conscience "T is nobleness in thee, in her but duty. I leave to censure;' farewell, mistress bride! [Exit. Car. Nay, you shall not part till you see the barrels run a-tilt, gentlemen. [Exit with SOMERTON. Sus. Why change you your face, sweetheart? Sus. Dear, say not so; a spirit of your con- Cannot endure this change for nothing. I have observ'd strange variations in you. Sus. In you, sir. Awake, you seem to dream, and in your sleep Like one at enmity with peace. Dear loving husband, if I . May dare to challenge any interest in you, Frank. With what? You half-amaze me; prithee Sus. Come, you shall not, Indeed you shall not shut me from partaking The least dislike that grieves you; I am all yours. Sus. You are not, if you keep The least grief from me; but I find the cause, Frank. From you? Sus. From some distaste In me or my behaviour; you are not kind In the concealment. 'Las, sir, I am young, Silly, and plain: more, strange to those contents 1 i. e. opinion. i Frank. Come; in nothing. Sus. I know I do; knew I as well in what, Dost weep now? Sus. You, sweet, have the power To make me passionate as an April-day ;', Now smile, then weep; now pale, then crimson red: As your looks change. Frank. Change thy conceit, I prithee; Thou art all perfection; Diana herself Swells in thy thoughts, and moderates thy beauty. Feathering love-shafts, whose golden heads he dipp'd Then, prithee, dear, maintain no more dispute, Frank. Then look here; For here, here is the fen in which this hydra 1 Passionate as an April-day,] i. e. changeful, capricious, of many moods.-GIFFORD. 2 The florid and overstrained nature of Frank's language, which is evidently assumed to disguise his real feelings, is well contrasted with the pure and affectionate simplicity of Susan.-GIFFORD. Sus. Heaven shield it! where? Frank. In mine own bosom, here the cause has root: The poison'd leeches twist about my heart, Sus. You speak riddles. Frank. Take't plainly then; 't was told me by a woman Known and approved in palmistry, Sus. Two wives! sir, I take it Exceedingly likely; but let not conceit hurt you: Frank. No, no, my Winnifrede. Sus. How say you? Winnifrede! you forget me. Sus. In what? Frank. Talking of wives, I pretend Winnifrede, A maid that at my mother's waited on me Before thyself. Sus. I hope, sir, she may live To take my place; but why should all this move you? Sus. Yet why should this Raise mutiny within you? such presages Prove often false: or say it should be true? Sus. Yes, many; If they be good, the better. Frank. Never any Equal to thee in goodness. [Aside. Sus. Sir, I could wish I were much better for you; Yet if I knew your fate Ordain'd you for another, I could wish (So well I love you and your hopeful pleasure) To my successor. Frank. Prithee, prithee, talk not Of death or graves thou art so rare a goodness; Sus. Yet you still move In your first sphere of discontent. Sweet, chase Those clouds of sorrow, and shine clearly on me. Frank. At my return I will. Sus. Return? ah me! Will you then leave me? Frank. For a time I must: But how? as birds their young, or loving bees Sus. Leave me ! Now has my fear met its effect. You shall not, Frank. Why? your reason? Sus. Like to the lapwing1 have you all this while, With your false love, deluded me; pretending Counterfeit senses for your discontent! And now at last it is by chance stole from you. Sus. Your preappointed meeting Of single combat with young Warbeck. Sus. Even so: dissemble not; 't is too apparent. Then in his look, I read it :-deny it not, I see 't apparent; cost it my undoing, And unto that my life, I will not leave you. Frank. Not until when? Sus. Till he and you be friends. Was this your cunning?—and then flam me off 1 Like to the lapwing, &c.] The lapwing hath a piteous, mournful cry, But yet she's full of craft and subtlety, And weepeth most being farthest from her young. SHAKSPEARE's Phoenix and Turtle.-GIFFORD Frank. And you more fond by far than I expected. It is a virtue that attends thy kind But of our business within :-and by this kiss, [Aside. I'll anger thee no more; 'troth, chuck, I will not. ACT III. SCENE I. A Field. [Exeunt. Enter CUDDY BANKS, with the Morris-dancers. 1 Clown. Nay, Cuddy, prithee do not leave us now; if we part all this night, we shall not meet before day. 2 Cl. I prithee, Banks, let's keep together now. but Cud. If you were wise, a word would serve ; as you are, I must be forced to tell you again, I have a little private business, an hour's work; it may prove but a half-hour's, as luck may serve; and then I take horse, and along with you. Have we e'er a witch in the morris? 1 Cl. No, no; no woman's part but Maid Marian,1 and the hobby-horse. 1 Though the morris-dances were, as their name denotes, of Moorish origin, yet they were commonly adapted here to the popular English story of Robin Hood, and his love for Lord Fitzwalter's daughter, the chaste Matilda. The change of name adopted by this fair lady is thus accounted for in Heywood's play of "Robert Earl of Huntingdon's Downfall." Next 't is agreed (if thereto she agree) The fair Matilda henceforth change her name; To which she replies: I am contented; read on Little John, For further information the reader is referred to Archdeacon Nares's Glossary, under the word Marian. |