Chapter VII: Act V: Scene I

_The same._

LADY GOLDENFLEECE, _and_ MISTRESS LOW-WATER _disguised
as before, are discovered_.

L. GOLD. Now, like a greedy usurer alone,
I sum up all the wealth this day has brought me,
And thus I hug it. [_Embracing her._
MIS. LOW. Prithee——
L. GOLD. Thus I kiss it. [_Kissing her._
MIS. LOW. I can’t abide these kissings.
L. GOLD. How, sir? not!
I’ll try that, sure; I’ll kiss you out of that humour.
MIS. LOW. Push![156] by my troth, I cannot.
L. GOLD. What cannot you, sir?
MIS. LOW. Not toy, nor bill, and imitate
house-pigeons;
A married man must think of other matters.
L. GOLD. How, other matters, sir? what other matters?
MIS. LOW. Why, are there no other matters that belong
to’t?
Do you think you’ve married only a cock-sparrow,
And fit but for one business, like a fool?
You shall not find it so.
L. GOLD. You can talk strangely, sir:
Come, will you to bed?
MIS. LOW. No, faith, will not I.
L. GOLD. What, not to bed, sir?
MIS. LOW. And[157] I do, hang me; not to bed with you.
L. GOLD. How, not to bed with me, sir? with whom else?
MIS. LOW. Why, am not I enough to lie with myself?
L. GOLD. Is that the end of marriage?
MIS. LOW. No, by my faith,
’Tis but the beginning yet; death is the end on’t,
Unless some trick come i’ the middle and dash all.
L. GOLD. Were you so forward lately, and so youthful,
That scarce my modest strength could save me from you,
And are you now so cold?
MIS. LOW. I’ve thought on’t since;
It was but a rude part in me, i’faith,
To offer such bold tricks to any woman,
And by degrees I shall well break myself from’t;
I feel myself well chasten’d since that time,
And not the third part now so loosely minded.
O, when one sees their follies, ’tis a comfort!
My very thoughts take more staid years upon ’em.
O, marriage is such a serious, divine thing!
It makes youth grave, and sweetly nips the spring.
L. GOLD. If I had chose a gentleman for care
And worldly business, I had ne’er took you;
I had the offers of enough more fit
For such employment; I chose you for love,
Youth, and content of heart, and not for troubles;
You are not ripe for them; after you’ve spent
Some twenty years in dalliance, youth’s affairs,
Then take a book in your hand, and sum up cares;
As for wealth now, you know that’s got to your hands.
MIS. LOW. But had I known ’t had been so wrongfully
got,
As I heard since, you should have had free leave
T’ have made choice of another master for’t.
L. GOLD. Why, can that trouble you?
MIS. LOW. It may too soon: but go,
My sleeps are sound, I love not to be started
With an ill conscience at the fall of midnight,
And have mine eyes torn ope with poor men’s curses;
I do not like the fate on’t, ’tis still apt
To breed unrest, dissension, wild debate,
And I’m the worst at quarrels upon earth,
Unless a mighty injury should provoke me:
Get you to bed, go.
L. GOLD. Not without you, in troth, sir.
MIS. LOW. If you could think how much you wrong
yourself
In my opinion of you, you would leave me now
With all the speed you might; I like you worse
For this fond heat, and drink in more suspicion of you:
You high-fed widows are too cunning people
For a poor gentleman to come simply to.
L. GOLD. What’s that, sir?
MIS. LOW. You may make a youth on him,
’Tis at your courtesy, and that’s ill trusted:
You could not want a friend, beside a suitor,
To sit in your husband’s gown, and look o’er your
writings.
L. GOLD. What’s this?
MIS. LOW. I say there is a time when women
Can do too much, and understand too little:
Once more, to bed; I’d willingly be a father
To no more noses than I got myself;
And so good night to you.
L. GOLD. Now I see the infection;
A yellow poison runs through the sweet spring
Of his fair youth already; ’tis distracted,
Jealous of that which thought yet never acted.—
[_Aside._
O dear sir, on my knees I swear to thee— [_Kneels._
MIS. LOW. I prithee, use them in thy private chamber,
As a good lady should; spare ’em not there,
’Twill do thee good; faith, none ’twill do thee here.
L. GOLD. [_rising_] Have I yet married poverty, and
miss’d[158] love!
What fortune has my heart! that’s all I crav’d,
And that lies now a-dying; it has took
A speeding poison, and I’m ignorant how:
I never knew what beggary was till now.
My wealth yields me no comfort in this plight;
Had want but brought me love, I’d happen’d right.
[_Aside, and goes into her bed-chamber._
MIS. LOW. So, this will serve now for a preparative
To ope the powers[159] of some dislike at first;
The physic will pay’t home.—

