Chapter LXXX: Prologue (2)

_Old Mount._ You say my nephew is in great distress;
Who brought it to him but his own lewd life?
I cannot spare a cross. I must confess,
He was my brother’s son; why, niece, what then?
This is no world in which to pity men. 5

_Susan._ I was not born a beggar, though his extremes
Enforce this language from me. I protest
No fortune of mine own could lead my tongue
To this base key. I do beseech you, uncle,
For the name’s sake, for Christianity,— 10
Nay, for God’s sake, to pity his distress.
He is deni’d the freedom of the prison,
And in the hole is laid with men condemn’d;
Plenty he hath of nothing but of irons,
And it remains in you to free him thence. 15

_Old Mount._ Money I cannot spare; men should take heed.
He lost my kindred when he fell to need. _Exit._

_Susan._ Gold is but earth; thou earth enough shalt have,
When thou hast once took measure of thy grave.
You know me, Master Sandy, and my suit. 20

_Sandy._ I knew you, lady, when the old man liv’d;
I knew you ere your brother sold his land.
Then you were Mistress Sue, trick’d up in jewels;
Then you sung well, play’d sweetly on the lute;
But now I neither know you nor your suit. 25
[_Exit._]

_Susan._ You, Master Roder, was my brother’s tenant;
Rent-free he plac’d you in that wealthy farm,
Of which you are possest.

_Roder._ True, he did;
And have I not there dwelt still for his sake?
I have some business now; but, without doubt,
They that have hurl’d him in, will help him out. _Exit._ 31

_Susan._ Cold comfort still. What say you, cousin Tidy?

_Tidy._ I say this comes of roysting,[2887] swagg’ring.
Call me not cousin; each man for himself!
Some men are born to mirth, and some to sorrow: 35
I am no cousin unto them that borrow. _Exit._

_Susan._ O Charity, why art thou fled to heaven,
And left all things [up]on this earth uneven?
Their scoffing answers I will ne’er return,
But to myself his grief in silence mourn. 40

_Enter_ SIR FRANCIS _and_ MALBY.

_Sir F._ She is poor, I’ll therefore tempt her with this gold.
Go, Malby, in my name deliver it,
And I will stay thy answer.

_Mal._ Fair mistress, as I understand your grief
Doth grow from want, so I have here in store
A means to furnish you, a bag of gold, 46
Which to your hands I freely tender you.

_Susan._ I thank you, Heavens! I thank you, gentle sir:
God make me able to requite this favour!

_Mal._ This gold Sir Francis Acton sends by me, 50
And prays you——

_Susan._ Acton? O God! That name I’m born to curse.
Hence, bawd; hence, broker! See, I spurn his gold.
My honour never shall for gain be sold.

_Sir F._ Stay, lady, stay!

_Susan._ From you I’ll posting hie, 55
Even as the doves from feather’d eagles fly. _Exit._

_Sir F._ She hates my name, my face; how should I woo?
I am disgrac’d in every thing I do.
The more she hates me, and disdains my love,
The more I am rapt in admiration 60
Of her divine and chaste perfections.
Woo her with gifts I cannot, for all gifts
Sent in my name she spurns; with looks I cannot,
For she abhors my sight; nor yet with letters,
For none she will receive. How then? how then?
Well, I will fasten such a kindness on her, 66
As shall o’ercome her hate and conquer it.
Sir Charles, her brother, lies in execution
For a great sum of money; and, besides,
The appeal is sued still for my huntsmen’s death, 70
Which only I have power to reverse.
In her I’ll bury all my hate of him.—
Go seek the Keeper, Malby, bring him to me!
To save his body, I his debts will pay; 74
To save his life, I his appeal will stay. [_Exeunt._]

[ACT IV]

[SCENE I.][2888]

_Enter_ SIR CHARLES [MOUNTFORD], _in prison, with irons, his feel bare, his garments all ragged and torn._

_Sir C._ Of all on the earth’s face most miserable,
Breathe in this hellish dungeon thy laments!
Thus like a slave ragg’d, like a felon gyv’d,—
That hurls thee headlong to this base estate.
Oh, unkind uncle! Oh, my friends ingrate! 5
Unthankful kinsmen! Mountford’s all too base,
To let thy name be fetter’d in disgrace,
A thousand deaths here in this grave I die;
Fear, hunger, sorrow, cold, all threat my death,
And join together to deprive my breath. 10
But that which most torments me, my dear sister
Hath left[2889] to visit me, and from my friends
Hath brought no hopeful answer; therefore, I
Divine they will not help my misery.
If it be so, shame, scandal, and contempt 15
Attend their covetous thoughts; need make their graves!
Usurers they live, and may they die like slaves!

_Enter_ Keeper.

_Keep._ Knight, be of comfort, for I bring thee freedom
From all thy troubles.

_Sir C._ Then, I am doom’d to die:
Death is the end of all calamity. 20

_Keep._ Live! Your appeal is stay’d; the execution
Of all your debts discharg’d; your creditors
Even to the utmost penny satisfied.
In sign whereof your shackles I knock off.
You are not left so much indebted to us 25
As for your fees; all is discharg’d; all paid.
Go freely to your house, or where you please;
After long miseries, embrace your ease.

_Sir C._ Thou grumblest out the sweetest music to me
That ever organ play’d.—Is this a dream? 30
Or do my waking senses, apprehend
The pleasing taste of these applausive[2890] news?
Slave that I was, to wrong such honest friends,
My loving kinsman, and my near allies! 34
Tongue, I will bite thee for the scandal breath’d
Against such faithful kinsmen; they are all
Compos’d of pity and compassion,
Of melting charity and of moving ruth.
That which I spoke before was in my rage;
They are my friends, the mirrors of this age; 40
Bounteous and free. The noble Mountford’s race
Ne’er bred a covetous thought, or humour base.

_Enter_ SUSAN.

_Susan._ I cannot longer stay from visiting
My woful brother. While I could, I kept
My hapless tidings, from his hopeful ear. 45

_Sir C._ Sister, how much am I indebted to thee
And to thy travail!

_Susan._ What, at liberty?

_Sir C._ Thou seest I am, thanks to thy industry.
Oh! Unto which of all my courteous friends
Am I thus bound? My uncle Mountford, he 50
Even of an infant lov’d me; was it he?
So did my cousin Tidy; was it he?
So Master Roder, Master Sandy, too.
Which of all these did this high kindness do?

