HARTWELL

N Ay, let's not partly so heavily. My father had and office, which brought in A fair revenue; I inherit but His little land, whose annual profits won't Encourage me to live at the same height: Ye may meet better Fortune's, there's enough Preferment in the world; my love and best Assistance promise to your selves. How woot thou live? But I am a Bachelor. Well, since you are so resolute, attend me, The rest I here discharge, there's somewhat more, Not worth the name of bounty, I wish all A happier entertainment. Meet me at Mistress Bellamies then. Exit. Is he Suitor to your mother, Lady? He looks Like some cast moneybag, that had given up The stuffing, and for want of use grown mouldy: He dares not keep much fire in's kitchen, lest Warming his hands, which rather look Like gloves, So tanned and thin, he let em scorch, and gather Into a heap. I do not think he ever Put off his clothes, he would run-mad to see His own anatomy, that such a wretch Should have so vast a wealth. I presume Your mother is more noble, than to encourage him In his pretence, and her estate would mix But ill with his ill-gotten wealth, extorted From widows and from or plans, nor will all His plenty keep his soul one day from famine: It's time ill spent to mention him, let's talk Of something else. Of love again, Whose flame we equally divide. Who is that you talk on, Sir? I'll hear it in the garden. Exit Heart. Close. I wish it well; but do you work your self Into the opinion of her Nurse, she is The Major Domo, and has all the intelligence. About your business. Exit Close. You prepare my attention. If you knew my heart, You might be confident, in her I sum All my desires on earth. How Lady? I acknowledge; This makes me wonder, pray interpret Lady, And speak the dialect I understand: I love your daughter. In the number of my actions There is not one that's guilty of so much Offence to you, that I should be so soon Lost to your favour. Now I fear again, this violent turn of praise Makes me suspect my state; if I be fallen, Teach me to know my trespass. If this be meant, pray pardon my mistake Of something went before, love made me fear; You said I never should enjoy your daughter In marriage, which your self so late inclined to. Can you forbid this happiness, And love me? You fright my understanding. I am destroyed: Was it her mother that spoke all this while? As Pilgrim's, by mistake of some small path, Having told many weary steps, at night, When their Hope's flatter em, they are not far From some kind entertainment, find themselves Lost in a wilderness; so am I miserable: Thus love delights to wound, and see us bleed, He were a gentle God to kill indeed. Exit. Would I had But reason to suspect. And violate my faith made to her daughter. Is this the way to do me good? she comes Too fast on me already. I apprehend: th'ast given me good counsel, I'll watch the first occasion, to assure I have preferred her in my heart already. May not I communicate? He is a Sutour to the widow, And after the rate we cast the plot, my Rival. You are too humble, Sir, to stoop so low, It would become my duty. Were you married? For some are fools. Is there A dearth, Sir, in your Country? What then? I have considered perfectly, and if You will vouchsafe me hearing, dare pour forth My heart, which, full of love, tenders it self To your acceptance; I acknowledge Lady, My passion are but young, for could I hope You should with so much favour look upon me? But suspect were and injustice to my faith, which looks Upon your virtue with as much religion As love is able to receive; your age Hath struck a reverence into my eye; And what you want of youth and spring upon you, Your wisdom richly satisfies: Those characters Which time hath writ upon your careful forehead, Are but his virtue and your ornament, When it shall come to pass by your example, That youth shall be esteemed and infancy, And women never ripe for love or Marriage Without your age upon they; it's a fault, That men not guided by the tract of reason, But heat and wantonness of blood, run giddy To seal such weighty Covenants, better 'twere The world should end in our virginities, Than spin it self more length by inconsiderate And hasty marriages. That is but and attendant, as you use it, I must confess a welcome one; although The mind is the first beauty, which true lo e Aspires to, when it's waited on with person And estate, it comes with greater privilege To win upon's; I do not wish you, Lady, Rashly believe what I profess, but measure My service by the trial; I'll expect And write your smiles a competent reward, Till time and your command, demonstrate me; Although not equal to your full deservings, Yet one that has ambition to bethought Not too unworthy. Till then, have Hartwell in your loving memory, Who wishes no more happiness of life, Than to be called yours. Exit. Does he consent? Then thou wilt be so base? Thou art my honest servant. I have it; Canst By any means procure me but his clothes? I