Chapter LXXIX: Prologue (1)

I come but like a harbinger, being sent
To tell you what these preparations mean.
Look for no glorious state; our Muse is bent
Upon a barren subject, a bare scene.
We could afford this twig a timber-tree, 5
Whose strength might boldly on your favours build;
Our russet, tissue; drone, a honey-bee;
Our barren plot, a large and spacious field;
Our coarse fare, banquets; our thin water, wine;
Our brook, a sea; our bat’s eyes, eagle’s sight; 10
Our poet’s dull and earthy Muse, divine;
Our ravens, doves; our crow’s black feathers, white.
But gentle thoughts, when they may give the foil,[2802]
Save them that yield, and spare where they may spoil.

[ACT I]

[SCENE I.][2803]

_Enter_ MASTER JOHN FRANKFORD, MISTRESS [FRANKFORD],[2804] SIR FRANCIS ACTON, SIR CHARLES MOUNTFORD, MASTER MALBY, MASTER WENDOLL, AND MASTER CRANWELL.

_Sir F._ Some music, there! None lead the bride a dance?

_Sir C._ Yes, would she dance _The Shaking of the Sheets_;
But that’s the dance her husband means to lead her.

_Wen._ That’s not the dance that every man must dance,
According to the ballad.[2805]

_Sir F._ Music, ho! 5
By your leave, sister,—by your husband’s leave,
I should have said,—the hand that but this day
Was given you in the church I’ll borrow.—Sound!
This marriage music hoists me from the ground.

_Frank._ Ay, you may caper; you are light and free! 10
Marriage hath yok’d my heels; pray, then, pardon me.

_Sir F._ I’ll have you dance too, brother!

_Sir C._ Master Frankford,
You are a happy man, sir, and much joy
Succeed your marriage mirth: you have a wife
So qualified, and with such ornaments 15
Both of the mind and body. First, her birth
Is noble, and her education such
As might become the daughter of a prince;
Her own tongue speaks all tongues, and her own hand
Can teach all strings to speak in their best grace, 20
From the shrill’st treble to the hoarsest base.
To end her many praises in one word,
She’s Beauty and Perfection’s eldest daughter,
Only found by yours, though many a heart hath sought her.

_Frank._ But that I know your virtues and chaste thoughts, 25
I should be jealous of your praise, Sir Charles.

_Cran._ He speaks no more than you approve.

_Mal._ Nor flatters he that gives to her her due.

_Mrs. F._ I would your praise could find a fitter theme
Than my imperfect beauties to speak on! 30
Such as they be, if they my husband please,
They suffice me now I am married.
His sweet content is like a flattering glass,
To make my face seem fairer to mine eye;
But the least wrinkle from his stormy brow 35
Will blast the roses in my cheeks that grow.

_Sir F._ A perfect wife already, meek and patient!
How strangely the word husband fits your mouth.
Not married three hours since! Sister, ’t is good; 39
You that begin betimes thus must needs prove
Pliant and duteous in your husband’s love.—
Gramercies, brother! Wrought her to ’t already,—
‘Sweet husband,’ and a curtsey, the first day?
Mark this, mark this, you that are bachelors,
And never took the grace[2806] of honest man; 45
Mark this, against you marry,[2807] this one phrase:
In a good time that man both wins and woos
That takes his wife down[2808] in her wedding shoes.

_Frank._ Your sister takes not after you, Sir Francis,
All his wild blood your father spent on you; 50
He got her in his age, when he grew civil.
All his mad tricks were to his land entail’d,
And you are heir to all; your sister, she
Hath to her dower her mother’s modesty.

_Sir C._ Lord, sir, in what a happy state live you! 55
This morning, which to many seems a burden,
Too heavy to bear, is unto you a pleasure.
This lady is no clog, as many are;
She doth become you like a well-made suit,
In which the tailor hath us’d all his art; 60
Not like a thick coat of unseason’d frieze,
Forc’d on your back in summer. She’s no chain
To tie your neck, and curb you to the yoke:
But she’s a chain of gold to adorn your neck.
You both adorn each other, and your hands, 65
Methinks, are matches. There’s equality
In this fair combination; you are both
Scholars, both young, both being descended nobly.
There’s music in this sympathy; it carries
Consort and expectation of much joy, 70
Which God bestow on you from this first day
Until your dissolution,—that’s for aye!

_Sir F._ We keep you here too long, good brother Frankford.
Into the hall; away! Go cheer your guests.
What! Bride and bridegroom both withdrawn at once? 75
If you be mist, the guests will doubt their welcome,
And charge you with unkindness.

_Frank._ To prevent it,
I’ll leave you here, to see the dance within.

_Mrs. F._ And so will I.
_Exeunt_ [MASTER AND MISTRESS FRANKFORD].

_Sir. F._ To part you it were sin.—
Now, gallants, while the town musicians 80
Finger their frets[2809] within, and the mad lads
And country lasses, every mother’s child,
With nosegays and bride-laces[2810] in their hats,
Dance all their country measures, rounds, and jigs,
What shall we do? Hark! They’re all on the hoigh;[2811] 85
They toil like mill-horses, and turn as round,—
Marry, not on the toe! Ay, and they caper,
[Not][2812] without cutting; you shall see, to-morrow,
The hall-floor peckt and dinted like a millstone,
Made with their high shoes. Though their skill be small, 90
Yet they tread heavy where their hobnails fall.

_Sir C._ Well, leave them to their sports!—Sir Francis Acton,
I’ll make a match with you! Meet me to-morrow
At Chevy Chase; I’ll fly my hawk with yours.

_Sir F._ For what? For what?

_Sir C._ Why, for a hundred pound. 95

_Sir F._ Pawn me some gold of that!

_Sir C._ Here are ten angels;[2813]
I’ll make them good a hundred pound to-morrow
Upon my hawk’s wing.

_Sir. F._ ’T is a match; ’t is done.
Another hundred pound upon your dogs;—
Dare ye, Sir Charles?

_Sir C._ I dare; were I sure to lose,
I durst do more than that; here is my hand, 101
The first course for a hundred pound!

_Sir F._ A match.

_Wen._ Ten angels on Sir Francis Acton’s hawk;
As much upon his dogs!

_Cran._ I’m for Sir Charles Mountford: I have seen 105
His hawk and dog both tried. What! Clap ye hands,[2814]
Or is’t no bargain?

_Wen._ Yes, and stake them down.
Were they five hundred, they were all my own.

