BELFOREST

Morrow my Lord Montferrers, Lord D'amville. Good morrow Gentlemen. Cozen Charlemont! Kindly good morrow. Troth I was afeard I should would come too late, to tell you that I wish your undertakings a success That may deserve the measure of their worth. Accomplements are more for ornament, Then use. We should employ no time in them, But what our serious business will admit. Your Father stays to bring you on the way. Farewell. The great commander of the war Prosper the course you undertake. Farewell. I entertain the offer of this match; With purpose to confirm it presently. I have already moved it to my daughter; Her soft excuses savoured at the first (Me thought) but of a modest innocence Of blood; whose unmoved stream was never drawn Into the current of affection. But when I Replied with more familiar arguments, Thinking to make her apprehension bold; Her modest blush fell to a pale dislike, And she refused it with such confidence, As if she had been prompted by a love Inclining firmly to some other man, And in that obstinacy she remains. Your honest wisdom has advised me well. Once more I'll move her by persuasive means. If she resist; all mildness set apart, I will make use of my authority. To cut off every opportunity, Procrastination may assist her with; This instant night she shall be married. Now Levidulcia! Hast thou yet prepared My Daughters love to entertain this Man? Her husband here? Passion o'me thou peevish girl. I charge Thee by my blessing, and authority I have to claim th'obedience; marry him. How now? Cozen, you're both uncivil and profane. Come; set forward to the Church. Where's my Lord Montferrers? Tell him here's a room attends him. Canst thou relate it. What then? it is th'ineuitable fate Of all things underneath the Moon. With all my heart. I pray attend him sir. This next room please your Lordship. Passion o'me you drunken knaves: you'll put the lights out. T'is exceeding dark. Pray God he be not hurt! hers fallen into the gram well pit. He's dead. What's the matter wife? Prithee what ailest thou woman? What a less Sebastian, he looks so distractedly? Yes, what of that? What a strange desperate young man is that! Where's the man? He's gone; he's gone, I warrant thee. How fell the difference between you? Th'art safe enough. Prithee tell's the falling out. Why this savours of distraction. Feeling? Yes. But has she purposed any thing for no thing? What good receives this body by your grief? When there is't more unnatural not to grieve for him you cannot help with it; or hurt your self with grieving and yet grieve in vain? Take up the Corpse. For wisdom's sake let reason for tifie this weakness. The grief that melts to tears, by it self is spent, Passion resisted, grows more violent. Yes faith Frisco; even a wench o'the trade. Thou mayest go forth at the back door (honest fell low) the way is private and safe. Is not my wife come in yet? Me thinks she's very affectedly inclined, To young Sebastian's company o'late. But jealousy is such a torment, that I am afraid to entertain it. Yet The more I shun by circumstance to me e Directly with it; the more ground I find To circumvent my apprehension. First, I know sh'as a perpetual appetite; Which being so oft encountered with a man Of such a bold luxurious freedom, as Sebastian is; and of so promising A body: her own blood, corrupted, will Betray her to temptation.— Know not you the Gentlewoman my wise brought home? Her man? I pr'ithee run and call him quickly.— This villain. I suspect him ever since I found him hid behind the Tapestry.— Frisco! th'art welcome Frisco. —Leave us. Dost hear Frisco! is not my wife at thy Mistress's? I prithee tell me Frisco; we are private; tell me. Is not thy Mistress a good wench? And nothing else? So Sir: and she helps my Lady to falls and bodies now and then; doe's she not? Her pleasure; you Rogue? you are the Pandar to her pleasure you Varlet, are you not? you know the conveyances between Sebastian and my wife. Tell me the truth; or by this hand I'll nail thy bosom to the earth. Stir not you Dog; but quickly tell the truth. Is not thy Mistress a Bawd to my wife? And acquainted with her tricks, and her plots, and her devises. What dost thou proclaim it? Dost thou cry it thou villain? The Watch? Met with my wish. I must request th'as sistance of your offices. Frisco runs away.— 'Sdeath; stay that villain; pursue him. Pursue the Strumpet. Villain give me way; or I will make my passage through thy blood.