Frankford. How do you, woman?

Mrs. Anne. Well, Mr. Frankford, well; but shall be

better,

I hope, within this hour.

Will you vouchsafe (Out of your grace, and your humanity)

To take a spotted strumpet by the hand?

Frankford. This hand once held my heart in faster

bonds

Than now 'tis grip'd by me.

That made us first break hold.

Mrs. Anne. Amen, amen.

God pardon thein

Out of my zeal to heaven, whither I'm now bound,
I was so impudent to wish you here;

And once more beg your pardon. Oh! (good man,)
And father to my children, pardon me.

Pardon, O pardon me: my fault so heinous is,
That if you in this world forgive it not,
Heaven will not clear it in the world to come.
Faintness hath so usurp'd upon my knees,
That kneel I cannot, but on my heart's knees
My prostrate soul lies thrown down at your feet
To beg your gracious pardon. Pardon, O pardon me!
Frankford. As freely from the low depth of my soul
As my Redeemer hath forgiven his death,

I pardon thee. I will shed tears for thee;

Pray with thee; and, in mere pity of thy weak estate, I'll wish to die with thee.

All. So do we all.

Nicholas. So will not I;

I'll sigh and sob, but, by my faith, not die.

Sir Francis. O Mr. Frankford, all the near alliance

I lose by her, shall be supply'd in thee:

You are my brother by the nearest way;

Her kindred hath fall'n off, but your's doth stay.
Frankford. Even as I hope for pardon at that day,
When the great judge of heaven in scarlet sits,
So be thou pardon'd. Tho' thy rash offence
Divorc'd our bodies, thy repentant tears
Unite our souls.

Sir Charles. Then comfort, Mistress Frankford,

You see your husband hath forgiven your fall;
Then rouse your spirits, and cheer your fainting soul.
Susan. How is it with you?

Sir Francis. How d' ye feel yourself?

Mrs. Anne. Not of this world.

Frankford. I see you are not, and I weep to see it. My wife, the mother to my pretty babes! Both those lost names I do restore thee back, And with this kiss I wed thee once again: Tho' thou art wounded in thy honour'd name, And with that grief upon thy death-bed liest, Honest in heart, upon my soul, thou diest.

Mrs. Anne. Pardon'd on earth, soul, thou in heaven art free

Once more: thy wife dies thus embracing thee. [Dies. Frankford. New married, and new widow'd. Oh! she's dead,

And a cold grave must be her nuptial bed.

Sir Charles. Sir, be of good comfort; and your heavy sorrow

Part equally amongst us: storms divided,

Abate their force, and with less rage are guided. Cranwell. Do, Master Frankford: he that hath least part,

Will find enough to drown one troubled heart.
Sir Francis. Peace with thee, Nan.

gentlemen,

Brothers, and

(All we that can plead interest in her grief)

Bestow upon her body funeral tears.

Brother, had you with threats and usage bad

Punish'd her sin, the grief of her offence

Had not with such true sorrow touch'd her heart.
Frankford. I see it had not: therefore on her grave
Will I bestow this funeral epitaph,

Which on her marble tomb shall be engrav'd.
In golden letters shall these words be fill'd,

Here lies she whom her husband's kindness kill'd.

VOL. VII.

EPILOGUE.

An honest crew, disposed to be merry,
Come to a tavern by, and call'd for wine:
The drawer brought it (smiling like a cherry)
And told them it was pleasant, neat, and fine.

Taste it, quoth one: he did so; fie! (quoth he)
This wine was good; now 't runs too near the lee.

Another sipp'd, to give the wine his due,
And said unto the rest it drunk too flat;
The third said, it was old; the fourth, too new ;
Nay, quoth the fifth, the sharpness likes me not.

Thus, gentlemen, you see, how in one hour,

The wine was new, old, flat, sharp, sweet, and sour.

Unto this wine we do allude our play ;

Which some will judge too trivial, some too grave:
You as our guests we entertain this day,
And bid you welcome to the best we have.

Excuse us then: good wine may be disgrac'd,
When every several mouth hath sundry taste.

EDITION.

A Woman Kilde with Kindnesse: As it hath beene oftentimes acted by the Queenes Majest. Servants. Written by Tho. Heywood. The Third Edition *. London: Printed by Isaac laggard, 1617. 4to.

* A copy of this play, dated 1607, we are informed, was inserted by Mr. Evans in one of his catalogues of 1824 for sale : of course this rarity would have occasioned a strong competition, but previous to the auction it was found that the play had disappeared from the shelves. The earliest notice of the Woman Kill'd with Kindness, is to be found in the often quoted MSS. of Henslowe, under date of Feb. 1602-3.