_Enter_ LOW-WATER, _disguised as before_.

How dost thou, sir?
How goes the work?
LOW. Your brother has the letter.
MIS. LOW. I find no stop in’t then, it moves well
hitherto;
Did you convey it closely?
LOW. He ne’er set eye of me.

_Enter above[160]_ BEVERIL _with a letter_.

BEV. I cannot read too often.
MIS. LOW. Peace; to your office.
BEV. What blessed fate took pity of my heart,
But with her presence to relieve me thus?
All the large volumes that my time hath master’d
Are not so precious to adorn my spirit
As these few lines are to enrich my mind;
I thirst again to drink of the same fountain.
[_Reads._
_Kind sir,—I found your care and love so much in the
performance of a little, wherein your wit and art had
late employment, that I dare now trust your bosom with
business of more weight and eminence. Little thought the
world, that, since the wedding-dinner, all my mirth was
but dissembled, and seeming joys but counterfeit. The
truth to you, sir, is, I find so little signs of content
in the bargain I made i’ the morning, that I began to
repent before evening prayer; and to shew some fruits of
his wilful neglect and wild disposition, more than the
day could bring forth to me, has now forsook my bed; I
know no cause for’t._
MIS. LOW. But I’ll be sworn I do. [_Aside._
BEV. [_reads_] _Being thus distressed, sir, I desire
your comfortable presence and counsel, whom I know to be
of worth and judgment, that a lady may safely impart her
griefs to you, and commit ’em to the virtues of
commiseration and secrecy.—Your unfortunate friend_,
THE WIDOW-WIFE.
_I have took order for your private admittance with a
trusty servant of mine own, whom I have placed at my
chamber-door to attend your coming._
He shall not wait too long, and curse my slowness.
LOW. I would you’d come away then! [_Aside._
BEV. How much am I beguil’d in that young gentleman!
I would have sworn had been the perfect abstract
Of honesty and mildness; ’tis not so.
MIS. LOW. I pardon you, sweet brother; there’s no hold
Of what you speak now, you’re in Cupid’s pound.
[_Aside._
BEV. Blest be the secret hand that brought thee
hither;
But the dear hand that writ it, ten times blest!
[_Exit above._
LOW. That’s I still; has blest me now ten times at
twice.
Away; I hear him coming.
MIS. LOW. Strike it sure now.
LOW. I warrant thee, sweet Kate; choose your best——
[161]
[_Exit_ MIS. LOW-WATER.

_Enter_ BEVERIL.

BEV. Who’s there?
LOW. O sir, is’t you? you’re welcome then;
My lady still expects you, sir.
BEV. Who’s with her?
LOW. Not any creature living, sir.
BEV. Drink that; [_Giving money._
I’ve made thee wait too long.
LOW. It does not seem so
Now, sir. Sir, if a man tread warily,
As any wise man will, how often may he come
To a lady’s chamber, and be welcome to her!
BEV. Thou giv’st me learnèd counsel for a closet.
LOW. Make use on’t, sir, and you shall find no loss
in’t.
[BEVERIL _goes into_ LADY GOLDENFLEECE’S _bed-chamber_.
So, you are surely in, and you must under.