_Sir F._ Be stirring early with the lark to-morrow;
I’ll rise into my saddle ere the sun 110
Rise from his bed.

_Sir C._ If there you miss me, say
I am no gentleman! I’ll hold my day.

_Sir F._ It holds on all sides.—Come, to-night let ’s dance;
Early to-morrow let ’s prepare to ride: 114
We ’d need be three hours up before the bride. _Exeunt._

[SCENE II.][2815]

_Enter_ NICHOLAS _and_ JENKIN, JACK SLIME, ROGER BRICKBAT, _with_ Country Wenches, _and two or three_ Musicians.

_Jen._ Come, Nick, take you Joan Miniver, to trace withal; Jack
Slime, traverse you with Cicely Milkpail; I will take Jane Trubkin,
and Roger Brickbat shall have Isabel Motley. And now that they are
busy in the parlour, come, (5) strike up; we ’ll have a crash[2816]
here in the yard.

_Nich._ My humour is not compendious: dancing I possess not, though
I can foot it; yet, since I am fallen into the hands of Cicely 10
Milkpail, I consent.

_Slime._ Truly, Nick, though we were never brought up like serving
courtiers, yet we have been brought up with serving creatures,—ay,
and God’s creatures, too; for we have been (15) brought up to serve
sheep, oxen, horses, hogs, and such like; and, though we be but
country fellows, it may be in the way of dancing we can do the
horse-trick as well as the serving-men.

_Brick._ Ay, and the cross-point too. 20

_Jen._ O Slime! O Brickbat! Do not you know that comparisons are
odious? Now we are odious ourselves, too; therefore there are no
comparisons to be made betwixt us.

_Nich._ I am sudden, and not superfluous; 25
I am quarrelsome, and not seditious;
I am peaceable, and not contentious;
I am brief, and not compendious.

_Slime._ Foot it quickly! If the music overcome not my melancholy, I
shall quarrel; and if (30) they suddenly do not strike up, I shall
presently strike thee down.

_Jen._ No quarrelling, for God’s sake! Truly, if you do, I shall set
a knave between ye.

_Slime._ I come to dance, not to quarrel. (35) Come, what shall it
be? _Rogero?_[2817]

_Jen. Rogero?_ No; we will dance _The Beginning of the World_.

_Cicely._ I love no dance so well as _John come kiss me now_. 40

_Nich._ I that have ere now deserv’d a cushion, call for the
_Cushion-dance_.

_Brick._ For my part, I like nothing so well as _Tom Tyler_.

_Jen._ No; we’ll have _The Hunting of the_ (45) _Fox_.

_Slime. The Hay, The Hay!_ There’s nothing like _The Hay_.

_Nich._ I have said, I do say, and I will say again— 50

_Jen._ Every man agree to have it as Nick says!

_All._ Content.

_Nich._ It hath been, it now is, and it shall be—

_Cicely._ What, Master Nicholas? What? 55

_Nich. Put on your Smock a’ Monday._

_Jen._ So the dance will come cleanly off! Come, for God’s sake,
agree of something: if you like not that, put it to the musicians; or
let me speak for all, and we ’ll have _Sellenger’s_ (60) _Round_.

_All._ That, that, that!

_Nich._ No, I am resolv’d thus it shall be;
First take hands, then take ye to your heels.

_Jen._ Why, would you have us run away? 65

_Nich._ No; but I would have you shake your heels.—Music, strike up!

_They dance;_ NICK _dancing, speaks stately and scurvily, the rest after the country fashion._

_Jen._ Hey! Lively, my lasses! Here’s a turn for thee! _Exeunt._

[SCENE III.][2818]

_Wind horns. Enter_ SIR CHARLES MOUNTFORD, SIR FRANCIS ACTON, MALBY, CRANWELL, WENDOLL, Falconer, _and_ Huntsmen.

_Sir C._ So; well cast off! Aloft, aloft! Well flown!
Oh, now she takes her at the souse,[2819] and strikes her
Down to the earth, like a swift thunder-clap.

_Wen._ She hath struck ten angels out of my way.

_Sir F._ A hundred pound from me. 5

_Sir C._ What, falconer!

_Falc._ At hand, sir!

_Sir C._ Now she hath seiz’d the fowl and ’gins to plume[2820] her,
Rebeck[2821] her not; rather stand still and check her!
So, seize her gets,[2822] her jesses,[2823] and her bells! 10
Away!

_Sir F._ My hawk kill’d, too.

_Sir C._ Ay, but ’t was at the querre,[2824]
Not at the mount like mine.

_Sir F._ Judgment, my masters!

_Cran._ Yours mist her at the ferre.[2825]

_Wen._ Ay, but our merlin first had plum’d the fowl, 15
And twice renew’d[2826] her from the river too.
Her bells, Sir Francis, had not both one weight,
Nor was one semi-tune above the other.
Methinks, these Milan bells do sound too full,
And spoil the mounting of your hawk.

_Sir C._ ’T is lost. 20

_Sir F._ I grant it not. Mine likewise seiz’d a fowl
Within her talons, and you saw her paws
Full of the feathers: both her petty singles[2827]
And her long singles grip’d her more than other;
The terrials[2828] of her[2829] legs were stain’d with blood, 25
Not of the fowl only; she did discomfit
Some of her feathers; but she brake away.
Come, come; your hawk is but a rifler.[2830]

_Sir C._ How!

_Sir F._ Ay, and your dogs are trindle-tails[2831] and curs.

_Sir C._ You stir my blood. 30
You keep not one good hound in all your kennel.
Nor one good hawk upon your perch.

_Sir F._ How, knight!

_Sir C._ So, knight. You will not swagger, sir?

_Sir F._ Why, say I did?

_Sir C._ Why, sir,
I say you would gain as much by swagg’ring 35
As you have got by wagers on your dogs.
You will come short in all things.

_Sir F._ Not in this!
Now I’ll strike home. [_Strikes_ Sir Charles.]

_Sir C._ Thou shalt to thy long home,
Or I will want my will.

_Sir F._ All they that love Sir Francis, follow me! 40

_Sir C._ All that affect Sir Charles, draw on my part!

_Cran._ On this side heaves my hand.

_Wen._ Here goes my heart.

_They divide themselves._ SIR CHARLES MOUNTFORD, CRANWELL, Falconer, _and_ Huntsman, _fight against_ SIR FRANCIS ACTON, WENDOLL, _his_ Falconer _and_ Huntsman; _and_ SIR CHARLES _hath the better, and beats them away, killing both of_ SIR FRANCIS’S _men._ [_Exeunt all but_ SIR CHARLES MOUNTFORD.]

