FLORENCE

Good son, a way. A father gives command. Dear husband, I am yet clear; O do not you Force me to sin, I'll be for over true. Heaven pardon your black slanders. Who made you? I'll work, or beg for you. Any thing. Will you forsake me then? Take place, thou tyrant will. Thick woes here hover. My state is lower then fate can recover. My obedience waits your pleasure. About some six and forty. I can skip lighter then the wanton Do, And jerk it through the Dale, I cannot hold, neither my tongue, nor heals, (Nor nails from scratching out a Leachers eyes) Sure, I am composed most of the nimbler elements: But little water in me, far less earth, some air, To keep me humid, mutable, and tender, And apt for convolution: but their mixture Is scarce discernible, the are so dispersed. For my predominant quality is all fire, Pure, radiant, subtle fire. Till you are weary of me. I'll but take leave of my brother, and follow you. Am I not worthy of one kiss? Be gone? Death could not speak a word more fatal. Yet one more—so now farewell— Unjust—unkind—my woe-diuining heart. By this we first embraced, by this we partly. I herd this way some men distressed voice, Crying for help: some robbery. O 'tis no wonder! A thief and bawdy house are never far asunder. Would you turn hangman, Sir? O pity them: necessity has no law. Perhaps want forced them; though it was not good. What Horseleeches are they, that full, suck blood! There is and Inn, enter, refresh your selves. Their lose is money, yet I moan their state. Who pities me most, most unfortunate! Robbed of a husbands love, now of himself. How far is this beyond all lose of pelf! He sold me hither; may that sinful price Of my deep sorrow never prejudice His happiness, what climate ever holds him. Be blessed, sweet husband; let my ruin buy Thy wished content, though I forsaken die. This witch has tired me with her customers, Whom I have all sent home with bettered minds. Against her vicious will, I force her strive By virtue rather, then by lust to thrive. I know, I am expected. More robberies yet? 'tis strange, how villains swarm! Mischiefs hold close to keep each other warm. Three rank corruptions make their near abided. And Abbey, Bawd'house, and a Thievish road. Where be these men distressed?—how? my Usurer? Shall I unbind him, that hath bound my husband In merciless fetters? Yes, I'm bidden, still; With good deeds to requite my enemies ill. Come, devil, I'll unloose thee. Will you go in Sir, and refresh your self? What is hard to find: And honest man, or else my eyes are blind. And honest devil. Th'are friends to hell, that tempt weak souls to evil. Sir, do not think to enter my chaste fort, Encouraged by this parley. You presume— Then use it well. How's wealth abused, when it conducts to hell! Sir, I will set no price on your desires. You must: Then pay me for my virtue: so I'll take it. What starves lust, is well bought; not what it feeds. It's follies dregs, with coin to buy ill deeds. These are some incitations to a heart Tainted with malice, or that thinks a heaven In glorious ostentation; or would stand Affected with the bane of prurient lust. I'm of another temper. Pray you leave me. Thy language does affright me. O my stars! Sir, I have no desire, To take your lust, but pity. Some what prompts my credulous heart, there is some goodness in you. I'll trust you, Sir. I am a wretched woman, The widow or the wife, I know not whither, of the distressed or dead Vaster. O let me die. Rather short death, then lingering misery. And can I look for mercy at your hands? You cannot with these spells charm me to sin. He, to whom heaven (I trust) hath cleared all sin. My Vaster sold me hither. I was content. Thus to relieve his state, when all was spent. I have, and will. I made a promise, that without consent Of her that bought me, I would not depart. See where the Enchantress comes. RVnne faster, you dull legs of motion, That time may follow with a swifter pace. Let wanton Epicures wish you creeple-limbes, Insatiate with the riot of their joys; And chide the hasty forwardness of day, That will not dance attendance on their play. My spirits wrought upon with tedious woes, Think that each hour lingering and lazy goes. Impartial fates, how you delude our thoughts! Guiding events to their determined ends, Whither our strength with or against contends. Whither the passenger wake, or sleep his fill, The wave and wind-moved vessel goes on still. Patience then heart! they do not valour know, That weary faint, but who can suffer woe. Who's this? Right, th'hast hit my name. Yet clear of sin, my sorrow has no shame. They're welcome. (poor boy how am I undone! 'Tis hard, a mother must not own her son. —Your provident friend, Benjamin Gripe. Leave out that Gripe: it's and unproper name; Cannot denominate thee for such a creature. A name can never constitute a nature. If blessed mankind have a Phoenix left; And vice of that good hath not time bereft; In this degenerate world's apostasy; The plural number's lost: that one is he,—Son That word's oreslipt. How easily love is in her language trip't. Son—of compelling nature not forbears: Passion must vent it self in speech or tears. Dost thou not know me? Rise with heaven's benediction. Guess by my grief and silence. Woman! Dear Robin, not thy mother? bless me. Why dost thou gripe me thus? O some black storm Is rising on thy brow. Yes, I can spell't too well. It speaks my death, deer son— What? O desperate child. Oft have thy bent knees with a joust duty Kissed the cold earth, to beg my prayers to heaven, For thy prosperity: oft