_Re-enter_ MIS. LOW-WATER, _with_ SIR O. TWILIGHT, LADY
TWILIGHT, SUNSET, _Dutch Merchant_, GRACE, JANE,
PHILIP TWILIGHT, SANDFIELD, SAVOURWIT, _and
Servants_.

MIS. LOW. Pardon my rude disturbance, my wrongs urge
it;
I did but try the plainness of her mind,
Suspecting she dealt cunningly with my youth,
And told her the first night I would not know her;
But minding to return, I found the door
Warded suspiciously, and I heard a noise,
Such as fear makes and guiltiness at th’ approaching
Of an unlook’d-for husband.
ALL. This is strange, sir.
MIS. LOW. Behold, it’s barr’d; I must not be kept out.
SIR O. TWI. There is no reason, sir.
MIS. LOW. I’ll be resolv’d[162] in’t:
If you be sons of honour, follow me!
[_Rushes into the bed-chamber, followed by_ SIR
OLIVER TWILIGHT, SUNSET, _&c._
SAV. Then must I stay behind; for I think I was begot i’
the woodyard, and that makes every thing go so hard with
me.
MIS. LOW. [_within_] That’s he; be sure on him.

_Re-enter confusedly_ MIS. LOW-WATER, SIR OLIVER
TWILIGHT, SUNSET, _&c._, LADY GOLDENFLEECE _and_
BEVERIL.

