SCENE I.--_The neighbourhood of Edmonton. A Room in the House of

~Sir~_ ARTHUR CLARINGTON.

_Enter_ FRANK THORNEY _and_ WINNIFRED, _who is with child_.

Frank. Come, wench; why, here’s a business soon dispatched: Thy heart I know is now at ease; thou need’st not Fear what the tattling gossips in their cups Can speak against thy fame; thy child shall know Whom to call dad now.

_Win._ You have here discharged The true part of an honest man; I cannot Request a fuller satisfaction Than you have freely granted: yet methinks ’Tis an hard case, being lawful man and wife, We should not live together.

_Frank._ Had I failed In promise of my truth to thee, we must Have then been ever sundered; now the longest Of our forbearing either’s company Is only but to gain a little time For our continuing thrift; that so hereafter The heir that shall be born may not have cause To curse his hour of birth, which made him feel The misery of beggary and want,-- Two devils that are occasions to enforce A shameful end. My plots aim but to keep My father’s love.

_Win._ And that will be as difficult To be preserved, when he shall understand How you are married, as it will be now, Should you confess it to him.

_Frank._ Fathers are Won by degrees, not bluntly, as our masters Or wrongèd friends are; and besides I’ll use Such dutiful and ready means, that ere He can have notice of what’s past, th’ inheritance To which I am born heir shall be assured; That done, why, let him know it: if he like it not, Yet he shall have no power in him left To cross the thriving of it.

_Win._ You who had The conquest of my maiden-love may easily Conquer the fears of my distrust. And whither Must I be hurried?

_Frank._ Prithee do not use A word so much unsuitable to the constant Affections of thy husband: thou shalt live Near Waltham Abbey with thy uncle Selman; I have acquainted him with all at large: He’ll use thee kindly; thou shalt want no pleasures, Nor any other fit supplies whatever Thou canst in heart desire.

_Win._ All these are nothing Without your company.

_Frank._ Which thou shalt have Once every month at least.

_Win._ Once every month! Is this to have an husband?

_Frank._ Perhaps oftener; That’s as occasion serves.

_Win._ Ay, ay; in case No other beauty tempt your eye, whom you Like better, I may chance to be remembered, And see you now and then. Faith, I did hope You’d not have used me so: ’tis but my fortune. And yet, if not for my sake, have some pity Upon the child I go with; that’s your own: And ’less you’ll be a cruel-hearted father, You cannot but remember that. Heaven knows how--

_Frank._ To quit which fear at once, As by the ceremony late performed I plighted thee a faith as free from challenge As any double thought; once more, in hearing Of Heaven and thee, I vow that never henceforth Disgrace, reproof, lawless affections, threats, Or what can be suggested ’gainst our marriage, Shall cause me falsify that bridal oath That binds me thine. And, Winnifred, whenever The wanton heat of youth, by subtle baits Of beauty, or what woman’s art can practise, Draw me from only loving thee, let Heaven Inflict upon my life some fearful ruin! I hope thou dost believe me.

_Win._ Swear no more; I am confirmed, and will resolve to do What you think most behoveful for us.

_Frank._ Thus, then; Make thyself ready; at the furthest house Upon the green without the town, your uncle Expects you. For a little time, farewell!

_Win._ Sweet, We shall meet again as soon as thou canst possibly?

_Frank._ We shall. One kiss--away! [_Exit_ WINNIFRED.

_Enter_ SIR ARTHUR CLARINGTON.

_Sir Arth._ Frank Thorney!

_Frank._ Here, sir.

_Sir Arth._ Alone? then must I tell thee in plain terms Thou hast wronged thy master’s house basely and lewdly.

_Frank._ Your house, sir?

_Sir Arth._ Yes, sir: if the nimble devil That wantoned in your blood rebelled against All rules of honest duty, you might, sir, Have found out some more fitting place than here To have built a stews in. All the country whispers How shamefully thou hast undone a maid, Approved for modest life, for civil carriage, Till thy prevailing perjuries enticed her To forfeit shame. Will you be honest yet, Make her amends and marry her?

_Frank._ So, sir, I might bring both myself and her to beggary; And that would be a shame worse than the other.

_Sir Arth._ You should have thought on this before, and then Your reason would have overswayed the passion Of your unruly lust. But that you may Be left without excuse, to salve the infamy Of my disgracèd house, and ’cause you are A gentleman, and both of you my servants, I’ll make the maid a portion.

_Frank._ So you promised me Before, in case I married her. I know Sir Arthur Clarington deserves the credit Report hath lent him, and presume you are A debtor to your promise: but upon What certainty shall I resolve? Excuse me For being somewhat rude.

_Sir Arth._ It is but reason. Well, Frank, what think’st thou of two hundred pounds And a continual friend?

_Frank._ Though my poor fortunes Might happily prefer me to a choice Of a far greater portion, yet, to right A wrongèd maid and to preserve your favour, I am content to accept your proffer.

_Sir Arth._ Art thou?

_Frank._ Sir, we shall every day have need to employ The use of what you please to give.

_Sir Arth._ Thou shall have’t.

_Frank._ Then I claim Your promise.--We are man and wife.

_Sir Arth._ Already?

_Frank._ And more than so, sir, I have promised her Free entertainment in her uncle’s house Near Waltham Abbey, where she may securely Sojourn, till time and my endeavours work My father’s love and liking.

_Sir Arth._ Honest Frank!