desired forgiveness Of thy wild infant-errors. Oft have these Born thee with soft indulgence: but now, see, A woeful mother bends her humble knee To her incensed son; not to conserve This flesh from death, but thy black soul from hell: the vnscaped dungeon, where all Parricides dwell. Think: if thy spirits be not grown mad and wild, Pity a mother kneeling to her child. Never. No on my soul. Help, heavens or men. It's not amiss to let him feel some smart. His life they cannot touch: what his offence Deserves in heavens, strict justice, mercy pardon. Parents learn this in tendering Children's state: Too much indulgence is not love but hate. The less able to do a widow pleasure, Sir. (No Sir: you have a worse disease behind:) The body hath no sickness Like the mind. When you have married me I will be your wife. Your house Sir, is too public. (This makes me wonder! such a robbery, and I not hear it? My heart misgave me thus: this devils tongue Would work my misdeemed innocence some wrong. Sir, I beseech you. pray Gentlemen walk in; you shall have attendance. I'll not be long from you, Sir. O, some retiring from this house of sin. Fate! I was never bred to keep and Inn. More customers? that which all Inns would see; Great store of guests: this is a plague to me. What is your will, Sir? I'm in haste: be short. You needs not, Sir, distrust my silence. Wrongs That escape heavens hand, needs not fear mortal tongue's. This world's turned Bedlam, raving, desperate-badde. It staggered drunk before, now it runs mad. More customers? pray Sir, led the way. I'll follow. Look up, deer friend: what thus dejects you? You shall Sir. You're welcome Sir, Yonder comes my Physician and his potion. I would he could grant me a lease of my life: for I grow sick sir. Robin, look in. Nothing, but what I left behind me, Sir. I'm we ry sick. This wine hath made me thirsty: I'm not well. So I'm recovered now: thy absence cures me. Oh earth! thou centre of the world and sin; Tsty Paradise is lost t'th'art only now A larger stable, where all vices dwell. Did not the Sun shine, I should think thee hell. Lucky! here comes the cheater. Sir, the money is asked for by the Gentlemen, your friends: They threaten to arrest me, but I hope sir, you'll be my quittance. Sir, you know my disease. I'm dangerous. Sorcerer, thy circle cannot hold me. Not, if thou killest me: not if thy murderous hand Could put me to a death (Like Jesuits poison) Ten years a dying. So wilt thou never: take my carcase, slave: While there's a soul within; no lustful hand Did or shall ever touch it. My husband? o, Into your arms I fly. Alas! I forged that answer, to avoid Sinful embracings. Brothels sick indeed Of that contagion, sooth and smother't up, To tempt distrustful comers on, at once To their own profit, and the others ruin. They speak false, to do false the safer. I To save my conscience did my flesh belly. Dear husband, do so. Oh prosecute your will. Thus on my knees, And with a heart more humbled, I entreat, And I must have it granted ere I rise; Be pleased to make this life a sacrifice, To expiate your wrath. I freely yield it, For your redemption. For your hate I die; That might not live in your loves company. If I confess not guilty, to save you, Imagine then all your suspicions true. But when for your debts I have paid this life, Believe but then, you had a faithful wife. Peace and content attend you: and let still Mercy forgive, and rectify your ill. Sir, thank your Drugster, else I had died by you. And you for me received a murderers endue. My lord, I beg a word with my Confessor, Then I shall answer. Sir, a word in private. Now Vaster, open thy unbelieving eyes: Lo, thy devoted wife for thy sin die. Yield but this kindness to my latest breath, Thou hate'st me living, love me yet in death. Farewell—My lord, I will not say, I'm guilty; Do as your evidence and wisdom leads you. My lord, he says not true: he's innocent: I guilty. Can nature so degenerate, that a man should live, stand by, and see another suffer for murdering him? My deer husband. I know them all. Two knaves, one honest man. They know not me in this translation. Come Sir, I'll lose you first, help you the rest. Do well to all, but to the good do best. I must. Good luck direct my hands unto the mortgage. That found, if or my wit or strength hold tack, I have a medicine Sir, to cool your back. Thanks, son; but now do you not, Like the Lion, Save the distressed Lamb from the Wolves paws, For sacrifice to his own bloody laws? Your friends expect you Sir. Forbear, libidinous Groom. Be damned, enchanter, with thy golden spelss. Thou thinkest, gold can buy lust, when nothing else. Yet I do love thy soul. Think, ethinke, how deer, A moments joy is bought with endless fear. How ill the flesh steals his unjust delight, When the soul suffers and eternal night. Flatter thy glowing Hope's with heat no more. Be not deceived; thy Hostice is no whore. Sooth, thou much errest. I never saw that person (except one, Who justly claimed my love, now dead and gone) In whose embracements I would sooner lock the treasures of my heart. If you had moved my ears with a chased suit, I should have listened. I cannot love theenow. No, I cannot conceive a good thought of thee. I hate thee. Defend me goodness. Honour or life, how shall I save you both? Sir, I shall spoil you. I ha'bene long a sinner. A common sinner, Sir, and am not found. You cannot escape infection, if you touch me. I cannot judge, what is this days success. All-ruling powers the doubtful sequel bless. Nothing Sir, alas nothing: 'twas but my fear.