_Susan._ Charles, can you mock me in your poverty, 55
Knowing your friends deride your misery?
Now, I protest I stand so much amaz’d,
To see your bonds free, and your irons knock’d off,
That I am rapt into a maze of wonder;
The rather for I know not by what means 60
This happiness hath chanc’d.

_Sir C._ Why, by my uncle,
My cousins, and my friends; who else, I pray,
Would take upon them all my debts to pay?

_Susan._ Oh, brother! they are men [made] all of flint,
Pictures of marble, and as void of pity 65
As chased bears. I begg’d, I sued, I kneel’d,
Laid open all your griefs and miseries,
Which they derided; more than that, deni’d us
A part in their alliance; but, in pride,
Said that our kindred with our plenty died. 70

_Sir C._ Drudges too much,[2891]—what did they? Oh, known evil!
Rich fly the poor, as good men shun the devil.
Whence should my freedom come? Of whom alive,
Saving of those, have I deserv’d go well?
Guess, sister, call to mind, remember me! 75
These have I rais’d, they follow the world’s guise,
Whom rich [they][2892] honour, they in woe despise.

_Susan._ My wits have lost themselves; let’s ask the keeper!

_Sir C._ Gaoler!

_Keep._ At hand, sir. 80

_Sir C._ Of courtesy resolve me one demand!
What was he took the burden of my debts
From off my back, staid my appeal to death,
Discharg’d my fees, and brought me liberty?

_Keep._ A courteous knight, one call’d Sir Francis Acton. 85

_Sir C._ Ha! Acton! Oh me! More distress’d in this
Than all my troubles! Hale me back,
Double my irons, and my sparing meals
Put into halves, and lodge me in a dungeon
More deep, more dark, more cold, more comfortless! 90
By Acton freed! Not all thy manacles
Could fetter so my heels, as this one word
Hath thrall’d my heart; and it must now lie bound
In more strict prison than thy stony gaol.
I am not free, I go but under bail. 95

_Keep._ My charge is done, sir, now I have my fees.
As we get little, we will nothing leese.[2893]

_Sir C._ By Acton freed, my dangerous opposite!
Why, to what end? On what occasion? Ha!
Let me forget the name of enemy, 100
And with indifference balance[2894] this high favour!
Ha!

_Susan._ [_Aside._] His love to me, upon my soul, ’t is so!
That is the root from whence these strange things grow.

_Sir C._ Had this proceeded from my father, he
That by the law of Nature is most bound 106
In offices of love, it had deserv’d
My best employment to requite that grace.
Had it proceeded from my friends, or him, 109
From them this action had deserv’d my life,—
And from a stranger more, because from such
There is less execution[2895] of good deeds.
But he, nor father, nor ally, nor friend,
More than a stranger, both remote in blood,
And in his heart oppos’d my enemy, 115
That this high bounty should proceed from him,—
Oh! there I lose myself. What should I say,
What think, what do, his bounty to repay?

_Susan._ You wonder, I am sure, whence this strange kindness
Proceeds in Acton; I will tell you, brother. 120
He dotes on me, and oft hath sent me gifts,
Letters, and tokens; I refus’d them all.

_Sir C._ I have enough, though poor: my heart is set,
In one rich gift to pay back all my debt. _Exeunt._

[SCENE II.[2896]]

_Enter_ FRANKFORD _and_ NICHOLAS, _with keys and a letter in his hand_.

_Frank._ This is the night that I must play my part,
To try two seeming angels.—Where’s my keys?

_Nich._ They are made according to your mould in wax.
I bade the smith be secret, gave him money,
And here they are. The letter, sir! 5

_Frank._ True, take it, there it is;
And when thou seest me in my pleasant’st vein,
Ready to sit to supper, bring it me!

_Nich._ I’ll do’t; make no more question, but I’ll do it. _Exit._

_Enter_ MISTRESS FRANKFORD, CRANWELL, WENDOLL, _and_ JENKIN.

_Mrs. F._ Sirrah, ’t is six o’clock already struck; 10
Go bid them spread the cloth, and serve in supper!

_Jen._ It shall be done, forsooth, mistress.
Where’s Spigot, the butler, to give us out salt
and trenchers? 14

_Wen._ We that have been a hunting all the day,
Come with prepared stomachs.—Master Frankford,
We wish’d you at our sport.

_Frank._ My heart was with you, and my mind was on you.—
Fie, Master Cranwell! You are still thus sad.—
A stool, a stool! Where’s Jenkin, and where’s Nick? 20
’T is supper time at least an hour ago.
What’s the best news abroad?

_Wen._ I know none good.

_Frank._ [_Aside._] But I know too much bad.

_Enter_ Butler _and_ JENKIN, _with a table-cloth_, _bread_, _trenchers_, _and salt_; [_then exeunt._]

_Cran._ Methinks, sir, you might have that interest[2897]
In your wife’s brother, to be more remiss[2898] 25
In his hard dealing against poor Sir Charles,
Who, as I hear, lies in York Castle, needy
And in great want.

_Frank._ Did not more weighty business of mine own
Hold me away, I would have labour’d peace 30
Betwixt them with all care; indeed I would, sir.

_Mrs. F._ I’ll write unto my brother earnestly
In that behalf.

_Wen._ A charitable deed,
And will beget the good opinion
Of all your friends that love you, Mistress Frankford. 35

_Frank._ That’s you, for one; I know you love Sir Charles,
[_Aside._] And my wife too, well.

_Wen._ He deserves the love
Of all true gentlemen; be yourselves judge!

_Frank._ But supper, ho!—Now, as thou lov’st me, Wendoll, 39
Which I am sure thou dost, be merry, pleasant,
And frolic it to-night!—Sweet Mr. Cranwell,
Do you the like!—Wife, I protest, my heart
Was ne’er more bent on sweet alacrity.
Where be those lazy knaves to serve in supper?

_Enter_ NICHOLAS.

_Nich._ Here’s a letter, sir.

_Frank._ Whence comes it, and who brought it?

_Nich._ A stripling that below attends your answer, 45
And, as he tells me, it is sent from York.

_Frank._ Have him into the cellar, let him taste
A cup of our March beer; go, make him drink!

_Nich._ I’ll make him drunk, if he be a Trojan.[2899] 50

_Frank._ [_after reading the letter._] My boots
and spurs! Where’s Jenkin? God forgive me,
How I neglect my business!—Wife, look here!
I have a matter to be tri’d to-morrow
By eight o’clock; and my attorney writes me,
I must be there betimes with evidence, 55
Or it will go against me. Where’s my boots?

