 | A York-shire Tragedy |  |
Oliver.
Sirra
Raphe, my young Mistris is in such a pittifull
passionate humour for the long absence
of her Love.
Raphe.
Why can you blame her, why, Apples
hanging longer on the tree then when they are ripe,
makes so many falling, viz. Mad wenches because they are
not gathered in time, are fain to drop of themselves, and
then 'tis common you know for every man to take them
up.
Oliver.
Masse thou saist true, 'tis common indeed, but
sirrah, is neither our young Master returned, nor our fellow
Sam come from London?
Raphe.
Neither of either, as the Puritan Bawd sayes.
'Slid I hear Sam, Sam's come, here tarry, come ifaith,
now my nose itches for news.
Oliv.
And so doth mine elbow.
Sam
calls within.
Where are you there?
Sam.
Boy, look you walk my horse with discretion,
I have rid him simply, I warrant his skin sticks to his
back with very heat, if he should catch cold and get the
cough of the lungs, I were well served, were I not? What
Raph and Oliver.
Am.
Honest fellow Sam, welcome ifaith, what tricks
hast thou brought from London?
Furnisht with things from London.
Sam.
You see I am hang'd after the truest fashion,
three Hats, and two Glasses bobbing upon them, two rebato
wyers upon my brest, a Capcase by my side, a Brush
at my back, an Almanack in my pocket, and three Ballats
in my codpiece, nay I am the true picture of a common
servingman.
Oliv.
I'le swear thou art, thou maist set up when thou
wilt, there's many a one begins with lesse I can tell thee,
that proves a rich man ere he dies, but what's the news
from London, Sam?
Raph.
I that's well sed, what is the news from London,
sirrah. My young Mistris keeps such a puling for her
Love.
Sam.
Why the more fool she, I, the more ninny-hammer
she.
Oliv.
Why Sam, why?
Sam.
Why, he is married to another, long ago.
Amb.
Faith ye jest.
Sam.
Why, did you not know that till now? Why
he's married, beats his wife, and has two or three children
by her: for you must note, that any woman bears
the more when she is beaten.
Raphe.
I that's true, for she bears the blows.
Oliv.
Sirrah Sam, I would not for two years wages
my young Mistris knew so much, she'd run upon the left
hand of her wit, and nere be her own woman again.
Sam.
And I think she was blest in her Cradle, that
he never came in her bed, why he has consumed all,
pawn'd his Lands, and made his University Brother
stand in wax for him; There's a fine phrase for a Scrivener,
puh, he ows more then his skin is worth.
Oliver.
Is't possible?
Sam.
Nay, I'le tell you moreover, he calls his Wife
whore, as familiarly as one would call Moll and Doll, and
children bastards, as naturally as can be, but what have
we here? I thought 'twas something pull'd down my
Breeches: I quite forgot my two poting sticks, these came
from London, now any thing is good here that comes from
London.
Oliver.
I, far fetcht you know.
Sam.
But speak in your conscience ifaith, have not we
as good poting sticks i'th' Country as need to be put i'th
fire, the mind of a thing is all, and as thou said'st even
now, far fetcht are the best things far Ladies.
Oliv.
I, and for waiting gentlewomen too.
Sam.
But Raphe, is our beer sower this thunder?
Raph.
No, no, it holds countenance yet.
Sam.
Why then follow me, I'le teach you the finest
humour to be drunk in, I learn'd it at London last week.
Amb.
Faith let's hear it, let's hear it.
Sam.
The bravest humour, 'twould do a man good to
be drunk in it, they call it knighting in London, when
they drink upon their knees.
Amb.
Faith that's excellent.
Come follow me, I'le give you all the degrees of it in order.
Exeunt.
Enter Wife.
Wife.
What will become of us? all will away,
My husband never ceases in expence,
Both to consume his credit and his house.
And 'tis set down by heavens just decree,
That Riots child must needs be beggery.
Are these the vertues that his youth did promise?