_Frank._ I hope, sir, you will think I cannot keep her Without a daily charge.

_Sir Arth._ As for the money, ’Tis all thine own! and though I cannot make thee A present payment, yet thou shalt be sure I will not fail thee.

_Frank._ But our occasions--

_Sir Arth._ Nay, nay, Talk not of your occasions; trust my bounty; It shall not sleep.--Hast married her, i’faith, Frank? ’Tis well, ’tis passing well!--then, Winnifred, Once more thou art an honest woman. Frank, Thou hast a jewel; love her; she’ll deserve it. And when to Waltham?

_Frank._ She is making ready; Her uncle stays for her.

_Sir Arth._ Most provident speed. Frank, I will be thy friend, and such a friend!-- Thou’lt bring her thither?

_Frank._ Sir, I cannot; newly My father sent me word I should come to him.

_Sir Arth._ Marry, and do; I know thou hast a wit To handle him.

_Frank._ I have a suit t’ye.

_Sir Arth._ What is’t? Anything, Frank; command it.

_Frank._ That you’ll please By letters to assure my father that I am not married.

_Sir Arth._ How!

_Frank._ Some one or other Hath certainly informed him that I purposed To marry Winnifred; on which he threatened To disinherit me:--to prevent it, Lowly I crave your letters, which he seeing Will credit; and I hope, ere I return, On such conditions as I’ll frame, his lands Shall be assured.

_Sir Arth._ But what is there to quit[412] My knowledge of the marriage?

[412] _i.e._ Acquit.

_Frank._ Why, you were not A witness to it.

_Sir Arth._ I conceive; and then-- His land confirmed, thou wilt acquaint him throughly With all that’s past.

_Frank._ I mean no less.

_Sir Arth._ Provided I never was made privy to’t.

_Frank._ Alas, sir, Am I a talker?

_Sir Arth._ Draw thyself the letter, I’ll put my hand to’t. I commend thy policy; Thou’rt witty, witty, Frank; nay, nay, ’tis fit: Dispatch it.

_Frank._ I shall write effectually. [_Exit._

_Sir Arth._ Go thy way, cuckoo;--have I caught the young man? One trouble, then, is freed. He that will feast At other’s cost must be a bold-faced guest.

_Re-enter_ WINNIFRED _in a riding-suit_.

Win, I have heard the news; all now is safe; The worst is past: thy lip, wench [_Kisses her_]: I must bid Farewell, for fashion’s sake; but I will visit thee Suddenly, girl. This was cleanly carried; Ha! was’t not, Win?

_Win._ Then were my happiness, That I in heart repent I did not bring him The dower of a virginity. Sir, forgive me; I have been much to blame: had not my lewdness[413] Given way to your immoderate waste of virtue, You had not with such eagerness pursued The error of your goodness.

[413] This speech is very corrupt. Dyce suggested “lewdness” in place of the “laundress” of the old edition.

_Sir Arth._ Dear, dear Win, I hug this art of thine; it shows how cleanly Thou canst beguile, in case occasion serve To practise; it becomes thee: now we share Free scope enough, without control or fear, To interchange our pleasures; we will surfeit In our embraces, wench. Come, tell me, when Wilt thou appoint a meeting?

_Win._ What to do?

_Sir Arth._ Good, good, to con the lesson of our loves, Our secret game.

_Win._ O, blush to speak it further! As you’re a noble gentleman, forget A sin so monstrous: ’tis not gently done To open a cured wound: I know you speak For trial; ’troth, you need not.

_Sir Arth._ I for trial? Not I, by this good sunshine!

_Win._ Can you name That syllable of good, and yet not tremble To think to what a foul and black intent You use it for an oath? Let me resolve[414] you: If you appear in any visitation That brings not with it pity for the wrongs Done to abusèd Thorney, my kind husband,-- If you infect mine ear with any breath That is not thoroughly perfumed with sighs For former deeds of lust,--may I be cursed Even in my prayers, when I vouchsafe To see or hear you! I will change my life From a loose whore to a repentant wife.

[414] Assure.

_Sir Arth._ Wilt thou turn monster now? art not ashamed After so many months to be honest at last? Away, away! fie on’t!

_Win._ My resolution Is built upon a rock. This very day Young Thorney vowed, with oaths not to be doubted, That never any change of love should cancel The bonds in which we are to either bound Of lasting truth: and shall I, then, for my part Unfile the sacred oath set on record In Heaven’s book? Sir Arthur, do not study To add to your lascivious lust the sin Of sacrilege; for if you but endeavour By any unchaste word to tempt my constancy You strive as much as in you lies to ruin A temple hallowed to the purity Of holy marriage. I have said enough; You may believe me.

_Sir Arth._ Get you to your nunnery; There freeze in your cold cloister: this is fine!

_Win._ Good angels guide me! Sir, you’ll give me leave To weep and pray for your conversion?

_Sir Arth._ Yes: Away to Waltham! Pox on your honesty! Had you no other trick to fool me? well, You may want money yet.

_Win._ None that I’ll send for To you, for hire of a damnation. When I am gone, think on my just complaint: I was your devil; O, be you my saint! [_Exit._

_Sir Arth._ Go, go thy ways; as changeable a baggage As ever cozened knight: I’m glad I’m rid of her. Honest! marry, hang her! Thorney is my debtor; I thought to have paid him too; but fools have fortune. [_Exit._