WIDOW

Sirrah, will the Churchman come I sent you for? Suppose to make my Will, how then? So Sir, suppose it be for marriage. Well Sir, well, let not all this trouble you; See, he's come; Will you be gone? He's saucy Sir. Sirrah, you'll be gone. You'll be gone, Sirrah. Will you yet Sir, after your needless trouble, Be gone, and bid the maids dress dinner. Let there be store of that; let bounty furnish the Table, and charity shall be the voider. What fish is there, Sirrah? Bid him haste to dress him then. Sir, I did, and to this end: I have some scruples in my conscience; Some doubtful problems which I cannot answer Nor reconcile; I'de have you make them plain. And as I speak, I must remember heaven That gave those blessings which I must relate: Sir, you now behold a wondrous woman; You only wonder at the Epithet; I can approve it good; Guess at mine age. 'Twas not much amiss; yet nearest to the last; How think you then; Is not this a wonder, That a woman lives full seven and thirty years, Maid to a wife, and wife unto a widow, Now widowed, and mine own, yet all this while From the extremest verge of my remembrance, Even from my weaning hour unto this minute, Did never taste what was calamity; I know not yet what grief is, yet have sought A hundred ways for its acquaintance; with me Prosperity hath kept so close a watch, That even those things that I have meant A cross, have that way turned a blessing; Is it not strange? I, Sir, 'tis wonderful; but is it well? For it is now my chief affliction. I have herd you say, that the child of heaven Shall suffer many tribulations; Nay, Kings and Princes share them with their Subject's; Then I that know not any chastisement How may I know my partly of childhood? It was; but very small; no sooner I Had given it entertainment as a sorrow, But strait it turned unto my Triple joy; A comfortable revelation prompts me then, That husband whom in life I held so deer, Had changed a frailty to unchanging joys; Me thought I saw him stellified in heaven, And singing Hallelujahs amongst a choir Of white Sainted souls: then again it spoke, And said; It was a sin for me to grieve At his best good, that I esteemed best: And thus this slender shadow of a grief Vanished again. One taste more I had, although but little, Yet I would aggravate to make the most On't: thus 'twas; The other day, it was my hap ssing of the Thames, To drop that wedlock Ring from off my finger, That once conjoined me and my dead husband; It sunk, I prised it deer; the dearer, because it kept Still in mine eye the memory of my lose; Yet I grieved the lose, and did joy withal That I had found a grief; and this is all The sorrow I can boast of. Nay sure I am of this opinion, That had I suffered a draught to be made for it, The bottom would have sent it up again, I am so wondrously fortunate. Not for my whole estate. The thief; what thief? I never was so happy To be robbed. What's all this? I think the fellow's mad. Yes Sir, but I was not robbed of it. Yes, what of it? The very same. How am I vexed with blessings? how think you Sir, is not this above wonder? First that this fish should snatch it as a bait; Then that my servant needs must buy that fish Amongst such infinites of fish and buyers: What fate is mine that runs all by it self In unhappy happiness? My conscience dreads it: Would thou hadst not swallowed it, nor thou not bought it. Nothing can hinder fate. About your business, you have not pleased me in this. I know her sure then, it's my gossip Foster: Request her in; here's good company, tell her. You shall now see and absolute contrary: Would I had changed bosoms with her for atime, IT would make me better relish happiness. What ails you Woman? It cannot be, friend; your husband's kind. Peace Sirrah: how can your sorrows increase from him? The fire of your spleen wasts it; Good sooth Gossip, I could laugh at thee, and only grieve I have not some cause of sorrow with thee: P thee be temperate, and suffer. Canst thou devise to lay them half on me, And e beare'm willingly. Not I in good faith, were I sure marriage Would make me unhappy. You'll be gone Sir, and see dinner ready. When go you, Sirrah? Would, would, would, thou makest me laugh at thee; prithee stay, So should you Woman, would you be ruled by me: Come, we'll dine together, after walk abroad Unto my suburb garden, where if thou'lt hear, He read my heart to thee, and thou from thence Shalt learn to vex thy cares with patience. You cannot tire me gossip in your company, it's the best Affliction I have to see you impatient. Me thinks it's good sport y'faith. I would rejoice in't Gossip. No I'l stay awhile and tell him out with patience. I have too much Sir. Sir, I do not disallow the kindness your Consanguinity renders, I would