Taking his bed with surfets. Ill beseeming
The ancient honour of his House and Name:
And this not all, but that which kills me most,
When he recounts his losses and false fortunes,
The weaknesse of his state so much dejected,
Not as a man repentant, but half mad,
His fortunes cannot answer his expence:
He sits and sullenly locks up his armes,
Forgetting heaven, looks downward, which makes
Him appear so dreadfull, that he frights my heart:
Walks heavily, as if his soule were earth;
Not penitent for those his sins are past,
But vext, his money cannot make them last:
A fearfull melancholy, ungodly sorrow.
Oh yonder he comes, now in despight of ills
I'le speak to him, and I will hear him speak,
And do my best to drive it from his heart.
Enter Husband.
Hus.
Pox of the last throw, it made
Five hundred Angels vanish from my sight:
I'me damn'd, Ime damn'd, the Angels have forsook me;
Nay 'tis certainly true: for he that has no coyn,
Is damn'd in this world; he's gone, he's gone.
Wife.
Dear Husband.
Hus.
Oh! most punishment of all, I have a Wife.
Wife.
I doe entreat you as you love your soule,
Tell me the cause of this your discontent.
Hus.
A vengeance strip thee naked, thou art cause,
Effect, quality, property, thou, thou, thou.
Exit.
Wife.
Bad turn'd to worse?
Both beggery of the soule as of the body,
And so much unlike himself at first,
As if some vexed spirit had got his form upon him.
Enter Husband again.
He comes again,
He sayes I am the cause, I never yet
Spoke lesse then words of duty and of love.
Hus.
If marriage be honourable, then Cuckolds are
honourable, for they cannot be made without marriage.
Now must my eldest Son be a Knave or nothing, he cannot
live but upoth' fool, for he will have no Land to
maintain him: that morgage sits like a snaffle upon mine
inheritance, and makes me chaw upon Iron.
Thief, or an under-putter, a Slave Pander.
Oh beggery, beggery, to what base uses doth it put a man.
I think the Devil scorns to be a Bawd:
He beares himself more proudly, has more care on his
credite.
Wi.
Good sir, by all our vowes I doe beseech you,
Shew me the true cause of your discontent.
Hus.
Mony, mony, mony, and thou must supply me.
Wi.
Alass, I am the least cause of your discontent.
Yet what is mine, either in Rings or Jewels,
Use to your own desire, but I beseech you,
As you are a Gentleman by many bloods,
Though I my self be out of your respect,
Think on the state of these three lovely boyes
You have been Father to.
Hus.
Puh, Bastards, Bastards, Bastards, begot in tricks,
begot in tricks.
Wi.
Heaven knowes how those words wrong me,
But I'le endure these griefs among a thousand more:
Oh call to mind your Lands already morgag'd,
Your self wound into debts, your hopefull Brother
At the University into bonds for you,
Like to be seiz'd upon. And—
Hus.
Ha done, thou Harlot,
Whom though for fashion I married,
I never could abide. Think'st thou thy words
Shall kill my pleasure? fall off to thy friends,
Thou and thy Bastards beg, I will not bate
A whit in humour: Midnight still I love you,
And revel in your company: curb'd in?
Shall it be said in all societies,
That I broke custome? that I flagd in money?
No, those thy Jewels I will play as freely,
As when my state was fullest.
Wife.
Be it so.
Hus.
Nay I protest, and take that for an earnest,
He spurns her.
I will for ever hold thee in contempt,
And never touch the Sheets that cover thee,
But be divorc't in bed, till thou consent,
Thy dowry shall be sold to give new life
Unto those pleasures which I most affect.
Wife.
Sir, do but turn a gentle eye on me,
And what the law shall give me leave to do,
You shall command.
Hus.
Look it be done, shall I want dust,
And like a Slave wear nothing in my pockets,
Holds his Hands in his Pockets.
But my hands to fill them up with nayles?
Oh much against my blood, let it be done,
I was never made to be a loker on:
A Bawde to Dice; I'le shake the Drabs my self,
And make them yield, I say look it be done.
Wife.
I take my leave, it shall.
Exit.
Hus.
Speedily, speedily, I hate the very hour I chose
a Wife, a trouble, trouble, three Children like three evils
hang upon me, fie, fie, fie, strumpet and bastards, strumpet
and bastards.
Enter three Gentlemen, hearing him.
1. Gent.
Still do these loathsome thoughts jar on your
Tongue?
