ACT IV., SCENE 1.

_Enter_ WIDOW _undressed, a sword in her hand; and_ BOLD _in his shirt, as started from bed_.

WID. Uncivil man! if I should take thy life, It were not to be weigh'd with thy attempt. Thou hast for ever lost me.

BOLD. Madam, why? Can love beget loss? Do I covet you Unlawfully? Am I an unfit man To make a husband of? Send for a priest; First consummate the match, and then to bed Without more trouble.

WID. No, I will not do't.

BOLD. Why, you confess'd to me (as your gentlewoman)[113] I was the man your heart did most affect; That you did doat upon my mind and body.

WID. So, by the sacred and inviolate knot Of marriage, I do; but will not wed thee.

BOLD. Why, yet enjoy me now. Consider, lady, That little but bless'd time I was in bed, Although I lay as by my sister's side, The world is apt to censure otherwise: So, 'tis necessity that we marry now.

WID. Pish! I regard not at a straw the world. Fame from the tongues of men doth injury Oft'ner than justice; and as conscience Only makes guilty persons, not report, (For show we clear as springs unto the world, If our own knowledge do not make us so, That is no satisfaction to ourselves), So stand we ne'er so leprous to men's eye, It cannot hurt heart-known integrity. You have trusted to that fond opinion, This is the way to have a widowhood, By getting to her bed.[114] Alas! young man, Shouldst thou thyself tell thy companions Thou hast dishonour'd me (as you men have tongues Forked and venom'd 'gainst our subject sex); It should not move me, that know 'tis not so: Therefore depart. Truth be my virtuous shield.

BOLD. Few widows would do thus.

WID. All modest would.

BOLD. To be in bed, and in possession Even of the mark I aim'd at, and go off Foil'd and disgrac'd! Come, come, you'll laugh at me Behind my back; publish I wanted spirit, And mock me to the ladies; call me child, Say you denied me but to try the heat And zeal of my affection toward you, Then clapp'd up with a rhyme; as for example--

_He coldly loves retires for one vain trial, For we are yielding when we make denial._

WID. Servant, I make no question, from this time You'll hold a more reverent opinion Of some that wear long coats; and 'tis my pride To assure you that there are amongst us good, And with this continency. If you go away, I'll be so far from thinking it defect, That I will hold you worthiest of men.

BOLD. 'Sheart! I am Tantalus: my long'd-for fruit Bobs at my lips, yet still it shrinks from me. Have not I that, which men say never fails To o'ercome any, opportunity?[115] Come, come; I am too cold in my assault. By all the virtues that yet ever were In man or woman, I with reverence Do love thee, lady, but will be no fool To let occasion slip her foretop from me.

WID. You will fail this way too. Upon my knees I do desire thee to preserve thy virtues, And with my tears my honour: 'tis as bad To lose our worths to them, or to deceive Who have held worthy opinions of us, As to betray trust. All this I implore For thine own sake, not mine: as for myself, If thou be'st violent, by this stupid night And all the mischiefs her dark womb hath bred, I'll raise the house; I'll cry a rape.

BOLD. I hope You will not hang me: that were murder, lady, A greater sin than lying with me, sure.

WID. Come, flatter not yourself with argument. I will exclaim: the law hangs you, not I; Or if I did, I had rather far confound The dearest body in the world to me, Than that that body should confound my soul.

BOLD. Your soul? alas! mistress, are you so fond To think her general destruction Can be procur'd by such a natural act, Which beasts are born to, and have privilege in? Fie, fie! if this could be, far happier Are insensitive[116] souls in their creation Than man, the prince of creatures. Think you, heaven Regards such mortal deeds, or punisheth Those acts for which he hath ordained us?

WID. You argue like an atheist: man is never The prince of creatures, as you call him now, But in his reason; fail that, he is worse Than horse, or dog, or beast of wilderness; And 'tis that reason teacheth us to do Our actions unlike them: then, that which you Termed in them a privilege beyond us, The baseness of their being doth express, Compar'd to ours: horses, bulls and swine Do leap their dams; because man does not so, Shall we conclude his making[117] happiless?

BOLD. You put me down--yet will not put me down. I am too gentle: some of you, I have heard, Love not these words, but force; to have it done, As they sing prick-song, ev'n at the first sight.

WID. Go to: keep off; by heaven and earth, I'll call else!

BOLD. How, if nobody hear you?

WID. If they do not, I'll kill you with mine own hand; never stare: Or failing that, fall on this sword myself.

BOLD. O widow wonderful! if thou be'st not honest, Now God forgive my mother and my sisters. Think but how finely, madam, undiscover'd For ever I[118] might live: all day your gentlewoman To do you service, but all night your man To do you service: newness of the trick, If nothing else, might stir ye.

WID. 'Tis a stale one, And was done in the Fleet ten years ago. Will you begone? the door is open for you.

BOLD. Let me but tarry till the morning, madam, To send for clothes. Shall I go naked home?

WID. 'Tis best time now; it is but one o'clock, And you may go unseen: I swear, by heaven, I would spend all the night to sit and talk w' ye, If I durst trust you: I do love you so. My blood forsakes my heart now you depart.

BOLD. 'Sheart! will you marry me hereafter, then?

WID. No, you are too young, and I am much too old; Ay, and unworthy, and the world will say, We married not for love. Good morrow, servant. [_Exit_ WIDOW.

BOLD. Why so: these women are the errantest jugglers in the world: the wry-legged fellow is an ass to 'em. Well, I must have this widow, what-e'er come on't. Faith, she has turned me out of her service very barely. Hark, what's here? music?

_Enter_ SUBTLE _with a paper, and his_ BOY _with a cloak_.

SUB. [_Reads._] "Rise, lady mistress, rise, The night hath tedious been; No sleep hath fallen into my eyes, Nor slumbers made me sin. Is not she a saint, then say, Thought of whom keeps sin away?

"Rise, madam, rise and give me light, Whom darkness still will cover, And ignorance, darker than night, Till thou smile on thy lover. All want day, till thy beauty rise, For the grey morn breaks from thine eyes!"[119] Now sing it, sirrah. [_The song sung by the_ BOY.

SUB. 'Sfoot, who's this? young Master Bold! God save you; you are an early stirrer.

BOLD. You say true, Master Subtle, I have been early up, But, as God help me, I was never the near.[120]

SUB. Where have you been, sir?

BOLD. What's that to you, sir? at a woman's labour?

SUB. Very good: I ne'er took you for a man-midwife[121] before.

BOLD. The truth is, I have been up all night at dice, and lost my clothes. Good morrow, Master Subtle. Pray God the watch be broke up: I thank you for my music.

[_Exit._

SUB. 'Tis palpable, by this air: her husband being abroad, Bold has lain with her, and is now conveyed out of doors. Is this the Lady Perfect, with a pox? The truth is, her virtuous chastity began to make me make a miracle of her still holding out to me, notwithstanding her husband's most barbarous usage of her; but now, indeed, 'tis no marvel, since another possesses her.

Well, madam, I will go find out your cuckold; I'll be reveng'd on you, and tell a tale Shall tickle him. This is a cheat in love Not to be borne: another to beguile Me of the game I play'd for all this while. [_Exit._