GERTRUDE

None. Sir! Sir, I believe it, but I never did Tie my affection unto any colour. You relish too much Courtier, sir. Why? you do; And so do all men when they women woo. This is pretty Poetry, good fiction this: Sir, I must leave you. What would you crave? You do not know my bounty; Say what t'is. If I should give you one, would you refrain, on that condition, never to beg again. Then't seems you have, Though you get nothing, a delight to crave, One will not hurt my lip, which you may take, Not for your love, but for your absence sake. So farewell sir. Thrice happy days they were, and too soon gone, When as the heart was coupled with the tongue, And no deceitful flattery or guile: Hung on the Lovers tear-commixed smile: Could women learn but that imperiousness, By which men use to stint our happiness, When they have purchased us for to be theirs, By customary sighs and forced tears, To give us bittes of kindness lest we faint, But no abundance, that we ever want, And still are begging; which too well they know Endears affection, and does make it grow: Had we these sleights, how happy were we then, That we might glory over lovesick men? But Arts we know not; nor have any skill, To feign a sour look to a pleasing will, Enter Joys. Nor couch a secret love in show of hate: But if we Like, must be compassionate; Yet I will strive to bridle and conceal, The hid affection which my heart does feel. You talk strangely sister. Discover, what will you discover? Sir, I'm at your disposing, but my mind Stands not as yet towards marriage, Were you so pleased I would a little longer Enjoy the quiet of a single bed. What say you sister? A Cord! what to do? Sister, know I love thee, And I'll not think a thought thou shalt not know; I love a Gentleman that answers me, In all the rites of love as faithfully, Has wooed me oft with Sonnets, and with tears, Yet I seem still to slight him. Experience tells, The Jewel that's enjoyed is not esteemed, Things hardly God, are always highest deemed. You shall. Why sister, what will you do? You're the strangest creature, what would you have me do? Fie how you talk, it's mere immodesty, The commonest strumpet would not do so much. I'll lose his company for ever first. Why sister, pray sister. Good sister hold your tongue, I will go down to him. If yowl forbear to call, I will go down. Sir, you profess love unto me, let me entreat you it may appear but in some small request. But for this present to forbear this place, Because my father is expected here. Nay pray sir go, it is my sister call's to hasten you. She has nothing, I do conjure you, as you love me, stay not. Exit Joyce. Good sir, look back no more, what voice ere call you, Imagine, going from me, you were coming, And use the same speed, as you love my safety. Exit Her. Wild witted sister, I have prevented you, I will not have my love yet opened to him, By how much longer'tis ere it be known, Enter Joyce. By so much dearer it'll be when'tis purchased: But I must use my strength to stop her journey, For she will after him: and see, she comes; Nay sister, you are at Furthest. Yes, if yowl stay. Nay but pre thee sister be not angry. Nay pre thee sweet sister. Why what good would it do you to tell him? Nay but sister. Exeunt ambo. Sir, your music is so good, that I must say I Like it; but the Bringer so ill welcome, that I could be content to lose it: if you played for money, there it's; if for love, here's none; if for goodwill, I thank you, and when you will you may be gone, Sir, sir, our ears itch not for flattery, here you be siege my window, that I dare not put forth my self to take the geatle Air, but you are in the fields, and volley out your woes, your plaints, your loves, your injuries. Sir, rest thus satisfied, my mind was never woman, never altered, nor shall it now begin: So fare you well. Exis Gart. How now brother, why call you with such terror? Enough, enough, If you will have me live, give him no name, Suspicion tells me it's my Geraldine : But be it whom it will, I'll come to him, To suffer death as resolute as he. Exit Gart. Where lies this spectacle of blood? This tragic Scene. Oh let me see him with his face of death! Why do you stay me from my Geraldine ? Burst not my heart before I see my Love, Brother, upon my knees I beg your leave, That I may see the wound of Geraldine, I will embalm his body with my tears, And carry him unto his sepulcher, From whence I'll never rise, but be interred In the same dust he shall be buried in. Brother, if ever you loved me as a sister, Deprive me not the sighed of Geraldine. Not see his face? What now? Why then no more. What you command is Law, and I obey. Before I touch thy body, I implore Thy discontented ghost to be appeased: Send not unto me till I come my self: Then shalt thou know how much I honoured thee. Oh see the colour of his coral lip! Which in despite of death lives full and fresh, As when he was the beauty of his Sex: T'were sin worthy the worst of plagues to leave thee: Not all the strength and policy of man Shall snatch me from thy bosom. Shall we have both one graven? here I am chained, Thunder nor Earthquakes shall shake me off. And live's my Geraldine? I'll exercise that voice, since it does please My better self, my constant Geraldine. Oh you're a goodly sister, this is your plot: Well, I shall live one day to requite you. Must we then partly? But this, and then farewell. Is this the man my Father choose for me, to make a Husband of? Oh God, how blind are parents in our loves: so they have weath, they care not to what things they marry us. I have observed my sister, and her eye Is much inquisitive after yond fellow; She has examined him from head to foot: I'll stay and see the issue. But you shall not; I'll make you speak to him Before you go. Do you hear sir? To fit you in your kind, sister: do you remember How you once tyranizd over me? I, but I am in: go speak to your Lover. How, ashamed? God's ott Itro, if I had set my affection on a Collier, Idem never fallen back, unless it were in the right kind: if I did, let me be tied to a Stake, and burned to death with Charcoal. Yes marry shall you. Sister, will you speak to him: Do you hear sir? here's a Gentlewoman would speak with you. Yes sir it I, I called to speak with you. Passion: Come back fool lover, turn again and kiss your belly full, here's one will stand ye. Come let me go, Birds that want the use of Reason and of Speech, Can couple together in one day; And yet you that have both, cannot conclude in twenty: now Sister I am even with you, my venom is spit, As much happiness may you enjoy with your lover as I with mine: And droop not wench, not never be ashamed of him, The man will serve the turn, though he be wrapped In a blue Coat, lle warrant him, come. Keep your station; you stand as well for the incoun ter as may be: she is coming on; but as melancholy, as a Base-vyollin Consort. Well sir, let me tell you, perhaps you undertake A harder task then yet you do imagine. Nay no more now Brother, you have no compassion, You see she cries. I think he's mad? How now, what matter have you fished out of that fool? The day of doom it is? We'll be instructed by you. The other is the Widow as I take it. My partly I have performed with the rest, And though I have not, yet I would do best. One that loves you with all her heart, Yet is ashamed to confess it.