Nobly discended; those whom men call mad,
Endangers others, but he's more then mad
That wounds himself, whose own words
Do proclaime it is not fit, I pray forsake it.
2. Gen.
Good sir, let modesty reprove you.
3. Gen.
Let honest kindness sway so much with you.
Hus.
God den, I thank you, sir, how do you? adieu, I
am glad to see you, farewell Instructions, Admonitions.
Enter a Servant.
How now sirrha? what would you?
Ser.
Onely to certifie you, sir, that my Mistresse was
met by the way, by them who were sent for her up to
London by her honourable Unckle, your Worships late
Guardian.
Hus.
So, sir, then she is gone, and so may you be,
Or hell will stand more pleasant then her house at home.
Exit Servant.
Enter a Gentleman.
Gent.
Well or ill met, I care not.
Hus.
No nor I.
Gent.
I am come with confidence to chide you.
Hus.
Who me? chide me? do't finely then, let it not
move me, for if thou chid'st me angry, I shall strike.
Gent.
Strike thine own follies, for it is they
Deserve to be well beaten; we are now in private,
There's none but thou and I, thou art fond and peevish,
An unclean Rioter, thy lands and credit
Lie now both sick of a consumption,
I am sorry for thee; that man spends with shame,
That with his riches doth consume his name,
And such art thou.
Hus.
Peace.
Gent.
No, thou shalt hear me further.
Thy fathers and fore-fathers worthy honours,
Which were our Countrey monuments, our grace,
Follies in thee begin now to deface.
The spring time of thy youth did fairly promise
Such a most fruitfull summer to thy friends,
It scarce can enter into mens beliefs,
Such dearth should hang on thee, we that see it,
Are sorry to believe it: in thy change,
This voice into all places will be hurld:
Thou and the Devil has deceiv'd the world.
Hus.
I'le not endure thee.
Gent.
But of all the worst,
Thy virtuous wife, right honourably allied,
Thou hast proclaim'd a strumpet.
Hus.
Nay then I know thee,
Thou art lier Champion thou, her private friend,
The party you wot on.
Gent.
Oh ignoble thought,
I am past my patient bloud, shall I stand idle
And see my reputation toucht to death?
Hus.
This has gal'd you, has it?
Gent.
No monster, I prove
My thoughts did onely tend to virtuous love.
Hus.
Love of her virtues? there it goes.
Gent.
Base spirit, to lay thy hate upon
The fruitfull honour of thine own bed.
They fight, and the Husband is hurt.
Hus.
Oh.
Gent.
Wilt thou yield it yet?
Hus.
Sir, sir, I have not done with you.
Gent.
I hope, nor ne're shall do.
Fight agen.
Hus.
Have you got tricks? are you in cunning with me?
Gent.
No, plain and right.
He needs no cunning that for truth doth fight.
Husband falls down.
Hus.
Hard fortune, am I level'd with the ground?
Gent.
Now, sir, you lie at mercy.
Hus.
I, you slave.
Gent.
Alas, that hate should bring us to our grave,
You see, my Sword's not thirsty for your life,
I am sorrier for your wound, then your self;
Y'are of a virtuous house, shew virtuous deeds,
'Tis not your honour, 'tis your folly bleeds:
Much good has been expected in your life,
Cancel not all mens hopes, you have a Wife,
Kind and obedient: heap not wrongfull shame
On her and your posterity: let only sin be sore,
And by this fall, rise never to fall more.
And so I leave you.
Exit.
Hus.
Has the dog left me then,
After his tooth hath left me? Oh, my heart
Would fain leap after him, revenge I say,
I'me mad to be reveng'd, my strumpet Wife,
It is thy quarrel that rips thus my flesh,
And makes my breast spit bloud, but thou shalt bleed:
Vanquisht? got down? unable e'en to speak?
Surely 'tis want of money makes men weak,
I, 'twas that ore-threw me, I'de nere been down else.
Exit.
Enter Wife in a riding-sute, with a Serving-man.
Ser.
Faith Mistress, if it may not be presumption
In me to tell you so, for his excuse
You had small reason, knowing his abuse.
Wife.
