
Enter 1 Client.
1 Client.
Sir, you'l be mindful of my Suit.
Pet.
As I am religious, Ile drink to you.
1 Client.
I thank you. By your favor, Mistriss. I have much
business and cannot stay; but there's money for a quart of Wine.
By no means.
1 Client.
I have said, Sir.
Enter 2 Client.
Pet.
He's my Client sir, and he must pay; this is my tribute.
Custom is not more truly paid in the Sound of Denmark.
2 Client.
Good sir, be careful of my business.
Pet.
Your Declaration's drawn, sir: Ile drink to you.
2 Client.
I cannot drink this morning; but there's money for
a pottle of Wine.
Pet.
Oh good sir.
2 Client.
I have done, sir. Morrow, Gentlemen.
Exit.
Comp.
We shall drink good cheap, Mr. Pettifog.
Pet.
And we sate here long you'd say so. I have sate here in
this Tavern but one half hour, drunk but three pints of wine, and
what with the offering of my Clients in that short time, I have
got nine shillings clear, and paid all the Reckoning.
Lyon.
Almost a Councellors Fee.
Pet.
And a great one as the world goes in Guild-hall; for now
our young Clerks share with 'em, to help 'em to Clients.
Comp.
I don't think but that the Cucking-stool is an enemy to
a number of brables, that would else be determined by Law.
Pet.
'Tis so indeed, sir: My Client that came in now, sues his
neighbor for kicking his Dog, and using the defamatory speeches,
Come out Cuckolds curr.
Lyon.
And what shall you recover upon this speech?
Pet.
In Guild-hall I assure you, the other that came in was an
Informer, a precious knave.
Comp.
Will not the Ballad of Flood that was prest, make them
leave their knavery?
Pet.
Ile tell you how he was served: This Informer comes into
Turnball-street to a Victualling-house, and there falls in league
with a Wench.
Comp.
A Tweak, or Bronstrops, I learnt that name in a Play.
Pet.
Had belike some private dealings with her, and there got
a Goose.
Comp.
I would he had got two, I cannot away with an Informer
Pet.
Now sir, this fellow in revenge of this, informs against the
Bawd that kept the house, that she used Cannes in her house; but
the cunning Jade comes me into 'th Court, and there deposes
that she gave him true Winchester measure.
Marry, I thank her with all my heart for't.
Ent. Drawer
Draw.
Here's a Gentleman, one Justice Woodroff enquires for
Mr. Franckford.
Fr.
Oh, my brother and the other Compremiser
come to take up the business.
Enter Councellor and Woodroff.
Wood.
We have conferred and labored for your peace, unless
your stubborness prohibit it; and be assured, as we can determine
it, the Law will end, for we have sought the Cases.
Comp.
If the Childe fall to my share, I am content to end upon
any conditions, the Law shall run on head-long else.
Fr.
Your purse must run by like a Foot-man then.
Comp.
My purse shall run open mouth'd at thee.
Coun.
My friend, be calm, you shall hear the reasons: I have
stood up for you, pleaded your Cause, but am overthrown, yet
no further yielded than your own pleasure; you may go on in
Law if you refuse our Censure.
Comp.
I will yield to nothing but my Childe.
Coun.
'Tis then as vain in us to seek your peace, yet take the
reasons with you: This Gentleman first speaks, a Justice to me,
and observe it, A childe that's base and illegitimate born, the
father found, who (if the need require it) secures the charge and
dammage of the Parish but the father? who charged with education
but the father? then by clear consequence he ought for what
he pays for, to enjoy. Come to the strength of reason, upon which
the Law is grounded: the earth brings forth, this ground or that,
her Crop of Wheat or Rye, whether shall the Seeds-man enjoy
the sheaf, or leave it to the earth that brought it forth? The
summer tree brings forth her natural fruit, spreads her large
arms, who but the lord of it shall pluck Apples, or command the
lops? or shall they sink into the root agen? 'tis still most cleer
upon the Fathers part.
Comp.
All this Law I deny, and will be mine own Lawyer.
Is not the earth our Mother? And shall not the earth have all
her children agen? I would see that Law durst keep any of us
back, she'l have Lawyers and all first, tho they be none of her best
children. My wife is the mother, and so much for the Civil-law.
Now I come agen, and y'are gone at the Common-law: suppose
this is my ground, I keep a Sow upon it, as it might be my wife,
comes foaming into my ground, jumbles with my Sow, and wallowes
in her mire, my Sow cryes week, as if she had Pigs in her
belly, who shall keep these Pigs? he the Boar, or she the Sow?