_Enter_ JENKIN, _with boots and spurs_.

_Mrs. F._ I hope your business craves no such despatch,
That you must ride to-night?

_Wen._ [_Aside._] I hope it doth.

_Frank._ God’s me! No such despatch?
Jenkin, my boots! Where’s Nick? Saddle my roan, 60
And the grey dapple for himself!—Content ye,
It much concerns me.—Gentle Master Cranwell,
And Master Wendoll, in my absence use
The very ripest pleasure of my house!

_Wen._ Lord! Master Frankford, will you ride to-night? 65
The ways are dangerous.

_Frank._ Therefore will I ride
Appointed[2900] well; and so shall Nick, my man.

_Mrs. F._ I ’ll call you up by five o’clock to-morrow.

_Frank._ No, by my faith, wife, I’ll not trust to that:
’T is not such easy rising in a morning 70
From one I love so dearly. No, by my faith,
I shall not leave so sweet a bedfellow,
But with much pain. You have made me a sluggard
Since I first knew you.

_Mrs. F._ Then, if you needs will go
This dangerous evening. Master Wendoll, 75
Let me entreat you bear him company.

_Wen._ With all my heart, sweet mistress.—
My boots, there!

_Frank._ Fie, fie, that for my private business
I should disease[2901] a friend, and be a trouble
To the whole house!—Nick!

_Nich._ Anon, sir! 80

_Frank._ Bring forth my gelding!—As you love me, sir,
Use no more words: a hand, good Master Cranwell!

_Cran._ Sir, God be your good speed!

_Frank._ Good night, sweet Nan; nay, nay, a kiss, and part!
[_Aside._] Dissembling lips, you suit not with my heart. 85
_Exeunt_ [FRANKFORD _and_ NICHOLAS].

_Wen._ [_Aside._] How business, time, and hours, all gracious prove,
And are the furtherers to my new-born love!
I am husband now in Master Frankford’s place,
And must command the house.—My pleasure is
We will not sup abroad so publicly, 90
But in your private chamber, Mistress Frankford.

_Mrs. F._ Oh, sir! you are too public in your love,
And Master Frankford’s wife——

_Cran._ Might I crave favour,
I would entreat you I might see my chamber.
I am on the sudden grown exceeding ill, 95
And would be spar’d from supper.

_Wen._ Light there, ho!—
See you want nothing, sir, for if you do,
You injure that good man, and wrong me too.

_Cran._ I will make bold; good night! [_Exit._]

_Wen._ How all conspire
To make our bosom[2902] sweet, and full entire! 100
Come, Nan, I pr’ythee, let us sup within!

_Mrs. F._ Oh! what a clog unto the soul is sin!
We pale offenders are still full of fear;
Every suspicious eye brings danger near;
When they, whose clear hearts from offence are free, 105
Despise report, base scandals do outface,
And stand at mere defiance with disgrace.

_Wen._ Fie, fie! You talk too like a puritan.

_Mrs. F._ You have tempted me to mischief, Master Wendoll:
I have done I know not what. Well, you plead custom; 110
That which for want of wit I granted erst,
I now must yield through fear. Come, come, let’s in;
Once over shoes, we are straight o’er head in sin.

_Wen._ My jocund soul is joyful beyond measure; 114
I’ll be profuse in Frankford’s richest treasure. _Exeunt._

[SCENE III.][2903]

_Enter_ CICELY, JENKIN, Butler, _and other_ Serving-men.

_Jen._ My mistress and Master Wendoll, my master, sup in her chamber
to-night. Cicely, you are preferr’d, from being the cook, to be
chambermaid. Of all the loves betwixt thee and me, tell me what thou
think’st of this? 5

_Cic._ Mum; there’s an old proverb,—when the cat’s away, the mouse
may play.

_Jen._ Now you talk of a cat, Cicely, I smell a rat.

_Cic._ Good words, Jenkin, lest you be call’d (10) to answer them!

_Jen._ Why, God make my mistress an honest woman! Are not these good
words? Pray God my new master play not the knave with my old master!
Is there any hurt in this? God send (15) no villainy intended; and if
they do sup together, pray God they do not lie together! God make my
mistress chaste, and make us all His servants! What harm is there in
all this? Nay, more; here in my hand, thou shalt never have (20) my
heart, unless thou say. Amen.

_Cic._ Amen; I pray God, I say.

_Enter_ Serving-man.

_Serving-man._ My mistress sends that you should make less noise. So,
lock up the doors, and see the household all got to bed! You, 25
Jenkin, for this night are made the porter, to see the gates shut in.

_Jen._ Thus by little and little I creep into office. Come, to
kennel, my masters, to kennel; ’t is eleven o’clock already. 30

_Serving-man._ When you have lock’d the gates in, you must send up
the keys to my mistress.

_Cic._ Quickly, for God’s sake, Jenkin; for I must carry them. I am
neither pillow nor bolster, but I know more than both. 35

_Jen._ To bed, good Spigot; to bed, good honest serving-creatures;
and let us sleep as snug as pigs in pease-straw! _Exeunt._

[SCENE IV.][2904]

_Enter_ FRANKFORD _and_ NICHOLAS.

_Frank._ Soft, soft! We ’ve tied our geldings to a tree,
Two flight-shot[2905] off, lest by their thundering hoofs
They blab our coming back. Hear’st thou no noise?

_Nich._ Hear? I hear nothing but the owl and you.

_Frank._ So; now my watch’s hand points upon twelve, 5
And it is dead midnight. Where are my keys?

_Nich._ Here, sir.

_Frank._ This is the key that opes my outward gate;
This, the hall-door; this, the withdrawing-chamber; 9
But this, that door that’s bawd unto my shame,
Fountain and spring of all my bleeding thoughts,
Where the most hallowed order and true knot
Of nuptial sanctity hath been profan’d.
It leads to my polluted bed-chamber,
Once my terrestrial heaven, now my earth’s hell, 15
The place where sins in all their ripeness dwell.—
But I forget myself; now to my gate!

_Nich._ It must ope with far less noise than
Cripplegate, or your plot’s dash’d.

_Frank._ So; reach me my dark lantern to the rest! 20
Tread softly, softly!

_Nich._ I will walk on eggs this pace.