not teach You otherwise; I'ld speak with your Uncle, Sir, If you'll give me leave. Yes Sir, with you; you are a brave Unthrift. When you have a clean shirt. Nay, pray you hear me Sir, I cannot chide. I'l but give you good counsel; it's not a good Course that you n. I would teach you a better, if you'd stay where you are. In the dying house? Dost thou want Money? Thou art worthy to be tattered Hast thou no wit now thy Money's gone? I cannot believe thy wit's more than thy Money, A fellow so well limbed, so able to do good service, And want. I Like that resolution well; but how comes it Then, that thy wit leaves thy body unfurnished? Thou art very poor? They are the only wizards, I confess, The only fortune-tellers; but he that goes to Seek his fortune from them, must never hope To have a good destiny allotted him: yet it is Not the course that I dislike in thee, but that Thou canst not supply that course, and out- Cross them that cross thee; Were I as thou art I'l be hanged first. So Sir, I conceit you; were I as well hanged then As you could imagine, I would tell some rich widow Such a tale in her ear. I'ld be ashamed to take such a fruitless oath: I say, seek me out some rich widow; promise Her fair; she's apt to believe a young man; Marry her, and let her estate fly; no matter, It's charity; Twenty to one some rich Miser raked to together; this is none of Hercules labours. The easiest of all: Why man, they are more common Than Tavern Bushes; two Fairs might be Furnished every week in London with him, though no Foreigners came in, if the Charter were granted once: Nay, it's thought, if the Horse-market be removed, that Smithfield shall be so employed, and then I'l Warrant you it'll be as well furnished with widows as It with Sows, Cows, and old trotting Jades before. Thou shalt not stay the Market; if thoul't be ruled, I'l find thee out a widow, and help in some of The rest too; if thou'lt but promise me the last, but To let her estate fly: for she's one I love not, and I'ld be glad to see that revenge on her. Only this I'l enjoin you, to be matrimonially honest To her for your own healths sake: all other injuries Shall be blessings to her. I'l show thee the party; What sayest thou to my self? I have a lease of thousands at least, Sir. That's my hope Sir; but you must be honest withal. Give me thy hand; go home with me, I'l give The better clothes; and as I Like thee then, we'll Go further, we may chance make a blind Bargain of it. No, I bar that Sir, lets begin honestly, how E'r we end; marry for the waste of my estate Spare it not; do thy worst. Come, will you walk, Sir. No Sir, are you grown so stout already? I hope thou'lt vex me. I shall rail, and curse thee I hope; yet I'ld Not have thee give over neither; for I would Be vexed; Here's my hand, I am thine, thou art mine, I'l have thee withal faults. Here's witness, come hither Sir. Cozin, I must call you shortly; and you Sitra, be witness to this match; here's Man and Wife. You'll let me dispose of my self, I hope. You have put me to my choice then; see, here I choose? This is my Husband: Thus I begin the Contract. His word is now a deed, Sir. I have taken him so before you, Sir; Will you be quiet. Sir, you see I have made a speedy choice, And as swift a marriage; be it as it will, I Like the man, if his qualities afflict me, I shall be happy in't. A good bargain, I hope. Roger, Where's your Master? Not your Master, Sir. Well Sir, I shall be blessed in't: But where is he? And where's that? Why Sir, all is his, and at his Dispose; who shall dare to twhart him? How now, Sweetheart? what hast thou there? Would, would; prithee do not mistake thy self, Nor my true purpose; I did not wed to thrall, Or bind thy large expense, but rather to add A plenty to that liberty; I thought by this, Thou wouldst have stuffed thy pockets full of Gold, And thrown it at a hazard; made Ducks and Drakes, And baited fish with thy silver flies; Lost, and fetched more: why this had been my joy; Perhaps at length thou wouldst have wasted My store; why, this had been a blessing to Good for me. I'm new to seek for crosses, the Hope's I meant Turn to despair, and smoother in content. Let him be largely texted in your love, That all the City may read it fairly; You cannot remember me, and him forget. We were alike to you in poverty. Call it not borrowed, Sir, it's all your own; Here before this reverend man I make it known, Thou art our child as free by adoption, As derived from us by conception, birth, and Propinquity; Inheritor to our full substance. Will the Tide never turn? Was ever woman Thus burdened with unhappy happiness? Did I from Riot take him, to waste my goods, And he strives to augment it? I did mistake him. I thank ye Sir. alas, they are poor