Wood.
Past other alteration, I am changed, the Law is on the
Mothers part.
Coun.
For me, I am strong in your opinion,
I never knew my judgement erre so far, I was confirmed upon the
other part, and now am flat against it.
Wood.
Sir you must
yeild, believe it there's no Law can relieve you.
Fr.
I found it in my self: well sir, the childe's your wifes, Ile
strive no further in it, and being so neer unto agreement, let us
go quite through to't; forgive my fault, and I forgive my charges,
nor will I take back the inheritance I made unto it.
Comp.
Nay, there you shall finde me kinde too, I have a pottle
of Claret, and a Capon to supper for you; but no more Mutton
for you, not a bit.
Ray.
Yes a shoulder, and we'l be there too, or a leg opened
with Venison sawce.
Comp.
No legs opened by your leave; nor no such sawce.
Wood.
Well brother, and neighbor, I am glad you are friends.
Omnes.
All, all joy at it.
Exeunt Wood. Fr. and Lawyers.
Comp.
Urse, come kiss Urse, all friends.
Ray.
Stay sir, one thing I would advise you, 'tis Councel worth a
Fee, tho I be no Lawyer, 'tis Physick indeed, & cures Cuckoldry,
to keep that spightful brand out of your forehead, that it shall
not dare to meet or look out at any window to you, 'tis better
then an Onion to a green wound i'th left hand made by fire, it
takes out scar and all.
Comp.
This were a rare receipt, Ile content you for your skill.
Ray.
Make here a flat divorce between your selves, be you no husband,
nor let her be no wife, within two hours you may salute
agen, wooe, and wed afresh, and then the Cuckold's blotted. This
medicine is approved.
Comp.
Excellent, and I thank you: Urse, I renounce thee, and I
renounce my self from thee; thou art a Widow, Urse, I will go
hang my self two hours, and so long thou shalt drown thy self,
then will we meet agen in the Pease-field by Bishops-Hall, and
as the Swads and the Cods shall instruct us, we'l talk of a new
Wife.
I will be ruled, fare you well, sir.
Comp.
Farewel widdow, remember time and place, change
your Clothes too, do ye hear, widow? Sir, I am beholding to your
good Councel.
Ray.
But you'l not follow your own so far I hope? you said
you'd hang your self.
Comp.
No I have devised a better way, I will go drink my self
dead for an hour, then when I awake agen, I am a fresh new
man, and so I go a wooing.
Ray.
That's handsome, and Ile lend thee a dagger.
Comp.
For the long Weapon let me alone then.
Exeunt.
Enter Lessingham and Clare.
Clare.
Oh sir, are you return'd? I do expect to hear strange
news now.
Less.
I have none to tell you, I am onely to relate I have done
ill at a womans bidding, that's I hope no news: yet wherefore do
I call that ill, begets my absolute happiness? you now are mine,
I must enjoy you solely.
Clare.
By what warrant?
Less.
By your own condition, I have been at Callis, performed
your will, drawn my revengful sword, and slain my neerest and
best friend i'th world I had, for your sake.
Clare.
Slain your friend for my sake?
Less.
A most sad truth.
Clare.
And your best friend?
Less.
My chiefest.
Clare.
Then of all men you are most miserable, nor have you
ought further'd your suit in this, though I enjoyn'd you to't, for I
had thought that I had been the best esteemed friend you had i'th
world.
Less.
Ye did not wish I hope, that I should have murder'd
you?
Clare.
You shall perceive more of that hereafter: But I pray
sir tell me, for I do freeze with expectation of it, it chills my
heart with horror till I know what friends blood you have sacrificed
to your fury and to my fatal sport, this bloody Riddle? who
is it you have slain?
Less.
Bonvile the Bridegroom.
Clare.
Say? Oh you have struck him dead thorough my heart,
in being true to me, you have proved in this the falsest Traitor:
oh I am lost forever: yet wherefore am I lost? rather recovered
from a deadly witchcraft; and upon his grave I will not gather
Rue, but Violets to bless my wedding strewings; good sir tell me,
are you certain be is dead?
Less.
Never, never to be recovered.
Why now sir, I do love you, with an entire heart, I
could dance methinks, never did wine or musick stir in woman,
a sweeter touch of Mirth, I will marry you, instantly marry you.
Less.
This woman has strange changes, you are ta'ne strangely
with his death.
