SCENE II.—A Bed-room in CARTER'S House.FRANK in a Slumber.

Enter KATHErine.

Kath. Brother, brother! so sound asleep? that's well.

Frank. (Waking.) No, not I, sister; he that's wounded here,

As I am, (all my other hurts are bitings
Of a poor flea,) but he that here once bleeds,
Is maim'd incurably.

Kath. My good sweet brother;

(For now my sister must grow up in you,) Though her loss strikes you through, and that I

feel

The blow as deep, I pray thee be not cruel

Good love, sit up ;

To kill me too, by seeing you cast away
In your own helpless sorrow.
And if you can give physic to yourself,

I shall be well.

Frank. I'll do my best.

Kath. I thank you :

What do you look about for?

Frank. Nothing, nothing;

But I was thinking, sister

Kath. Dear heart, what?

Frank. Who but a fool would thus be bound to

Frank. No, no; I am not idle.*

But here's my meaning; being robb'd as I am, Why should my soul, which married was to her's, Live in divorce, and not fly after her?

Why should not I walk hand in hand with Death, To find my love out ?

Kath. That were well, indeed,

Your time being come; when Death is sent to call you,

No doubt you shall meet her.

Frank. Why should not I

Go without calling ?

Kath. Yes, brother, so you might;

Were there no place to go to when you're gone, But only this.

Frank. "Troth, sister, thou say'st true;

For when a man has been an hundred years
Hard travelling o'er the tottering bridge of age,
He's not the thousandth part upon his way:
All life is but a wandering to find home;
When we are gone, we're there. Happy were man,
Could here his voyage end; he should not then
Answer, how well or ill he steer'd his soul,
By heaven's or by hell's compass; how he put
(Losing bless'd goodness' shore) at such a sin;
Nor how life's dear provision he has spent,
Nor how far he in's navigation went
Beyond commission: this were a fine reign,
To do ill, and not hear of it again ;

in

Yet then were man more wretched than a beast; For, sister, our dead pay is sure the best.

* No, no, I am not idle.] i. e. Wandering. He judges from Katherine's speech, that she suspects him, as indeed she does, of being light-headed.-GIFFORD.

Kath. 'Tis so, the best or worst; and I wish
Heaven

To pay (and so I know it will) that traitor,
That devil Somerton (who stood in mine eye
Once as an angel) home to his deservings:
What villain but himself, once loving me,
With Warbeck's soul would pawn his own to hell,
To be revenged on my poor sister!

Frank. Slaves!

A pair of merciless slaves! speak no more of

them.

Kath. I think this talking hurts you.
Frank. Does me no good, I'm sure;

I pay for❜t everywhere.

Kath. I have done then.

Eat if you cannot sleep; you have these two days Not tasted any food:-Jane, is it ready?

Frank. What's ready? what's ready?

Kath. I have made ready a roasted chicken for

[Enter Maid with the chicken.

Frank. A pretty stomach on a sudden, yes.— There's one i' th' house can play upon a lute; Good girl, let's hear him too.

Kath. You shall, dear brother.

[Exit Maid.

Would I were a musician, you should hear

How I would feast your ear!-[Lute plays within.] -stay, mend your pillow,

And raise you higher.

Frank. I am up too high,

Am I not sister, now?

Kath. No, no; 'tis well.

Fall to, fall to.-A knife! here's ne'er a knife.

Brother, I'll look out your's.

[Takes up his vest.

Enter Doo, shrugging as it were for joy, and dances.

Frank. Sister, O sister,

I'm ill upon a sudden, and can eat nothing.
Kath. In very deed you shall; the want of food
Makes you so faint. Ha!-[Sees the bloody knife.]
-here's none in your pocket;

I will go fetch a knife.
[Exit hastily.
Frank. Will you?-'tis well, all's well.

FRANK Searches first one pocket then the other, finds the knife, and then lies down. -The spirit of SUSAN comes to the bed's side: he starts at it, and then turns to the other side, but the spirit is there— meanwhile enter WINNIFREDE as a page, and stands sorrowfully at the foot of the bed.-FRANK, terrified, sits up, and the spirit vanishes.

Frank. What art thou?

Win. A lost creature.

Frank. So am I too.-Win?

Ah, my she-page!

Win. For your sake I put on

A shape that's false; yet do I wear a heart
True to you as your own.

Frank. 'Would mine and thine

Were fellows in one house!-kneel by me here. On this side now! how dar'st thou come to mock

Outface me, stare upon me with strange postures; Turn my soul wild by a face in which were drawn A thousand ghosts leapt newly from their graves, To pluck me into a winding sheet!

Win. Believe it,

I came no nearer to you than yon place,

At your bed's feet; and of the house had leave,
Calling myself your horse-boy, in to come
And visit my sick master.

Frank. Then 'twas my fancy;

Some windmill in my brains for want of sleep. Win. Would I might never sleep, so you could rest!

But you have pluck'd a thunder on your head, Whose noise cannot cease suddenly; why should

you

Dance at the wedding of a second wife,

When scarce the music which you heard at mine
Had ta'en a farewell of you? O, this was ill!
And they who thus can give both hands away,
In th' end shall want their best limbs.

Frank. Winnifrede,

The chamber door's fast?

Win. Yes.

Frank. Sit thee then down;

And when thou'st heard me speak, melt into tears:
Yet I, to save those eyes of thine from weeping,
Being to write a story of us two,

Instead of ink, dipp'd my sad pen in blood.
When of thee I took leave, I went abroad
Only for pillage, as a freebooter,

What gold soe'er I got, to make it thine.
To please a father, I have Heaven displeased,
Striving to cast two wedding-rings in one,