_Frank._ A general silence hath surpris’d the house.
And this is the last door. Astonishment,
Fear, and amazement, beat upon my heart,
Even as a madman beats upon a drum. 25
Oh, keep my eyes, you Heavens, before I enter,
From any sight that may transfix my soul;
Or, if there be so black a spectacle,
Oh, strike mine eyes stark blind; or if not so,
Lend me such patience to digest my grief, 30
That I may keep this white and virgin hand
From any violent outrage, or red murder!—
And with that prayer I enter. [_Exeunt into the house._]

[SCENE V.][2906]

[_Enter_ NICHOLAS.]

_Nich._ Here’s a circumstance![2907]
A man may be made cuckold in the time
That he ’s about it. An the case were mine.
As ’t is my master’s, ’sblood! (that he makes me swear!), 4
I would have plac’d his action,[2908] enter’d there;
I would, I would!

[_Enter_ FRANKFORD.]

_Frank._ Oh! oh!

_Nich._ Master! ’Sblood! Master, master!

_Frank._ Oh me unhappy! I have found them lying
Close in each other’s arms, and fast asleep. 9
But that I would not damn two precious souls,
Bought with my Saviour’s blood, and send them, laden
With all their scarlet sins upon their backs,
Unto a fearful judgment, their two lives
Had met upon my rapier.

_Nich._ Master, what, have you left them sleeping still? 15
Let me go wake ’em!

_Frank._ Stay, let me pause awhile!—
Oh, God! Oh, God! That it were possible
To undo things done; to call back yesterday;
That Time could turn up his swift sandy glass,
To untell[2909] the days, and to redeem these hours!
Or that the sun 21
Could, rising from the west, draw his coach backward;
Take from th’ account of time so many minutes,
Till he had all these seasons call’d again,
Those minutes, and those actions done in them,
Even from her first offence; that I might take her 26
As spotless as an angel in my arms!
But, oh! I talk of things impossible,
And cast beyond the moon. God give me patience;
For I will in, and wake them. _Exit._

_Nich._ Here’s patience perforce! 30
He needs must trot afoot that tires his horse. [_Exit._]

_Enter_ WENDOLL, _running over the stage in a night-gown_,[2910] FRANKFORD _after him with his sword drawn; a maid in her smock stays his hand, and clasps hold on him. He pauses for a while._

_Frank._ I thank thee, maid; thou, like the angel’s hand,
Hast stay’d me from a bloody sacrifice.—
Go, villain; and my wrongs sit on thy soul
As heavy as this grief doth upon mine! 35
When thou record’st my many courtesies,
And shalt compare them with thy treacherous heart,
Lay them together, weigh them equally,—
’T will be revenge enough. Go, to thy friend
A Judas; pray, pray, lest I live to see 40
Thee, Judas-like, hang’d on an elder-tree!

_Enter_ MISTRESS FRANKFORD _in her smock, night-gown, and night-attire._

_Mrs. F._ Oh, by what word, what title, or what name,
Shall I entreat your pardon? Pardon! Oh!
I am as far from hoping such sweet grace,
As Lucifer from Heaven. To call you husband,— 45
(Oh me, most wretched!) I have lost that name;
I am no more your wife.

_Nich._ ’Sblood, sir, she swoons.

_Frank._ Spare thou thy tears, for I will weep for thee;
And keep thy count’nance, for I ’ll blush for thee.
Now, I protest, I think ’t is I am tainted, 50
For I am most asham’d; and ’t is more hard
For me to look upon thy guilty face
Than on the sun’s clear brow. What! Would’st thou speak?

_Mrs. F._ I would I had no tongue, no ears, no eyes,
No apprehension, no capacity. 55
When do you spurn me like a dog? When tread me
Under feet? When drag me by the hair?
Though I deserve a thousand, thousand fold,
More than you can inflict—yet, once my husband,
For womanhood, to which I am a shame, 60
Though once an ornament—even for His sake,
That hath redeem’d our souls, mark not my face,
Nor hack me with your sword; but let me go
Perfect and undeformed to my tomb!
I am not worthy that I should prevail 65
In the least suit; no, not to speak to you,
Nor look on you, nor to be in your presence;
Yet, as an abject,[2911] this one suit I crave;—
This granted, I am ready for my grave.

_Frank._ My God, with patience arm me!—Rise, nay, rise, 70
And I ’ll debate with thee. Was it for want
Thou play’dst the strumpet? Wast thou not suppli’d
With every pleasure, fashion, and new toy,—
Nay, even beyond my calling?[2912]

_Mrs. F._ I was.

_Frank._ Was it, then, disability in me; 75
Or in thine eye seem’d he a properer man?

_Mrs. F._ Oh, no!

_Frank._ Did I not lodge thee in my bosom?
Wear thee here in my heart?

_Mrs. F._ You did.

_Frank._ I did, indeed; witness my tears, I did—
Go, bring my infants hither!—
[_Two_ Children _are brought in_.]
Oh, Nan! Oh, Nan!
If neither fear of shame, regard of honour, 81
The blemish of my house, nor my dear love,
Could have withheld thee from so lewd a fact;
Yet for these infants, these young, harmless souls, 84
On whose white brows thy shame is character’d,
And grows in greatness as they wax in years,—
Look but on them, and melt away in tears!—
Away with them; lest, as her spotted body
Hath stain’d their names with stripe of bastardy,
So her adulterous breath may blast their spirits
With her infectious thoughts! Away with them! [_Exeunt_ Children.] 91

_Mrs. F._ In this one life, I die ten thousand deaths.

_Frank._ Stand up, stand up! I will do nothing rashly.
I will retire awhile into my study,
And thou shalt hear thy sentence presently. _Exit._

_Mrs. F._ ’T is welcome, be it death. Oh me, base strumpet, 96
That, having such a husband, such sweet children,
Must enjoy neither! Oh, to redeem mine honour,
I ’d have this hand cut off, these my breasts sear’d;
Be rack’d, strappado’d, put to any torment: 100
Nay, to whip but this scandal out, I’d hazard
The rich and dear redemption of my soul!
He cannot be so base as to forgive me,
Nor I so shameless to accept his pardon.
Oh, women, women, you that yet have kept 105
Your holy matrimonial vow unstain’d,
Make me your instance; when you tread awry,
Your sins, like mine, will on your consciense lie.

_Enter_ CICELY, SPIGOT, _all the_ Serving-men, _and_ JENKIN, _as newly come out of bed_.