I grant I had, but alas,
Why should our faults at home be spread abroad?
'Tis grief enough within doors; at first sight
Mine Uncle could run o're his prodigal life
As perfectly, as if his serious eye
Had numbred all his follies:
Knew of his morgag'd lands, his friends in bonds,
Himself withered with debt; and in that minute
Had I added his usage and unkindness,
'Twould have confounded every thought of good:
Where now, fathering his riots on his youth,
Which time and tame experience will shake off,
Guessing his kindness to me (as I smooth'd him
With all the skill I had) though his deserts
Are in form uglier then an unshapt Bear.
He's ready to prefer him to some Office
And place at Court: a good and sure releif
To all his stooping fortunes, 'twill be a means, I hope,
To make new league between us, and redeem
His virtues with his lands.
Ser.
I should think so: Mistress, if he should not now
be kind to you, and love you, and cherish you up, I should
think the Devil himself kept open house in him.
Wife.
I doubt not but he will now, prythee leave me,
I think I hear him coming.
Serv.
I am gone.
Exit.
Wife.
By this good means I shall preserve my lands,
And free my husband out of Usurers hands:
Now there is no need of sale, my Uncle's kind,
I hope, if ought, this will content his mind.
Here comes my husband.
Enter Husband.
Hus.
Now, are you come? where's the money? let's
see the money, is the rubbish sold? those wiseakers your
Lands, why then, the money, where is it? poure it
down, down with it, down with it; I say pour't on the
groound, let's see it, let's see it.
Wife.
Good sir, keep but in patience, and I hope
My words shall like you well, I bring you better
Comfort then the sale of my Dowry.
Hus.
Ha, what's that?
Wife.
Pray do not fright me, sir, but vouchsafe me hearing.
My Uncle, glad of your kindness to me and mild useage
(for so I made it to him) hath in pitty of your declining
fortunes, provided a place for you at Court, of worth
and credit; which so much overjoyed me—
Hus.
Out on thee, filth, over and over-joyed,
When I'me in torment.
spurns her.
Thou politick whore, subtiller then nine Devils, was
me, my state and fortunes:
Shall I, that dedicated my self to pleasure, be now confin'd
in service to crouch, and stand like an old man ith'
hams, my Hat off? I that could never abide to uncover
my head ith' Church: base slut, this fruit beares thy complaints.
Wife.
Oh, heaven knowes,
That my complaints were praises, and best words
Of you, and your estate; onely my friends
Knew of your morgag'd Lands, and were possest
Of every accident before I came.
If you suspect it but a plot in me,
To keep my dowry, or for mine own good,
Or my poor Childrens (though it suits a mother
To shew a naturall care in their reliefs)
Yet I'le forget my self to calme your blood,
Consume it, as your pleasure counsels you,
And all I wish, e'ne Clemency affords,
Give me but pleasant looks, and modest words.
Hus.
Mony, whore, mony, or I'le.—
draws his dagger.
Enter a Servant hastily.
What the Devil? how now thy hasty newes?
Ser.
May it please you, sir.
Hus.
What, may I not look upon my Dagger?
Speak, Villain, or I will execute the point on thee:
quick, short.
Ser.
Why sir, a Gentleman from the University stayes
below to speak with you.
Hus.
From the University? so, University,
That long word runs through me.
Exit.
Wife.
Was ever Wife so wretchedly beset?
Had not this newes stept in between, the point
Had offered violence unto my breast.
That which some women call great misery,
Would shew but little here, would scarce be seen
Among my miseries: I may compare
For wretched fortunes, with all Wives that are,
Nothing will please him, untill all be nothing.
He calls it slavery to be preferr'd,
A place of credit, a base servitude.
What shall become of me, and my poor Children?
Two here, and one at Nurse, my pretty beggars,
I see how ruine with a palsie hand
Begins to shake the ancient seat to dust:
The heavy weight of sorrow drawes my lids
Over my dankish eyes: I can scarce see;
Thus grief will last, it wakes and sleeps with me.
Enter the Husband with the Master of the Colledge.
Hus.
Please you draw near, sir, y'are exceeding welcome.
Ma.
That's my doubt, I fear I come not to be welcome.
Hus.