_Sir C._ My God, what have I done! What have I done!
My rage hath plung’d into a sea of blood,
In which my soul lies drown’d. Poor innocents, 45
For whom we are to answer! Well, ’t is done,
And I remain the victor. A great conquest,
When I would give this right hand, nay, this head,
To breathe in them new life whom I have slain!—
Forgive me, God! ’T was in the heat of blood, 50
And anger quite removes me from myself.
It was not I, but rage, did this vile murder;
Yet I, and not my rage, must answer it.
Sir Francis Acton, he is fled the field;
With him all those that did partake his quarrel;
And I am left alone with sorrow dumb, 56
And in my height of conquest overcome.

_Enter_ SUSAN.

_Susan._ O God! My brother wounded ’mong the dead!
Unhappy jest, that in such earnest ends!
The rumour of this fear stretcht to my ears, 60
And I am come to know if you be wounded.

_Sir C._ Oh, sister, sister! Wounded at the heart.

_Susan._ My God forbid!

_Sir. C._ In doing that thing which he forbad,
I am wounded, sister.

_Susan._ I hope, not at the heart. 65

_Sir C._ Yes, at the heart.

_Susan._ O God! A surgeon, there.

_Sir C._ Call me a surgeon, sister, for my soul!
The sin of murder, it hath pierc’d my heart
And made a wide wound there; but for these scratches,
They are nothing, nothing.

_Susan._ Charles, what have you done? 70
Sir Francis hath great friends, and will pursue you
Unto the utmost danger[2832] of the law.

_Sir C._ My conscience is become mine enemy,
And will pursue me more than Acton can.

_Susan._ Oh! Fly, sweet brother!

_Sir C._ Shall I fly from thee? 75
Why, Sue, art weary of my company?

_Susan._ Fly from your foe!

_Sir C._ You, sister, are my friend,
And flying you, I shall pursue my end.

_Susan._ Your company is as my eyeball dear;
Being far from you, no comfort can be near. 80
Yet fly to save your life! What would I care
To spend my future age in black despair,
So you were safe? And yet to live one week
Without my brother Charles, through every cheek
My streaming tears would downwards run so rank,[2833] 85
Till they could set on either side a bank,
And in the midst a channel; so my face
For two salt-water brooks shall still find place.

_Sir C._ Thou shalt not weep so much; for I will stay,
In spite of danger’s teeth. I’ll live with thee, 90
Or I’ll not live at all. I will not sell
My country and my father’s patrimony,
Nor thy sweet sight, for a vain hope of life.

_Enter_ Sheriff, _with_ Officers.

_Sher._ Sir Charles, I am made the unwilling instrument
Of your attach[2834] and apprehension. 95
I’m sorry that the blood of innocent men
Should be of you exacted. It was told me
That you were guarded with a troop of friends,
And therefore I come thus arm’d.

_Sir C._ Oh, Master Sheriff!
I came into the field with many friends, 100
But see, they all have left me; only one
Clings to my sad misfortune, my dear sister.
I know you for an honest gentleman;
I yield my weapons, and submit to you.
Convey me where you please!

_Sher._ To prison, then, 105
To answer for the lives of these dead men.

_Susan._ O God! O God!

_Sir C._ Sweet sister, every strain
Of sorrow from your heart augments my pain;
Your grief abounds,[2835] and hits against my breast.

_Sher._ Sir, will you go?

_Sir C._ Even where it likes you best. 110

[ACT II]

[SCENE I.]

_Enter_ MASTER FRANKFORD _in a study_.

_Frank._ How happy am I amongst other men,
That in my mean estate embrace content!
I am a gentleman, and by my birth
Companion with a king; a king’s no more.
I am possess’d of many fair revenues, 5
Sufficient to maintain a gentleman;
Touching my mind, I am studied in all arts;
The riches of my thoughts and of my time
Have been a good proficient;[2836] but, the chief
Of all the sweet felicities on earth, 10
I have a fair, a chaste, and loving wife,—
Perfection all, all truth, all ornament.
If man on earth may truly happy be,
Of these at once possest, sure, I am he.

_Enter_ NICHOLAS.

_Nich._ Sir, there’s a gentleman attends without 15
To speak with you.

_Frank._ On horseback?

_Nich._ Yes, on horseback.

_Frank._ Entreat him to alight, I will attend him.
Know’st thou him, Nick?

_Nich._ Know him? Yes; his name ’s Wendoll.
It seems, he comes in haste: his horse is booted[2837]
Up to the flank in mire, himself all spotted 20
And stain’d with plashing. Sure, he rid in fear,
Or for a wager. Horse and man both sweat;
I ne’er saw two in such a smoking heat.

_Frank._ Entreat him in: about it instantly! [_Exit_ NICHOLAS.]
This Wendoll I have noted, and his carriage 25
Hath pleas’d me much; by observation
I have noted many good deserts in him.
He’s affable, and seen[2838] in many things;
Discourses well; a good companion;
And though of small means, yet a gentleman 30
Of a good house, though somewhat prest by want.
I have preferr’d him to a second place
In my opinion and my best regard.

_Enter_ WENDOLL, MISTRESS FRANKFORD, _and_ NICHOLAS.

_Mrs. F._ Oh, Master Frankford! Master Wendoll here
Brings you the strangest news that e’er you heard. 35

_Frank._ What news, sweet wife? What news, good Master Wendoll?

_Wen._ You knew the match made ’twixt Sir Francis Acton
And Sir Charles Mountford?

_Frank._ True; with their hounds and hawks.

_Wen._ The matches were both play’d.

_Frank._ Ha? And which won?

_Wen._ Sir Francis, your wife’s brother, had the worst, 40
And lost the wager.

_Frank._ Why, the worse his chance;
Perhaps the fortune of some other day
Will change his luck.

_Mrs. F._ Oh, but you hear not all.
Sir Francis lost, and yet was loth to yield. 44
At length the two knights grew to difference,
From words to blows, and so to banding sides;[2839]
Where valorous Sir Charles slew, in his spleen,
Two of your brother’s men,—his falconer,
And his good huntsman, whom be lov’d so well.
More men were wounded, no more slain outright. 50

_Frank._ Now, trust me, I am sorry for the knight.
But is my brother safe?

_Wen._ All whole and sound.
His body not being blemish’d with one wound.
But poor Sir Charles is to the prison led,
To answer at th’ assize for them that’s dead.