_All._ Oh, mistress, mistress! What have you done, mistress?

_Nich._ ’Sblood, what a caterwauling keep you here! 110

_Jen._ O Lord, mistress, how comes this to pass? My master is run
away in his shirt, and never so much as call’d me to bring his
clothes after him.

_Mrs. F._ See what guilt is! Here stand I in this place, 115
Asham’d to look my servants in the face.

_Enter_ FRANKFORD _and_ CRANWELL; _whom seeing, she falls on her kneees_.

_Frank._ My words are regist’red in Heaven already.
With patience hear me! I ’ll not martyr thee,
Nor mark thee for a strumpet; but with usage
Of more humility torment thy soul, 120
And kill thee even with kindness.

_Cran._ Master Frankford———

_Frank._ Good Master Cranwell!—Woman, hear thy judgment!
Go make thee ready in thy best attire; 124
Take with thee all thy gowns, all thy apparel;
Leave nothing that did ever call thee mistress,
Or by whose sight, being left here in the house,
I may remember such a woman by.
Choose thee a bed and hangings for thy chamber;
Take with thee every thing which hath thy mark, 130
And get thee to my manor seven mile off,
Where live;—’t is thine; I freely give it thee.
My tenants by[2913] shall furnish thee with wains
To carry all thy stuff within two hours;
No longer will I limit[2914] thee my sight. 135
Choose which of all my servants thou lik’st best,
And they are thine to attend thee.

_Mrs. F._ A mild sentence.

_Frank._ But, as thou hop’st for Heaven, as thou believ’st
Thy name’ s recorded in the book of life,
I charge thee never after this sad day 140
To see me, or to meet me; or to send,
By word or writing, gift or otherwise,
To move me, by thyself, or by thy friends;
Nor challenge any part in my two children.
So farewell, Nan; for we will henceforth be 145
As we had never seen, ne’er more shall see.

_Mrs. F._ How full my heart is, in mine eyes appears;
What wants in words, I will supply in tears.

_Frank._ Come, take your coach, your stuff; all must along.
Servants and all make ready; all begone! 150
It was thy hand cut two hearts out of one. [_Exeunt._]

[ACT V]

[SCENE I.][2915]

_Enter_ SIR CHARLES MOUNTFORD, _gentleman-like, and his_ Sister, _gentlewoman-like_.

_Susan._ Brother, why have you trick’d[2916] me like a bride,
Bought me this gay attire, these ornaments?
Forget you our estate, our poverty?

_Sir C._ Call me not brother, but imagine me
Some barbarous outlaw, or uncivil kern;[2917] 5
For if thou shutt’st thine eye, and only hear’st
The words that I shall utter, thou shalt judge me
Some staring ruffian, not thy brother Charles.
Oh, sister!——

_Susan._ Oh, brother! what doth this strange language mean? 10

_Sir C._ Dost love me, sister? Wouldst thou see me live
A bankrupt beggar in the world’s disgrace,
And die indebted to mine enemies?
Wouldst thou behold me stand like a huge beam
In the world’s eye, a bye-word and a scorn? 15
It lies in thee of these to acquit me free,
And all my debt I may outstrip by thee.

_Susan._ By me? Why, I have nothing, nothing left;
I owe even for the clothes upon my back;
I am not worth——

_Sir C._ O sister, say not so! 20
It lies in you my downcast state to raise;
To make me stand on even points with the world.
Come, sister, you are rich; indeed you are,
And in your power you have, without delay
Acton’s five hundred pounds back to repay. 25

_Susan._ Till now I had thought you lov’d me. By my honour
(Which I have kept as spotless as the moon),
I ne’er was mistress of that single doit[2918]
Which I reserv’d not to supply your wants;
And do you think that I would hoard from you? 30
Now, by my hopes in Heaven, knew I the means
To buy you from the slavery of your debts
(Especially from Acton, whom I hate),
I would redeem it with my life or blood! 34

_Sir C._ I challenge it, and, kindred set apart,
Thus, ruffian-like, I lay siege to thy heart.
What do I owe to Acton?

_Susan._ Why, some five hundred pounds; towards which, I swear,
In all the world I have not one denier.[2919]

_Sir C._ It will not prove so. Sister, now resolve[2920] me: 40
What do you think (and speak your conscience)
Would Acton give, might he enjoy your bed?

_Susan._ He would not shrink to spend a thousand pound
To give the Mountfords’ name so deep a wound.

_Sir C._ A thousand pound! I but five hundred owe: 45
Grant him your bed; he’s paid with interest so.

_Susan._ Oh, brother!

_Sir C._ Oh, sister! only this one way,
With that rich jewel you my debts may pay.
In speaking this my cold heart shakes with shame;
Nor do I woo you in a brother’s name, 50
But in a stranger’s. Shall I die in debt
To Acton, my grand foe, and you still wear
The precious jewel that he holds so dear?

_Susan._ My honour I esteem as dear and precious
As my redemption.

_Sir C._ I esteem you, sister, 55
As dear, for so dear prizing it.

_Susan._ Will Charles
Have me cut off my hands, and send them Acton?
Rip up my breast, and with my bleeding heart
Present him as a token?

_Sir C._ Neither, sister;
But hear me in my strange assertion! 60
Thy honour and my soul are equal in my regard;
Nor will thy brother Charles survive thy shame.
His kindness, like a burden, hath surcharg’d me,
And under his good deeds I stooping go,
Not with an upright soul. Had I remain’d 65
In prison still, there doubtless I had died.
Then, unto him that freed me from that prison,
Still do I owe this life. What mov’d my foe
To enfranchise me? ’T was, sister, for your love;
With full five hundred pounds he bought your love;— 70
And shall he not enjoy it? Shall the weight
Of all this heavy burden lean on me,
And will not you bear part? You did partake
The joy of my release; will you not stand
In joint-bond bound to satisfy the debt? 75
Shall I be only charg’d?

_Susan._ But that I know
These arguments come from an honour’d mind,
As in your most extremity of need
Scorning to stand in debt to one you hate,—
Nay, rather would engage your unsustain’d honour, 80
Than to be held ingrate,—I should condemn you.
I see your resolution, and assent;
So Charles will have me, and I am content.

_Sir C._ For this I trick’d[2921] you up.

