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.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

The Street near the House of Anselm’s Mother.

Enter ANSELM and FULLER.

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.