_Frank._ I thank your pains, sir. Had the news been better, 56
Your will was to have brought it, Master Wendoll.
Sir Charles will find hard friends; his case is heinous
And will be most severely censur’d[2840] on.
I’m sorry for him. Sir, a word with you! 60
I know you, sir, to be a gentleman
In all things; your possibilities[2841] but mean:
Please you to use my table and my purse;
They’re yours.

_Wen._ O Lord, sir! I shall ne’er deserve it.

_Frank._ O sir, disparage not your worth too much: 65
You are full of quality[2842] and fair desert.
Choose of my men which shall attend on you,
And he is yours. I will allow you, sir,
Your man, your gelding, and your table, all
At my own charge; be my companion! 70

_Wen._ Master Frankford, I have oft been bound to you
By many favours; this exceeds them all,
That I shall never merit your least favour;
But when your last remembrance I forget,
Heaven at my soul exact that weighty debt! 75

_Frank._ There needs no protestation; for I know you
Virtuous, and therefore grateful.—Prithee, Nan,
Use him with all thy loving’st courtesy!

_Mrs. F._ As far as modesty may well extend,
It is my duty to receive your friend. 80

_Frank._ To dinner! Come, sir, from this present day,
Welcome to me for ever! Come, away!
_Exeunt_ [FRANKFORD, MISTRESS FRANKFORD, _and_ WENDOLL].

_Nich._ I do not like this fellow by no means:
I never see him but my heart still yearns.[2843]
Zounds! I could fight with him, yet know not why; 85
The devil and he are all one in mine eye.

_Enter_ JENKIN.

_Jen._ O Nick! What gentleman is that comes to lie at our house? My
master allows him one to wait on him, and I believe it will fall to
thy lot. 90

_Nich._ I love my master; by these hilts, I do; But rather than I’ll
ever come to serve him, I’ll turn away my master.

_Enter_ CICELY.

_Cic._ Nich’las! where are you, Nich’las? You must come in, Nich’las,
and help the young gentleman off with his boots. 96

_Nich._ If I pluck off his boots, I’ll eat the spurs,
And they shall stick fast in my throat like burrs.

_Cic._ Then, Jenkin, come you!

_Jen._ Nay, ’tis no boot[2844] for me to deny it. (100) My master
hath given me a coat here, but he takes pains himself to brush it
once or twice a day with a holly wand.

_Cic._ Come, come, make haste, that you may wash your hands again,
and help to serve (105) in dinner!

_Jen._ You may see, my masters, though it be afternoon with you, ’tis
yet but early days with us, for we have not din’d yet. Stay but a
little; I’ll but go in and help to bear up the first (110) course,
and come to you again presently. _Exeunt._

[SCENE II.][2845]

_Enter_ MALBY _and_ CRANWELL.

_Mal._ This is the sessions-day; pray can you tell me
How young Sir Charles hath sped? Is he acquit,
Or must he try the laws’ strict penalty?

_Cran._ He’s clear’d of all, spite of his enemies,
Whose earnest labour was to take his life. 5
But in this suit of pardon he hath spent
All the revenues that his father left him;
And he is now turn’d a plain countryman,
Reform’d[2846] in all things. See, sir, here he comes.

_Enter_ SIR CHARLES _and his_ Keeper.

_Keep._ Discharge your fees, and you are then at freedom. 10

_Sir C._ Here, Master Keeper, take the poor remainder
Of all the wealth I have! My heavy foes
Have made my purse light; but, alas! to me
’Tis wealth enough that you have set me free.

_Mal._ God give you joy of your delivery! 15
I am glad to see you abroad, Sir Charles.

_Sir C._ The poorest knight in England, Master Malby.
My life has cost me all my patrimony
My father left his son. Well, God forgive them
That are the authors of my penury! 20

_Enter_ SHAFTON.

_Shaft._ Sir Charles! A hand, a hand! At liberty?
Now, by the faith I owe, I am glad to see it.
What want you? Wherein may I pleasure you?

_Sir C._ Oh me! Oh, most unhappy gentleman!
I am not worthy to have friends stirr’d up, 25
Whose hands may help me in this plunge of want.
I would I were in Heaven, to inherit there
Th’ immortal birthright which my Saviour keeps,
And by no unthrift can be bought and sold;
For here on earth what pleasures should we trust! 30

_Shaft._ To rid you from these contemplations,
Three hundred pounds you shall receive of me;
Nay, five for fail.[2847] Come, sir, the sight of gold
Is the most sweet receipt for melancholy,
And will revive your spirits. You shall hold law 35
With your proud adversaries. Tush! let Frank Acton
Wage, with his knighthood, like expense with me,
And he will sink, he will.—Nay, good Sir Charles,
Applaud your fortune and your fair escape
From all these perils.

_Sir C._ Oh, sir! they have undone me. 40
Two thousand and five hundred pound a year
My father at his death possest me of;
All which the envious Acton made me spend;
And, notwithstanding all this large expense,
I had much ado to gain my liberty; 45
And I have only now a house of pleasure,
With some five hundred pounds reserv’d,
Both to maintain me and my loving sister.

_Shaft._ [_Aside._] That must I have, it lies convenient for me.
If I can fasten but one finger on him, 50
With my full hand I’ll gripe him to the heart.
’Tis not for love I proffer’d him this coin,
But for my gain and pleasure.—Come, Sir Charles,
I know you have need of money; take my offer.

_Sir C._ Sir, I accept it, and remain indebted
Even to the best of my unable[2848] power. 56
Come, gentlemen, and see it tend’red down![2849] [_Exeunt._]

[SCENE III.][2850]

_Enter_ WENDOLL, _melancholy._

_Wen._ I am a villain, if I apprehend[2851]
But such a thought! Then, to attempt the deed,
Slave, thou art damn’d without redemption.—
I’ll drive away this passion with a song. 4
A song! Ha, ha! A song! As if, fond[2852] man,
Thy eyes could swim in laughter, when thy soul
Lies drench’d and drowned in red tears of blood!
I’ll pray, and see if God within my heart
Plant better thoughts. Why, prayers are meditations,
And when I meditate (oh, God forgive me!) 10
It is on her divine perfections.
I will forget her; I will arm myself
Not t’ entertain a thought of love to her;
And, when I come by chance into her presence,
I’ll hale these balls until my eye-strings crack. 15
From being pull’d and drawn to look that way.
_Enter, over the Stage_, FRANKFORD, _his_ Wife, _and_ NICHOLAS _and
exit_].
O God, O God! With what a violence
I’m hurried to mine own destruction!
There goest thou, the most perfectest man
That ever England bred a gentleman, 20
And shall I wrong his bed?—Thou God of thunder!
Stay, in Thy thoughts of vengeance and of wrath,
Thy great, almighty, and all-judging hand
From speedy execution on a villain,—
A villain and a traitor to his friend. 25

_Enter_ JENKIN.

