Chapter 4
Act IV. Act IV. SCENE 1. Enter widow, undressed, a sword in her hand, and bold in his shirt, as started from bed. Uncivil man, if I should take thy life, twain not to be weighed with thy attempt.
Thou hast for ever lost me. Madam, why? Can love be get lost? Do I cover you unlawfully? Am I an unfit man to make an husband of?
Send for a priest, first consummate the match, and then to bed without more trouble. No, I will not do it. Why, you confess to me, as your gentlewoman, I was the man your heart did most affect, that you did do upon my mind and body. So, by the sacred and inviolate knot of marriage, I do, but I will not wed thee.
Why, yet enjoy me now. Consider, lady, that little but blessed time I was in bed, although I lay as by my sister's side, the world is apt to censure otherwise. So, tis necessity that we marry now. Pish!
I regard not at a straw the world. Fame from the tongues of men does injury oft not end justice. And as conscience only makes guilty persons not report, for shall we clear as springs unto the world, if our own knowledge do not make us so, that is no satisfaction to ourselves. So stand we never so leprous to man's eye.
It cannot hurt hard-known integrity. You have trusted to that fond opinion this is the way to have a widowhood, by getting her to bed? Alas, young man, shouldst thou thyself tell thy companions thou hast dishonoured me, as you men have tongues forked and renamed against our subject sex, it should not move me that
note is not so. Therefore depart. Truth be my virtuous shield. Few widows would do thus. All modest would.
To be in bed and in possession even of the mark I aimed at, and go off foiled and disgraced? Come, come, you'll laugh at me behind my back. Publish I wanted spirit and mock me to the ladies. Call me child, say you denied me but to try the heat and zeal of my affection toward you, then clapped at with a rhyme, as, for example, he coldly loves retires for one vain trial,
for we are yielding when we make denial. Servant, I make no question from this time you'll hold a more reverend opinion of some that wear long coats, and it is my pride to assure you that there are amongst us good, and with this continency. If you go away, I'll be so far from thinking it defect that I will hold you worthiest of
men. Tart, I am tantalus, my long-fore fruit bobs at my lips, yet still it shrinks from me. Have not I that which men say never fails to overcome any? Opportunity! Come, come, I am too cold in my assault.
By all the virtues that ye ever were in man or woman, I with reverence do love thee, lady, but will be no fool to let occasion slip her fore-top from me. You will fail this way too. Upon my knees I do desire thee to preserve thy virtues, and with my tears my honor. It is as bad to lose our worth to them, or to deceive who have held worthy opinions
of us, as to betray trust. All this I implore for thine own sake, not mine. As for myself, if thou beest violent, by this stupid night and all the mischiefs her dark womb hath bred, I'll raze the house. I'll cry a rape.
I hope you will not ang me. That were murder, lady, a greater sin than lying with me, sure. Come flatter not yourself with argument. I will exclaim. The law hangs you, not I.
Or if I did, I had rather far confound the dearest body in the world to me than that that body should confound my soul. Your soul? Nevertheless, mistress, are you so fond to think a general destruction can be procured by such a natural act, which beasts are born to and have privilege in?
Fie, fie, if this could be, far happier are insensitive souls in their creation than man, the prince of creatures. Think you heaven regards such mortal deeds or punisheth those acts for which he hath ordained us? You argue like an atheist.
Man is never the prince of creatures, as you call him now, but in his reason. Fail that, he is worse than horse or dog or beast of wilderness, and this that reason teaches us to do our actions unlike them. Then that which you termed in them a privilege beyond us, the baseness of their being doth express compared to ours.
Horses, bulls and swine do leap their damns. Because man does not so, shall we conclude his making happiness? You put me down. Yet will not put me down. I am too gentle.
Some of you, I have heard, love not these words, but force to have it done as they sing prick song in the first sight. Go to keep off by heaven and earth, I'll call else. How if nobody hear you? If they do not, I'll kill you with mine own hand.
I never stare, or failing that fall on this sword myself. Ah, widow wonderful, if thou beest not honest, now God forgive my mother and my sisters. Think but how finely, madam, undiscovered forever I might live. All day your gentlewoman to do you service, but all night your man to do you service. The beauty of the trick, if nothing else might stir ye.
This is stale one, and was done in the fleet ten years ago. Will you be gone? The door is open for you. Let me but tarry till the morning, madam, to send for clothes. Shall I go naked home?