Yes, howsoever.
Ma.
'Tis not my fashion, sir, to dwell in long circumstance,
but to be plain and effectuall; therefore to
the purpose.
The cause of my setting forth was pittious and lamentable;
that hopefull young Gentleman your Brother, whose
virtues we all love dearly, through your default and unnaturall
negligence, lies in bond executed for your debt, a
prisoner, all his studies amazed, his hope struck dead, and
the pride of his youth muffled in these dark clouds of oppression.
Hus.
Hum, hum, hum.
Mast.
Oh you have kill'd the towardest hope of all
our University, wherefore without repentance and amends,
expect ponderous and sudden judgements to fall
grievously upon you; your Brother, a man who profited
in his divine employments, and might have made ten
thousand soules fit for heaven, now by your carelesse
courses cast in prison, which you must answer for, and
assure your spirit it will come home at length.
Hus.
Oh God, oh.
Ma.
Wise men think ill of you, others speak ill of you, no
man loves you, nay, even those whom honesty condemns,
condemns you: and take this from the virtuous affection
I bear your Brother, never look for prosperous hour,
good thought, quiet sleeps, contented walks, nor any
thing that makes man perfect, till you redeem him: what
is your answer? how will you bestow him? upon desperate
misery, or better hopes? I suffer till I hear your answer.
Hus.
Sir, you have much wrought with me, I feel you
in my soule, you are your Arts master.
I never had sence till now; your syllables have cleft me,
both for your words and pains I thank you: I cannot
but acknowledge grievous wrongs done to my Brother,
mighty, mighty, mighty, mighty wrongs.
Enter a Servingman.
Hus.
Fill me a Bowle of Wine. Alass poor Brother,
Bruised with an execution for my sake.
Ma.
A bruise indeed makes many a mortall sore,
Till the Grave cure them.
Enter with Wine.
Hus.
Sir, I begin to you, y'ave chid your welcome.
Ma.
I could have wisht it better for your sake,
I pledge you, sir, to the kind man in prison.
Hus.
Let it be so.
Now, sir, if you so please, to spend but a few minutes in
walking about my grounds below, my man shall here
attend you: I doubt not but by that time to be furnisht
of a sufficient answer, and therein my Brother fully satisfied.
Ma.
Good sir, in that the Angels would be pleased,
and the worlds murmures calm'd, and I should say, I set
forth then upon a lucky day.
Exit.
Hus.
O thou confused man, thy pleasant sins have undone
thee, thy damnation has begger'd thee, that heaven
should say we must not sin, and yet made women: gives
our sences way to find pleasure, which being found, confounds
us, why should we know those things so much
misuse us? Oh would virtue had been forbidden, we
should then have proved all virtuous, for 'tis our blood
to love what we are forbidden, what man would have
been forbidden, what man would have been fool to a
beast, and zany to a swine, to shew tricks in the mire,
what is there in three Dice, to make a man draw thrice
three thousand acres into the compasse of a little round table,
and with the Gentlemans palsie in the hand shake
out his posterity, thieves, or beggars; 'tis done, I have
don't ifaith: terrible, horrible misery,—how well
was I left, very well, very well.
My Lands shewed like a Full-Moon about me, but
now the Moon's in the last quarter, waining, waining,
and I am mad to think that Moon was mine:
generations, down goes the house of us, down, down it
sinks: Now is the name a beggar, begs in me that name
which hundreds of years has made this Shire famous; in
me and my posterity runs out.
In my seed five are made miserable besides my self,
my Riot is now my Brothers Jaylor, my Wifes sighing,
my three boyes penury, and mine own confusion.
Why sit my hairs upon my cursed head?
Will not this poison scatter them? oh my Brother's
In execution among devils that stretch him:
And make him give; and I in want,
Not able for to live, nor to redeem him.
Divines and dying men may talk of hell,
But in my heart her several torments dwell,
Slavery and misery. Who in this case
Would not take up money upon his soul?
Pawn his salvation, live at interest:
I, that did ever in abundance dwell,
For me to want, exceeds the throws of hell.
Enter his little son, with a Top and Scourge.
Son.