_Jen._ Did your worship call?

_Wen._ He doth maintain me; he allows me largely
Money to spend.

_Jen._ By my faith, so do not you me: I cannot get a cross of you. 30

_Wen._ My gelding, and my man.

_Jen._ That’s Sorrel and I.

_Wen._ This kindness grows of no alliance[2853] ’twixt us.

_Jen._ Nor is my service of any great acquaintance.

_Wen._ I never bound him to me by desert. 35
Of a mere stranger, a poor gentleman,
A man by whom in no kind he could gain,
He hath plac’d me in the height of all his thoughts,
Made me companion with the best and chiefest
In Yorkshire. He cannot eat without me, 40
Nor laugh without me; I am to his body
As necessary as his digestion,
And equally do make him whole or sick.
And shall I wrong this man? Base man! Ingrate!
Hast thou the power, straight with thy gory hands, 45
To rip thy image from his bleeding heart,
To scratch thy name from out the holy book
Of his remembrance, and to wound his name
That holds thy name so dear? Or rend his heart
To whom thy heart was knit and join’d together?— 50
And yet I must. Then Wendoll, be content!
Thus villains, when they would, cannot repent.

_Jen._ What a strange humour is my new master in! Pray God he be not
mad; if he should be so, I should never have any mind to serve 55
him in Bedlam. It may be he’s mad for missing of me.

_Wen._ What, Jenkin! Where’s your mistress?

_Jen._ Is your worship married? 60

_Wen._ Why dost thou ask?

_Jen._ Because you are my master; and if I have a mistress, I would
be glad, like a good servant, to do my duty to her.

_Wen._ I mean Mistress Frankford. 65

_Jen._ Marry, sir, her husband is riding out of town, and she went
very lovingly to bring him on his way to horse. Do you see, sir? Here
she comes, and here I go.

_Wen._ Vanish! [_Exit_ JENKINS.] 70

_Enter_ MISTRESS FRANKFORD.

_Mrs. F._ You are well met, sir; now, in troth, my husband
Before he took horse, had a great desire
To speak with you; we sought about the house,
Halloo’d into the fields, sent every way,
But could not meet you. Therefore, he enjoin’d me 75
To do unto you his most kind commends,—
Nay, more: he wills you, as you prize his love,
Or hold in estimation his kind friendship,
To make bold in his absence, and command
Even as himself were present in the house; 80
For you must keep his table, use his servants,
And be a present Frankford in his absence.

_Wen._ I thank him for his love.—
[_Aside._] Give me a name, you, whose infectious tongues
Are tipt with gall and poison: as you would
Think on a man that had your father slain, 86
Murd’red your children, made your wives base strumpets,
So call me, call me so: print in my face
The most stigmatic[2854] title of a villain,
For hatching treason to so true a friend! 90

_Mrs. F._ Sir, you are much beholding to my husband;
You are a man most dear in his regard.

_Wen._ I am bound unto your husband, and you too.
[_Aside._] I will not speak to wrong a gentleman
Of that good estimation, my kind friend. 95
I will not: zounds! I will not. I may choose,
And I will choose. Shall I be so misled,
Or shall I purchase[2855] to my father’s crest
The motto of a villain? If I say
I will not do it, what thing can enforce me? 100
What can compel me? What sad destiny
Hath such command upon my yielding thoughts?
I will not;—ha! Some fury pricks me on;
The swift fates drag me at their chariot wheel,
And hurry me to mischief. Speak I must: 105
Injure myself, wrong her, deceive his trust!

_Mrs. F._ Are you not well, sir, that you seem thus troubled?
There is sedition in your countenance.

_Wen._ And in my heart, fair angel, chaste and wise. 109
I love you! Start not, speak not, answer not;
I love you,—nay, let me speak the rest;
Bid me to swear, and I will call to record
The host of Heaven.

_Mrs. F._ The host of Heaven forbid
Wendoll should hatch such a disloyal thought?

_Wen._ Such is my fate; to this suit was I born, 115
To wear rich pleasure’s crown, or fortune’s scorn.

_Mrs. F._ My husband loves you.

_Wen._ I know it.

_Mrs. F._ He esteems you,
Even as his brain, his eye-ball, or his heart.

_Wen._ I have tried it.

_Mrs. F._ His purse is your exchequer, and his table 120
Doth freely serve you.

_Wen._ So I have found it.

_Mrs. F._ Oh! With what face of brass, what brow of steel,
Can you, unblushing, speak this to the face
Of the espous’d wife of so dear a friend? 124
It is my husband that maintains your state.—
Will you dishonour him that in your power
Hath left his whole affairs? I am his wife.
It is to me you speak.

_Wen._ O speak no more;
For more than this I know, and have recorded
Within the red-leav’d table of my heart. 130
Fair, and of all belov’d, I was not fearful
Bluntly to give my life into your hand,
And at one hazard all my earthly means.
Go, tell your husband; he will turn me off,
And I am then undone. I care not, I; 135
’T was for your sake. Perchance, in rage he’ll kill me;
I care not, ’t was for you. Say I incur
The general name of villain through the world,
Of traitor to my friend; I care not, I.
Beggary, shame, death, scandal, and reproach,— 140
For you I’ll hazard all. Why, what care I?
For you I’ll live, and in your love I’ll die.

_Mrs. F._ You move me, sir, to passion and to pity.
The love I bear my husband is as precious
As my soul’s health.

_Wen._ I love your husband too, 145
And for his love I will engage my life.
Mistake me not; the augmentation
Of my sincere affection borne to you
Doth no whit lessen my regard to him.
I will be secret, lady, close as night; 150
And not the light of one small glorious star
Shall shine here in my forehead, to bewray
That act of night.

_Mrs. F._ What shall I say?
My soul is wandering, hath lost her way.
Oh, Master Wendoll! Oh!

_Wen._ Sigh not, sweet saint; 155
For every sigh you breathe draws from my heart
A drop of blood.

