Part 5

MAUD. I'll tug thee home by the hair. FIRST W. Good mistress, spare her! MAUD. Tend your own business. FIRST W. You’re a cruel mother. [_Exeunt Watermen._ MOLL. O, my heart dies! MAUD. I'll make thee an example For all the neighbours' daughters. MOLL. Farewell, life! MAUD. You that have tricks can counterfeit. YEL. Hold, hold, Maudlin! MAUD. I've brought your jewel by the hair. YEL. She’s here, knight. SIR WAL. Forbear, or I'll grow worse. TIM. Look on her, tutor; She hath brought her from the water like a mermaid; She’s but half my sister now, as far as the flesh goes, The rest may be sold to fish-wives. MAUD. Dissembling, cunning baggage! YEL. Impudent strumpet! Sir Wal. Either give over, both, or I'll give over.— Why have you us’d me thus unkind[ly], mistress? Wherein have I deserv’d? YEL. You talk too fondly, sir: We’ll take another course and prevent all; We might have done’t long since; we’ll lose no time now, Nor trust to’t any longer: to-morrow morn, As early as sunrise, we’ll have you join’d. MOLL. O, bring me death to-night, love-pitying fates; Let me not see to-morrow up on[136] the world! YEL. Are you content, sir? till then she shall be watch’d. MAUD. Baggage, you shall. TIM. Why, father, my tutor and I Will both watch in armour. [_Exeunt_ MAUDLIN, MOLL, _and_ YELLOWHAMMER. TUTOR. How shall we do for weapons? TIM. Take you No care for that; if need be, I can send For conquering metal, tutor, ne’er lost day yet, ’Tis but at Westminster; I am acquainted With him that keeps the monuments; I can borrow Harry the Fifth’s sword; it will serve us both To watch with. [_Exeunt_ TIM _and Tutor_. SIR WAL. I never was so near my wish As this chance makes me: ere to-morrow noon I shall receive two thousand pound in gold, And a sweet maidenhead worth forty.

_Re-enter_ TOUCHWOOD _junior and Waterman_.

TOUCH. JUN. O, thy news splits me! WATER. Half-drown’d, she cruelly tugg’d her by the hair, Forc’d her disgracefully, not like a mother. TOUCH. JUN. Enough; leave me, like my joys.— [_Exit Waterman._ Sir, saw you not a wretched maid pass this way? Heart, villain, is it thou? SIR WAL. Yes, slave, ’tis I. TOUCH. JUN. I must break through thee then: there is no stop That checks my tongue[137] and all my hopeful fortunes, That breast excepted, and I must have way. SIR WAL. Sir, I believe ’twill hold your life in play. TOUCH. JUN. Sir, you will gain the heart in my breast first.[138] SIR WAL. There is no dealing then; think on the dowry For two thousand pounds. [_They fight._ TOUCH. JUN. O, now ’tis quit, sir. SIR WAL. And being of even hand, I'll play no longer. TOUCH. JUN. No longer, slave? SIR WAL. I've certain things to think on, Before I dare go further. TOUCH. JUN. But one bout! I'll follow thee to death, but ha' it out. [_Exeunt._

ACT V. SCENE I.

_A room in_ ALLWIT’S _house_.

_Enter_ ALLWIT, MISTRESS ALLWIT, _and_ DAVY.

MIS. ALL. A misery of a house! ALLWIT. What shall become of us! DAVY. I think his wound be mortal. ALLWIT. Think’st thou so, Davy? Then am I mortal too, but a dead man, Davy; This is no world for me, whene’er he goes; I must e’en truss up all, and after him, Davy; A sheet with two knots, and away. DAVY. O see, sir!

_Enter_ SIR WALTER WHOREHOUND _led in by two Servants, who place him in a chair_.

