SCENE II.

_A Room in_ CREON’S _House_.

_Enter_ EUGENIA _and_ PARTHENIA.

EUG. Parthenia. PARTH. Mother. EUG. I shall be troubled This six months with an old clog; would the law Had been cut one year shorter! PARTH. Did you call, forsooth? EUG. Yes, you must make some spoonmeat for your father, And warm three nightcaps for him. [_Exit Parthenia._] Out upon’t! The mere conceit turns a young woman’s stomach. His slippers must be warm’d, in August too, And his gown girt to him in the very dog-days, When every mastiff lolls out’s tongue for heat. Would not this vex a beauty of nineteen now? Alas! I should[146] be tumbling in cold baths now, Under each armpit a fine bean-flower bag, To screw out whiteness when I list—— And some seven of the properest men i’the dukedom Making a banquet ready i’the next room for me; Where he that gets the first kiss is enviéd, And stands upon his guard a fortnight after. This is a life for nineteen! ’tis but justice: For old men, whose great acts stand in their minds, And nothing in their bodies, do ne’er think A woman young enough for their desire; And we young wenches, that have mother-wits, And love to marry muck first, and man after, Do never think old men are old enough, That we may soon be rid on ’em; there’s our quittance. I’ve[147] waited for the happy hour this two year, And, if death be so unkind to let him live still,[148] All that time I have[149] lost.

_Enter_ COURTIERS.

FIRST COURT. Young lady! SECOND COURT. O sweet precious bud of beauty! Troth, she smells over all the house, methinks. FIRST COURT. The sweetbriar’s but a counterfeit to her—— It does exceed you only in the prickle, But that it shall not long, if you’ll be rul’d, lady. EUG. What means this sudden visitation, gentlemen? So passing well perfumed[150] too! who’s your milliner? FIRST COURT. Love, and thy beauty, widow. EUG. Widow, sir! FIRST COURT. ’Tis sure, and that’s as good: in troth, we’re suitors; We come a wooing, wench; plain dealing’s best. EUG. A wooing! what, before my husband’s dead? SECOND COURT. Let’s lose no time; six months will have an end, you know; I know’t by all the bonds that e’er I made yet. EUG. That’s a sure knowledge; but it holds not here, sir. FIRST COURT. Do not we know the craft of you young[151] tumblers? That [when] you wed an old man, you think upon Another husband as you are marrying of him;— We, knowing your thoughts, made bold to see you.

_Enter_ SIMONIDES _richly drest, and_ COACHMAN.

EUG. How wondrous right he speaks! ’twas my thought, indeed. SIM. By your leave, sweet widow, do you lack any gallants? EUG. Widow, again! ’tis a comfort to be call’d so. FIRST COURT. Who’s this? Simonides? SECOND COURT. Brave Sim, i’faith! SIM. Coachman! COACH. Sir. SIM. Have an especial care of my new mares. They say, sweet widow, he that loves a horse well, Must needs love a widow well.—When dies thy husband? Is’t not July next? EUG. O, you’re too hot, sir! Pray cool yourself, and take September with you. SIM. September! O, I was but two bows wide. FIRST COURT. Simonides.[152] SIM. I can entreat you, gallants, I’m in fashion too.

_Enter_ LYSANDER.

LYS. Ha! whence this herd of folly? what are you? SIM. Well-willers to your wife: pray, ’tend your book, sir; We’ve[153] nothing to say to you, you may go die, For here be those in place that can supply. LYS. What’s thy wild business here? SIM. Old man, I’ll tell thee; I come to beg the reversion of thy wife: I think these gallants be of my mind too.— But thou art but a dead man, therefore what should a man do talking with thee? Come, widow, stand to your tackling. LYS. Impious blood-hounds! SIM. Let the ghost talk, ne’er mind him. LYS. Shames of nature! SIM. Alas, poor ghost! consider what the man is. LYS. Monsters unnatural! you that have been covetous Of your own fathers’ deaths, gape ye for mine now? Cannot a poor old man, that now can reckon E’en all the hours he has to live, live quiet, For such wild beasts as these, that neither hold A certainty of good within themselves, But scatter others’ comforts that are ripen’d For holy uses? is hot youth so hasty, It will not give an old man leave to die, And leave a widow first, but will make one, The husband looking on? May your destructions Come all in hasty figures to your souls! Your wealth depart in haste, to overtake Your honesties, that died when you were infants! May your male seed be hasty spendthrifts too, Your daughters hasty sinners, and diseas’d Ere they be thought at years to welcome misery! And may you never know what leisure is, But at repentance!—I am too uncharitable, Too foul; I must go cleanse myself with prayers. These are the plagues of fondness to old men, We’re punish’d home with what we dote upon. [_Exit._ SIM. So, so! The ghost is vanish’d: now, your answer, lady. EUG. Excuse me, gentlemen; ’twere as much impudence In me to give you a kind answer yet, As madness to produce a churlish one. I could say now, come a month hence, sweet gentlemen, Or two, or three, or when you will, indeed; But I say no such thing: I set no time, Nor is it mannerly to deny any. I’ll carry an even hand to all the world: Let other women make what haste they will, What’s that to me? but I profess unfeignedly, I’ll have my husband dead before I marry; Ne’er look for other answer at my hands, gentlemen. SIM. Would he were hanged, for my part, looks for other! EUG. I’m at a word. SIM. And I am[154] at a blow then; I’ll lay you o’ the lips, and leave you. [_Kisses her._ FIRST COURT. Well struck, Sim. SIM. He that dares say he’ll mend it, I’ll strike him. FIRST COURT. He would betray himself to be a botcher,[155] That goes about to mend it. EUG. Gentlemen, You know my mind; I bar you not my house: But if you choose out hours more seasonably, You may have entertainment.