This best time now, it is but one o'clock, and you may go unseen. I swear by heaven I would spend all the night to sit and talk with you if I dost trust you. I do love you so. My blood forsakes my heart now you depart. So how?
Will you marry me hereafter then? No, you are too young, and I am much too old. Ay, and unworthy, and the world would say we married not for love. Good morrow, servant. Exit widow.
Why, so? These women are the errantest jugglers in the world. The rye-legged fellow is an ass to them. Well, I must have this widow, whatever come on it. Faith, she has turned me out of her service very barely.
Ah, what's here? Music. Enter Subtle with a paper, and his boy with a cloak. Subtle reads. Rise, Lady Mistress, rise.
The night hath tedious been. No sleep hath fallen into mine eyes, nor slumber has made me sin. Is not she a saint, then say? Thought of whom keeps sin away? Rise, madam, rise, and give me light, whom darkness still will cover.
And ignorance darker than night, till thou smile on thy lover. All want day till thy beauty rise, for the grey morn breaks from thine eyes. Sing it now, sirrah. The song is sung by the boy. Sfoot, who's this, young master bold?
God save you, you are an early stirrer. You say true, Master Subtle, I have been early up. But as God help me, I was never the near. Where have you been, sir? What's that to you, sir?
At a woman's labour? Very good. I ne'er took you for a man midwife before. The truth is, I've been up all night at Dice, and lost my clothes. Good morrow, Master Subtle.
Pray God the watch be broke up. I thank you for my music. Exit. Tis palpable by this air. Her husband being abroad, bold has lain with her, and is now conveyed out of doors.
Is this the lady perfect with a pox? The truth is, her virtuous chastity began to make me make a miracle of her still holding out to me, notwithstanding her husband's most barbarous usage of her. But now, indeed, tis no marvel, since another possesses her. Well, madam, I will go find out your cuckold.
I'll be revenged on you, and tell a tale shall tickle him. This is a cheat in love not to be borne, another to beguile me of the game I played for all this while. Exit. Scene 2.
Enter well-tried and bold, putting on his doublet. Fee simple a sleep on a bed, as in bold's chamber. You see, we made bold with your lodging. Indeed, I did assure myself you were fast for this night. But how the devil came this fool into your company?
Hold the foot, man. I carried him last night among the roars to flesh him, and by this light he got drunk, and beat him all. Why, then he could endure the sight of a drawn sword now. Oh, God, sir, I think in my conscience he will eat steel shortly.
I know not how his conversion will hold after this sleep, but in an hour or two last night he was grown such a little, damn me, that I protest I was afraid of the spirit that I myself had raised in him. But this other matter, of your expulsion thus, mads me to the heart. Were you in bed with her?
In bed, by heaven. I'll be hanged if you were not busy too soon. You should have let her slept first. Zoon's man, she put her hand to my breasts, and swore I was no maid. Now I, being eager to prove her words true, took that hint, and would violently have thrust
her hand lower, when her thought, being swifter than my strength, made her no sooner imagine that she was betrayed, but she leaps out of the bed, whips me down a sword that hung by, and as if fortitude and justice had meant to assist her, spite of all argument, fair or foul, she forced me away. But is it possible thou shouldst have no more wit?
Must thou come away upon any terms but sure ones, having night, her chamber, and herself naked in thine arms? By that light, if I had a son of fourteen whom I had helped thus far, that had served me so, I would breach him. Tart, what would you have me done?
Have done? Done? Done twice at least. Of play Torquin, and revished her. Pish!
Torquin was a blockhead. If he had had any wit and could have spoke, Lucrece had never been ravished. She would have yielded, I warrant thee, and so will any woman. I was such an erroneous heretic to love and woman as thou art till now. God's precious!
It makes me mad when I think, aunt. Was there ever such an absurd trick? Now will she abuse thee horribly, say thou art a faint-hearted fellow, a milk-sop, and know not what, as indeed thou art. Zoons, would you had been in my place.
Sounds I would I had. I would have so jumbled her honestly. Wouldst thou be held out at stage's end with words? Dost thou not know a widow's weak vessel, and is easily cast if you close? Well tried, you deal unfriendly.
By this light, I shall blush to be seen in thy company. Pray, leave my chamber. Pox upon your chamber. I care not for your chamber nor yourself more than you care for me. Splud, I as little for you.
Why fare you well? Why fare well? Yet well tried I pray thee stay. Thou knowest I love thee. So heart, I love you as well.