How faint he goes! two of my fellows lead him. MIS. ALL. O me! [_Swoons._ ALLWIT. Heyday, my wife’s laid down too; here’s like to be A good house kept, when we’re all together down: Take pains with her, good Davy, cheer her up there; Let me come to his worship, let me come. SIR WAL. Touch me not, villain! my wound aches at thee, Thou poison to my heart! ALLWIT. He raves already; His senses are quite gone, he knows me not.— Look up, an’t like your worship; heave those eyes, Call me to mind; is your remembrance left? Look in my face; who am I, an’t like your worship? SIR WAL. If any thing be worse than slave or villain, Thou art the man! ALLWIT. Alas, his poor worship’s weakness! He will begin to know me by little and little. SIR WAL. No devil can be like thee! ALLWIT. Ah, poor gentleman, Methinks the pain that thou endurest [mads thee]. SIR WAL. Thou know’st me to be wicked; for thy baseness Kept the eyes open still on all my sins; None knew the dear account my soul stood charg’d with So well as thou, yet, like hell’s flattering angel, Wouldst never tell me on’t, lett’st me go on, And join with death in sleep; that if I had not Wak’d now by chance, even by a stranger’s pity, I had everlastingly slept out all hope Of grace and mercy. ALLWIT. Now he’s worse and worse. Wife, to him, wife; thou wast wont to do good on him. MIS. ALL. How is it with you, sir? SIR WAL. Not as with you, Thou loathsome strumpet! Some good, pitying man, Remove my sins out of my sight a little; I tremble to behold her, she keeps back All comfort while she stays. Is this a time, Unconscionable woman, to see thee? Art thou so cruel to the peace of man, Not to give liberty now? the devil himself Shews a far fairer reverence and respect To goodness than thyself; he dares not do this, But part[s] in time of penitence, hides his face; When man withdraws from him, he leaves the place: Hast thou less manners and more impudence Than thy instructor? prithee, shew thy modesty, If the least grain be left, and get thee from me: Thou shouldst be rather lock’d many rooms hence From the poor miserable sight of me, If either love or grace had part in thee. MIS. ALL. He’s lost for ever! [_Aside._ ALLWIT. Run, sweet Davy, quickly, And fetch the children hither; sight of them Will make him cheerful straight. [_Exit_ DAVY. SIR WAL. O death! is this A place for you to weep? what tears are those! Get you away with them, I shall fare the worse As long as they’re a-weeping, they work against me; There’s nothing but thy appetite in that sorrow, Thou weep’st for lust; I feel it in the slackness Of comforts coming towards me; I was well Till thou begann’st t' undo me: this shews like The fruitless sorrow of a careless mother, That brings her son with dalliance to the gallows, And then stands by and weeps to see him suffer.

_Re-enter_ DAVY _with_ NICK, WAT, _and other children_.

DAVY. There are the children, sir, an’t like your worship, Your last fine girl; in troth, she smiles;[139] Look, look, in faith, sir. SIR WAL. O my vengeance! Let me for ever hide my cursed face From sight of those that darken[140] all my hopes, And stand[141] between me and the sight of heaven! Who sees me now, O too,[142] and those so near me, May rightly say I am o’ergrown with sin. O, how my offences wrestle with my repentance! It hath scarce breath; Still my adulterous guilt hovers aloft, And with her black wings beats down all my prayers Ere they be half-way up. What’s he knows now How long I have to live? O, what comes then? My taste grows bitter; the round world all gall now; Her pleasing pleasures now have[143] poison’d me, Which I exchang’d my soul for: Make way a hundred sighs at once for me! ALLWIT. Speak to him, Nick. NICK. I dare not, I'm afraid. ALLWIT. Tell him he hurts his wounds, Wat, with making moan. SIR WAL. Wretched, death of seven![144] ALLWIT. Come, let’s be talking Somewhat to keep him alive. Ah, sirrah Wat, And did my lord bestow that jewel on thee For an epistle thou mad’st in Latin? thou Art a good forward boy, there’s great joy on thee. SIR WAL. O sorrow! ALLWIT. Heart, will nothing comfort him? If he be so far gone, ’tis time to moan. [_Aside._ Here’s pen and ink, and paper, and all things ready; Will’t please your worship for to make your will? SIR WAL. My will! yes, yes, what else? who writes apace now? ALLWIT. That can your man Davy, an’t like your worship; A fair, fast, legible hand. SIR WAL. Set it down then. [DAVY _writes_. _Imprimis_, I bequeath to yonder wittol[145] Three times his weight in curses. ALLWIT. How! SIR WAL. All plagues Of body and of mind. ALLWIT. Write them not down, Davy. DAVY. It is his will; I must. SIR WAL. Together also With such a sickness ten days ere his death. ALLWIT. There’s a sweet legacy! I'm almost chok’d with’t. [_Aside._ SIR WAL. Next, I bequeath to that foul whore his wife All barrenness of joy, a drouth of virtue, And dearth of all repentance: for her end, The common misery of an English strumpet, In French and Dutch; beholding, ere she dies, Confusion of her brats before her eyes, And never shed a tear for’t.