_Re-enter_ PARTHENIA.

SIM. What will she do hereafter, when she’s a widow, Keeps open house already? [_Exeunt_ SIMONIDES _and_ COURTIERS.' EUG. How now, girl! PARTH. Those feather’d fools that hither took their flight Have griev’d my father much. EUG. Speak well of youth, wench, While thou’st a day to live; ’tis youth must make thee, And when youth fails, wise women will make it; But always take age first, to make thee rich: That was my counsel ever, and then youth Will make thee sport enough all thy life after. ’Tis [the] time’s policy, wench; what is’t to bide A little hardness for a pair of years, or so? A man whose only strength lies in his breath, Weakness in all parts else, thy bedfellow, A cough o’ the lungs, or say a wheezing[156] matter; Then shake off chains, and dance all thy life after? PARTH. Every one to their liking; but I say An honest man’s worth all, be he young or gray. Yonder’s my cousin. [_Exit._

_Enter_ HIPPOLITA.

EUG. Art, I must use thee now; Dissembling is the best help for a virtue, That ever women had; it saves their credit oft.[157] HIP. How now, cousin! What, weeping? EUG. Can you blame me, when the time Of my dear love and husband now draws on? I study funeral tears against the day I must be a sad widow. HIP. In troth, Eugenia, I have cause to weep too; But, when I visit, I come comfortably, And look to be so quited:[158]—yet more sobbing? EUG. Oh! The greatest part of your affliction’s past, The worst of mine’s to come; I have one to die; Your husband’s father is dead, and fix’d in his Eternal peace, past the sharp tyrannous blow. HIP. You must use patience, coz. EUG. Tell me of patience! HIP. You have example for’t, in me and many. EUG. Yours was a father-in-law, but mine a husband: O, for a woman that could love, and live With an old man, mine is a jewel, cousin; So quietly he lies by one, so still! HIP. Alas! I have a secret lodg’d within me, Which now will out in pity:—I can’t hold. [_Aside._ EUG. One that will not disturb me in my sleep For[159] a whole month together, ’less it be With those diseases age is subject to, As aches,[160] coughs, and pains, and these, heaven knows, Against his will too:—he’s the quietest man, Especially in bed. HIP. Be comforted. EUG. How can I, lady? None know[161] the terror of an husband’s loss, But they that fear to lose him. HIP. Fain would I keep it in, but ’twill not be; She is my kinswoman, and I’m pitiful. I must impart a good, if I know’t once, To them that stand in need on’t; I’m like one Loves not to banquet with a joy alone, My friends must partake too. [_Aside._]—Prithee, cease, cousin; If your love be so boundless, which is rare, In a young woman, in these days, I tell you, To one so much past service as your husband, There is a way to beguile law, and help you; My husband found it out first. EUG. O sweet cousin! HIP. You may conceal him, and give out hisdeath Within the time; order his funeral too; We had it so for ours, I praise heaven for’t, And he’s alive and safe. EUG. O blessed coz, How thou revivest me! HIP. We daily see The good old man, and feed him twice a day. Methinks, it is the sweetest joy to cherish him, That ever life yet shew’d me. EUG. So should I think, A dainty thing to nurse an old man well! HIP. And then we have his prayers and daily blessing; And we two live so lovingly upon’t, His son and I, and so contentedly, You cannot think unless you tasted on’t. EUG. No, I warrant you. O loving cousin, What a great sorrow hast thou eas’d me of! A thousand thanks go with thee! HIP. I have a suit to you, I must not have you weep when I am gone. [_Exit._ EUG. No, if I do, ne’er trust me. Easy fool, Thou hast put thyself into my power for ever; Take heed of angering of me. I conceal! I feign a funeral! I keep my husband! ’Las! I’ve[162] been thinking any time these two years, I have kept him too long already.— I’ll go count o’er my suitors, that’s my business, And prick the man down; I ha’ six months to do’t, But could despatch’t[163] in one, were I put to’t. [_Exit._