But for my spleen and collar, I think I have as much as you. Well, friend, this is the business you must do for me. Prepare unto the widow where give at tomorrow morn I shall be married. Invite her to the wedding. I have a trick to put upon this lord too, whom I made my instrument to prefer me.
What shall follow I will not ask, because I mean to see it. The jar's twix friends still keeps their friendship sweet. Exit. Fee simple, waking. Why, well tried, you rogue.
What's that? A vision? Why, how now, my lord? Whom do you call rogue? The gentleman you name is my friend.
If you were wise, I should be angry. Angry with me? Ay, damn me, sir. And you be out with your sword. It's not with me, I tell you, as it was yesterday.
I am fleshed man. Ay, have you anything to say to me? Nothing but this. How many do you think you've slain last night? By five.
I never kill less. There were but four. My lord, you had best provide yourself and be gone. Three you have slain, stark dead. You jest.
It's most true. Well tried is fled. Why, let the rawer's meddle with me another time. As for flying, I scorn it. I killed him like a man.
When did you ever see a lord hang for anything? We may kill whom we list. Mary, my conscience pricks me. Ah, plague of this drink. What things it makes us do.
I do no more remember this now than a puppy-dog. Ah, bloody lord, that ought to be done with gore. Vain world, adieu. For I will roar no more. Nay, stay, my lord.
I did but try the tenderness of your conscience. Or this is nothing so. But to sweeten the tale I have for you, I foretold you this feigned mischance. It is a tale belonging to the widow.
I think you are a witch. My grandmother was suspected. The widow has desired you by me to meet her tomorrow morning at church in some unknown disguise, lest any suspect it.
For, quoth she, long have he held me fast in his moist hand. Therefore I will be his in nuptial band. Both I've ever taken you to be my friend. I am very wise now and valiant. If this be not true, damn thee, sir,
you are the son of a whore, and you lie, and I will make it good with my sword. I am what e'er you please, sir, if it be not true. I will go with you to the church myself. You're disguised, I have fought on.
The widow is your own. Come, leave your fooling. If this be true, thou little boy bold, so true as thou tell'st to me, tomorrow morn when I have the widow,
my dear friend shall thou be. Excellent. Scene three. Enter maid like the footboy, seldom with pits and honor, a couple of sergeants.
Sir, to most true, and in this shall you be unlike to other citizens, that arrest to undo gentlemen. Your clemency here perchance saves two lives, one from the other's sword, the other from the law's. This morn they fight, and though your debtor be a lord,
yet should he miscarry, certainly your debt were lost. Dost thou serve the lord proudly? Sir, I do. Well, such a boy as thou is worth more money than thy lord owes me.
Tis not for the debt I do arrest him, but to end this strife, which both may lose my money and his life. Enter lord proudly with a riding-rod. My horse there, sounds I would not for the world.
He should alight before me in the field. My name and honor were forever lost. Good morrow to your honor. I do hear your lordship this fair morning is to fight. And for your honor, did you never see the play
where the fat knight hight Old Castle did tell you truly what his honor was? Why how now, good man Flatcap? What thee lack? Whom do you talk to, sirrah?
We arrest you. Arrest me rogue? I am a lord ye curse, a parliament man. Sir, we arrest you though. At whose suit?
At mine, sir. Why thou base rogue, did not I set thee up, having no stock but thy shop and fair wife? Into my house with him. Away with him, away with him.
A plot, a trick by heaven, see, Injun's foot boy, tis by his master's means. Oh, coward slave, I'll put in bail or pay the debt. Aye, aye, aye, we'll talk with you within. Thrust him in.
Exeunt. Enter Injun looking on his sword and bending it, his brother like a man. If I miss carry, Frank, I prithee see all my debts paid. About 500 pounds will fully satisfy all men and my land.
And what I else possess by nature's right and thy descent, Frank, I make freely thine. I know you do not think I wish you dead, for all the benefit. Besides, your spirit's so opposite to counsel
to avert your resolution that I save my breath, which would be lost in vain, to expire and spend upon your foe if you fall under him. Frank, I protest you shall do injury upon my foe and much disturbance too unto my soul departing.
Die I here fairly and on my single enemy's sword. If you should not let him go off untouched. Now, by the master of thy life and mine, I love thee, boy, beyond any example, as well as thou dost me.