_Enter third Servant._

THIRD SER. Where’s the knight?— O sir, the gentleman you wounded is Newly departed! SIR WAL. Dead? lift, lift, who helps me? ALLWIT. Let the law lift you now, that must have all; I have done lifting on you, and my wife too. THIRD SER. You were best lock yourself close. ALLWIT. Not in my house, sir; I'll harbour no such persons as men-slayers; Lock yourself where you will. SIR WAL. What’s this? MIS. ALL. Why, husband! ALLWIT. I know what I do, wife. MIS. ALL. You cannot tell yet; For having kill’d the man in his defence, Neither his life nor estate will be touch’d, husband. ALLWIT. Away, wife! hear a fool! his lands will hang him. SIR WAL. Am I denied a chamber?—What say you, forsooth? MIS. ALL. Alas, sir, I am one that would have all well, But must obey my husband.—Prithee, love, Let the poor gentleman stay, being so sore wounded: There’s a close chamber at one end of the garret We never use; let him have that, I prithee. ALLWIT. We never use? you forget sickness then, And physic-times; is’t not a place for easement? SIR WAL. O, death! do I hear this with part[146] Of former life in me?—

_Enter Fourth Servant._

What’s the news now? FOURTH SER. Troth, worse and worse; you’re like to lose your land, If the law save your life, sir, or the surgeon. ALLWIT. Hark you there, wife. SIR WAL. Why, how, sir? FOURTH SER. Sir Oliver Kix’s wife is new quicken’d; That child undoes you, sir. SIR WAL. All ill at once! ALLWIT. I wonder what he makes here with his consorts? Cannot our house be private to ourselves, But we must have such guests? I pray, depart, sirs, And take your murderer along with you; Good he were apprehended ere he go, Has kill’d some honest gentleman; send for officers. SIR WAL. I'll soon save you that labour. ALLWIT. I must tell you, sir, You have been somewhat bolder in my house Than I could well like of; I suffer’d you Till it stuck here at my heart; I tell you truly I thought y’had been familiar with my wife once. MIS. ALL. With me! I'll see him hang’d first; I defy him, And all such gentlemen in the like extremity. SIR WAL. If ever eyes were open, these are they: Gamesters, farewell, I've nothing left to play. ALLWIT. And therefore get you gone, sir. [_Exit_ SIR WALTER, _led off by Servants_. DAVY. Of all wittols[147] Be thou the head—thou the grand whore of spittles! [_Exit._ ALLWIT. So, since he’s like now to be rid of all, I am right glad I'm so well rid of him. MIS. ALL. I knew he durst not stay when you nam’d officers. ALLWIT. That stopp’d his spirits straight. What shall we do now, wife? MIS. ALL. As we were wont to do. ALLWIT. We’re richly furnish’d, wife, With household stuff. MIS. ALL. Let’s let out lodgings then, And take a house in the Strand. ALLWIT. In troth, a match, wench: We’re simply stock’d with cloth-of-tissue cushions To furnish out bay-windows; push,[148] what not That’s quaint and costly, from the top to the bottom; Life, for furniture we may lodge a countess: There’s a close-stool of tawny velvet too, Now I think on it, wife. MIS. ALL. There’s that should be, sir; Your nose must be in every thing. ALLWIT. I've done, wench; And let this stand in every gallant’s chamber,— There is no gamester like a politic sinner, For whoe’er games, the box is sure a winner. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_A room in_ YELLOWHAMMER’S _house_.

