A Yorkshire Tragedy | Page 7

why, when? the money! where ist? powr't down, down with it, down with it: I say powr't oth ground! lets see't, lets see't.
WIFE. Good sir, keep but in patience and I hope My words shall like you well: I bring you better Comfort then the sale of my Dowrie.
HUSBAND. Ha, whats that?
WIFE. Pray, do not fright me, sir, but vouchsafe me hearing: my Uncle, glad of your kindness to me and mild usage--for so I made it to him--has in pity of your declining fortunes, provided a place for you at Court of worth and credit, which so much overjoyed me--
HUSBAND. Out on thee, filth! over and over-joyed, [spurns her] when I'm in torments? Thou pollitick whore, subtiller then nine Devils, was this thy journey to Nuncke, to set down the history of me, of my state and fortunes? Shall I that Dedicated my self to pleasure, be now confind in service to crouch and stand like an old man ith hams, my hat off? I that never could abide to uncover my head ith Church? base slut! this fruit bears thy complaints.
WIFE. Oh, heaven knows That my complaints were praises, and best words Of you and your estate: only my friends Knew of our mortgaged Lands, and were possest Of every accident before I came. If thou suspect it but a plot in me To keep my dowrie, or for mine own good Or my poor childrens: (though it suits a mother To show a natural care in their reliefs) Yet I'll forget my self to calm your blood: Consume it, as your pleasure counsels you, And all I wish e'en Clemency affords: Give me but comely looks and modest words.
HUSBAND. Money, hore, money, or I'll--
[Draws his dagger.]
[Enters a servant very hastily.]
What the devil? how now? thy hasty news?
[To his man.]
SERVINGMAN. May it please you, sir--
[Servant in a fear.]
HUSBAND. What? May I not look upon my dagger? Speak villain, or I will execute the point on thee: quick, short.
SERVINGMAN. Why, sir, a gentleman from the University stays below to speak with you.
HUSBAND. From the University? so! University-- That long word runs through me.
[Exit.]
WIFE. Was ever wife so wretchedly beset?
[Wife alone.]
Had not this news stept in between, the point Had offered violence unto my breast. That which some women call great misery Would show but little here: would scarce be seen Amongst my miseries. I may Compare For wretched fortunes with all wives that are. Nothing will please him, until all be nothing. He calls it slavery to be preferd, A place of credit a base servitude. What shall become of me, and my poor children, Two here, and one at nurse, my pretty beggers? I see how ruin with a palsy hand Begins to shake the auncient seat to dust: The heavy weight of sorrow draws my lids Over my dankish eyes: I can scarce see: Thus grief will last; it wakes and sleeps with me.
[Exit.]
SCENE IV. Another apartment in the same.
[Enter the Husband with the master of the College.]
HUSBAND. Please you draw near, sir, y'are exceeding welcome.
MASTER. Thats my doubt; I fear, I come not to be welcome.
HUSBAND. Yes, howsoever.
MASTER. Tis not my fashion, Sir, to dwell in long circumstance, but to be plain, and effectual; therefore, to the purpose. The cause of my setting forth was piteous and lamentable: that hopeful young gentleman, your brother, whose vertues we all love dearly, through your default and unnatural negligence, lies in bond executed for your debt, a prisoner, all his studies amazed, his hope struck dead, and the pride of his youth muffled in these dark clouds of oppression.
HUSBAND. Hum, um, um.
MASTER. Oh, you have kild the towardest hope of all our university: Wherefore, without repentance and ameds, expect pondrous and sudden Judgements to fall grievously upon you. Your brother, a man who profited in his divine Imployments, might have made ten thousand souls fit for heaven, now by your careless courses cast in prison, which you must answer for, and assure your spirit it will come home at length.
HUSBAND. Oh god! oh!
MASTER. Wise men think ill of you, others speak ill of you, no man loves you, nay, even those whom honesty condemns, condemn you: and take this from the vertuous affection I bear your brother; never look for prosperous hour, good thought, quiet sleeps, contented walks, nor any thing that makes man perfect til you redeem him. What is your answer? how will you bestow him? upon desperate misery, or better hopes? I suffer, till I have your answer.
HUSBAND. Sir, you have much wrought with me. I feel you in my soul, you are your arts master. I never had sense til now; your syllables have cleft me. Both for your words and pains I thank you: I cannot but acknowledge grievous wrongs done to my brother,