What aile you father, are you not well, I cannot
scourge my Top as long as you stand so: you take up all
the room with your wide legs, puh, you cannot make me
afraid with this, I fear no vizards, nor bugbears.
He takes up the child by the skirts of his long coat in one hand, and draws his dagger with the other.
Hus.
Up sir, for here thou hast no inheritance left.
Son.
Oh what will you do father, I am your white
boy.
Strikes him.
Hus.
Thou shalt be my red boy, take that.
Son.
Oh you hurt me father.
Hus.
My eldest beggar, thou shalt not live to ask an
usurer bred, to cry at a great mans gate, or follow, good
your Honour by a Coach, no, nor your brother: 'tis charity
to brain you.
Son.
How shall I learn now my head's broke?
Hus.
Bleed, bleed, rather then beg, beg,
stabs him.
Be not thy names disgrace:
Spurn thou thy fortunes first, if they be base:
Come view thy second Brother: Fates,
My childrens bloud shall spin into your faces,
You shall see,
How confidently we scorn beggery.
Exit with his son.
Enter a maid with a child in her armes, the Mother by her asleep.
Maid.
Sleep sweet babe, sorrow makes thy mother sleep,
It boads small good when heavinesse falls so deep,
Hush, pretty boy, thy hopes might have bin better,
'Tis lost at Dice, what ancient honour won,
Hard when the father plaies away the Son:
Nothing but misery serves in this house,
Ruine and desolation; oh.
Enter Husband with the Boy bleeding.
Hus.
Whore, give me that Boy.
He strives with her for the child.
Maid.
Oh help, help, out alas, murder, murder.
Hus.
Are you gossiping, prating sturdy quean,
I'le break your clamour with your neck,
Down stayers; tumble, tumble, headlong,
He throws her down.
So, the surest way to charme a womans tongue,
Is break her neck, a Polititain did it.
Son.
Mother, mother, I am kill'd mother.
His wife awakes, and catcheth up the youngest.
Wife.
Ha, who's that cry'd? O me my children,
Both, both; bloudy, bloudy.
Hus.
Strumpet, let go the boy, let go the beggar.
Wife.
Oh my sweet husband.
Hus.
Filth, Harlot.
Wife.
Oh, what will you do, dear husband?
Hus.
Give me the bastard.
Wife.
Your own sweet boy.
Hus.
There are too many beggars.
Wife.
Good my husband.
Hus.
Do'st thou prevent me still?
Wife.
Oh God!
Stabs at the child in her armes, and gets it from her.
Hus.
Have at his heart.
Wife.
Oh my dear boy.
Hus.
Brat, thou shalt not live to shame thy house.
Wife.
Oh heaven.
She is hurt and sinks down.
Hus.
And perish, now be gone,
There's whores enow, and want would make thee one.
Enter a lusty Servant.
Ser.
Oh sir, what deeds are these?
Hus.
Base slave, my vassail,
Com'st thou between my fury to question me?
Ser.
Were you the devil, I would hold you, sir.
Hus.
Hold me? presumption, I'le undo thee for it.
Ser.
'Sbloud, you have undone us all, sir.
Hus.
Tug at thy Master?
Ser.
Tug at a monster.
Hus.
Have I no power? shall my slave fetter me?
Ser.
Nay then the devil wrastles, I am thrown.
Husband overcomes him.
Hus.
Oh villain, now I'le tug thee, now I'le tear thee,
set quick spurs to my vassail, bruise him, trample him;
so, I think thou wilt not follow me in haste.
Now to my brat at nurse, my sucking beggar;
Fates, I'le not leave you one to trample on.
The Master meets him.
Mr.
How is't with you sir, me-thinks you look of a
distracted colour.
Hus.
Who, I sir? 'tis but your fancy,
Please you walk in, sir, and I'le soon resolve you,
I want one small part to make up the sum,
And then my brother shall rest satisfied.
M.
I shall be glad to see it, sir, I'le attend you.
Exeunt.
Ser.
Oh, I am scarce able to heave up my self,
He has so bruis'd me with his devillish weight,
And torn my flesh with his bloud-hasty spur,
A man before of easie constitution,
Till now hells power supplied, to his souls wrong,
Oh how damnation can make weak men strong.