could not wish a happy opportunity, To try how she affects this gaudy fool, And clear my faith to her, which her mother's watch Will not permit; she has, I fear, perceived My new familiarity with her mother, Which I am compelled too, and must clear this way: Fail me not, Close, and propound thy own Reward. Prosper me love in this. Nay, fly not before you hear. If my voice Betray me not. She knows me not. On me? Planet-struck. Enter Nurse. I will discover yet. You have midnight plots. O, who shall led me to a world where are No women? Farewell all, I'll be above Your charms, and find out death, a cure for love. Exit. What a sweet thing is night? how calm and harmless? No whispering, but of leaves, on which the breath Of heaven plays Music to the birds that slumber; Here are no objects to betray our sense To repentance, nor can women, thus Advantaged by the Tapers of the night, Spread their temptations to undo poor man: What a fine book is heave ? which we may read Best now, when every Star is a fair letter: How much they wrong the night, which call thee guilty Of rapes and murders: It's the day, that Like A glorious whore, engages men to act they, And taking then the darkness to obscure they: We unjustly lay the shame upon thy brows, That art so innocent; Thou never sawest them Befriended with this silence; I begin To wander: There's no wilderness abroad, To him that's lost at home. Who's that? What makest thou here? Would, I'll do't; Show me the fool, by all my Hope's I'll kill him, And send his base heart as a present to her: Fate has preserved me with this revenge, And I will not delay his death a minute. No. Stay, I have been too passionate, let him live To be her punishment; that's revenge enough, While I pursue my own ways. Whither thou must not follow, by thy honesty, I charge thee come not after me. But not when I command The contrary, if thou dost move this way, Thou drawest my anger; Mind the preservation Of the tame thing you undertook; Farewell, If thou dost love me, follow not, nor question It's in my power to lose thee or my self. Exit. You have done well? What ere you be, you can but have my life For his; all your revenge can reach no higher: And to the law I yield my self. I must expect it; I the m a e time I do not beg your mercy: Life is a burden, I would feign be rid on't. Does he weary me to carry it? Look on me; Sir, as a delinquent; These Are able to accuse me. I but slew a coward Startup, and could I call his life again, As soon I should destroy it; you perhaps Know not my provocation: He has My Rival, sir, pardon me: Mistress Bellamy, To whom I only seemed a Proselyte In love, I had no heart to give from her: And in my study to decline your anger; I fell upon her scorn, which in few minutes, Engaged me to this Fate; Not am I troubled That I must die, when she upon whose faith I durst have laid the Hope's of my eternity, Hath violated all the trust of woman. Tell me, most unkind, if thou didst love At all? How couldst thou think I should be such A desperate Atheist, that thou so soon, And with a strange Apostasy shouldst revenge it? These swelling drops which in thy innocence Might have prevailed to have restored the dead, Heaven now does look on, and despise: And though Thou shed moist tribute on this Tomb, it shall slide, Neglected over the Marble, and be lost, As if the stone had sense to punish thy Disdain of me: I can behold that weeping, And not be moved to wish I were not guilty Of killing him whose love had been thy triumph; And I dare boldly, still in the contempt Of what I am to suffer, and the justice Of my own truth, challenge thy soul to answer In what I was beneath that gaudy fool, Excepting that he had more earth than I To help his scale, which yet he may be indebt for To his father's sins: Alive, he could not merit One cold disdain from thee; And dead, how comes it He should be worth thy tears? But let thy eyes Chide this unruly sorrow; dress thy cheeks With their fresh blood again, and let thy face Open a book of smiles, in the assurance I have not long to live; When I have numbered A few sad minutes, thou shalt be revenged, And I shall never trouble thee: If this Be not enough, extend thy malice further: And if thou findest one man that loved me living, Will honour this cold body with a grave, Be cruel, and corrupt his charity. So fare you well. Speak it again, and I Dare promise thee to live. M r . Justice, I here discharge you. My joys obeys No limits; I accused my false unjustly, The fool's alive. I know not that, My servant's with him, but if he have played The hangman, starved or smothered him in a ditch, I have made fair work. It is he and Close ; Then I am secure, your pardon, and thy love. Where? where? Near continued jure for him; we are ingrateful to Our bliss: But wasting of these precious minutes, Which are so many ages, till the Church Hath made us perfect. betwixt Love and Fortune, now the accounts are even: A chain of hearts, and the first link in heaven. What's he?