_Susan._ But here ’s a knife,
To save mine honour, shall slice out my life. 85

_Sir C._ I know thou pleasest me a thousand times
More in that resolution than thy grant.—
Observe her love; to soothe it to my suit,
Her honour she will hazard, though not lose;
To bring me out of debt, her rigorous hand 90
Will pierce her heart,—O wonder!—that will choose,
Rather than stain her blood, her life to lose.
Come, you sad sister to a woful brother,
This is the gate. I ’ll bear him such a present,
Such an acquittance for the knight to seal, 95
As will amaze his senses, and surprise
With admiration all his fantasies.

_Enter_ SIR FRANCIS ACTON _and_ MALBY.

_Susan._ Before his unchaste thoughts shall seize on me,
’T is here shall my imprison’d soul set free.

_Sir F._ How! Mountford with his sister, hand in hand! 100
What miracle’s afoot?

_Mal._ It is a sight
Begets in me much admiration.[2922]

_Sir C._ Stand not amaz’d to see me thus attended!
Acton, I owe thee money, and, being unable
To bring thee the full sum in ready coin, 105
Lo! for thy more assurance, here’s a pawn,—
My sister, my dear sister, whose chaste honour
I prize above a million. Here! Nay, take her;
She’s worth your money, man; do not forsake her.

_Sir F._ I would he were in earnest! 110

_Susan._ Impute it not to my immodesty.
My brother, being rich in nothing else
But in his interest that he hath in me,
According to his poverty hath brought you 114
Me, all his store; whom, howsoe’er you prize,
As forfeit to your hand, he values highly,
And would not sell, but to acquit your debt,
For any emperor’s ransom.

_Sir F._ Stern heart, relent,
Thy former cruelty at length repent!
Was ever known, in any former age, 120
Such honourable, wrested courtesy?
Lands, honours, life, and all the world forego,
Rather than stand engag’d to such a foe!

_Sir C._ Acton, she is too poor to be thy bride,
And I too much oppos’d to be thy brother. 125
There, take her to thee; if thou hast the heart
To seize her as a rape, or lustful prey;
To blur our house, that never yet was stain’d;
To murder her that never meant thee harm;
To kill me now, whom once thou sav’dst from death:— 130
Do them at once; on her all these rely,
And perish with her spotless chastity.

_Sir F._ You overcome me in your love, Sir Charles.
I cannot be so cruel to a lady
I love so dearly. Since you have not spar’d 135
To engage your reputation to the world,
Your sister’s honour, which you prize so dear,
Nay, all the comforts which you hold on earth,
To grow out of my debt, being your foe,—
Your honour’d thoughts, lo! thus I recompense.
Your metamorphos’d foe receives your gift 141
In satisfaction of all former wrongs.
This jewel I will wear here in my heart;
And where before I thought her, for her wants,
Too base to be my bride, to end all strife, 145
I seal you my dear brother, her my wife.

_Susan._ You still exceed us. I will yield to fate,
And learn to love, where I till now did hate.

_Sir C._ With that enchantment you have charm’d my soul
And made me rich even in those very words! 150
I pay no debt, but am indebted more;
Rich in your love, I never can be poor.

_Sir F._ All’s mine is yours; we are alike in state;
Let’s knit in love what was oppos’d in hate!
Come, for our nuptials we will straight provide,
Blest only in our brother and fair bride. [_Exeunt._] 156

[SCENE II.][2923]

_Enter_ CRANWELL, FRANKFORD, _and_ NICHOLAS.

_Cran._ Why do you search each room about your house,
Now that you have despatch’d your wife away?

_Frank._ Oh, sir! To see that nothing may be left
That ever was my wife’s. I lov’d her dearly;
And when I do but think of her unkindness, 5
My thoughts are all in hell; to avoid which torment,
I would not have a bodkin or a cuff,
A bracelet, necklace, or rabato wire,[2924]
Nor anything that ever was call’d hers,
Left me, by which I might remember her.— 10
Seek round about.

_Nich._ ’Sblood! master, here’s her lute flung in a corner.

_Frank._ Her lute! Oh, God! Upon this instrument
Her fingers have rung quick division,[2925]
Sweeter than that which now divides our hearts. 15
These frets have made me pleasant,[2926] that have now
Frets of my heart-strings made. Oh, Master Cranwell,
Oft hath she made this melancholy wood
(Now mute and dumb for her disastrous chance)
Speak sweetly many a note, sound many a strain 20
To her own ravishing voice; which being well strung,
What pleasant strange airs have they jointly sung!—
Post with it after her!—Now nothing’s left;
Of her and hers I am at once bereft.

_Nich._ I’ll ride and overtake her; do my message, 25
And come back again. [_Exit._]

_Cran._ Meantime, sir, if you please,
I’ll to Sir Francis Acton, and inform him
Of what hath past betwixt you and his sister.

_Frank._ Do as you please.—How ill am I bested,
To be a widower ere my wife be dead! [_Exeunt._] 30

[SCENE III.][2927]

_Enter_ MISTRESS FRANKFORD; _with_ JENKIN, _her maid_ CICELY, _her_ Coachmen, _and three_ Carters.

_Mrs. F._ Bid my coach stay! Why should I ride in state,
Being hurl’d so low down by the hand of fate?
A seat like to my fortunes let me have,—
Earth for my chair, and for my bed a grave!

_Jen._ Comfort, good mistress; you have (5) watered your coach with
tears already. You have but two miles now to go to your manor. A
man cannot say by my old master Frankford as he may say by me, that
he wants manors; for he hath three or four, of which this is one that
we are going to now. 11

_Cic._ Good mistress, be of good cheer! Sorrow, you see, hurts you,
but helps you not; we all mourn to see you so sad.

_Carter._ Mistress, I spy one of my landlord’s men 15
Come riding post: ’t is like he brings some news.

_Mrs. F._ Comes he from Master Frankford, he is welcome;
So is his news, because they come from him.

_Enter_ NICHOLAS.

_Nich._ There!

_Mrs. F._ I know the lute. Oft have I sung to thee; 20
We both are out of tune, both out of time.

_Nich._ Would that had been the worst instrument that e’er you played
on! My master commends him to ye; there’s all he can find was ever
yours; he hath nothing left that ever you could lay claim to but his
own heart,—and (26) he could afford you that! All that I have to
deliver you is this: he prays you to forget him; and so he bids you
farewell. 29

_Mrs. F._ I thank him; he is kind, and ever was.
All you that have true feeling of my grief,
That know my loss, and have relenting hearts,
Gird me about, and help me with your tears
To wash my spotted sins! My lute shall groan;
It cannot weep, but shall lament my moan. [_She plays._] 35

_Enter_ WENDOLL [_behind_].