Enter Master and two servants.
Ser.
Oh the most pittious deed, sir, since you came.
Mr.
A deadly greeting; hath he sum'd up these
And by the bleeding infants, the dead mother.
Wife.
Oh, oh.
Ma.
Surgeons, Surgeons, she recovers life,
One of his men all faint and bloudied.
1. Ser.
Follow, our murderous Master has took
Horse to kill his child at nurse, oh follow quickly.
Ma.
I am the readiest, it shall be my charge
To raise the Town upon him.
Exit Master and Servants.
1. Ser.
Good sir follow him.
Wife.
Oh my children.
1. Ser.
How is it my most afflicted Mistress?
Wife.
Why do I now recover? why half live?
To see my children bleed before mine eyes,
A sight, able to kill a Mothers breast without an Executioner;
what, art thou mangled too?
1. Ser.
I thinking to prevent what his quick mischiefs
had so soon acted, came and rusht upon him,
Ore-threw me with his armes, then he did bruise me,
And rent my flesh, and rob'd me of my hair,
Like a man mad in execution,
Made me unfit to rise and follow him.
Wife.
What is it hath beguil'd him of all grace?
And stole away humanity from his breast,
To slay his children, purposed to kill his wife,
And spoil his servants.
Enter two Servants.
Both.
Please you leave this accursed place,
A Surgeon waits within.
Wife.
Willing to leave it;
'Tis guilty of sweet bloud, innocent bloud,
Murder hath took this chamber with full hands,
And will not out as long as the house stands.
Exeunt.
Enter Husband, as being thrown off his horse, and falls.
Hus.
Oh stumbling Jade, the spavin overtake thee,
The fifty diseases stop thee:
Oh, I am sorely bruis'd, plague founder thee,
Thou run'st at ease and pleasure, heart of chance,
To throw me now, within a flight o'th'Town,
In such plain even ground,
Sfoot, a man may dice upon it, and throw away the
Meadows, ah filthy beast.
Cry within.
Follow, follow, follow.
Hus.
Ha? I hear sounds of men, like hue and cry;
Up, up, and struggle to my horse, make on,
Dispatch that little Beggar, and all's done.
Cry within.
Here, this way, this way.
Hus.
At my back? oh,
What fate have I, my limbs deny me to go,
My will is bated, Beggery claims a part,
Oh I could here reach to the infants heart.
Enter Master of the Colledge, three Gentlemen, and others with Halberds.
All.
Here, here, yonder, yonder.
Ma.
Unnatural, flinty, more then barbarous,
The Scythians in their marble-hearted fates,
Could not have acted more remorseless deeds
In their relentless natures, then these of thine:
Was this the answer I long waited on,
The satisfaction for thy prisoned brother?
Hus.
He can have no more of us, then our skins,
And some of them want but fleaing.
1. Gent.
Great sinnes have made him impudent.
Ma.
Has shed so much bloud, that he cannot blush.
2. Gent.
Away with him, bear him to the Justices,
A Gentleman of worship dwells at hand,
There shall his deeds be blazed.
Hus.
Why all the better,
My glory 'tis to have my action known,
I grieve for nothing, but I mist of one.
Ma.
There's little of a father in that grief:
Bear him away.
Exeunt.
Enter a Knight, with two or three Gentlemen.
Knight.
Endangered so his Wife, murdered his
Children?
1. Gent.
So the cry goes.
Knight.
I am sorry I e're knew him.
That ever he took life and natural being
From such an honoured stock, and fair descent,
Till this black minute without stain or blemish.
1. Gent.
Here come the men.
Enter the Master of the Colledge, and the rest with the Prisoner.
Knight.
The Serpent of his house: I'me sorry for this
time, that I am in place of justice.
Ma.
Please you, sir.
Knight.
Do not repeat it twice, I know too much,
Would it had nere been thought on.
Sir, I bleed for you.
1. Gent.
Your father's sorrows are alive in me:
What made you shew such monstrous cruelty?
Hus.
In a word, sir,
I have consum'd all, plaid away long acre,
And I thought it the charitablest deed I could do,
To cozen Beggery, and knock my house o'th'head.
Kni.
