WIDOW

O, that ever I was born, that ever I was born! O, I have lost the dearest man. I have buried the swee test usba worser hat ever lay by woman. Oh, I shall never forget him, never forget him, he was a man so well given to a woman—o: Never? o if you love me urge it not, O may I be the byeword of the world, The common talk at Table in the mouth Of every Groom and Uva ter, if ever more I entertain the carnal suit of Man? Dear Copy of my husband, o let me kiss thee: How Like him is their Model? their brief Picture Quickens my tears: my sorrows are renewed At their fresh sighed? Away, All honesty with him is turned to clay, O my sweet husband, o— Tempt me not Satan. You wound my senses Brother, when you name, A suitor to me,—o I cannot abide it, I take in poison, when I hear one named, How now Simon? where's my son Edmund? At Tennis-court? o, now his father's gone, I shall have no rule with him; o wicked Edmond, I might well compare this with the Prophecy in the Chronicle, though fart inferior, as Harry of Monmouth won all, and Harry of Windsor lost all, so Edmund of Brist that was the Father, God all, and Edmond of London that's his son now, will spend all? Archers? O, Let them come near, they bring home things of his, Troth I should would forgotten they, how now? Villain, which be those Archers? Out ignorant slave. Indeed theyle answer you so, tak't a my word theile give you the very same answer Verbat m cruelly la; Oh never, never? and I live these thousand years; and you be good Knights do not hope; twiil be all Vain, Vain,—look you, put off all yours suits, and you come to me again. What another suitor now? Say you so Sir, then you're the better welcome sir. Good bluntness: well your business fit? Needful? brother pray leave us; and you fit? Now Sir?—here's none but we—Daughters forbear. Then you may stay. Fear? Strange he should know our thoughts:— Why but Daughter have you purposede speedy Marriage? This is most strange of all, how knows he that? Is this all your business with me? A lose, marry heaven forfend, Sir Godfrey, my brother! Our naked bodies? sie for shame: Marry? why I vowed never to marry. I'll to Sir Godfrey my Brother, and acquaint him with these fearful presages. O I, they do, they do, If any happy issue crown thy words, I will reward thy cunning. Oh wondrous happiness, beyond our thoughts: Oh lucky fair event, I think our Fortune's, Were blessed een in our Cradles: we are quit Of all those shameful violent presages, By this rash bleeding chance; go Frailty run, and know, Whither he be yet living or yet dead, That here before my door received his hurt. Oh where's my Brother sir Godfrey, I would he were here, that I might relate to him how prophetically, the cunning Gentleman spoke in all things. O brother, who can be against a misfortune, 'tis happy it no more. O, Brother! you can read.— How now sirrah, the news? More happiness. Nay Brother show your self a man: How now? where's my Brother Sir Godfrey? went he forth this morning? A Conjurer? what manner a fellow is he? What he will not? then he's and exlent fellow I warrant. how happy were that woman to be blessed with such a Husband, a man a cunning? how do's he look Frailty: very swartly I warrant, with black beard, scorched cheeks, and smoky eye brows. Coades? what do you mean Gentlemen? fie, did I not give you your answers? Well, I will not stick with you now for a kiss, Daughter kiss the Gentleman for once. Truly la, sir Oliver, y are much to blame to come again, when you know my mind, so well delivered — as a Widow could deliver a thing. Why la you now, did I not desire you to put off your suit quite & clean, when you came to me again, how say you did I not Go to, isle cut you off. & Sir Oliver to put you in comfort a far off, my fortune is read me, I must marry again. But not as long as I can choose;—nay I'll hold out, well. How now, what's the hast? What dos he mean to conjure here the? how shall I do to be tid of these Knights,—please you Gentlemen to walk a while ith Garden, go gather a pink, or a Iilly-flower. Oh brother, brother, what a tempests ith, Garden, sure there's some conjuration abroad. O happiness, run, run. Why did you strike your Uncle sir? What brave