Epicoene; Or, The Silent Woman Part 14

MOR: It must be changed.

CUT [ASIDE TO PARSON.]: Cough again.

MOR: What says he?

CUT: He will cough out the rest, sir.

PAR: Uh, uh, uh!

MOR: Away, away with him! stop his mouth! away! I forgive it.--

[EXIT CUT. THRUSTING OUT THE PAR.]

EPI: Fie, master Morose, that you will use this violence to a man of the church.

MOR: How!

EPI: It does not become your gravity, or breeding, as you pretend, in court, to have offer'd this outrage on a waterman, or any more boisterous creature, much less on a man of his civil coat.

MOR: You can speak then!

EPI: Yes, sir.

MOR: Speak out, I mean.

EPI: Ay, sir. Why, did you think you had married a statue, or a motion, only? one of the French puppets, with the eyes turn'd with a wire? or some innocent out of the hospital, that would stand with her hands thus, and a plaise mouth, and look upon you?

MOR: O immodesty! a manifest woman! What, Cutbeard!

EPI: Nay, never quarrel with Cutbeard, sir; it is too late now. I confess it doth bate somewhat of the modesty I had, when I writ simply maid: but I hope, I shall make it a stock still competent to the estate and dignity of your wife.

MOR: She can talk!

EPI: Yes, indeed, sir.

[ENTER MUTE.]

MOR: What sirrah! None of my knaves there? where is this impostor, Cutbeard?

[MUTE MAKES SIGNS.]

EPI: Speak to him, fellow, speak to him! I'll have none of this coacted, unnatural dumbness in my house, in a family where I govern.

[EXIT MUTE.]

MOR: She is my regent already! I have married a Penthesilea, a Semiramis, sold my liberty to a distaff.

[ENTER TRUEWIT.]

TRUE: Where's master Morose?

MOR: Is he come again! Lord have mercy upon me!

TRUE: I wish you all joy, mistress Epicoene, with your grave and honourable match.

EPI: I return you the thanks, master Truewit, so friendly a wish deserves.

MOR: She has acquaintance, too!

TRUE: G.o.d save you, sir, and give you all contentment in your fair choice, here! Before, I was the bird of night to you, the owl; but now I am the messenger of peace, a dove, and bring you the glad wishes of many friends to the celebration of this good hour.

MOR: What hour, sir?

TRUE: Your marriage hour, sir. I commend your resolution, that, notwithstanding all the dangers I laid afore you, in the voice of a night-crow, would yet go on, and be yourself. It shews you are a man constant to your own ends, and upright to your purposes, that would not be put off with left-handed cries.

MOR: How should you arrive at the knowledge of so much!

TRUE: Why, did you ever hope, sir, committing the secrecy of it to a barber, that less then the whole town should know it? you might as well have told it the conduit, or the bake-house, or the infantry that follow the court, and with more security. Could your gravity forget so old and noted a remnant, as lippis et tonsoribus notum? Well, sir, forgive it yourself now, the fault, and be communicable with your friends. Here will be three or four fashionable ladies from the college to visit you presently, and their train of minions and followers.

MOR: Bar my doors! bar my doors! Where are all my eaters? my mouths now?-- [ENTER SERVANTS.]

Bar up my doors, you varlets!

EPI: He is a varlet that stirs to such an office. Let them stand open. I would see him that dares move his eyes toward it. Shall I have a barricado made against my friends, to be barr'd of any pleasure they can bring in to me with their honourable visitation?

[EXEUNT SER.]

MOR: O Amazonian impudence!

TRUE: Nay, faith, in this, sir, she speaks but reason: and, methinks, is more continent than you. Would you go to bed so presently, sir, afore noon? a man of your head and hair should owe more to that reverend ceremony, and not mount the marriage-bed like a town-bull, or a mountain-goat; but stay the due season; and ascend it then with religion and fear. Those delights are to be steeped in the humour and silence of the night; and give the day to other open pleasures, and jollities of feasting, of music, of revels, of discourse: we'll have all, sir, that may make your Hymen high and happy.

MOR: O, my torment, my torment!

TRUE: Nay, if you endure the first half hour, sir, so tediously, and with this irksomness; what comfort or hope can this fair gentlewoman make to herself hereafter, in the consideration of so many years as are to come--

MOR: Of my affliction. Good sir, depart, and let her do it alone.

TRUE: I have done, sir.

MOR: That cursed barber.

TRUE: Yes, faith, a cursed wretch indeed, sir.

MOR: I have married his cittern, that's common to all men. Some plague above the plague--

TRUE: All Egypt's ten plagues.

MOR: Revenge me on him!