and lean, and being so; them not till they are fatter. The match is fair; and were that knot once tied, send some Augels to attend the bride. I grieve for my poor Gossip, his good wife, She never met good fortune all her life, And this will break her heartstrings: In good sooth I'l go and comfort her. Sister, there's no way to make sorrow light But in the noble bearing; be content; Blows given from heaven are our endue punishment; All ship wracks are no drownings, you see buildings Made fairer from their Ruins; he that I married, The brother to your husband, lay, you know, On the same bed of misery, yet now He's ranked with the best Citizens. Come, I will work my husband; stay this grief. The longest sorrow finds at last relief. Now Sir, your business. What are they, know their names. Oh, they are my old debtors, Speedwell and Lambskin Go call them in, and my gentle sister Comfort your self and my imprisoned brother, To whom commend me give to him this gold, What good I can, I'l do for him be bold. Now good Sir Godfry and Master Innocent. I know it well, Sir. I am content to do so: you shall find Nor me nor my husband carry a gripping mind. Now Cuz, where's your Uncle. Oh fear not, I'l be your surety Sir. Upon my trust none here shall do you wrong; What is his business with the Alderman? Saw you your sad father? Not yet Sir, but here they come Like honest Gentlemen To take some order for it: good Sweetheart Shall it be put to me. I thank you Sir; then tell me Gentlemen, What present money can you pay? We'll shear no sheep so close. All your two thousand pound Gentlemen we quit, For your two hundred: go pay the money to My Cuz, and receive your two bonds canceled: Say Sir, are you content. I must come a wooing to you Sir. For your brother; O it's unmeet For souls framed by one square to grow uneven, It's Like a war amongst the great lights of heaven, One cannot loose his beauty, but the other Suffers eclipse; so brother against brother. Would you kill a man lying at your feet: Do good for ill. The easier then taken off. Such wheels in children's bosom seldom run. Troth would it might: I gladly shall agree. To any act that tends to charity. I thank you; how fare you brother? Had you and ague then? Oh, it's well Cozin, what make you hear I pray? It's well, if you can doe't, and that the timber You underprop it with be all your own. Hark Cuz, where's your Uncle's money? Sir, I believe with your Uncle's gold your father You relieve. You cut large thongs of that's another's endue And you will answer't ill: now in good troth I laugh at this jest, much good do them both: My wager I had wone, had I but laid. Nothing deer brother, indeed all's well: The course that he has run I Like and love, Let him hold on the same; A sons love to a father none can blame; I will not leave your brother's on heart Till I have beat it soft with my intreats. Frets make best music: strings the higher Racked found sweetest. I hope you both in smoother streams shall swim: He is now the Sheriff of London, and in counsel Set at the Guildhall, in his scarlet Gown With Mayor and Aldermen, how to receive the King, Who comes to see Master Bruines Hospital To morrow consecrated by'th Cardinal, And old Saint Marie's Spittle, here by Shoreditch. You must thank heaven. Sister, that hand can raise that gives the fallen. Why, it's your brother Sir. Stand valiantly, and let me bear the storm, all hurts That are, and ruins in your bosoms I'l repair. Husband. Never so well content, believe me Sir; Your mildness wears this mask of cruelty well. Oh let me kiss thee for this charity; But for your Cozin Sir. Why from Ludgate do you remove prisoners? In good deeds I will walk hand in hand with you, There is a fair tenement, adjoining close to the Gate That was my father's, I'l give it freely, take it down, And add so much ground to the work. It's fairly given. Thy soul on prisoners prayers shall mount to heaven: The Plummers and the Workmen have surveyed the ground From Paddington; from whence I'l have laid pipes Long to London to convey sweet water into Ludgate; From fresh Springs: when charity tunes the, pipe the Poor man sings. How now Keeper. alas good old man, some sweet bird must sing, And give his sorrows present comforting. What's your meaning Sir? No, not to that, you are kind brother's now, Divide by halves that love, and I'l allow. You make some doubt of me in this Sir; Did you not say that women were forgetful, No my Lord, I'l help it better, I do confess That women are forgetful, yet never the less I am exempt, I know my fate, and find My deer husband must not leave me behind, But I must go before him, and it's said, The grave's good rest when women go first to bed. Prithee no more, I had rather be angry than flattered.