sighed? A rueful sighed. Oh lamentable seeing, these were those Brother's, that sought and bled before our door. O, with all my heart sir, Nicholas and Frailty, he'pe to bear him in. O, shall I bid you once again take him away. Away villains, bid the Maids make him a Cawdle p e sently to settle his brain,—or a Posset of Sack, quickly, quickly. Oh I, if you knew all Master Sheriff, as you shall do, you would say then, that here were two of the rarest men within the walls of Christendom My Lord your honour is most chastely welcome, Deceitful. Oh wonderful, indeed I wondered that my husband with all his crast could nor keep himself out of purgatory. Is't possible we should be blinded so and our eyes open Oh to my shame I do. I know not with what face, Pardon me worthy Sirs, I and my daughter have wronged your lo es. With all my soul, Oh rank no me with those wicked women, I had a Husband out-shinde 'e all. Marry again! no! let me be buried quick then! And that same partly of Choir whereon I tread To such intent, Oh may it be my graven; And that the Priest may his wedding prayers, Een with a breath, to all dust and ashes; O, out of a million of millions, I should never find such a husband, he was unmatchable,—unmatchable? nothing was oh hight, nor to deer for me, I could not speak of that one thing that I had not, beside I had keys of all, kept all, re ceiu'd all, had money in my purse, spent what I would, went abroad when I would, came home when I would, and did all what I would? O—my sweet husband; I shall never have the Like? Dost thou stand there and see us all weep, and not once shed a tear for thy father's death? o thou ungracious son and heir thou: O thou past-Grace thou, out of my sighed, thou grace less imp, thou grievest me more then the death of thy Fa there? oh thou stubborn only son? hadst thou such and ho nest man to thy Father—that would deceive all the world to get riches for thee, and canst thou not afford a little sa't uva ter? he that so wisely did quite overthrow the right heir of those lands, whi h now you respect not up every morning be betwixt four and five so duly at Westminster Hall every Termtime, with all his Cards and writings, for thee thou wicked Absolon —o deer husband! O such a deer knight! such a sweet husband have I lost, have I lost?—if Blessed be the coarse the rain reins upon, he had it powering down? O! O! Oh why will you offer me this Gentlemen? indeed I will not look upon you; when the Tears are scarce out of mine Eyes, not yet washed off from my Cheeks, and my deer husbands body scars so cold as the Coffin, what rea son have you to offer it? I am not Like some of your Wid dowes that will bury one in the Evening, and be sure to anon there ere morning? pray away, pray, take your answers good Knights, and you be sweet Knights, I have vowed never to marry;—and so have my daughters too! If this be true, we are all sham'de, all un done? O it's a joust vengeance, for my husbands hard pur chases. This puts Amazement on me? But sir, my husband, was too hon st a dealing man to be now in any purgatories— It quakes me too, now I think on't—sir, I am much gr eved, that you a stranger should so deeply wrong my dead husband! A man that would keep Church so du y; rise early, be before his servants, and even foe Religious hast, go vngarterd, un b ttend, nay sir Reverence untrust, to Morning Prayer? Dine quickly upon hie-dayes, and when I had g eat guess, would even shame me and rise from the Table, to get a good seat at and afternoon Sermon? I can no more endure this. O; has lost his Chain. Brother be patient, hear me speak, you know I told you that a cunning man told me, that you should have a lose, and he has prophicied so true. Well, seeing my fortune tells me I must marry; let me marry a man of wit a man of parts, here's a worthy Cap taine, and it's a fine Title truly to be a Captains Wife, a Captains Wife, it goes very finely. beside all the world knows that a worthy Captain, is a fit Companion to any Lord, then why not a sweet bedfellow for any Lady.—I'll have it so— Purgatory? tuh; that word deserves to be spit upon; I wonder that a man of sober tongue as you seem to be, should have the folly to believe there's such a place.