SIR O. TWI. Be not so furious, sir.
MIS. LOW. She whisper’d to him to slip into her
closet.—
What, have I taken you? is not my dream true now?
Unmerciful adultress, the first night!
SIR O. TWI. Nay, good sir, patience.
MIS. LOW. Give me the villain’s heart,
That I may throw’t into her bosom quick!
There let the lecher pant.
L. TWI. Nay, sweet sir——
MIS. LOW. Pardon me,
His life’s too little for me.
L. GOLD. How am I wrongfully sham’d!—Speak your
intent, sir,
Before this company; I pursue no pity.
MIS. LOW. This is a fine thievish juggling, gentlemen,
She asks her mate that shares in guilt with her;
Too gross, too gross!
BEV. Rash mischief! [_Aside._
MIS. LOW. Treacherous sir,
Did I for this cast a friend’s arm about thee,
Gave thee the welcome of a worthy spirit,
And lodg’d thee in my house, nay, entertain’d thee
More like a natural brother than a stranger?
And have I this reward? perhaps the pride
Of thy good parts did lift thee to this impudence;
Let her make much on ’em, she gets none of me:
Because thou’rt deeply read in most books else,
Thou wouldst be so in mine; there it stands for thee,
Turn o’er the leaves, and where you left, go forward;
To me it shall be like the book of fate,
Ever claspt up.
SIR O. TWI. O dear sir, say not so!
MIS. LOW. Nay, I’ll swear more; for ever I refuse[163]
her;
I’ll never set a foot into her bed,
Never perform the duty of man to her,
So long as I have breath.
SIR O. TWI. What an oath was there, sir!
Call it again.
MIS. LOW. I knew, by amorous sparks struck from their
eyes,
The fire would appear shortly in a blaze,
And now it flames indeed.—Out of my house,
And take your gentleman of good parts along with you!
That shall be all your substance; he can live
In any emperor’s court in Christendom:
You knew[164] what you did, wench, when you chose him
To thrust out me; you have no[165] politic love!
You are to learn to make your market, you!
You can choose wit, a burden light and free,
And leave the grosser element with me,
Wealth, foolish trash; I thank you. Out of my doors!
SIR O. TWI. Nay, good sir, hear her.
L. TWI. } Sweet sir——
SUN. }
MIS. LOW. Pray, to your chambers, gentlemen; I should
be here
Master of what is mine.
SIR O. TWI. Hear her but speak, sir.
MIS. LOW. What can she speak but woman’s common
language?
She’s sorry and asham’d for’t,—that helps nothing.
L. GOLD. Sir, since it is the hard hap of my life
To receive injury where I plac’d my love——
MIS. LOW. Why, la, I told you what escapes she’d have!
SIR O. TWI. Nay, pray, sir, hear her forward.
L. GOLD. Let our parting
Be full as charitable as our meeting was;
That the pale, envious world, glad of the food
Of others’ miseries, civil dissensions,
And nuptial strifes, may not feed fat with ours;
But since you are resolv’d so wilfully
To leave my bed, and ever to refuse me—
As by your rage I find it your desire,
Though all my actions deserve nothing less—
Here are our friends, men both of worth and wisdom;
Place so much power in them, to make an evenness
Between my peace and yours: all my wealth within doors,
In gold and jewels, lie[s] in those two caskets
I lately led you to, the value of which
Amounts to some five thousand [pounds] a-piece;
Exchange a charitable hand with me,
And take one casket freely,—fare thee well, sir.
SIR O. TWI. How say you to that now?
MIS. LOW. Troth, I thank her, sir!
Are not both mine already? you shall wrong me,
And then make satisfaction with mine own!
I cannot blame you,—a good course for you!
L. GOLD. I knew[166] ’twas not my luck to be so happy;
My miseries are no starters; when they come,
Stick longer by me.
SIR O. TWI. Nay, but give me leave, sir,
The wealth comes all by her.
MIS. LOW. So does the shame,
Yet that’s most mine; why should not that be too?
SIR O. TWI. Sweet sir, let us rule[167] so much with
you;
Since you intend an obstinate separation,
Both from her bed and board, give your consent
To some agreement reasonable and honest.
MIS. LOW. Must I deal honestly with her lust?
L. TWI. Nay, good sir——
MIS. LOW. Why, I tell you, all the wealth her husband
left her
Is not of power to purchase the dear peace
My heart has lost in these adulterous seas;
Yet let her works be base, mine shall be noble.
SIR O. TWI. That’s the best word of comfort I heard
yet.
MIS. LOW. Friends may do much.—Go, bring those caskets
forth.— [_Exeunt two Servants._
I hate her sight; I’ll leave her, though I lose by’t.
SIR O. TWI. Spoke like a noble gentleman, i’faith!
I’ll honour thee for this.
BEV. O cursed man!
Must thy rash heat force this division? [_Aside._
MIS. LOW. You shall have free leave now, without all
fear;
You shall not need oil’d hinges, privy passages,
Watchings and whisperings; take him boldly to you.
L. GOLD. O that I had that freedom! since my shame
Puts by all other fortunes, and owns him,
A worthy gentleman: if this cloud were past him,
I’d marry him, were’t but to spite thee only,
So much I hate thee now.

_Re-enter Servants with two caskets, followed by_ SIR
GILBERT LAMBSTONE, WEATHERWISE, PEPPERTON, _and_
OVERDONE.