_Mrs. F._ I ne’er offended yet:
My fault, I fear, will in my brow be writ.
Women that fall, not quite bereft of grace,
Have their offences noted in their face. 160
I blush, and am asham’d. Oh, Master Wendoll
Pray God I be not born to curse your tongue,
That hath enchanted me! This maze I am in
I fear will prove the labyrinth of sin.

_Enter_ NICHOLAS [_behind_].

_Wen._ The path of pleasure and the gate to bliss, 165
Which on your lips I knock at with a kiss!

_Nich._ I’ll kill the rogue.

_Wen._ Your husband is from home, your bed’s no blab.
Nay, look not down and blush!
[_Exeunt_ WENDOLL _and_ MISTRESS FRANKFORD.]

_Nich._ Zounds! I’ll stab.
Ay, Nick, was it thy chance to come just in the nick? 170
I love my master, and I hate that slave;
I love my mistress, but these tricks I like not.
My master shall not pocket up this wrong;
I’ll eat my fingers first. What say’st thou, metal?
Does not that rascal Wendoll go on legs 175
That thou must cut off? Hath he not hamstrings
That thou must hough? Nay, metal, thou shalt stand
To all I say. I’ll henceforth turn a spy,
And watch them in their close conveyances.[2856]
I never look’d for better of that rascal, 180
Since he came miching[2857] first into our house.
It is that Satan hath corrupted her;
For she was fair and chaste. I’ll have an eye
In all their gestures. Thus I think of them:
If they proceed as they have done before, 185
Wendoll’s a knave, my mistress is a—— _Exit._

[ACT III]

[SCENE I.][2858]

_Enter_ SIR CHARLES MOUNTFORD _and_ SUSAN.

_Sir C._ Sister, you see we are driven to hard shift,
To keep this poor house we have left unsold.
I ’m now enforc’d to follow husbandry,
And you to milk; and do we not live well?
Well, I thank God.

_Susan._ Oh, brother! here’s a change, 5
Since old Sir Charles died in our father’s house.

_Sir C._ All things on earth thus change, some up, some down;
Content ’s a kingdom, and I wear that crown.

_Enter_ SHAFTON, _with a_ Sergeant.

_Shaft._ Good morrow, morrow, Sir Charles! What! With your sister, 9
Plying your husbandry?—Sergeant, stand off!—
You have a pretty house here, and a garden,
And goodly ground about it. Since it lies
So near a lordship that I lately bought,
I would fain buy it of you. I will give you——

_Sir C._ Oh, pardon me; this house successively 15
Hath long’d to me and my progenitors
Three hundred years. My great-great-grandfather,
He in whom first our gentle style began,
Dwelt here, and in this ground increast this mole-hill
Unto that mountain which my father left me.
Where he the first of all our house began, 21
I now the last will end, and keep this house,—
This virgin title, never yet deflower’d
By any unthrift of the Mountfords’ line.
In brief, I will not sell it for more gold 25
Than you could hide or pave the ground withal.

_Shaft._ Ha, ha! a proud mind and a beggar’s purse!
Where ’s my three hundred pounds, besides the use?[2859]
I have brought it to an execution 29
By course of law. What! Is my money ready?

_Sir C._ An execution, sir, and never tell me
You put my bond in suit? You deal extremely.[2860]

_Shaft._ Sell me the land, and I ’ll acquit you straight.

_Sir C._ Alas, alas! ’T is all trouble hath left me
To cherish me and my poor sister’s life, 35
If this were sold, our names should then be quite
Raz’d from the bead-roll[2861] of gentility.
You see what hard shift we have made to keep it
Allied still to our name. This palm you see,
Labour hath glow’d within; her silver brow, 40
That never tasted a rough winter’s blast
Without a mask or fan, doth with a grace
Defy cold winter, and his storms outface.

_Susan._ Sir, we feed sparing, and we labour hard,
We lie uneasy, to reserve to us 45
And our succession this small spot of ground.

_Sir C._ I have so bent my thoughts to husbandry,
That I protest I scarcely can remember
What a new fashion is; how silk or satin
Feels in my hand. Why, pride is grown to us 50
A mere, mere stranger. I have quite forgot
The names of all that ever waited on me.
I cannot name ye any of my hounds,
Once from whose echoing mouths I heard all music
That e’er my heart desir’d. What should I say? 55
To keep this place, I have chang’d myself away.

_Shaft._ Arrest him at my suit!—Actions and actions
Shall keep thee in perpetual bondage fast;
Nay, more. I ’ll sue thee by a late appeal,
And call thy former life in question. 60
The keeper is my friend; thou shalt have irons,
And usage such as I ’ll deny to dogs.—
Away with him!

_Sir C._ You are too timorous.[2862]
But trouble is my master,
And I will serve him truly.—My kind sister,
Thy tears are of no use to mollify 66
The flinty man. Go to my father’s brother,
My kinsmen, and allies; entreat them for me,
To ransom me from this injurious man
That seeks my ruin.

_Shaft._ Come, irons! Come away; 70
I ’ll see thee lodg’d far from the sight of day.
_Exeunt_ [_except_ SUSAN].

_Susan._ My heart’s so hard’ned with the frost of grief,
Death cannot pierce it through.—Tyrant too fell!
So lead the fiends condemned souls to hell.

_Enter_ SIR FRANCIS ACTON _and_ MALBY.

_Sir F._ Again to prison! Malby, hast thou seen 75
A poor slave better tortur’d? Shall we hear
The music of his voice cry from the grate,[2863]
_Meat, for the Lord’s sake?_ No, no; yet I am not
Throughly reveng’d. They say, he hath a pretty wench
Unto his sister; shall I, in mercy-sake 80
To him and to his kindred, bribe the fool
To shame herself by lewd, dishonest lust?
I ’ll proffer largely; but, the deed being done,
I ’ll smile to see her base confusion.

_Mal._ Methinks, Sir Francis, you are full reveng’d 85
For greater wrongs than he can proffer you.
See where the poor sad gentlewoman stands!

_Sir F._ Ha, ha! Now will I flout her poverty,
Deride her fortunes, scoff her base estate;
My very soul the name of Mountford hates. 90
But stay, my heart! Oh, what a look did fly
To strike my soul through with thy piercing eye!
I am enchanted; all my spirits are fled.
And with one glance my envious spleen struck dead.

_Susan._ Acton! That seeks our blood! _Runs away._

_Sir F._ O chaste and fair! 95

_Mal._ Sir Francis! Why, Sir Francis! Zounds, in a trance?
Sir Francis! What cheer, man? Come, come, how is ’t?