Clare.
Ile give the reason I have to be thus extasied with
joy: know sir, that you have slain my deerest friend, and fatalest
enemy.
Less.
Most strange!
Clare.
'Tis true, you have ta'ne a mass of Lead from off my
heart, for ever would have sunk it in despair; when you beheld
me yesterday, I stood as if a Merchant walking on the Downs,
should see some goodly Vessel of his own sunk 'fore his face i'th
Harbor, and my heart retained no more heat then a man that
toyles, and vainly labors to put out the flames that burns his house
to'th bottom. I will tell you a strange concealement, sir, and till
this minute never revealed, and I will tell it now, smiling and
not blushing; I did love that Bonvyle, (not as I ought, but as a
woman might that's beyond reason,) I did doat upon him, tho
he near knew of't, and beholding him before my face wedded
unto another, and all my interest in him forfeited, I fell into despair,
and at that instant you urging your Suit to me, and I
thinking that I had been your onely friend i'th world, I heartily
did wish you would have kill'd that friend your self, to have ended
all my sorrow, and had prepared it, that unwittingly you
should have don't by poison.
Less.
Strange amazement!
Clare.
The effects of a strange Love.
Less.
'Tis a dream sure.
Clare.
No 'tis real sir, believe it.
Less.
Would it were not.
Clare.
What sir, you have done bravely, 'tis your Mistriss that
tells you, you have done so.
Less.
But my Conscience
Is of Councel 'gainst you, and pleads otherwise:
Vertue in her past actions glories still,
But vice throwes loathed looks on former ill.
But did you love this Bonvile?
Clare.
Strangely sir, almost to a degree of madness.
Less.
Trust a woman? never henceforward, I will rather trust
the winds which Lapland Witches sell to men, all that they have
is feign'd, their teeth, their hair, their blushes, nay their conscience
they cannot ye hide woman, that will appear and disgrace all.
The necessity of my fate! certain this woman has bewitched me
here, for I cannot chuse but love her. Oh how fatal this might
have proved, I would it had for me, it would not grieve me, tho
my sword had split his heart in sunder, I had then destroyed one
that may prove my Rival; oh but then what had my horror
bin, my guilt of conscience? I know some do ill at womens bidding
i'th Dog-days, and repent all the Winter after: no, I account
it treble happiness that Bonvile lives, but 'tis my chiefest glory
that our friendship is divided.
Clare.
Noble friend, why do you talk to your self?
Less.
Should you do so, you'd talk to an ill woman, fare you well,
for ever fare you well; I will do somewhat to make as fatal
breach and difference in Bonviles love as mine, I am fixt in't, my
melancholly and the devil shall fashion't.
Clare.
You will not leave me thus?
Less.
Leave you for ever, and may my friends blood whom
you loved so deerly, for ever lye impostumed in your breast, and
i'th end choak you. Womans cruelty
It must undo, or else it is undone.
Exit.
Clare.
I am every way lost, and no meanes to raise me, but
blest repentance: what two unvalued Jewels am I at once deprived
of? now I suffer deservedly, there's no prosperity settled,
Like Cross and Pile, and turns up which she will.
Enter Bonvile.
Friend?
Clare.
Oh you are the welcomest under heaven: Lessingham
did but fright me, yet I fear that you are hurt to danger.
Bon.
Not a scratch.
Clare.
Indeed you look exceeding
well, methinks.
Bon.
I have bin Sea-sick lately, and we count
that excellent Physick. How does my Annabel?
Clare.
As well sir, as the fear of such a loss as your esteemed
self, will suffer her.
Bon.
Have you seen Lessingham since he returned?
Clare.
He departed hence but now, and left with me
a report had almost kill'd me.
Bon.
What was that?
Clare.
That he had kill'd you.
So he has.
Clare.
You mock me.
Bon.
He has kill'd me for a friend, for ever silenc't all amity
between us; you may now go and embrace him, for he has fulfilled
the purpose of that Letter.
Gives her a Letter.
Clare.
Oh I know't.
And had you known this which I meant to have sent you an hour
'fore you were married to your wife, the Riddle had been construed.
Bon.
Strange! this expresses that you did love me.
Clare.
With a violent affection.
Bon.
Violent indeed; for it seems it was your purpose to have
ended it in violence on your friend: the unfortunate Lessingham
unwittingly should have been the Executioner.
Clare.
'Tis true.
Bon.
And do you love me still?
Clare.
I may easily confess it, since my extremity is such that
I must needs speak or die.
