A Yorkshire Tragedy | Page 6

not move me, For if thou chidst me angry, I shall strike.
GENTLEMAN. Strike thine own follies, for it is they deserve To be well beaten. We are now in private: There's none but thou and I. Thou'rt fond and peevish, An unclean rioter: thy lands and Credit Lie now both sick of a consumption. I am sorry for thee: that man spends with shame That with his riches does consume his name: And such thou art.
HUSBAND. Peace.
GENTLEMAN. No, thou shalt hear me further: Thy fathers and forefathers worthy honors, Which were our country monuments, our grace, Follies in thee begin now to deface. The spring time of thy youth did fairly promise Such a most fruitful summer to thy friends It scarce can enter into mens beliefs, Such dearth should hang on thee. We that see it, Are sorry to believe it: in thy change, This voice into all places will be hurld: Thou and the devil has deceived the world.
HUSBAND. I'll not indure thee.
GENTLEMAN. But of all the worst: Thy vertuous wife, right honourably allied, Thou hast proclaimed a strumpet.
HUSBAND. Nay, the, I know thee. Thou art her champion, thou, her private friend, The party you wot on.
GENTLEMAN. Oh ignoble thought. I am past my patient blood: shall I stand idle And see my reputation toucht to death?
HUSBAND. Ta's galde you, this, has it?
GENTLEMAN. No, monster, I will prove My thoughts did only tend to vertuous love.
HUSBAND. Love of her vertues? there it goes.
GENTLEMEN. Base spirit, To lay thy hate upon the fruitful Honor Of thine own bed.
[They fight and the Husband's hurt.]
HUSBAND. Oh!
GENTLEMAN. Woult thou yield it yet?
HUSBAND. Sir, Sir, I have not done with you.
GENTLEMAN. I hope nor nere shall do.
[Fight again.]
HUSBAND. Have you got tricks? are you in cunning with me?
GENTLEMAN. No, plain and right. He needs no cunning that for truth doth fight.
[Husband falls down.]
HUSBAND. Hard fortune, am I leveld with the ground?
GENTLEMAN. Now, sir, you lie at mercy.
HUSBAND. Aye, you slave.
GENTLEMAN. Alas, that hate should bring us to our grave. You see my sword's not thirsty for your life, I am sorrier for your wound then your self. Y'are of a vertuous house, show vertuous deeds; Tis not your honour, tis your folly bleeds; Much good has been expected in your life, Cancel not all men's hopes: you have a wife Kind and obedient: heap not wrongful shame On her and your posterity, nor blame Your overthrow; let only sin be sore, And by this fall, rise never to fall more. And so I leave you.
[Exit.]
HUSBAND Has the dog left me, then, After his tooth hath left me? oh, my heart Would fain leap after him. Revenge, I say, I'm mad to be reveng'd. My strumpet wife, It is thy quarrel that rips thus my flesh, And makes my breast spit blood, but thou shalt bleed. Vanquisht? got down? unable e'en to speak? Surely tis want of money makes men weak. Aye, twas that orethrew me; I'd nere been down else.
[Exit.]
SCENE III. The same.
[Enter wife in a riding suit with a servingman.]
SERVINGMAN. Faith, mistress, If it might not be presumption In me to tell you so, for his excuse You had small reason, knowing his abuse.
WIFE. I grant I had; but, alas, Why should our faults at home be spread abroad? Tis grief enough within doors. At first sight Mine Uncle could run o'er his prodigal life As perfectly, as if his serious eye Had numbered all his follies: Knew of his mortgaged lands, his friends in bonds, Himself withered with debts: And in that minute Had I added his usage and unkindness, Twould have confounded every thought of good: Where now, fathering his riots on his youth, Which time and tame experience will shake off, Guessing his kindness to me (as I smoothd him With all the skill I had) though his deserts Are in form uglier then an unshaped Bear, He's ready to prefer him to some office And place at Court, A good and sure relief To all his stooping fortunes: twill be a means, I hope To make new league between us, and redeem His vertues with his lands.
SERVINGMAN. I should think so, mistress. If he should not now be kind to you and love you, and cherish you up, I should think the devil himself kept open house in him.
WIFE. I doubt not but he will now: prethe, leave me; I think I hear him coming.
SERVINGMAN. I am gone.
[Exit.]
WIFE. By this good means I shall preserve my lands, And free my husband out of usurers hands: Now there is no need of sale, my Uncle's kind, I hope, if ought, this will content his mind.-- Here comes my husband.
[Enter Husband.]
HUSBAND. Now, are you come? where's the money? let's see the money. Is the rubbish sold, those wiseakers your lands?