_Sir F._ Was she not fair? Or else this judging eye
Cannot distinguish beauty.

_Mal._ She was fair. 99

_Sir F._ She was an angel in a mortal’s shape,
And ne’er descended from old Mountford’s line.
But soft, soft, let me call my wits together!
A poor, poor wench, to my great adversary
Sister, whose very souls denounce stern war
One against other! How now, Frank, turn’d fool 105
Or madman, whether? But no! Master of
My perfect senses and directest wits.
Then why should I be in this violent humour
Of passion and of love? And with a person
So different every way, and so oppos’d 110
In all contractions[2864] and still-warring actions?
Fie, fie! How I dispute against my soul!
Come, come; I’ll gain her, or in her fair quest
Purchase my soul free and immortal rest. [_Exeunt._]

[SCENE II.][2865]

_Enter three or four_ Serving-men, _one with a voider[2866] and a wooden knife, to take away all; another the salt and bread; another with the table-cloth and napkins; another the carpet;_[2867] JENKIN _with two lights after them._

_Jen._ So; march in order, and retire in battle array! My master and
the guests have supp’d already; all ’s taken away. Here, now spread
for the serving-men in the hall!—Butler, it belongs to your office. 5

_But._ I know it, Jenkin. What d’ ye call the gentleman that supp’d
there to-night?

_Jen._ Who? My master?

_But._ No, no; Master Wendoll, he’s a daily guest. I mean the
gentleman that came (10) but this afternoon.

_Jen._ His name’s Master Cranwell. God’s light! Hark, within there;
my master calls to lay more billets[2868] upon the fire. Come, come!
Lord, how we that are in office here in the (15) house are troubled!
One spread the carpet in the parlour, and stand ready to snuff the
lights; the rest be ready to prepare their stomachs! More lights in
the hall, there! Come, Nicholas.
_Exeunt_ [_all but_ NICHOLAS].

_Nich._ I cannot eat; but had I Wendoll’s heart, 20
I would eat that. The rogue grows impudent,
Oh! I have seen such vile, notorious tricks,
Ready to make my eyes dart from my head.
I’ll tell my master: by this air, I will;
Fall what may fall, I’ll tell him. Here he comes. 25

_Enter MASTER FRANKFORD, as it were brushing the crumbs from his clothes with a napkin, as newly risen from supper._

_Frank._ Nicholas, what make you here? Why are not you
At supper in the hall, among your fellows?

_Nich._ Master, I stay’d your rising from the board,
To speak with you.

_Frank._ Be brief then, gentle Nicholas;
My wife and guests attend[2869] me in the parlour. 30
Why dost thou pause? Now, Nicholas, you want money,
And, unthrift-like, would eat into your wages
Ere you had earn’d it. Here, sir, ’s half-a-crown;
Play the good husband,[2870]—and away to supper!

_Nich._ By this hand, an honourable gentleman!
I will not see him wrong’d. 35
Sir, I have serv’d you long; you entertain’d me
Seven years before your beard; you knew me, sir,
Before you knew my mistress.

_Frank._ What of this, good Nicholas?

_Nich._ I never was a make-bate[2871] or a knave; 40
I have no fault but one—I’m given to quarrel,
But not with women. I will tell you, master,
That which will make your heart leap from your breast,
Your hair to startle from your head, your ears to tingle.

_Frank._ What preparation’s this to dismal news? 45

_Nich._ ’Sblood! sir, I love you better than your wife.
I’ll make it good.

_Frank._ You are a knave, and I have much ado
With wonted patience to contain my rage,
And not to break thy pate. Thou art a knave. 50
I’ll turn you, with your base comparisons,
Out of my doors.

_Nich._ Do, do.
There is not room for Wendoll and me too,
Both in one house. O master, master,
That Wendoll is a villain!

_Frank._ Ay, saucy? 55

_Nich._ Strike, strike, do strike; yet hear me! I am no fool;
I know a villain, when I see him act
Deeds of a villain. Master, master, the base slave
Enjoys my mistress, and dishonours you.

_Frank._ Thou hast kill’d me with a weapon, whose sharp point 60
Hath prick’d quite through and through my shiv’ring heart.
Drops of cold sweat sit dangling on my hairs,
Like morning’s dew upon the golden flowers,
And I am plung’d into strange agonies.
What did’st thou say? If any word that toucht 65
His credit, or her reputation,
It is as hard to enter my belief,
As Dives into heaven.

_Nich._ I can gain nothing:
They are two that never wrong’d me. I knew before
’T was but a thankless office, and perhaps 70
As much as is my service, or my life
Is worth. All this I know; but this, and more,
More by a thousand dangers, could not hire me
To smother such a heinous wrong from you.
I saw, and I have said. 75

_Frank._ ’T is probable. Though blunt, yet he is honest.
Though I durst pawn my life, and on their faith
Hazard the dear salvation of my soul,
Yet in my trust I may be too secure.
May this be true? Oh, may it? Can it be? 80
Is it by any wonder possible?
Man, woman, what thing mortal can we trust,
When friends and bosom wives prove so unjust?—
What instance[2872] hast thou of this strange report?

_Nich._ Eyes, [master,] eyes. 85

_Frank._ Thy eyes may be deceiv’d, I tell thee;
For should an angel from the heavens drop down,
And preach this to me that thyself hast told,
He should have much ado to win belief;
In both their loves I am so confident. 90

_Nich._ Shall I discourse the same by circumstance?

_Frank._ No more! To supper, and command your fellows
To attend us and the strangers! Not a word,
I charge thee, on thy life! Be secret then;
For I know nothing. 95

_Nich._ I am dumb; and, now that I have eas’d my stomach,[2873]
I will go fill my stomach. [_Exit._]

_Frank._ Away! Begone!—
She is well born, descended nobly;
Virtuous her education; her repute
Is in the general voice of all the country 100
Honest and fair; her carriage, her demeanour,
In all her actions that concern the love
To me her husband, modest, chaste, and godly.
Is all this seeming gold plain copper?
But he, that Judas that hath borne my purse,
Hath sold me for a sin. O God! O God! 106
Shall I put up these wrongs? No! Shall I trust
The bare report of this suspicious groom,
Before the double-gilt, the well-hatch’d[2874] ore
Of their two hearts? No, I will lose these thoughts; 110
Distraction I will banish from my brow,
And from my looks exile sad discontent.
Their wonted favours in my tongue shall flow;
Till I know all, I ’ll nothing seem to know.—
Lights and a table there! Wife, Master Wendoll, 115
And gentle Master Cranwell!

