SCENE II.--_The neighbourhood of Edmonton.

_Enter_ FRANK THORNEY _and_ WINNIFRED _in boy’s clothes_.

_Frank._ Prithee no more! those tears give nourishment To weeds and briers in me, which shortly will O’ergrow and top my head; my shame will sit And cover all that can be seen of me.

_Win._ I have not shown this cheek in company; Pardon me now: thus singled with yourself, It calls a thousand sorrows round about, Some going before, and some on either side, But infinite behind; all chained together: Your second adulterous marriage leads; That is the sad eclipse, th’ effects must follow, As plagues of shame, spite, scorn, and obloquy.

_Frank._ Why, hast thou not left one hour’s patience To add to all the rest? one hour bears us Beyond the reach of all these enemies: Are we not now set forward in the flight, Provided with the dowry of my sin[439] To keep us in some other nation? While we together are, we are at home In any place.

[439] Frank alludes to the marriage portion which he had just received with Susan.--_Gifford._

_Win._ ’Tis foul ill-gotten coin, Far worse than usury or extortion.

_Frank._ Let My father, then, make the restitution, Who forced me to take the bribe: it is his gift And patrimony to me; so I receive it. He would not bless, nor look a father on me, Until I satisfied his angry will: When I was sold, I sold myself again-- Some knaves have done’t in lands, and I in body-- For money, and I have the hire. But, sweet, no more, ’Tis hazard of discovery, our discourse; And then prevention takes off all our hopes: For only but to take her leave of me My wife is coming.

_Win._ Who coming? your wife!

_Frank._ No, no; thou art here: the woman--I knew Not how to call her now; but after this day She shall be quite forgot and have no name In my remembrance. See, see! she’s come.

_Enter_ SUSAN.

Go lead The horses to th’ hill’s top; there I’ll meet thee.

_Sus._ Nay, with your favour let him stay a little; I would part with him too, because he is Your sole companion; and I’ll begin with him, Reserving you the last.

_Frank._ Ay, with all my heart.

_Sus._ You may hear, if’t please you, sir.

_Frank._ No, ’tis not fit: Some rudiments, I conceive, they must be, To overlook my slippery footings: and so--

_Sus._ No, indeed, sir.

_Frank._ Tush, I know it must be so, And it is necessary: on! but be brief. [_Walks forward._

_Win._ What charge soe’er you lay upon me, mistress, I shall support it faithfully--being honest-- To my best strength.

_Sus._ Believe’t shall be no other. I know you were commended to my husband By a noble knight.

_Win._ O, gods! O, mine eyes!

_Sus._ How now! what ail’st thou, lad?

_Win._ Something hit mine eye,--it makes it water still,-- Even as you said “commended to my husband.”-- Some dor[440] I think it was.--I was, forsooth, Commended to him by Sir Arthur Clarington.

[440] Cockchafer, beetle.

_Sus._ Whose servant once my Thorney was himself. That title, methinks, should make you almost fellows; Or at the least much more than a servant; And I am sure he will respect you so. Your love to him, then, needs no spur from me, And what for my sake you will ever do, ’Tis fit it should be bought with something more Than fair entreats; look! here’s a jewel for thee, A pretty wanton label for thine ear; And I would have it hang there, still to whisper These words to thee, “Thou hast my jewel with thee.” It is but earnest of a larger bounty, When thou return’st with praises of thy service, Which I am confident thou wilt deserve. Why, thou art many now besides thyself: Thou mayst be servant, friend, and wife to him; A good wife is them all. A friend can play The wife and servant’s part, and shift enough; No less the servant can the friend and wife: ’Tis all but sweet society, good counsel, Interchanged loves, yes, and counsel-keeping.

_Frank._ Not done yet?

_Sus._ Even now, sir.

_Win._ Mistress, believe my vow; your severe eye, Were’t present to command, your bounteous hand, Were it then by to buy or bribe my service, Shall not make me more dear or near unto him Than I shall voluntary. I’ll be all your charge, Servant, friend, wife to him.

_Sus._ Wilt thou? Now blessings go with thee for’t! courtesies Shall meet thee coming home.

_Win._ Pray you say plainly, Mistress, are you jealous of him? if you be, I’ll look to him that way too.

_Sus._ Say’st thou so? I would thou hadst a woman’s bosom now; We have weak thoughts within us. Alas, There’s nothing so strong in us as suspicion; But I dare not, nay, I will not think So hardly of my Thorney.

_Win._ Believe it, mistress, I’ll be no pander to him; and if I find Any loose lubric scapes in him, I’ll watch him, And at my return protest I’ll show you all: He shall hardly offend without my knowledge.

_Sus._ Thine own diligence is that I press, And not the curious eye over his faults. Farewell: if I should never see thee more, Take it for ever.

_Frank._ Prithee take that along with thee, [_Handing his sword to_ WINNIFRED.] and haste thee To the hill’s top; I’ll be there instantly.

_Sus._ No haste, I prithee; slowly as thou canst-- [_Exit_ WINNIFRED. Pray let him obey me now; ’tis happily His last service to me: my power is e’en A-going out of sight.

_Frank._ Why would you delay? We have no other business now but to part.

_Sus._ And will not that, sweetheart, ask a long time? Methinks it is the hardest piece of work That e’er I took in hand.

_Frank._ Fie, fie! why, look, I’ll make it plain and easy to you--farewell! [_Kisses her._

_Sus._ Ah, ’las, I’m not half perfect in it yet; I must have it read o’er an hundred times: Pray you take some pains; I confess my dulness.

_Frank._ [_Aside._] What a thorn this rose grows on! Parting were sweet; But what a trouble ’twill be to obtain it!-- Come, again and again, farewell!--[_Kisses her._] Yet wilt return? All questions of my journey, my stay, employment, And revisitation, fully I have answered all; There’s nothing now behind but--nothing.

_Sus._ And That _nothing_ is more hard than anything, Than all the everythings. This request--

_Frank._ What is’t?

_Sus._ That I may bring you through one pasture more Up to yon knot of trees; amongst those shadows I’ll vanish from you, they shall teach me how.

_Frank._ Why, ’tis granted; come, walk, then.

_Sus._ Nay, not too fast: They say slow things have best perfection; The gentle shower wets to fertility, The churlish storm may mischief with his bounty; The baser beasts take strength even from the womb, But the lord lion’s whelp is feeble long. [_Exeunt._