Bon.
And you would enjoy me though I am married?
Clare.
No indeed not I sir: you are to sleep with a sweet Bedfellow
would knit the brow at that.
Bon.
Come, come, a womans telling truth makes amends for
her playing false. You would enjoy me?
Clare.
If you were a Batchelor or Widower,
Afore all the great Ones living.
Bon.
But 'tis impossible to give you present satisfaction, for my
Wife is young and healthful; and I like the summer and the harvest
of our Love, which yet I have not tasted of, so well, that and
you'l credit me, for me her days shall ne're be shortned: let your
reason therefore turn you another way, and call to minde with
best observance, the accomplisht graces of that brave Gentleman
whom late you sent to his destruction: A man so every way deserving,
no one action of his in all his life time e're degraded
him from the honor he was born too; think how observant he'l
prove to you in nobler request, that so obeyed you in a bad one:
Of horror, to the killing of his friend,
He bore his steerage true in every part,
Led by the Compass of a noble heart.
Clare.
Why do you praise him thus? You said but now he was
utterly lost to you: now't appears you are friends, else you'd
Bon.
You mistake, utterly mistake that I am friends with him,
in speaking this good of him: To what purpose do I praise him?
onely to this fatal end, that you might fall in love and league
with him. And what worse office can I do i'th world unto my
enemy, than to endeavor by all means possible to marry him unto
a Whore? and there I think she stands.
Clare.
Is Whore a name to be beloved? if not, what reason
have I ever to love that man puts it upon me falsely? You have
wrought a strange alteration in me: were I a man, I would drive
you with my sword into the field, and there put my wrong to silence.
Go, y'are not worthy to be a womans friend in the least
part that concerns honorable reputation; for you are a Liar.
Bon.
I will love you now with a noble observance, if you will
continue this hate unto me: gather all those graces from whence
you have faln yonder, where you have left 'em in Lessingham, he
that must be your husband; And though henceforth I cease to be
his friend, I will appear his noblest enemy, and work reconcilement
'tween you.
Clare.
No, you shall not, you shall not marry him to a Strumpet;
for that word I shall ever hate you.
Less.
And for that one deed,
I shall ever love you. Come, convert your thoughts
To him that best deserves 'em, Lessingham.
It's most certain you have done him wrong,
But your repentance and compassion now
May make amends: disperse this melancholly,
And on that turn of Fortunes Wheel depend,
When all Calamities will mend, or end.
Exeunt.
Enter Compass, Raymond, Eustace, Lyonel, Grover.
Comp.
Gentlemen, as you have been witness to our Divorce,
You shall now be evidence to our next meeting,
Which I look for every minute, if you please Gentlemen.
Ray.
We came for the same purpose, man.
Comp.
I do think you'l see me come off with as smooth
A forehead, make my Wife as honest a woman once more,
As a man sometimes would desire, I mean of her rank,
And a teeming woman as she has been. Nay surely I
As a couple of unmarried people can beget; and let
It be begotten when the father is beyond Sea, as this
Was: do but note.
Enter Wife.
Eust.
'Tis that we wait for.
Comp.
You have waited the good hour: see, she comes, a little
room I beseech you, silence and observation.
Ray.
All your own, sir.
Comp.
Good morrow fair Maid.
Wife.
Mistaken in both sir, neither fair, nor Maid.
Comp.
No? a married woman.
Wife.
That's it I was sir, a poor widdow now.
Comp.
A widdow? Nay then I must make a little bold with
you, 'tis a kin to mine own case, I am a wiveless husband too, how
long have you been a widow pray? nay, do not weep.
Wife.
I cannot chuse to think the loss I had.
Comp.
He was an honest man to thee it seems.
Wife.
Honest quoth, a, oh.
Comp.
By my feck, and those
are great losses, an honest man is not to be found in every hole,
nor every street, if I took a whole parish in sometimes I might
say true, for stincking Mackarel may be cried for new.
Ray.
Some what sententious.
Eust.
Oh, silence was an Article enjoyned.
Comp.
And how long is it since you lost your honest husband?
Wife.
Oh the memory is too fresh, and your sight makes
my sorrow double.
Comp.
My sight? why was he like me?
Wife.
Your left hand to your right, is not more like.
Comp.
Nay then I cannot blame thee to weep, an honest man
I warrant him, and thou hadst a great loss of him; such a proportion,
so limb'd, so coloured, so fed.
Ray.
Yes faith, and so taught too.
