Volume Ix Part 4 (2/2)

MRS ART. Fathers, farewell! spend not a tear for me, But, for my husband's sake, let these woes be.

For when I weep, 'tis not for my own care, But fear, lest folly bring him to despair.

[_Exeunt_ O. ART. _and_ O. LUS.

Y. LUS. Sweet saint! continue still this patience, For time will bring him to true penitence.

Mirror of virtue! thanks for my good cheer-- A thousand thanks.

MRS ART. It is so much too dear; But you are welcome for my husband's sake; His guests shall have best welcome I can make.

Y. LUS. Than marriage nothing in the world more common; Nothing more rare than such a virtuous woman.

[_Exit_.

MRS ART. My husband in this humour, well I know, Plays but the unthrift; therefore it behoves me To be the better housewife here at home; To save and get, whilst he doth laugh and spend: Though for himself he riots it at large, My needle shall defray my household's charge.

[_She sits down to work in front of the house_.

FUL. Now, Master Anselm, to her, step not back; Bustle yourself, see where she sits at work; Be not afraid, man; she's but a woman, And women the most cowards seldom fear: Think but upon my former principles, And twenty pound to a drachm,[7] you speed.

ANS. Ay, say you so?

FUL. Beware of blus.h.i.+ng, sirrah, Of fear and too much eloquence!

Rail on her husband, his misusing her, And make that serve thee as an argument, That she may sooner yield to do him wrong.

Were it my case, my love and I to plead, I have't at fingers' ends: who could miss the clout, Having so fair a white, such steady aim.

This is the upshot: now bid for the game.

[ANSELM _advances_.

ANS. Fair mistress, G.o.d save you!

FUL. What a circ.u.mstance Doth he begin with; what an a.s.s is he, To tell her at the first that she is fair; The only means to make her to be coy!

He should have rather told her she was foul, And brought her out of love quite with herself; And, being so, she would the less have car'd, Upon whose secrets she had laid her love.

He hath almost marr'd all with that word fair. [_Aside_.[8]]

ANS. Mistress, G.o.d save you!

FUL. What a block is that, To say, G.o.d save you! is the fellow mad?

Once to name G.o.d in his unG.o.dly suit.

MRS ART. You are welcome, sir. Come you to speak with me Or with my husband? pray you, what's your will?

FUL. She answers to the purpose; what's your will?

O zounds, that I were there to answer her.

ANS. Mistress, my will is not so soon express'd Without your special favour, and the promise Of love and pardon, if I speak amiss.

FUL. O a.s.s! O dunce! O blockhead! that hath left The plain broad highway and the readiest path, To travel round about by circ.u.mstance: He might have told his meaning in a word, And now hath lost his opportunity.

Never was such a truant in love's school; I am asham'd that e'er I was his tutor.

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