_Enter_ YELLOWHAMMER _and_ MAUDLIN.

MAUD. O husband, husband, she will die, she will die! There is no sign but death. YEL. ’Twill be our shame then. MAUD. O, how she’s chang’d in compass of an hour! YEL. Ah, my poor girl! good faith, thou wert too cruel To drag her by the hair. MAUD. You’d have done as much, sir, To curb her of her humour. YEL. ’Tis curb’d sweetly; She catch’d her bane o' th' water.

_Enter_ TIM.

MAUD. How now, Tim? TIM. Faith, busy, mother, about an epitaph Upon my sister’s death. MAUD. Death? she’s not dead, I hope? TIM. No, but she means to be, and that’s as good, And when a thing’s done, ’tis done; you taught me[149] that, mother. YEL. What is your tutor doing? TIM. Making one too, in principal pure Latin, Cull’d out of Ovid[150] _de Tristibus_. YEL. How does your sister look? is she not chang’d? TIM. Chang’d? gold into white money was ne’er so chang’d As is my sister’s colour into paleness.

_Enter_ MOLL, _led in by Servants, who place her in a chair_.

YEL. O, here she’s brought; see how she looks like death! TIM. Looks she like death, and ne’er a word made yet? I must go beat my brains against a bed-post, And get before my tutor. [_Exit._ YEL. Speak, how dost thou? MOL. I hope I shall be well, for I'm as sick At heart as I can be. YEL. ’Las, my poor girl! The doctor’s making a most sovereign drink for thee, The worst ingredience dissolv’d pearl and amber; We spare no cost, girl. MOLL. Your love comes too late, Yet timely thanks reward it. What is comfort, When the poor patient’s heart is past relief? It is no doctor’s art can cure my grief. YEL. All is cast away, then; [I] prithee, look upon me cheerfully. MAUD. Sing but a strain or two; thou wilt not think How ’twill revive thy spirits: strive with thy fit, Prithee, sweet Moll. MOLL. You shall have my good will, mother. MAUD. Why, well said, wench. MOLL. [_sings_]

_Weep eyes, break heart! My love and I must part. Cruel fates true love do soonest sever: O, I shall see thee never, never, never! O, happy is the maid whose life takes end Ere it knows parent’s frown or loss of friend! Weep eyes, break heart! My love and I must part._

MAUD. O, I could die with music!—Well sung, girl. MOLL. If you call’t so, it was. YEL. She plays the swan, And sings herself to death.

_Enter_ TOUCHWOOD _senior_.

TOUCH. SEN. By your leave, sir. YEL. What are you, sir? or what’s your business, pray? TOUCH. SEN. I may be now admitted, though the brother Of him your hate pursu’d: it spreads no further; Your malice sets in death, does it not, sir? YEL. In death? TOUCH. SEN. He’s dead: ’twas a dear love to him, It cost him but his life, that was all, sir; He paid enough, poor gentleman, for his love. YEL. There’s all our ill remov’d, if she were well now.— [_Aside._ Impute not, sir, his end to any hate That sprung from us; he had a fair wound brought that. TOUCH. SEN. That help’d him forward, I must needs confess; But the restraint of love, and your unkindness, Those were the wounds that from his heart drew blood; But being past help, let words forget it too: Scarcely three minutes ere his eyelids clos’d, And took eternal leave of this world’s light, He wrote this letter, which by oath he bound me To give to her own hands; that’s all my business. YEL. You may perform it then; there she sits. TOUCH. SEN. O, with a following look! YEL. Ay, trust me, sir, I think she’ll follow him quickly. TOUCH. SEN. Here’s some gold He will’d me to distribute faithfully Amongst your servants. [_Gives gold to Servants._ YEL. ’Las, what doth he mean, sir? TOUCH. SEN. How cheer you, mistress? MOLL. I must learn of you, sir. TOUCH. SEN. Here is a letter from a friend of yours, [_Giving letter to_ MOLL. And where that fails in satisfaction, I have a sad tongue ready to supply. MOLL. How does he, ere I look on’t? TOUCH. SEN. Seldom better; Has a contented health now. MOLL. I'm most glad on’t. MAUD. Dead, sir? YEL. He is: now, wife, let’s but get the girl Upon her legs again, and to church roundly with her. MOLL. O, sick to death, he tells me: how does he after this? TOUCH. SEN. Faith, feels no pain at all; he’s dead, sweet mistress. MOLL. Peace close mine eyes! [_Swoons._ YEL. The girl! look to the girl, wife! MAUD. Moll, daughter, sweet girl, speak! look but once up, Thou shalt have all the wishes of thy heart That wealth can purchase! YEL. O, she’s gone for ever! That letter broke her heart. TOUCH. SEN. As good now then As let her lie in torment, and then break it.

