A Select Collection of Old English Plays - novelonlinefull.com
You’re read light novel A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Ix Part 18 online at NovelOnlineFull.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit NovelOnlineFull.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
FUL. Then did he not, Either by poison or some other plot, Send you to death where, by his providence, G.o.d hath preserved you by that wond'rous miracle?
Nay, after death, hath he not scandalis'd Your place with an immodest courtesan?
ANS. And can you love him yet?
MRS ART. And yet, and yet, And still, and ever whilst I breathe this air: Nay, after death, my unsubstantial soul, Like a good angel, shall attend on him, And keep him from all harm.
But is he married? much good do his heart!
Pray G.o.d, she may content him better far Than I have done; long may they live in peace, Till I disturb their solace; but because I fear some mischief doth hang o'er his head, I'll weep my eyes dry with my present care, And for their healths make hoa.r.s.e my tongue with prayer.
[_Exit_.
FUL. Art sure she is a woman? if she be, She is create of nature's purity.
ANS. O yes, I too well know she is a woman; Henceforth my virtue shall my love withstand, And of my striving thoughts get th'upper hand.
FUL. Then, thus resolv'd, I straight will drink to thee A health thus deep, to drown thy melancholy.
[_Exeunt_.
ACT V., SCENE I.
_A Room in Mistress Mary's House_.
_Enter_ MISTRESS MARY, YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, BRABO, _and_ MISTRESS SPLAY.
MRS MA. Not have my will! yes, I will have my will; Shall I not go abroad but when you please?
Can I not now and then meet with my friends, But, at my coming home, you will control me?
Marry, come up!
Y. ART. Where art thou, patience?
Nay, rather, where's become my former spleen?
I had a wife would not have us'd me so.
MRS MA. Why, you Jacksauce! you cuckold! you what-not!
What, am I not of age sufficient To go and come still, when my pleasure serves, But must I have you, sir, to question me?
Not have my will! yes, I will have my will.
Y. ART. I had a wife would not have us'd me so; But she is dead.
BRA. Not have her will, sir! she shall have her will: She says she will, and, sir, I say she shall.
Not have her will! that were a jest indeed; Who says she shall not? if I be dispos'd To man her forth, who shall find fault with it?
What's he that dare say black's her eye?[21]
Though you be married, sir, yet you must know, That she was ever born to have her will.
MRS SPLAY. Not have her will! G.o.d's pa.s.sion! I say still, A woman's n.o.body that wants her will.
Y. ART. Where is my spirit? what, shall I maintain A strumpet with a Brabo and her bawd, To beard me out of my authority?
What, am I from a master made a slave?
MRS MA. A slave? nay, worse; dost thou maintain my man, And this my maid? 'tis I maintain them both.
I am thy wife; I will not be dress'd so, While thy gold lasts; but then most willingly I will bequeath thee to flat beggary.
I do already hate thee; do thy worst; [_He threatens her_.
Nay, touch me, if thou dar'st; what, shall he beat me?
BRA. I'll make him seek his fingers 'mongst the dogs, That dares to touch my mistress; never fear, My sword shall smoothe the wrinkles of his brows, That bends a frown upon my mistress.
Y. ART. I had a wife would not have us'd me so: But G.o.d is just.
MRS MA. Now, Arthur, if I knew What in this world would most torment thy soul, That I would do; would all my evil usage Could make thee straight despair and hang thyself!
Now, I remember:--where is Arthur's man, Pipkin? that slave! go, turn him out of doors; None that loves Arthur shall have house-room here.
_Enter_ PIPKIN.
Yonder he comes; Brabo, discard the fellow.
Y. ART. Shall I be over-master'd in my own?
Be thyself, Arthur:--strumpet! he shall stay.
MRS MA. What! shall he, Brabo? shall he, Mistress Splay?
BRA. Shall he? he shall not: breathes there any living Dares say he shall, when Brabo says he shall not?
Y. ART. Is there no law for this? she is my wife; Should I complain, I should be rather mock'd.
I am content; keep by thee whom thou list.
Discharge whom thou think'st good; do what thou wilt, Rise, go to bed, stay at home, or go abroad At thy good pleasure, keep all companies; So that, for all this, I may have but peace.
Be unto me as I was to my wife; Only give me, what I denied her then, A little love, and some small quietness-- If he displease thee, turn him out of doors.
PIP. Who, me? Turn me out of doors? Is this all the wages I shall have at the year's end, to be turned out of doors? You, mistress! you are a--
MRS SPLAY. A what? speak, a what? touch her and touch me, taint her and taint me; speak, speak, a what?
PIP. Marry, a woman that is kin to the frost.[22]
MRS SPLAY. How do you mean that?
PIP. And you are akin to the Latin word, to understand.
MRS SPLAY. And what's that?
PIP. _Subaudi, subaudi_? and, sir, do you not use to pink doublets?
MRS SPLAY. And why?
PIP. I took you for a cutter, you are of a great kindred; you are a common cozener, everybody calls you cousin; besides, they say you are a very good warrener, you have been an old coneycatcher: but, if I be turned a-begging, as I know not what I am born to, and that you ever come to the said trade, as nothing is unpossible, I'll set all the commonwealth of beggars on your back, and all the congregation of vermin shall be put to your keeping; and then if you be not more bitten than all the company of beggars besides, I'll not have my will: zounds!
turned out of doors! I'll go and set up my trade; a dish to drink in, that I have within; a wallet, that I'll make of an old shirt; then my speech, For the Lord's sake, I beseech your worship; then I must have a lame leg; I'll go to football and break my shins--and I am provided for that.
BRA. What! stands the villain prating? hence, you slave!