A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Ix Part 20

MRS ART. It seems thou hast been in some better plight; Sit down, I prythee: men, though they be poor, Should not be scorn'd; to ease thy hunger, first Eat these conserves; and now, I prythee, tell me What thou hast been--thy fortunes, thy estate, And what she was that I resemble most?

Y. ART. First, look that no man see or overhear us: I think that shape was born to do me good. [_Aside_.]

MRS ART. Hast thou known one that did resemble me?

Y. ART. Ay, mistress; I cannot choose but weep To call to mind the fortunes of her youth.

MRS ART. Tell me, of what estate or birth was she?

Y. ART, Born of good parents, and as well brought up; Most fair, but not so fair as virtuous; Happy in all things but her marriage; Her riotous husband, which I weep to think, By his lewd life, made them both miscarry.

MRS ART. Why dost thou grieve at their adversities?

Y. ART. O, blame me not; that man my kinsman was, Nearer to me a kinsman could not be; As near allied was that chaste woman too, Nearer was never husband to his wife; He whom I term my friend, no friend of mine, Proving both mine and his own enemy, Poison'd his wife--O, the time he did so!

Joyed at her death, inhuman slave to do so!

Exchang'd her love for a base strumpet's l.u.s.t; Foul wretch! accursed villain! to exchange so.

MRS ART. You are wise and blest, and happy to repent so: But what became of him and his new wife?

Y. ART. O, hear the justice of the highest heaven: This strumpet, in reward of all his love, Pursues him for the death of his first wife; And now the woful husband languisheth, And flies abroad,[23] pursu'd by her fierce hate; And now too late he doth repent his sin, Ready to perish in his own despair, Having no means but death to rid his care.

MRS ART. I can endure no more, but I must weep; My blabbing tears cannot my counsel keep. [_Aside_.

Y. ART. Why weep you, mistress? if you had the heart Of her whom you resemble in your face-- But she is dead, and for her death The sponge of either eye Shall weep red tears, till every vein is dry.

MRS ART. Why weep you, friend? your rainy drops pray keep; Repentance wipes away the drops of sin.

Yet tell me, friend--he did exceeding ill, A wife that lov'd and honour'd him to kill.

Yet say one like her, far more chaste than fair, Bids him be of good comfort, not despair.

Her soul's appeased with his repentant tears, Wishing he may survive her many years.

Fain would I give him money to supply His present wants, but fearing he should fly, And getting over to some foreign sh.o.r.e, These rainy eyes should never see him more.

My heart is full, I can no longer stay, But what I am, my love must needs bewray. [_Aside_.

Farewell, good fellow, and take this to spend; Say, one like her commends her to your friend. [_Exit_.

Y. ART. No friend of mine. I was my own soul's foe, To murther my chaste wife, that lov'd me so!

In life she lov'd me dearer than her life: What husband here but would wish such a wife?

I hear the officers with hue and cry; She saved my life but now, and now I die.

And welcome, death! I will not stir from hence; Death I deserv'd, I'll die for this offence.

_Enter_ BRABO, _with_ OFFICERS, MISTRESS SPLAY, _and_ HUGH.

BRA. Here is the murderer; and, Reason's man, You have the warrant: sirs, lay hands on him; Attach the slave, and lead him bound to death.

HUGH. No, by my faith, Master Brabo, you have the better heart, at least you should have; I am sure you have more iron and steel than I have; do you lay hands on him; I promise you I dare not.

BRA. Constables, forward; forward, officers; I will not thrust my finger in the fire.

Lay hands on him, I say: why step you back?

I mean to be the hindmost, lest that any Should run away, and leave the rest in peril.

Stand forward: are you not asham'd to fear?

Y. ART. Nay, never strive; behold, I yield myself.

I must commend your resolution That, being so many and so weapon'd, Dare not adventure on a man unarm'd.

Now, lead me to what prison you think best.

Yet use me well; I am a gentleman.

HUGH. Truly, Master Arthur, we will use you as well as heart can think; the justices sit to-day, and my master is chief: you shall command me.

BRA. What! hath he yielded? if he had withstood us, This curtle-axe of mine had cleft his head; Resist he durst not, when he once spied me.

Come, lead him hence: how lik'st thou this, sweet witch?

This fellow's death will make our mistress rich.

MRS SPLAY. I say, I care not who's dead or alive, So by their lives or deaths we two may thrive.

HUGH. Come, bear him away.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE III.

_A Room, in Justice Season's House_.

_Enter_ JUSTICE REASON, OLD MASTER ARTHUR, _and_ OLD MASTER LUSAM.

JUS. Old Master Arthur and Master Lusam, so It is that I have heard both your complaints, But understood neither, for, you know, _Legere et non intelligere negligere est_.

O. ART. I come for favour, as a father should, Pitying the fall and ruin of his son.

O. LUS. I come for justice, as a father should, That hath by violent murder lost his daughter.

JUS. You come for favour, and you come for justice: Justice with favour is not partial, And, using that, I hope to please you both.

O. ART. Good Master Justice, think upon my son.

O. LUS. Good Master Justice, think upon my daughter.

JUS. Why, so I do; I think upon them both; But can do neither of you good; For he that lives must die, and she that's dead Cannot be revived.

O. ART. Lusam, thou seek'st to rob me of my son, My only son.

O. LUS. He robb'd me of my daughter, my only daughter.

JUS. And robbers are flat felons by the law.

O. ART. Lusam, I say thou art a blood-sucker, A tyrant, a remorseless cannibal: Old as I am, I'll prove it on thy bones.

O. LUS. Am I a blood-sucker or cannibal?