FRANCES

He would be such a thing: Were not I blessed In such a jolly father in law? I wood not be his Niece for all his fortune. Of what? A Suitor of my Nurse's commendations. I hope you move not this, as if you doubted; I took him first, upon your character, Into my good opinion. Make me not Imagine you would wed me to a heap Of shining dust, a golden bondage. O my unhappiness. But with your pardon, mother, Although I could dispense with my own thoughts, And frame them to obedience, will this change Be for my honour, or my fame? when such A noble Gentleman shall boast he had, With your consent, my love? or pray admit That which we gain by riches of the second, Seem to authorise, and may justify The act with some; how can it cure the wound, Which the poor heart, which loves, shall find too soon, When it's neglected, and so cruelly, Where it did hope for cherishing? O think How you did love my father first, and be More gentle to your daughter, your estate Is above needy providence, or grafting Into a new stock; it does grow already Fair from his own root, and does want no peecing: Nor are the means of Hartwell so contemptible. What Country, Sir? You dance well, Sir. Away, away. No, Sir. That were the clean contrary way. Kind M r . Startup. What party? How sir? Although it were immodest to commend it, I must thus far, in gratitude to nature, Acknowledge it no monster, I have seen One more deformed. This is course language. I Believe he hates me not. Good words. My mother? this fool's mad. What then? I hope he does. It is impossible. What have I understood? It is not he, some devil does but cozen us, And mock our sense with these fantastic bodies, Hartwell. My curses for this black discovery, When as before 'twas not impossible, In time I might be brought to pity thee; Henceforth I'll look upon thee as my inns, And beg as much forgiveness that I knew thee. Die quickly, and be forgotten. My mother, o my fate, see me no more, And I'll forgive thee. Try him, Nurse. My mother counterfeit? why may not Hartwell Pretend as well as she, fearing her anger And policy, if he refused her love? I have observed some sorrow in his gestures, As he were willing to deliver something, If opportunity would give him leave He cannot be so fall , now I suspect He does obey some dire necessity: 'Twould puzzle a wise lover to be so Severely put to't. It's the fool, Why Nurse? It's Hartwell. Why in this shape? some trick in't, He hides his face, I'll put him to't however, Although the hour be unseasonable, any time We may express our joy: my Nurse once told me You were not well, and gone to bed, your health Is welcome as my own; I dare not, sir, In modesty presume to bid you stay, And to requite your pains, kind M r . Startup. Forgive me if I blush, I have no other way, but to declare My eyes that late frowned on your love shall smile. On none but you: I have been too Unkindly dealt withal by Hartwell, whom How dearly I affected, good Heaven knows: But I have read discretion to my fancy, And were he here, he should be witness of My vows to you, if you accept my heart, And can with equal truth embrace it, I Will choose my husband here; you, only you, This faith be registered in Heaven, shall challenge from me a wives obedience. I have undone my self. Exit Frances. You preferred this suitor, This news returns my blood. I was unkind to Hartwell, he not wise; But love still apprehends too much, or nothing. Exit Countryman. Not I, their absence Is strange to me. Good Heaven, forbid. How, mother? are you acquainted With any cause to fear thus. Bless my senses! you love him? I herd you made pretence Of Love, to try him for my sake; and pardon me, If yet I dare not believe more. My heart does thrill, I feel a coldness run Through all my veins already. All the piety That ever taught children to love their mother, Will but suffice to keep my heart obedient. Was ever Maid so miserable? Was there No other, in my fate, to rival me I live too long; o break, break my poor heart; For she that gave me life, hath took it from me. I do not weep, or if I do, I know not why. Alas I knew not You loved him too, indeed I had rather die Than you should call me rebel. Indeed not I, And do believe it now against my will; But I am your daughter. Indeed I dare not, yet could I Put off the knowledge that you are a mother— Though in imagination I allow you The greatest woman in the earth, whose frown Could kill, and eyes at pleasure make alive Again; I could say— I durst tell you, In confidence of my cause, that you betray Two innocents to sorrow; and though heaven Look on, and seem to smile upon your cruelty, Yet there is punishment for divorcing those Whose hearts that hath conjoined: I durst tell you, Though all your terrors were prepared to punish My bold defence; you were a tyrant. A most unjust, a sacrilegious tyrant. That thus, Not only ruin and deface the Altar, But steal away the very Sacrifice And I durst add and smile upon your anger. Though as you frowned death stood in every wrinkle, My soul's above your tyranny, and would From torturing flame, receive new fire of love, And make your eye faint to behold the brightness Of my poor bodies Martyrdom; and if ever Love showed a miracle, my heart should bear The Characters of him you have torn from it, With beams about it Like a Saint that suffered: But as you are my mother, thus I kneel And beg a pardon for my innocence, If that offend you; Live you happy still, And be the Mistress of your vows, live to Enjoy whom you affect, may every hour Return new blessings on you both; renew Your spring, and let him think you young again, And let me beg but this for all my duty; Against that day you marry him to provide My Counterfeit m, for I fear I sha, not have after, to pray for you. The herbs that shall adorn your Bridal chamber, Will serve my Funeral, and deck my Merse; Beneath which you should say, there lies your daughter That die to show obedience. I know he loves me, yet hereafter your affections May not. Can this be true? I'll spend all night In prayers for you, mother: O my Hartwell Exeunt. Yet you must stay and hear me: He sha'not suffer, if my friends or state Can purchase him a pardon: Where's the body Of him that's slain? My heart was ever Constant, my mother's love was but thy trial, As mine a seeming change in thy disguise, Which was not able to secure thee from The words were, I would choose my But what will this avail us? How?