SIR O. TWI. Here come the caskets, sir; hold your good
mind now,
And we shall make a virtuous end between you.
MIS. LOW. Though nothing less she merit but a curse,
That might still hang upon her and consume her still,
As’t has been many a better woman’s fortune,
That has deserv’d less vengeance and felt more,
Yet my mind scorns to leave her shame so poor.
SIR O. TWI. Nobly spoke still!
SIR G. LAMB. This strikes me into music; ha, ha!
PEP. Parting of goods before the bodies join!
WEA. This ’tis to marry beardless, domineering boys; I
knew ’twould come to this pass: well fare a just almanac
yet; for now is Mercury going into the second house near
unto Ursa Major, that great hunks, the Bear at the
Bridge-foot in heaven,[168] which shews horrible
bear-baitings in wedlock; and the Sun near entering into
the Dog, sets ’em all together by the ears.
SIR O. TWI. You see what’s in’t.
MIS. LOW. I think ’tis as I left it.
L. GOLD. Then do but gage your faith to this assembly,
That you will ne’er return more to molest me,
But rest in all revenges full appeas’d
And amply satisfied with that half my wealth,
And take’t as freely as life wishes health!
SIR O. TWI. La, you, sir! come, come, faith, you shall
swear that.
MIS. LOW. Nay, gentlemen,
For your sakes now I will deal fairly with her.
SIR O. TWI. I would we might see that, sir!
MIS. LOW. I could set her free;
But now I think on’t, she deserves it not.
SUN. Nay, do not check your goodness; pray, sir, on
with’t.
MIS. LOW. I could release her ere I parted with her—
But ’twere a courtesy ill plac’d—and set her
At as free liberty to marry again
As you all know she was before I knew her.
SIR O. TWI. What, couldst thou, sir?
MIS. LOW. But ’tis too good a blessing for her;—
Up with the casket, sirrah.
L. GOLD. O sir, stay!
MIS. LOW. I’ve nothing to say to you.
SIR O. TWI. Do you hear, sir?
Pray, let’s have one word more with you for our money.
L. GOLD. Since you’ve expos’d me to all shame and
sorrow,
And made me fit but for one hope and fortune,
Bearing my former comforts away with you,
Shew me a parting charity but in this,—
For all my losses pay me with that freedom,
And I shall think this treasure as well given
As ever ’twas ill got.
MIS. LOW. I might afford it you,
Because I ne’er mean to be more troubled with you;
But how shall I be sure of the honest use on’t,
How you’ll employ that liberty? perhaps sinfully,
In wantonness unlawful, and I answer for’t;
So I may live a bawd to your loose works still,
In giving ’em first vent; not I, shall pardon me;
I’ll see you honestly join’d ere I release you;
I will not trust you, for the last trick you play’d me:
Here’s your old suitors.
PEP. Now we thank you, sir.
WEA. My almanac warns me from all cuckoldy
conjunctions.
L. GOLD. Be but commander of your word now, sir,
And before all these gentlemen, our friends,
I’ll make a worthy choice.
SUN. Fly not ye back now.
MIS. LOW. I’ll try thee once: I’m married to another,
There’s thy release.
SIR O. TWI. Hoyday! there’s a release with a witness!
Thou’rt free, sweet wench.
L. GOLD. Married to another!
Then, in revenge to thee,[169]
To vex thine eyes, ’cause thou hast mock’d my heart,
And with such treachery repaid my love,
This is the gentleman I embrace and choose.
[_Taking_ BEVERIL _by the hand_.
MIS. LOW. O torment to my blood, mine enemy!
None else to make thy choice of but the man
From whence my shame took head!
L. GOLD. ’Tis done to quit[170] thee;
Thou that wrong’st woman’s love, her hate can fit thee.
SIR O. TWI. Brave wench, i’faith! now thou’st an
honest gentleman,
Rid of a swaggering knave, and there’s an end on’t;
A man of good parts, this t’other had nothing.
Life, married to another!
SIR G. LAMB. O, brave rascal, with two wives!