_Enter_ SUSAN.

MAUD. O Susan, she thou loved’st so dear is gone! SUSAN. O sweet maid! TOUCH. SEN. This is she that help’d her still.— I've a reward here for thee. YEL. Take her in, Remove her from our sight, our shame and sorrow. TOUCH. SEN. Stay, let me help thee, ’tis the last cold kindness I can perform for my sweet brother’s sake. [_Exeunt_ TOUCHWOOD _senior_, SUSAN, _and Servants, carrying out_ MOLL. YEL. All the whole street will hate us, and the world Point me out cruel: it’s our best course, wife, After we’ve given order for the funeral, T' absent ourselves till she be laid in ground. MAUD. Where shall we spend that time? YEL. I'll tell thee where, wench: Go to some private church, and marry Tim To the rich Brecknock gentlewoman. MAUD. Mass, a match; We’ll not lose all at once, somewhat we’ll catch. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_A room in_ SIR OLIVER KIX’S _house_.

_Enter_ SIR OLIVER KIX _and Servants_.

SIR OL. Ho, my wife’s quicken’d; I'm a man for ever! I think I have bestirr’d my stumps, i’faith. Run, get your fellows all together instantly, Then to the parish church and ring the bells. FIRST SER. It shall be done, sir. [_Exit._ SIR OL. Upon my love I charge you, villain, that you make a bonfire Before the door at night. SEC. SER. A bonfire, sir? SIR OL. A thwacking one, I charge you. SEC. SER. This is monstrous. [_Aside, and exit._ SIR OL. Run, tell a hundred pound out for the gentleman That gave my wife the drink, the first thing you do. THIRD SER. A hundred pounds, sir? SIR OL. A bargain: as our joy[151] grows, We must remember still from whence it flows, Or else we prove ungrateful multipliers: [_Exit Third Servant._ The child is coming, and the land comes after; The news of this will make a poor sir Walter: I've strook it home, i’faith. FOURTH SER. That you have, marry, sir; But will not your worship go to the funeral Of both these lovers? SIR OL. Both? go both together? FOURTH SER. Ay, sir, the gentleman’s brother will have it so; 'Twill be the pitifull’st sight! there is such running, Such rumours, and such throngs, a pair of lovers Had never more spectators, more men’s pities, Or women’s wet eyes. SIR OL. My wife helps the number then. FOURTH SER. There is such drawing out of handkerchers; And those that have no handkerchers lift up aprons. SIR OL. Her parents may have joyful hearts at this: I would not have my cruelty so talk’d on To any child of mine for a monopoly. FOURTH SER. I believe you, sir. ’Tis cast[152] so, too, that both their coffins meet, Which will be lamentable. SIR OL. Come, we’ll see’t. [_Exeunt._

SCENE IV.

_Near a church._

_Recorders[153] dolefully playing, enter at one door the coffin of_ TOUCHWOOD _junior, solemnly decked, his sword upon it, attended by many gentlemen in black, among whom are_ SIR OLIVER KIX, ALLWIT, _and Parson_, TOUCHWOOD _senior being the chief mourner: at the other door the coffin of_ MOLL, _adorned with a garland of flowers, and epitaphs pinned on it,[154] attended by many matrons and maids, among whom are_ LADY KIX, MISTRESS ALLWIT, _and_ SUSAN: _the coffins are set down, one right over against the other; and while all the company seem to weep and mourn, there is a sad song in the music-room_.[155]