_Wen._ Pursu’d with horror of a guilty soul,
And with the sharp scourge of repentance lash’d,
I fly from mine own shadow. O my stars!
What have my parents in their lives deserv’d, 39
That you should lay this penance on their son?
When I but think of Master Frankford’s love,
And lay it to my treason, or compare
My murdering him for his relieving me,
It strikes a terror like a lightning’s flash,
To scorch my blood up. Thus I, like the owl, 45
Asham’d of day, live in these shadowy woods,
Afraid of every leaf or murmuring blast,
Yet longing to receive some perfect knowledge
How he hath dealt with her.
[_Seeing_ MISTRESS FRANKFORD.] O my sad fate!
Here, and so far from home, and thus attended!
Oh, God! I have divorc’d the truest turtles 51
That ever liv’d together, and, being divided,
In several places make their several moan;
She in the fields laments, and he at home;
So poets write that Orpheus made the trees 55
And stones to dance to his melodious harp,
Meaning the rustic and the barbarous hinds,
That had no understanding part in them:
So she from these rude carters tears extracts,
Making their flinty hearts with grief to rise, 60
And draw down rivers from their rocky eyes.

_Mrs. F._ [_to_ NICHOLAS.] If you return unto my master, say
(Though not from me, for I am all unworthy
To blast his name so with a strumpet’s tongue)
That you have seen me weep, wish myself dead! 65
Nay, you may say, too (for my vow is past),[2928]
Last night you saw me eat and drink my last.
This to your master you may say and swear;
For it is writ in heaven, and decreed here.

_Nich._ I’ll say you wept; I’ll swear you made me sad. 70
Why, how now, eyes? What now? What’s here to do?
I’m gone, or I shall straight turn baby too.

_Wen._ [_Aside._] I cannot weep, my heart is all on fire.
Curs’d be the fruits of my unchaste desire!

_Mrs. F._ Go, break this lute upon my coach’s wheel, 75
As the last music that I e’er shall make,—
Not as my husband’s gift, but my farewell
To all earth’s joy; and so your master tell!

_Nich._ If I can for crying.

_Wen._ [_Aside._] Grief, have done,
Or, like a madman, I shall frantic run. 80

_Mrs. F._ You have beheld the wofull’st wretch on earth,—
A woman made of tears; would you had words
To express but what you see! My inward grief
No tongue can utter; yet unto your power
You may describe my sorrow, and disclose 85
To thy sad master my abundant woes.

_Nich._ I’ll do your commendations.[2929]

_Mrs. F._ Oh, no!
I dare not so presume; nor to my children!
I am disclaim’d in both; alas! I am.
Oh, never teach them, when they come to speak, 90
To name the name of mother: chide their tongue,
If they by chance light on that hated word;
Tell them ’t is naught; for when that word they name,
Poor, pretty souls! they harp on their own shame.

_Wen._ [_Aside._] To recompense their wrongs, what canst thou do? 95
Thou hast made her husbandless, and childless too.

_Mrs. F._ I have no more to say.—Speak not for me;
Yet you may tell your master what you see.

_Nich._ I’ll do ’t. _Exit._

_Wen._ [_Aside._] I’ll speak to her, and comfort her in grief. 100
Oh, but her wound cannot be cur’d with words!
No matter, though; I’ll do my best, good will
To work a cure on her whom I did kill.

_Mrs. F._ So, now unto my coach, then to my home,
So to my death-bed; for from this sad hour, 105
I never will nor eat, nor drink, nor taste
Of any cates[2930] that may preserve my life.
I never will nor smile, nor sleep, nor rest;
But when my tears have wash’d my black soul white,
Sweet Saviour, to thy hands I yield my sprite.

_Wen._ [_coming forward._] Oh, Mistress Frankford!

_Mrs. F._ Oh, for God’s sake, fly! 111
The devil doth come to tempt me, ere I die.
My coach!—This sin, that with an angel’s face
Conjur’d[2931] mine honour, till he sought my wrack,
In my repentant eye seems ugly, black. 115

_Exeunt all_ [_except_ WENDOLL _and_ JENKIN]; _the_ Carters _whistling_.

_Jen._ What, my young master, that fled in his shirt! How come you by
your clothes again? You have made our house in a sweet pickle, ha’ ye
not, think you? What, shall I serve you still, or cleave to the old
house? 120

_Wen._ Hence, slave! Away, with thy unseason’d mirth!
Unless thou canst shed tears, and sigh, and howl,
Curse thy sad fortunes, and exclaim on fate,
Thou art not for my turn.

_Jen._ Marry, an you will not, another will; farewell, and be hang’d!
Would you had (126) never come to have kept this coil[2932] within
our doors! We shall ha’ you run away like a sprite again. [_Exit._]

_Wen._ She ’s gone to death; I live to want and woe, 130
Her life, her sins, and all upon my head.
And I must now go wander, like a Cain,
In foreign countries and remoted climes,
Where the report of my ingratitude
Cannot be heard. I ’ll over first to France, 135
And so to Germany and Italy;
Where, when I have recovered, and by travel
Gotten those perfect tongues,[2933] and that these rumours
May in their height abate, I will return:
And I divine (however now dejected), 140
My worth and parts being by some great man prais’d,
At my return I may in court be rais’d. _Exit._

[SCENE IV.][2934]

_Enter_ SIR FRANCIS ACTON, SIR CHARLES MOUNTFORD, CRANWELL, [MALBY,] _and_ SUSAN.

_Sir F._ Brother, and now my wife, I think these troubles,
Fall on my head by justice of the heavens,
For being so strict to you in your extremities;
But we are now aton’d. I would my sister
Could with like happiness o’ercome her griefs 5
As we have ours.

_Susan._ You tell us, Master Cranwell, wondrous things
Touching the patience of that gentleman,
With what strange virtue he demeans[2935] his grief.

_Cran._ I told you what I was a witness of; 10
It was my fortune to lodge there that night.

_Sir F._ Oh, that same villain, Wendoll! ’T was his tongue
That did corrupt her; she was of herself
Chaste and devoted well.[2936] Is this the house?

