MISTRESS FORSTER

Shall I not live to breath a quiet hour? I would I were a beggar with content Rather than thus be thwarted for mine own. I'll towse him up, though you regard not of my just complaints Neither in love to me, nor preserving me from others Injuries, both which you're tied to, by all the rightful Laws heavenly or humane, but I'll complain Sir, where I will be herd. Nay Sir, I will be herd; some awkward star Threw out his unhappy eat my conception And 'twill never quench while I have heat in me: Would I were cold, there would be bonfires made warm defa e, my death would be a Jubilce to some. Had he been a husband Sir, I had had no cause to Complain, I threw down at his feet The subjection of his whole estate: He did not marry me for loves sake nor for pity, But love to that I had, he now neglects the love He had before; A prodigal is suffered to lay waste Those worldly blessings, which I long enclosed, Intending for good uses. I, thou knowest it well enough, he's the Condu pipe that throws it forth into the common shore. You may well shame, as I do grieve the kindred, But I'de make the one a stranger, the other a servant, No son, nor brother; For they deserve neither Of those offices. Why do you not perform it? No; he's in my house, approving to my face The charitable office of his kind Nephew, Who with his pilfering purloined from me, Has set him at liberty; if this may be suffered I'll have no eyes to see. Nay, heel approve his good deeds I warrant you. I, I, Sir, your tongue cannot defame his reputation Oh friend and gossip, where are you? I am Over loaded with my griefs, and but in your bosom I know not where to ease me. Never had woman more sinister fate; All ominous stars were in conjunction Even at my birth, and do still attend me. Unless seven witches had set spells about me, I could not be so crossed, never at quiet Never happy hour, not a minutes content. I, I Physicians minister with ease, Although the patient do receive in pain; Would I could think but of one joyful hour. Full fourteen years I lived a weary maid, Thinking no joy till I had God a husband. I had one loved me well, and then ere long I grew into my longing peevishness. Then all the kindness that he would apply, Nothing could please; soon after it he died. Then worldly care did so o'reload my weakness, That I must have a second stay; I chosen again, And there begins my griefs to multiply. How can they but overwhelm me? he keeps a Son That makes my state his prodigality; To him a brother, one of the City scandals; The tone the hand, the tother is the maw; And between both my goods are swallowed up; The full quantity that I brought amongst'm Is now consumed to half. Would I could, that I might laugh another while: But you are wise to heed at others harms; You'll keep you happy in your widowhood. Try, try, you shall not need to wish; You'll sing another song, and bear a partly In my griefs descant, when you're vexed at heart: Your second choice will differ from the first: So oft as widows marry they are accursed. You have a light heart Gossip. Nay, I pray you friend bear me company a little This way, for into this dicing house I saw my good Son in law enter, and it's ods but he meets his Uncle here. I, I, you may make mirth of my sorrow. Did not I tell you so; I, I, there's good counsel Between you, the tone would go afoot to hell, The other the horseway. Mother? hang thee wretch, I boar thee not, but Many afflictions I have born for thee; Wertenberg thou Mine own, I'ld see thee stretched a handful, and Put thee a Cossin into the Cart, ere thou shouldst vex Me thus. I'l make thy father turn thee out for ever, or else I'l make him wish him in his grave; You'll witness With me Gossip where I have found him. And that shall disinherit thee, if thy father Be and honest man; thou hadst been better to have Been born a viper, and eat thy way through thy Mother's womb into the world, than to tempt my Displeasure. Out Raggamustin, dost thou talk? I shall see thee In Ludgate again shortly. I'l see thee hanged first. I'l lie with him I'l warrant him. Oh my heart Gossip, do you see this? Was ever Woman thus abused? I, I am well recompensed to complain to you, Had you such a kindred. Do so; choose herethen; O my heart! But I'l do Your e and; O that my Nails were not pared! But I'l do Your errand; Will you go Gossip? I cannot hold a joint still; Dost wisp me, thou atterdemallion; I'l do your errands, if I have a Husband; O that I could spit Wild fire! My heart, O my heart! If it does not go pantle, Pantle, pantle in my belly, I am no honest woman: But I'l do your errands. Go, go to your Uncle Sir; you know where to Find him, he's at his old haunt, he wants More money by this time; but I think the Conduit pipe is stopped from whence it ran. I, I, be wise Mistress Jane; do not you trust To spleen and time worn to pity, you'll Not find it so; therefore good Gentlewoman Take heed. Still flows the Tide of my unhappiness, The stars shoot mischief, and every hour Is critical to me. I think the devil's mine enemy Your brother, your goodbrother, Sir. No, he's in Hye-gate; he struts it bravely, And Alderman's pace at least. Why, I'm sure you have herd the news; He's married forsooth. A woman, in whose breast, I had thought had lived The very quintessence of discretion; and who is't, Think you? nay you cannot guess, though I should give You a day to riddle it; it's my Gossip, Man, the rich Widow of Cornehill. Are you my husband? then is she his wife; How will this upstart beggar shoulder up, And take the wall of you? his new found pride Will know no eldership. But beggars will be proud of little, and shoulder at the best. I, that's it mads me too. Would any woman, less to spite her self, So much profane the sacred name of wedlock: A Dove to couple with a Stork, or a Lamb a Viper? Do you observe, Sir; he will not know you now? Jockeye's a Gentleman now. He laughs at you. No, no, no; he does this to spite me; as who Should say, I had been a fishwife in my younger days. Do, do, we have paid for't aforehand, I, it's up now, the next step down. That's neither grave not wife; By Carts that may arise; Or if the hangman die, He may have his office. Go, go, Sir; follow your Uncle-father, Help him to spend, what thrift has God together; 'Twilbe charity in you to spend, Because your charity it was to lend. Why dost not speak; hast lost thy tongue? Oh thou fatal Raven; Let me pull thine eyes out for this Sad croak. No, no, it's thine, thou wretch; and therefore Let me turn my vengeance all on thee; thou Hast made hight haste to empty all my Warehouses, And made room for that the sea hath drunk before Thee. May Serpents breed, and fill this fatal Stream, And poison her for ever. Let me curse somewhere, Wretch, or else I'l throw That all on thee; it's thou, ungodly Slave, That art the mark unto the wrath of Heaven: I thrived e'r I knew thee. I would I could; I would I had never seen thee; For I never saw hour of comfort since I knew thee. Yes worse than all, Thy enemies will laugh, and scorn thy fallen. Take Newgate rather. Scorn him still. Oh you were born to wealth and Happiness; I, to want and scorn! May heavenly blessings guard you from all ill: Never was woman vexed as I am still. The Keeper is your friend, and powers true balm Into your smarting wounds; therefore deer Husband endure the dressing with patience. You may Sir, but your dim eyes so thick with tears do run. You cannot see from whence your comforts come, Beside your debts being truly counted cannot Be great. It again may rise. Good Sir, so hope, for I from heaven espy And arm to pluck you from this misery. Oh it's your son, Sir. Sweet husband. Husband. Yet stay and hear him; O unnatural strife, In a hard father's bosom. Crosses of this foolish world. Did never grieve my heart with ments more Than it is now grown light, With joy and comfort of this happy sighed. Here comes your brother's wife, Welcome deer sister. I sister, he and you may fit about what you will; Heaven I'm sure prospers it, but I am ever crossed; You have been bound for thee great voyages, Yet never run a ground; maid, wife, and widow, And wife again; have spread full and fair sails, No wracks you ever did dread, nor ever felt any; But even close a shore, I'm sunk, and amid of All my wealth made poor. I do indeed, for all. other.