WEA. Nay, and[171] our women be such subtle animals,
I’ll lay wait at the carrier’s for a country
chamber-maid, and live still a bachelor. When wives are
like almanacs, we may have every year a new one, then
I’ll bestow my money on ’em; in the meantime I’ll give
’em over, and ne’er trouble my almanac about ’em.
SIR G. LAMB. I come in a good time to see you hang’d,
sir,
And that’s my comfort; now I’ll tickle you, sir.
MIS. LOW. You make me laugh indeed.
SIR G. LAMB. Sir, you remember
How cunningly you chok’d me at the banquet
With a fine bawdy letter?
MIS. LOW. Your own fist, sir.
SIR G. LAMB. I’ll read the statute-book to you now
for’t;
Turn to the act[172] in _anno Jac. primo_,
There lies a halter for your windpipe.
MIS. LOW. Fie, no!
SIR O. TWI. Faith, but you’ll find it so, sir, an’t be
follow’d.
WEA. So says my almanac, and he’s a true man:
Look you; [_reads_] _The thirteenth day, work for the
hangman_.
MIS. LOW. The fourteenth day, make haste,—’tis time
you were there then.
WEA. How! is the book so saucy to tell me so?
BEV. Sir, I must tell you now, but without gall,
The law would hang you, if married to another.
MIS. LOW. You can but put me to my book, sweet
brother,
And I’ve my neck-verse[173] perfect here and here:
Heaven give thee eternal joy, my dear, sweet brother!
[_Discovering herself, and embracing_ BEVERIL:
LOW-WATER _also discovers himself_.
SIR O. TWI. } Who’s here?
L. TWI., _&c._ }
SIR G. LAMB. O devil! herself! did she betray me?
A pox of shame, nine coaches shall not stay me!
[_Exit._
BEV. I’ve two such deep healths in two joys to pledge,
Heaven keep me from a surfeit!
SIR O. TWI. Mistress Low-water!
Is she the jealous cuckold all this coil’s about?—
And my right worshipful serving-man, is’t you, sir?
LOW. A poor, wrong’d gentleman, glad to serve for his
own, sir.
SIR O. TWI. By my faith,
You’ve serv’d the widow a fine trick between you.
MIS. LOW. No more my enemy now, my brother’s wife
And my kind sister.
SIR O. TWI. There’s no starting now from’t:
’Tis her own brother; did not you know that?
L. GOLD. ’Twas never told me yet.
SIR O. TWI. I thought y’had known’t.
MIS. LOW. What matter is’t? ’tis the same man was
chose still,
No worse now than he was. I’m bound to love you;
You’ve exercis’d[174] in this a double charity,
Which, to your praise, shall to all times be known,
Advanc’d my brother, and restor’d mine own,
Nay, somewhat for my wrongs, like a good sister—
For well you know the tedious suit did cost
Much pains and fees; I thank you, ’tis not lost—
You wish’d for love, and, faith, I have bestow’d you
Upon a gentleman that does dearly love you;
That recompence I’ve made you; and you must think,
madam,
I lov’d you well—though I could never ease you—
When I fetch’d in my brother thus to please you.
SIR O. TWI. Here’s unity for ever strangely wrought!
L. GOLD. I see, too late, there is a heavy judgment
Keeps company with extortion and foul deeds,
And, like a wind which vengeance has in chase,
Drives back the wrongs into the injurer’s face:
My punishment is gentle; and to shew
My thankful mind for’t, thus I’ll revenge this,
With an embracement here, and here a kiss.
[_Embraces_ MISTRESS LOW-WATER _and kisses_
BEVERIL.
SIR O. TWI. Why, now the bells they go trim, they go
trim.—
I wish’d thee, sir, some unexpected blessing,
For my wife’s ransom, and ’tis faln upon thee.
WEA. A pox of this! my almanac ne’er gulled me till this
hour: the thirteenth day, work for the hangman, and
there’s nothing toward it. I’d been a fine ass if I’d
given twelvepence for a horse to have rid to Tyburn
to-morrow. But now I see the error, ’tis false-figured;
it should be, thirteen days and a half, work for the
hangman, for he ne’er works under thirteenpence
halfpenny; beside, Venus being a spot in the sun’s
garment, shews there should be a woman found in
hose[175] and doublet.
SIR O. TWI. Nay, faith, sweet wife, we’ll make no more
hours on’t now, ’tis as fine a contracting time as ever
came amongst gentlefolks.—Son Philip, master Sandfield,
come to the book here.