I do not think, but in to morrow's judgement,
The terrour will sit closer to your soul,
When the dread thought of Death remembers you;
To further which, take this sad voice from me,
Never was act plaid more unnaturally.
Hus.
I thank you, Sir.
Knight.
Go lead him to the Jayle.
Where justice claims all, there must pitty fail.
Hus.
Come, come, away with me.
Exit Prisoner.
Ma.
Sir, you deserve the worship of you place,
Would all did so, in you the Law is grace.
Knight.
It is my wish it should be so;
Ruinous man, the desolation of his house,
The blot upon his predecessor's honour'd name:
That man is nearest shame, that is past shame.
Exit.
Enter Husband with the Officers, the Master and Gentlemen, as going by his house.
Hus.
I am right against my house, seat of my Ancestors:
I hear my Wife's alive, but much endangered;
let me intreat to speak with her before the prison
gripe me.
Gent.
See here she comes of her self.
Wife.
Oh my sweet husband, my deer distressed husband,
now in the hands of unrelenting laws, my greatest
sorrow, my extreamest bleeding; now my soul bleeds.
Hus.
How now? kind to me? did not I wound
thee, leave thee for dead?
Wife.
Tut, far greater wounds did my breast feel,
Unkindnesse strikes a deeper wound then steel,
You have been still unkind to me.
Hus.
Faith, and so I think I have;
I did my murders roughly out of hand,
Desperate and sudden, but thou hast devis'd
A fine way now to kill me, thou hast given mine eyes
Seaven wounds apiece; now glides the devil from
Me, departs at every joint, heaves up my nails.
Oh catch him new torments, that were nere invented:
Bind him one thousand more you blessed Angels,
In that bottomlesse pit, let him not rise
To make men act unnatural Tragedies,
To spread into a Father, and in fury,
Make him his childrens executioners,
Murder his wife, his servants, and who not?
For that man's dark, where heaven is quite forgot.
Wife.
Oh my repentant husband.
Hus.
My dear soul, whom I too much have wrong'd
For death I die, and for this have I long'd.
Wife.
Thou should'st not (be assured) for these faults
Die, if the law could forgive as soon as I.
Children laid out.
Hus.
What sight is yonder?
Wife.
Oh our two bleeding boyes
Laid forth upon the threshold.
Hus.
Here's weight enough to make a heart-string crack,
Oh were it lawfull that your pretty souls
Might look from heaven into your fathers eyes,
Then should you see the penitent glasses melt,
And both your murders shoot upon my cheeks,
But you are playing in the Angels laps,
And will not look on me,
Who void of grace, kill'd you in beggery.
Oh that I might my wishes now attain,
I should then wish you living were again;
Though I did beg with you, which thing I fear'd,
Oh 'twas the enemy my eyes so blear'd.
Oh would you could pray heaven me to forgive,
That will unto my end repentant live.
Wife.
It makes me e'en forget all other sorrows,
And leave part with this.
Officer.
Come, will you go?
Hus.
I'le kisse the bloud I spilt, and then I'le go,
My soul is bloudied, well may my lips be so.
Farewell dear Wife, now thou and I must part,
I of thy wrongs, repent me with my heart.
Wife.
Oh stay. thou shalt not go.
Hus.
That's but in vain, you see it must be so.
Farewell ye bloudy ashes of my boyes,
My punishments are their eternal joyes.
Let every father look well into his deeds,
And then their heirs may prosper, while mine bleeds.
Exeunt Husband with Officers.
Wife.
More wretched am I now in this distresse.
Then former sorrows made me.
Mr.
Oh kind Wife, be comforted,
One joy is yet unmurdered,
you have a boy at nurse, your joy's in him.
Wife.
Dearer then all is my poor husband's life:
Heaven give my body strength, which is yet faint
With much expence of bloud, and I will kneel,
Sue for his life, number up all my friends,
To plead for pardon for my dear husbandls life.
Mr.
Was it in man to wound so kind a creature?
I'le ever praise a woman for thy sake.
I must return with grief, my answer's set,
I shall bring news weighes heavier then the debt.
Two Brothers; the one in bond lies overthrown,
This, on a deadlier execution.
| A York-shire Tragedy | |