But should I go thy second to the field as thou dost mine, and if thine enemy kill thee like a man, I would desire never to see him more. But he should bear himself off with those wounds he has received from thee, from that time safe,
and without persecution by the law. For what hap is our foes might be our own, and no man's judgment sits in justice's place, but weighing other men's as his own case. He has the advantage of you being a lord,
for should you kill him, you are sure to die. And by some lawyer with a golden tongue that cries for right, ten angels on his side, your daring meet him called presumption. But kill he you.
He and his noble friends have such a golden snaffle for the jaws of man devouring Pythagorean law. They'll reign her stubborn chaps even to her tail. And though she have iron teeth to meaner men, so master her, that who displeased her most,
she shall lie under like a tired jade, for small boats on rough seas are quickly lost, but ships ride safe and cut the waves that tossed. Follow what may. I am resolved, dear brother.
This monster valor that doth feed on men groans in me for my reputation. This charge I give thee too, if I do die, never depart from the young boy which late I entertained, but love him for my sake.
And for my mistress, the lady on her, whom to deceive I have deceived myself, if she be dead. Pray God I may give up my life a sacrifice on her brother's sword. But if thou livest to see her gentle brother,
if I be slain, tell her I died because I had transgressed against her worthy love. This sword is not well mounted. Let's see then. Enter maid like a foot boy.
Your staying, sir, is in vain, for my lord proudly. Just at his taking horse to meet you here, at seldom suit the citizen was arrested upon an action of two hundred pounds. I saw it, sir, to strew.
Oh scurvy lord, it had been a cleanlier shift than this to have had it hindered by command, he being a lord. But I will find him. Enter lord proudly. You see valiant sir, I have got loose
for all your stratagem. Oh rogue, are you there? Proudly stabs his sister. Must take double hard. Injun stabs proudly in the left arm.
Coward, thou didst this, that I might be disabled for the fight. All that thou mightst have some excuse to shun me, but is my left arm thou has lighted on. I have no second.
Here are three of you. If all do murder me, your consciences will more than hang you, damn you. Come, prepare. Brother, walk off and take the boy away.
Is he hurt much? Nothing, or very little. Proudly thrusts the boy out. I'll bind up your wound first. Your loss of blood may sooner make you faint.
Injun, thou art a worthy gentleman. For this courtesy, go to, I'll save thy life. Come on, sir. A pass or two. I'll cut your codpiece points, sir, with this thrust,
and then down go your britches. Your lordships, Mary. Pass. I had like to have spoiled your cut work band. Enter maid like a foot boy running.
Brother after her. Maid kneels betwixt them. Oh, master, hold your hand. My lord, hold yours, or let your swords meet in this wretched breast.
Yet you are both well. What blood you have lost. Give it as for the injury you did. And now be friends. Sart, tis a loving rogue.
Kind boy, stand up. Tis for thy wound he bleeds. Thy wrong is yet unsatisfied. Hence, away. It is a sister's loss that wets my sword.
Maid discovers herself. Oh, stay, my lord. Behold your sister here, bleeding by your hand. Servant, see your mistress turn to thy servant, running by thy horse,
whose meaning was to have prevented this. That's all in vain. Oh, noble lady. Most worthy pattern of all womankind. Injun, I am satisfied.
Put up your sword. Sister, you must with me. I have a husband. The lord fee-simples bother. Old but rich.
This gentleman is no match for you. Kneel not. That portion of yours I have consumed. Thus marrying, you shall never come to want. Oh, sweet my lord, my brother.
Do not force me to break my faith, or to a loathed bed. Force you he shall not. Brother, bear her hints. She is my wife,
and thou shalt find my cause ten times improved now. I'll have it due, sir. Pass. Hold, hold, for heaven's sake. Was there a wretched lady put to this hazard?
Sir, let me speak but one word with him, and I'll go with you, and undergo whatever you command. Do it quickly, for I love no whispering. Tis strange to see you, madam, with a sword.
You should have come hither in your lady's clothes. Well, as you please, my lord. You are witness. What so her before hath past betwixt us. Thus I do undo.
Were not I mad to think that thou couldst love me, that wouldst have slain my brother. Sayest true, sister? O thou fair creature, wilt thou be as false as other ladies?
Thou art my example. I'll kiss thee once. Farewell forever. Come, my lord, now match me with whom ye please. A tumbler.
I must do this. Else had they fought again. Mine own best sister. Farewell, master Injun. Exeunt, proudly, and maid.
O ancient truth to be denied of no man, and eel by the tails held surer than a woman. Exeunt. End of Act IV.