PHIL. Now I’m wak’d
Into a thousand miseries and their torments.
SAV. And I come after you, sir, drawn with wild horses;
there will be a brave show on’s anon, if this weather
continue.
SIR O. TWI. Come, wenches, where be these young
gen[tle]men’s hands now?
L. TWI. Poor gentleman, my son! [_Aside._]—Some other
time, sir.
SIR O. TWI. I’ll have’t now, i’faith, wife.
L. GOLD. What are you making here?
SIR O. TWI. I’ve sworn, sweet madam,
My son shall marry master Sunset’s daughter,
And master Sandfield mine.
L. GOLD. So you go well, sir;
But what make you this way then?
SIR O. TWI. This? for my son.
L. GOLD. O back, sir, back! this is no way for him.
SUNSET. } How!
SIR O. TWI. }
L. GOLD. O, let me break an oath, to save two souls,
Lest I should wake another judgment greater!
You come not here for him, sir.
SIR O. TWI. What’s the matter?
L. GOLD. Either give me free leave to make this match,
Or I’ll forbid the banes.[176]
SIR O. TWI. Good madam, take it.
L. GOLD. Here, master Sandfield, then——
SIR O. TWI. Cuds bodkins!
L. GOLD. Take you this maid.
[_Giving_ JANE _to_ SANDFIELD.
SAND. You could not please me better, madam.
SIR O. TWI. Hoyday! is this your hot love to my
daughter, sir?
L. GOLD. Come hither, Philip; here’s a wife for you.
[_Giving_ GRACE _to_ PHILIP TWILIGHT.
SIR O. TWI. Zouns, he shall ne’er do that; marry his
sister!
L. GOLD. Had he been rul’d by you, he had married her,
But now he marries master Sunset’s daughter,
And master Sandfield yours: I’ve sav’d your oath sir.
PHIL. O may this blessing hold!
SAV. Or else all the liquor runs out.
SIR O. TWI. What riddle’s this, madam?
L. GOLD. A riddle of some fourteen years of age now.—
You can remember, madam, that your daughter
Was put to nurse to master Sunset’s wife.
L. TWI. True, that we talk’d on lately.
SIR O. TWI. I grant that, madam.
L. GOLD. Then you shall grant what follows: at that
time,
You likewise know, old master Sunset here
Grew backward in the world, till his last fortunes
Rais’d him to this estate.
SIR O. TWI. Still this we know too.
L. GOLD. His wife, then nurse both to her own and
yours,
And both so young, of equal years, and daughters,
Fearing the extremity of her fortunes then
Should fall upon her infant, to prevent it,
She chang’d the children, kept your daughter with her,
And sent her own to you for better fortunes.
So long, enjoin’d by solemn oath unto’t
Upon her deathbed, I have conceal’d this;
But now so urg’d, here’s yours, and this is his.
SAV. Whoop, the joy is come of our side!
WEA. Hey! I’ll cast mine almanac to the moon too, and
strike out a new one for next year.
PHIL. It wants expression, this miraculous blessing!
SAV. Methinks I could spring up and knock my head
Against yon silver ceiling now for joy!
WEA. By my faith, but I do not mean to follow you there,
so I may dash out my brains against Charles’ wain, and
come down as wise as a carman.
SIR O. TWI. I never wonder’d yet with greater
pleasure.
L. TWI. What tears have I bestow’d on a lost daughter,
And left her [here] behind me!
L. GOLD. This is Grace,
This Jane; now each has her right name and place.
SUN. I never heard of this.
L. GOLD. I’ll swear you did not, sir.
SIR O. TWI. How well I’ve kept mine oath against my
will!
Clap hands, and joy go with you! well said, boys!
PHIL. How art thou blest from shame, and I from ruin!
[_To_ GRACE.
SAV. I from the baker’s ditch, if I’d seen you in.
PHIL. Not possible the whole world to match again
Such grief, such joy, in minutes lost and won!
BEV. Who ever knew more happiness in less compass?
Ne’er was poor gentleman so bound to a sister
As I am, for the weakness[177] of thy mind;
Not only that thy due, but all our wealth
Shall lie as open as the sun to man,
For thy employments; so the charity
Of this dear bosom bids me tell thee now.
MIS. LOW. I am her servant for’t.
L. GOLD. Hah, worthy sister!
The government of all I bless thee with.
BEV. Come, gentlemen, on all perpetual friendship.
Heaven still relieves what misery would destroy;
Never was night yet of more general joy.
[_Exeunt omnes._