A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 9 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 508 pages of information about A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 9.

Y. ART.  I’ faith, sweetheart, I saw thee yesternight.

MRS MA.  Ay, true, you did, but since you saw me not;
At twelve o’clock you parted from my house,
And now ’tis morning, and new-strucken seven;
Seven hours thou stay’d’st from me; why didst thou so? 
They are my seven years’ ’prenticeship of woe.

Y. ART.  I prythee, be patient; I had some occasion
That did enforce me from thee yesternight.

MRS MA.  Ay, you are soon enforc’d; fool that I am,
To dote on one that nought respecteth me! 
’Tis but my fortune, I am born to bear it,
And ev’ry one shall have their destiny.

Y. ART.  Nay, weep not, wench; thou wound’st me with thy tears.

MRS MA.  I am a fool, and so you make me too;
These tears were better kept than spent in waste
On one that neither tenders them nor me. 
What remedy? but if I chance to die,
Or to miscarry with that I go withal,
I’ll take my death that thou art cause thereof;
You told me that, when your wife was dead,
You would forsake all others, and take me.

Y. ART.  I told thee so, and I will keep my word,
And for that end I came thus early to thee;
I have procur’d a licence, and this night
We will be married in a lawless[20] church.

MRS. MA.  These news revive me, and do somewhat ease
The thought that was new-gotten to my heart. 
But shall it be to-night?

Y. ART.  Ay, wench, to-night. 
A se’nnight and odd days, since my wife died,
Is past already, and her timeless death
Is but a nine-days’ talk; come, go with me,
And it shall be despatched presently.

MRS. MA.  Nay, then, I see thou lov’st me; and I find
By this last motion thou art grown more kind.

Y. ART.  My love and kindness, like my age, shall grow,
And with the time increase; and thou shalt see
The older I grow, the kinder I will be.

MRS. MA, Ay, so I hope it will; but, as for mine,
That with my age shall day by day decline. [Aside
Come, shall we go?

Y. ART.  With thee to the world’s end,
Whose beauty most admire, and all commend.



The Street near the House of Anselm’s Mother.


ANS.  ’Tis true, as I relate the circumstance,
And she is with my mother safe at home;
But yet, for all the hate I can allege
Against her husband, nor for all the love
That on my own part I can urge her to,
Will she be won to gratify my love.

FUL.  All things are full of ambiguity,
And I admire this wond’rous accident. 
But, Anselm, Arthur’s about a new wife, a bona roba;
How will she take it when she hears this news?

ANS.  I think, even as a virtuous maiden should;
It may be that report may, from thy mouth,
Beget some pity from her flinty heart,
And I will urge her with it presently.

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A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 9 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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