MOTHER

He shall come in. Walk without doors of this day, though and enemy, It must not be. No she shall fetch him in, Nephew it shall be so. Where be these knaves? who strues up all the liveries, Is the brides bed made? Out knave out Must we have larums now? All the house drunk. Are the best hangings up, and the plate set out? Who makes the Posset, Nurse? Peace he is rich Nurse, He is rich, and thats beauty. What and angry quean is this, where, Who looks to him? Sorrow must have his course, sirrah Give him some Sack to dry up his remembrance, How does the Bridegroom, I am afraid of him. Peace, peace, thou art foolish. Alas, good Gentleman, give him not much wine. Are the women comforting my daughter? Thou art a fool still And and old fool to be vexed thus. 'Tis late she must to bed, go knave be merry, Drink for a Boy, away to all your charges. 'Tis time you were a bed. Prithee to bed Maria. Come then, Weel wait in the next room. I'll hang her then. O misery of Misery's. Carry her in, you will pay back her portion. A sad wedding Her grave must be her Bridal bed, o Mall, Would I had wed thee to thy own content Then I had had thee still. THou art the most unfortunate fellow; The most malicious varlet, Thy wicked head never at rest, but hammering, And hatching hellish things, and to no purpose, So thou mayest have thy base will. Thou art at both ends. Sirrah, Where's the body of my Girl? You lie Like rascals, Was Mistress Newlove such a Spirit sir To fright your worship; Well, I discharge you sir, ye're now at liberty, Live where you please, and do what pranks you fancy, You know your substance, though you are my Nephew, I am no way bound sir to protect your mischief; So fare you well. You block head; Your eyes are sowed up still, they cannot see When it is day: o my poor Maria, Where be the women? He shall not laugh thus at my misery, And kill my child, and steal away her body, And keep her Portion too. These women not come yet? A son in law, I'll keep a Conjurer, But I'll find out his knavery. And old Usurer. I'll swim him; This is his house, I wonder they stay thus, That we might rail him out on's wits. O fie, How tedious are they? I hear you, And I will send my tongue up to your worship, The Echo of it shall fly over the street; My Daughter, that thou killedest with kindness (Jew) That thou betrayedest to death, thou double Jew, And after stolest her body. Honour, Rascal, And let that bear and Actium, I'll try it with thee, Honour? Thou musty Justice, Buy and honourable halter, and hang thy self. Get honour that way, thou wot die a dog else. Where is her Porrion. O Nurse, I have such cause — No, no, wele only let him know our minds, We will commit no outrage, he's a Lawyer. Wheer's my daughters body, That I may bury it? The Law shall say more. I'll buy that. I marry, dee here that Justice. Are you God in? We would would pulled your knaves hide else; this fellow Was sent to abuse us, but we shall have time To talk more with this Justice. I thank ye heartily, I'll keep that for the last, I will go home, And leave him to his Conscience for a while, If it sleep long, I'll wake it with a vengeance. Thy brother's daughter, sayest, and born in Wales? No, no. Beshrew me, but at first, she took me much, Is she not Like Maria? setting aside Her language very Like her, and I love her The bettet for't, I prithee call her hither, She speaks feat English. I'll have her handsome: What partly of Wales were you born in? What can you do? nock. A pretty innocence, I do Like her infinitely, Nurse. And if I live — Alas poor Gentleman, prithee admit him. How sir? Would there were any thing in my poor power That might divert your will, and make you happy; I am sure I have wronged her too, but let your pardon Assure me you are charitable; she's dead Which makes us both sad: What do you look on? How the Wench blushes, she represents Maria's lose to him. How prettily this anger shows. Alas I pity him, the wench is rude, and knows you not, forgive her. O no sir, be you not angry with the wench. To what? She's not mine, this is her Kiswoman, And has more power to dispose; alas, I pity him. Pray gentlemen prevail with him to go; More that I wish his comfort than his absence. What ails the Wench? Didst think Maria, this poor outside, and Dissembling of thy voice could hide thee from A mother's searching eye, though too much fear, Lest thou we'rt not the same, might blind a lover That thought thee dead too; o my deer Maria, I hardly kept my joys in from betraying thee: Welcome again to life, we shall find out The mystery of thy absence; conceal Thy person still, for Algripe must not know thee: And exercise this pretty dialect; If there be any course in Law to free thee, Thou shalt not be so miserable; be silent Good Nurse. I shall but grieve to see his passion too, Since there's no possibility to relieve him. Now that I have my counsel ready, and my cause ripe; The Judges all informed of the abuses; Now that he should be gone. If he be hanged, who ha his goods? He has hanged himself for certain then, Only to cousin me of my Girls portion. Or did not the Constable carry him to some prison? He may be close for treason, perhaps executed. What gentleman? Alas, 'tis Heartlove, it'll but feed his melancholy, To let him see Maria, since we dare not Yet tell the world she lives; and certainly, Did not the violence of h passion blind him, He would see passed her borrowed tongue and habit. Do what thou wot, pray Mr. Hartlove enter. Pardon, for what? you never offended me, I was her mother, but that word is canceled, And buried with her in that very minute Her soul fled from her, we lost both our names Of mother and of daughter. You amaze me, by whom? Why do you speak thus indiscreetly sir? You ever honoured her. Was I a witness? To what? Sir in my Opinion, 'twas and argument of love To your Maria, for whose sake you could Affect one that but carried her small likeness. Be not deluded sir, upon my life This is the soul whom you but thought Maria In my daughters habit; what did you mean Nurse? I knew she would but cozen you, is she not Like now? One Due unto another is not nearer. Pray be not foolish. But do not, I beseech you, For trust me sir, you know not what I know. This will betray all. This is incredible. What I have is your own, and blessings crown ye. What thing is this? My kinsman? let me wonder! Your submission sir, I gladly take, we will Inquire the reason of this habit afterwards; Now you are soundly shamed, well with restoore you: Where Toby? Where the Coachman? We must a foot then. Home forward with glad hearts, home child. She is not here. Be not dejected Mall.