Eust.
Nay, will you break the Law?
Wife.
Twins were never liker.
Comp.
Well, I love him the better, whatsoever is become of
him, and how many children did he leave thee at his departure?
Wife.
Onely one sir.
Comp.
A Boy, or a Girl?
Wife.
A Boy, Sir.
Comp.
Just mine one case still: my wife, rest her soul, left me a
Wife.
Yes if you call 'em so.
Comp.
I, mine is a chopping Boy, I mean to make either a
Cook or a Butcher of him, for those are your chopping Boys. And
what profession was your husband of?
Wife.
He went to Sea, sir, and there got his living.
Comp.
Mine own faculty too, and you can like a man of that
profession well?
Wife.
For his sweet sake whom I so deerly loved, more deerly
lost, I must think well of it.
Comp.
Must you? I do think then thou must venter to Sea
once agen, if thoul't be rul'd by me.
Wife.
Oh Sir, but there's one thing more burdensome to us,
then most of others wives, which moves me a little to distaste it,
long time we endure the absence of our husbands, sometimes
many years, and then if any slip in woman be, as long vacations
may make Lawyers hungry, and Tradesmen cheaper penny-worths
afford, (then otherwise they would for ready coin) scandals
fly out, and we poor fouls branded with wanton living, and incontinency,
when alas (consider) can we do withal?
Comp.
They are fools, and not saylors that do not consider
that, I'm sure your husband was not of that minde, if he were like
me.
Wife.
No indeed, he would bear kinde and honestly.
Comp.
He was the wiser, alack your land and fresh-water men
Never understand what wonders are done at Sea; yet
They may observe a shore, that a Hen having tasted
The Cock, kill him, and she shall lay Eggs afterwards.
Wife.
That's very true indeed.
Comp.
And so may women, why not? may not a man get two
or three children at once? One must be born before another, you
know.
Wife.
Even this discretion my sweet husband had:
You more and more resemble him.
Comp.
Then if they knew what things are done at sea, where
The Winds themselves do copulate, and bring forth issue,
As thus: In the old world there were but four in all,
As Nor, East, Sou, and West: these dwelt far from one another,
Sou-West, Nor-West, then they were eight; Of them
Were begotten Nor-Nor-East, Nor-Nor-West, Sou-Sou-East,
Sou-Sou-West, and those two Sows were Sou-East and Sou-West
Daughters, and indeed there is a family now of 32 of 'em,
That they have fill'd every corner of the world, and yet for
All this, you see these baudy Bellows-menders when they
Come ashore, will be offering to take up Womens coats
In the street.
Wife.
Still my husbands discretion!
Comp.
So I say, if your Land-men did understand that we send
Windes from Sea, to do our commendations to our wives, they
would not blame you as they do.
Wife.
We cannot help it.
Comp.
But you shall help it. Can you love me, widow?
Wife.
If I durst confess what I do think, sir,
I know what I would say.
Comp.
Durst confess? Why whom do you fear? here's none
but honest Gentlemen my friends; let them hear, and
Never blush for't.
Wife.
I shall be thought too weak to yeild at first.
Ray.
Tush, that's niceness; come, we heard all the rest,
The first true stroke of love sinks thee deepest,
If you love him, say so.
Comp.
I have a Boy of mine own, I tell you that afore-hand,
You shall not need to fear me that way.
Wife.
Then I do love him.
Comp.
So here will be man and wife to morrow then, what though
We meet strangers, we may love one another
Ne'r the worse for that. Gentlemen, I invite
You all to my Wedding.
Omnes.
We'l all attend it.
Comp.
Did not I tell you, I would fetch it off fair, let any
Man lay a Cuckold to my charge, if he dares now.
Ray.
'Tis slander who ever does it.
Comp.
Nay, it will come to Petty Lassery at least, and without
Compass of the general pardon too, or I'le bring him to a
Foul sheet, if he has ne're a clean one, or let me
Eust.
None will adventure any of those.
Comp.
Or that my wife that shall be, is not as honest a woman,
as some other mens wives are?
Ray.
No question of that.
Comp.
How fine and fleek my brows are now?
Eust.
I when you are married, they'l come to themselves agen.
Comp.
You may call me Bridegroom if you please now,
For the Guests are bidden.
Omnes.
Good Master Bridegroom.
Comp.
Come Widow then, ere the next Ebb and Tide,
If I be Bridegroom thou shalt be the Bride.
Exeunt.
| A Cure for a Cuckold | |