I am for sports.  And now I do remember,
The old Egyptians at their banquets placed
A charnel sight of dead men’s skulls before them,
With images of cold mortality,
To temper their fierce joys when they grew rampant. 
I like the custom well:  and ere we crown
With freer mirth the day, I shall propose,
In calmest recollection of our spirits,
We drink the solemn “Memory of the Dead,”—­

Mrs. F. Or the supposed dead—­
                                                 [Aside to him.

Selby. Pledge me, good, wife—­
                                                    [She fills.
Nay, higher yet, till the brimm’d cup swell o’er,

Kath. I catch the awful import of your words;
And, though I could accuse you of unkindness,
Yet as your lawful and obedient wife,
While that name lasts (as I perceive it fading,
Nor I much longer may have leave to use it)
I calmly take the office you impose;
And on my knees, imploring their forgiveness,
Whom I in heaven or earth may have offended,
Exempt from starting tears, and woman’s weakness,
I pledge you, sir—­the Memory of the Dead!
                                          [She drinks kneeling.

Selby. ’Tis gently and discreetly said, and like My former loving Kate.

Mrs. F. Does he relent? [Aside.

Selby. That ceremony past, we give the day
To unabated sport.  And, in requital
Of certain stories and quaint allegories,
Which my rare Widow hath been telling to me
To raise my morning mirth, if she will lend
Her patient hearing, I will here recite
A Parable; and, the more to suit her taste,
The scene is laid in the East.

Mrs. F.                 I long to hear it. 
Some tale, to fit his wife.                             [Aside.

Kath. Now, comes my TRIAL.

Lucy. The hour of your deliverance is at hand, If I presage right.  Bear up, gentlest sister.

Selby. “The Sultan Haroun”—­Stay—­O now I have it—­
“The Caliph Haroun in his orchards had
A fruit-tree, bearing such delicious fruits,
That he reserved them for his proper gust;
And through the Palace it was Death proclaim’d
To any one that should purloin the same.”

Mrs. F. A heavy penance for so light a fault—­

Selby. Pray you, be silent, else you put me out. 
“A crafty page, that for advantage watch’d,
Detected in the act a brother page,
Of his own years, that was his bosom friend;
And thenceforth he became that other’s lord,
And like a tyrant he demean’d himself,
Laid forced exactions on his fellow’s purse;
And when that poor means fail’d, held o’er his head
Threats of impending death in hideous forms;
Till the small culprit on his nightly couch
Dream’d of strange pains, and felt his body writhe
In tortuous pangs around the impaling stake.”