thing which is to be relieved, from the approbation of which relief the spectators are to derive a certain soothing of self-referred satisfaction. We turn away from the real fessences of things to hunt after their relative shadows, moral duties: whereas if the truth of things were fairly represented, the relative duties might be safely trusted to themselves, and moral philosophy lose the name of a science.]

WOMEN BEWARE WOMEN; A TRAGEDY.

BY THOMAS MIDDLETON.

Livia, the Duke's creature, cajoles a poor Widow with the appearance of Hospitality and neighborly Attentions, that she may get her Daughterin-Law (who is left in the Mother's care in the Son's absence) into her trains, to serve the Duke's pleasure.

LIVIA. WIDOW. A Gentleman, Livia's Guest.

Liv. Widow, come, come, I have a great quarrel to you,
Faith I must chide you that you must be sent for;
You make yourself so strange, never come at us,
And yet so near a neighbor, and so unkind;

Troth, you 're to blame; you cannot be more welcome
any house in Florence, that I'll tell you.

Το

Wid. My thanks must needs acknowledge so much, madam. Liv. How can you be so strange then? I sit here Sometimes whole days together without company, When business draws this gentleman from home, And should be happy in society

Which I so well affect as that of

yours.

I know you 're alone too; why should not we
Like two kind neighbors then supply the wants

never so just, it is not regarded; and, to have his wrongs righted, he must appeal to that other life. All men crush him; no man favoreth him; there is no man that will relieve his wants; no man that will comfort him in his miseries; nor no man that will bear him company, when he is all alone, and oppressed with grief. None help him; all hinder him; none give him, all take from him; he is debtor to none, and yet must make payment to all. O the unfortunate and poor condition of him that is poor, to whom even the very hours are sold, which the clock striketh, and pays custom for the sunshine in August."

Of one another, having tongue-discourse,
Experience in the world, and such kind helps,
To laugh down time and meet age merrily?

Wid. Age, madam! you speak mirth: 'tis at my door,
But a long journey from your Ladyship yet.

Liv. My faith, I'm nine and thirty, every stroke, wench; And 'tis a general observation

'Mongst knights; wives, or widows, we account ourselves Then old, when young men's eyes leave looking at us. Come, now I have thy company, I'll not part with it

Till after supper.

Wid. Yes, I must crave pardon, madam.

Liv. I swear you shall stay supper; we have no strangers,

woman,

None but my sojourners and I, this gentleman

And the young heir his ward; you know your company.

Wid. Some other time I will make bold with you, madam. Liv. Faith she shall not go.

Do you think I'll be forsworn?

Wid. 'Tis a great while

Till supper time; I'll take my leave then now, madam,
And come again in the evening, since your ladyship
Will have it so.

Liv. In the evening! by my troth, wench,

I'll keep you while I have you; you've great business sure,
To sit alone at home; I wonder strangely

What pleasure you take in 't. Were 't to me now,
I should be ever at one neighbor's house
Or other all day long; having no charge,

Or none to chide you, if you go, or stay,

Who may live merrier, aye, or more at heart's ease?

Come, we'll to chess or draughts, there are a hundred tricks

To drive out time till supper, never fear 't, wench.

[A Chess-board is set.

Wid. I'll but make one step home, and return straight, madam.

Liv. Come, I'll not trust you, you make more excuses

To your kind friends than ever I knew any.

What business can you have, if

you

be sure

You've lock'd the doors? and, that being all you have,
I know you're careful on 't: one afternoon

So much to spend here! say I should entreat you now
To lie a night or two, or a week, with me,

Or leave your own house for a month together;

It were a kindness that long neighborhood
And friendship might well hope to prevail in :
Would you deny such a request? i'faith

Speak truly and freely.

Wid. I were then uncivil, madam.

Liv. Go to then, set your men: we'll have whole nights Of mirth together, ere we be much older, wench.

Wid. As good now tell her then, for she will know it;
I've always found her a most friendly lady.

Liv. Why, widow, where's your mind?
Wid. Troth, even at home, madam.

To tell you truth, I left a gentlewoman

Even sitting all alone, which is uncomfortable,
Especially to young bloods.

Liv. Another excuse.

Wid. No, as I hope for health, madam, that's a truth;

Please you to send and see.

Liv. What gentlewoman? pish.

Wid. Wife to my son indeed.

Liv. Now I beshrew you.

Could you be so unkind to her and me,

To come and not bring her? faith, 'tis not friendly.

Wid. I fear'd to be too bold.

Liv. Too bold! Oh what's become

Of the true hearty love was wont to be

'Mongst neighbors in old time?

Wid. And she's a stranger, madam.

[Aside.

Liv. The more should be her welcome: when is courtesy

In better practice, than when 'tis employ'd

In entertaining strangers. I could chide ye in faith.
Leave her behind, poor gentlewoman, alone too!

Make some amends, and send for her betimes, go.

Wid. Please you command one of your servants, madam.

Brancha resists the Duke's attempt.

Bran. Oh treachery to honor !

Duke. Prithee tremble not.

I feel thy breast shake like a turtle panting
Under a loving hand that makes much on't.
Why art so fearful?

Bran. Oh my extremity!
My Lord, what seek you?

Duke. Love.

Bran. 'Tis gone already:

I have a husband.

Duke. That's a single comfort; Take a friend to him.

Bran. That's a double mischief;

Or else there's no religion.

Duke. Do not tremble
At fears of thy own making.

Bran. Nor, great lord,

Make me not bold with death and deeds of ruin,
Because they fear not you; me they must fright;
Then am I best in health: should thunder speak
And none regard it, it had lost the name,
And were as good be still. I'm not like those
That take their soundest sleeps in greatest tempests;
Then wake I most, the weather fearfullest,

And call for strength to virtue.

Winding Sheet.

to have a being, and to live 'mongst men,

Is a fearful living and a poor one; let a man truly think on 't. To have the toil and griefs of fourscore years

* This is one of those scenes which has the air of being an immediate transcript from life. Livia the "good neighbor" is as real a creature as one

of Chaucer's characters of Bath

She is such another jolly Housewife as the Wife

Put up in a white sheet, tied with two knots:
Methinks it should strike earthquakes in adulterers,
When even the very sheets they commit sin in

May prove for aught they know all their last garments.

Great Men's looks.

Did not the duke look up? methought he saw us.—

-That's every one's conceit that sees a duke,
If he look steadfastly, he looks straight at them:
When he perhaps, good careful gentleman,
Never minds any, but the look he casts

Is at his own intentions, and his object
Only the public good.

Weeping in Love.

Why should those tears be fetch'd forth! cannot love
Be even as well expressed in a good look,
But it must see her face still in a fountain?
It shows like a country maid dressing her head
By a dish of water: come, 'tis an old custom
To weep for love.

Lover's Chidings.

-prithee forgive me,

I did but chide in jest: the best loves use it
Sometimes; it sets an edge upon affection.
When we invite our best friends to a feast,
'Tis not all sweetmeats that we set before 'em;

There's something sharp and salt, both to whet appetite,
And make 'em taste their wine well: so methinks,
After a friendly sharp and savory chiding,

A kiss tastes wondrous well, and full o' the grape.

Wedlock.

O thou the ripe time of man's misery, wedlock;

When all his thoughts like over-laden trees
Crack with the fruits they bear, in cares, in jealousies.
O that's a fruit that ripens hastily,