_Enter_ MISTRESS FRANKFORD, MASTER WENDOLL, MASTER CRANWELL, NICHOLAS, _and_ JENKIN _with cards, carpets, stools, and other necessaries_.

_Frank._ O! Master Cranwell, you are a stranger here,
And often balk[2875] my house; faith, y’ are a churl!—
Now we have supp’d, a table, and to cards!

_Jen._ A pair[2876] of cards, Nicholas, and a carpet to cover
the table! Where ’s Cicely, with her (121) counters and her box?
Candles and candlesticks, there! Fie! We have such a household of
serving-creatures! Unless it be Nick and I, there’s not one amongst
them all that can say bo to a goose.—Well said,[2877] Nick! 126
_They spread a carpet: set down lights and cards._

_Mrs. F._ Come, Mr. Frankford, who shall take my part?[2878]

_Frank._ Marry, that will I, sweet wife. 129

_Wen._ No, by my faith, when you are together, I sit out. It must be
Mistress Frankford and I, or else it is no match.

_Frank._ I do not like that match.

_Nich._ [_Aside._] You have no reason, marry, knowing all. 135

_Frank._ ’T is no great matter, neither.— Come, Master Cranwell,
shall you and I take them up?[2879]

_Cran._ At your pleasure, sir. 139

_Frank._ I must look to you, Master Wendoll, for you ’ll be playing
false. Nay, so will my wife, too.

_Nich._ [_Aside._] Ay, I will be sworn she will.

_Mrs. F._ Let them that are taken playing false, forfeit the set! 145

_Frank._ Content; it shall go hard but I ’ll take you.

_Cran._ Gentlemen, what shall our game be?

_Wen._ Master Frankford, you play best at noddy.[2880]

_Frank._ You shall not find it so; indeed, you shall not.

_Mrs. F._ I can play at nothing so well as double-ruff.[2881] 150

_Frank._ If Master Wendoll and my wife be together, there ’s no
playing against them at double-hand.

_Nich._ I can tell you, sir, the game that Master Wendoll is best
at. 155

_Wen._ What game is that, Nick?

_Nich._ Marry, sir, knave out of doors.

_Wen._ She and I will take you at lodam.

_Mrs. F._ Husband, shall we play at saint?

_Frank._ [_Aside._] My saint ’s turn’d devil.— No, we ’ll none of
saint: 160
You are best at new-cut, wife, you ’ll play at that.

_Wen._ If you play at new-cut, I ’m soonest hitter of any here, for a
wager.

_Frank._ [_Aside._] ’T is me they play on.—Well, you may draw out; 164
For all your cunning, ’t will be to your shame;
I’ll teach you, at your new-cut, a new game.
Come, come!

_Cran._ If you cannot agree upon the game,
To post and pair!

_Wen._ We shall be soonest pairs; and my good host, 170
When he comes late home, he must kiss the post.[2882]

_Frank._ Whoever wins, it shall be to thy cost.

_Cran._ Faith, let it be vide-ruff, and let’s make honours!

_Frank._ If you make honours, one thing let me crave:
Honour the king and queen, except the knave. 175

_Wen._ Well, as you please for that.—Lift,[2883] who shall deal?

_Mrs. F._ The least in sight. What are you, Master Wendoll?

_Wen._ I am a knave.

_Nich._ [_Aside._] I’ll swear it.

_Mrs. F._ I a queen.

_Frank._ [_Aside._] A quean, thou should’st say. —Well, the cards
are mine:
They are the grossest pair[2884] that e’er I felt. 180

_Mrs. F._ Shuffle, I’ll cut: would I had never dealt!

_Frank._ I have lost my dealing.

_Wen._ Sir, the fault’s in me;
This queen I have more than mine own, you see.
Give me the stock![2884]

_Frank._ My mind ’s not on my game.
Many a deal I’ve lost; the more ’s your shame.
You have serv’d me a bad trick, Master Wendoll. 186

_Wen._ Sir, you must take your lot. To end this strife,
I know I have dealt better with your wife.

_Frank._ Thou hast dealt falsely, then.

_Mrs. F._ What ’s trumps? 190

_Wen._ Hearts. Partner, I rub.

_Frank._ [_Aside._] Thou robb’st me of my soul, of her chaste love;
In thy false dealing thou hast robb’d my heart.—
Booty you play; I like a loser stand,
Having no heart, or here or in my hand. 195
I will give o’er the set, I am not well.
Come, who will hold my cards?

_Mrs. F._ Not well, sweet Master Frankford?
Alas what ails you? ’T is some sudden qualm.

_Wen._ How long have you been so, Master Frankford? 200

_Frank._ Sir, I was lusty, and I had my health,
But I grew ill when you began to deal.—
Take hence this table!—Gentle Master Cranwell,
Y’ are welcome; see your chamber at your pleasure!
I am sorry that this megrim takes me so, 205
I cannot sit and bear you company.—
Jenkin, some lights, and show him to his chamber![2885]

_Mrs. F._ A nightgown for my husband; quickly, there!
It is some rheum or cold.

_Wen._ Now, in good faith,
This illness you have got by sitting late 210
Without your gown.

_Frank._ I know it, Master Wendoll.
Go, go to bed, lest you complain like me!—
Wife, prithee, wife, into my bed-chamber!
The night is raw and cold, and rheumatic.
Leave me my gown and light; I ’ll walk away my fit. 215

_Wen._ Sweet sir, good night!

_Frank._ Myself, good night! [_Exit_ Wendoll.]

_Mrs. F._ Shall I attend you, husband?

_Frank._ No, gentle wife, thou ’lt catch cold in thy head.
Prithee, begone, sweet; I’ll make haste to bed.

_Mrs. F._ No sleep will fasten on mine eyes, you know, 220
Until you come. [_Exit._]

_Frank._ Sweet Nan, I prithee, go!—
I have bethought me; get me by degrees
The keys of all my doors, which I will mould
In wax, and take their fair impression,
To have by them new keys. This being compast, 225
At a set hour a letter shall be brought me,
And when they think they may securely play,
They nearest are to danger.—Nick, I must rely
Upon thy trust and faithful secrecy.

_Nich._ Build on my faith!

_Frank._ To bed, then, not to rest!
Care lodges in my brain, grief in my breast. [_Exeunt._] 231

[SCENE III.][2886]

_Enter_ SIR CHARLES’S Sister, OLD MOUNTFORD, SANDY, RODER, _and_ TIDY.