_Cran._ Yes, sir; I take it, here your sister lies.[2937] 15

_Sir F._ My brother Frankford show’d too mild a spirit
In the revenge of such a loathed crime.
Less than he did, no man of spirit could do.
I am so far from blaming his revenge,
That I commend it. Had it been my case, 20
Their souls at once had from their breasts been freed;
Death to such deeds of shame is the due meed.

_Enter_ JENKIN _and_ CICELY.

_Jen._ Oh, my mistress, mistress! my poor mistress!

_Cicely._ Alas! that ever I was born; what (25) shall I do for my
poor mistress?

_Sir C._ Why, what of her?

_Jen._ Oh, Lord, sir! she no sooner heard that her brother and her
friends had come to see how she did, but she, for very shame of her 30
guilty conscience, fell into such a swoon, that we had much ado to
get life in her.

_Susan._ Alas, that she should bear so hard a fate!
Pity it is repentance comes too late.

_Sir F._ Is she so weak in body? 35

_Jen._ Oh, sir! I can assure you there ’s no hope of life in her; for
she will take no sust’nance: she hath plainly starv’d herself, and
now she ’s as lean as a lath. She ever looks for the good hour. Many
gentlemen and gentlewomen of the (40) country are come to comfort her.

[SCENE V.][2938]

[SIR CHARLES MOUNTFORD, SIR FRANCIS ACTON, MALBY, CRANWELL, _and_ SUSAN.]

_Enter_ MISTRESS FRANKFORD _in her bed_.

_Mal._ How fare you, Mistress Frankford?

_Mrs. F._ Sick, sick, oh, sick! Give me some air, I pray you!
Tell me, oh, tell me, where is Master Frankford?
Will not he deign to see me ere I die?

_Mal._ Yes, Mistress Frankford; divers gentlemen, 5
Your loving neighbours, with that just request
Have mov’d, and told him of your weak estate:[2939]
Who, though with much ado to get belief,
Examining of the general circumstance,
Seeing your sorrow and your penitence, 10
And hearing therewithal the great desire
You have to see him, ere you left the world,
He gave to us his faith to follow us,
And sure he will be here immediately.

_Mrs. F._ You have half reviv’d me with the pleasing news, 15
Raise me a little higher in my bed.—
Blush I not, brother Acton? Blush I not, Sir Charles?
Can you not read my fault writ, in my cheek?
Is not my crime there? Tell me, gentlemen.

_Sir C._ Alas, good mistress, sickness hath not left you 20
Blood in your face enough to make you blush.

_Mrs. F._ Then, sickness, like a friend, my fault would hide.—
Is my husband come? My soul but tarries
His arrive; then I am fit for heaven.

_Sir F._ I came to chide you, but my words of hate 25
Are turn’d to pity and compassionate grief.
I came to rate you, but my brawls, you see,
Melt into tears, and I must weep by thee.—
Here’s Master Frankford now.

_Enter_ FRANKFORD.

_Frank._ Good morrow, brother; morrow, gentlemen! 30
God, that hath laid this cross upon our heads,
Might (had He pleas’d) have made our cause of meeting
On a more fair and more contented ground;
But He that made us made us to this woe.

_Mrs. F._ And is he come? Methinks, that voice I know. 35

_Frank._ How do you, woman?

_Mrs. F._ Well, Master Frankford, well; but shall be better,
I hope within this hour. Will you vouchsafe,
Out of your grace and your humanity,
To take a spotted strumpet by the hand? 40

_Frank._ This hand once held my heart in faster bonds,
Than now ’tis gripp’d by me. God pardon them
That made us first break hold!

_Mrs. F._ Amen, amen!
Out of my zeal to Heaven, whither I’m now bound,
I was so impudent to wish you here; 45
And once more beg your pardon. O, good man,
And father to my children, pardon me.
Pardon, oh, pardon me: my fault so heinous is,
That if you in this world forgive it not,
Heaven will not clear it in the world to come. 50
Faintness hath so usurp’d upon my knees,
That kneel I cannot; but on my heart’s knees
My prostrate soul lies thrown down at your feet,
To beg your gracious pardon. Pardon, oh, pardon me!

_Frank._ As freely, from the low depth of my soul, 55
As my Redeemer hath forgiven His death,
I pardon thee. I will shed tears for thee; pray with thee;
And, in mere pity of thy weak estate,
I’ll wish to die with thee.

_All._ So do we all.

_Nich._ So will not I;
I’ll sigh and sob, but, by my faith, not die. 60

_Sir F._ Oh, Master Frankford, all the near alliance
I lose by her, shall be suppli’d in thee.
You are my brother by the nearest way;
Her kindred hath fall’n off, but yours doth stay.

_Frank._ Even as I hope for pardon, at that day 65
When the Great Judge of heaven in scarlet sits,
So be thou pardon’d! Though thy rash offence
Divorc’d our bodies, thy repentant tears
Unite our souls.

_Sir C._ Then comfort, Mistress Frankford!
You see your husband hath forgiven your fall; 70
Then rouse your spirits, and cheer your fainting soul!

_Susan._ How is it with you?

_Sir F._ How d’ ye feel yourself?

_Mrs. F._ Not of this world.

_Frank._ I see you are not. and I weep to see it.
My wife, the mother to my pretty babes! 75
Both those lost names I do restore thee back,
And with this kiss I wed thee once again.
Though thou art wounded in thy honour’d name,
And with that grief upon thy death-bed liest,
Honest in heart, upon my soul, thou diest. 80

_Mrs. F._ Pardon’d on earth, soul, thou in heaven art free;
Once more thy wife, dies thus embracing thee.[2940] [_Dies._]

_Frank._ New-married, and new-widow’d.—Oh! she’s dead.
And a cold grave must be her nuptial bed.

_Sir C._ Sir, be of good comfort, and your heavy sorrow 85
Part equally amongst us; storms divided
Abate their force, and with less rage are guided.

_Cran._ Do. Master Frankford; he that hath least part,
Will find enough to drown one troubled heart.

_Sir. F._ Peace with thee, Nan!—Brothers and gentlemen, 90
All we that can plead interest in her grief,
Bestow upon her body funeral tears!
Brother, had you with threats and usage bad
Punish’d her sin, the grief of her offence
Had not with such true sorrow touch’d her heart. 95

_Frank._ I see it had not; therefore, on her grave
Will I bestow this funeral epitaph,
Which on her marble tomb shall be engrav’d,
In golden letters shall these words be fill’d:[2941]
_Here lies she whom her husband’s kindness kill’d._

THE EPILOGUE