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Frank. Let me beseech you, gentlemen, To comfort my old father, keep him with you; Love this distressed widow; and as often As you remember what a graceless man I was, remember likewise that these are Both free, both worthy of a better fate, Than such a son or husband as I have been. All help me with your prayers. On, on; 'tis just That law should purge the guilt of blood and lust.
[He is led off by the officers. Car. Go thy ways; I did not think to have shed one tear for thee, but thou hast made me water my plants spite of my heart. Master Thorney, cheer up, man ; whilst I can stand by you, you shall not want help to keep you from falling: we have lost our children both on's the wrong way, but we cannot help it; better or worse, 'tis now as ’tis.
Thor. I thank you, sir; you are more kind than I Have cause to hope or look for.
Car. Master Somerton, is Kate yours or no ?
Kath. And but my faith is pass’d, I should fear to be married, husbands are so cruelly unkind. Excuse me that I am troubled.
Som. Thou shalt have no cause.
Sir Ar. Which I will soon* discharge.
* The character of Sir Arthur Clarington is sustained, as Mr. Gifford observes, with care and ability, Terrified, but not
Win. Sir 'tis too great a sum to be employ'd Upon my funeral.
Car. Čome, come ; ifluck had serv'd, Sir Arthur, and every man had his due, somebody might have tottered ere this, without paying fines ; like it as you list. Come to me, Winnifrede, shalt be welcome. Make much of her, Kate, I charge you ; I do not think but she's a good wench, and hath had wrong as well as we. So let's every man home to Edmonton with heavy hearts, yet as merry as we can, though not as we would.
Just. Join friends in sorrow; make of all the
Harms past may be lamented, not redrest.
[Exeunt. reclaimed, from his profligacy, by the law, he is everywhere equally odious; and ends the same mean, heartless, avaricious wretch he showed himself at first.
Love's SACRIFICE.] The under plot of this drama arises out of the licentious amours of a profligate courtier, named Ferentes, and will not bear detail: even the guilt of much higher parties must be disclosed with a very sparing hand. Caraffa, Duke of Pavia, had accidentally, while hunting, beheld the daughter of a private gentleman of Milan, by name Bianca. Her exquisite beauty made an instant impression on his heart; and from seeing to wedding the fair Milanese, seems to have been with the weak-minded Caraffa the work of a very short period. “ He saw her, lov'd her, woo'd her, won her, match'd her.” Unhappily a sense of the young duchess's charms was not confined to the heart of her lord: they made a traitor of the duke's bosom friend Fernando; and his suit to the beautiful. Bianca, though apparently scorned and rejected at first, is presently requited by the acknowledgment of a passion, if possible, more warm and vivid than his own.
The guilty attachment is not long in reaching the ears of him, whose feelings were most concerned in a knowledge of it. Fiormonda, the widowed sister of Caraffa, had for some time loved Fernando with all an Italian woman's fondness; and the coldness with which her bold advances were received exciting her suspicions, the jealous eye of love soon detected the cause of Fernando's indifference; and through her creature Roderico d'Avolos, the feelings of the injured husband are wound up into a phrenzy of resentment, which terminates in the most fatal consequences to the leading personages of the drama.