A WOMAN KILLED with Kindness.  
Written by Tho. Heywood.  
LONDON Printed by William jaggard dwelling in Barbican, and are to be sold in Paul's Churchyard. by john hodget's. 1607.   

The Prologue.  
I Come but like a Harbinger being sent,  
To tell you what these preparations mean:  
Look for no glorious state, our muse is bent  
Upon a barren subject: a bare scene.  
We could afford this twig a Timber tree,  
Whose strength might boldly on your favours build,  
Our Russet, Tissue: Drone, a honey-bee,  
Our barren plot, a large and spacious field.  
Our course fare, banquets: our thin Water, Wine:  
Our Brook, a Sea: our Bats eyes, eagle's sight:  
Our Poets dull and earthy muse, Divine:  
Our Ravens, Doves: our Crows black feathers, white.  
But gentle thoughts when they may give the foil,  
Save them that yield, and spare where they may spoil.   
Enter master john Frankeford, Sir Francis Acton, Mistress Acton, sir Charles Mountford, Master Malbie, Master Wendoll, and Master Cranwell. Francis. 
SOme music there, none lead the Bride a dance?  Charles. 
Yes, would she dance the shaking of the sheets?  
But that's the dance her Husband means to lead her?  Wen. 
That's not the dance that every man must dance  
According to the Ballad.  Francis. 
Music ho,  
By your leave Sister, by your husband's leave  
I should have said, the hand that but this day  
Was given you in the Church I'll borrow: Sound,  
This marriage music hoists me from the ground.  Frank. 
ay, you may caper, you are light and free,  
Marriage hath yoked my heels, pray then pardon me.  Francis. 
I'll have you dance to, Brother.  Charles. 
Master Frankford,  
You are a happy man sir, and much joy  
Succeed your marriage mirth, you have a wife  
So qualified and with such ornaments  
Both of the mind and body. First her Birth  
Is Noble, and her education such  
As might become the Daughter of a Prince,  
Her own tongue speaks all tongues, and her own hand  
Can teach all strings to speak in their best grace.  
From the shrill treble, to the hoarsest base.  
To end her many praises in one word,  
She's beauty, and perfections eldest Daughter,  
Only found by yours, though many a heart hath sought her.  Frank. 
But that I know your virtues and chaste thoughts,  
I should be jealous of your praise sir Charles.  Cran. 
He speaks no more than you approve.  Malbie. 
Nor flatters he that gives to her her due.  Anne. 
I would your praise could find a fitter theme,  
Than my imperfect beauty to speak on,  
Such as they be, if they my Husband please,  
They suffice me now I am married,  
His sweet content is like a flattering Glass,  
To make my face seem fairer to mine eye:  
But the least wrinkle from his stormy brow,  
Will blast the Roses in my cheeks that grow.  Francis. 
A perfect wife already, meek and patient:  
How strangely the word husband fits your mouth,  
Not married three hours since sister, 'tis good,  
You that begin betimes thus, must needs prove  
Pliant and duteous in your husband's love,  
Godamercies Brother wrought her to it already,  
Sweet Husband, and a courtesy the first day,  
Mark this, mark this, you that are Bachelors,  
And never took the grace of honest man,  
Mark this against you marry, this one phrase,  
In a good time that man both wins and woes,  
That takes his wife down in her wedding shoes.  Frank. 
Your sister takes not after you sir Francis,  
All his wild blood your father spent on you,  
He got her in his age when he grew civil,  
All his mad tricks were to his land entailed,  
And you are heir to all: your sister, she  
Hath to her dower, her mother's modesty.  Charles 
Lord sir, in what a happy state live you,  
This morning, which to many seems a burden, too  
Heavy to bear, is unto you a pleasure.  
This Lady is no clog, as many are,  
She doth become you like a well made suit  
In which the tailor hath used all his art:  
Not like a thick Coat of unseasoned freeze,  
Forced on your back in summer; she's no chain  
To tie your neck, and curb you to the yoke,  
But she's a chain of gold to adorn your neck,  
You both adore each other, and your hands  
Methinks are matches, there's equality,  
In this fair combination; you are both Scholars,  
Both young, both being descended nobly:  
There's music in this sympathy, it carries  
Comfort and expectation of much joy,  
Which God bestow on you, from this first day,  
Until your dissolution, that's for aye.  Francis. 
We keep you here too long good brother Frankford,  
Into the hall. Away, go, cheer your guests?  
What, Bride, and Bridegroom both withdrawn at once?  
If you be missed, the guests will doubt their welcome,  
And charge you with unkindness?  Frank. 
To prevent it,  
I'll leave you here, to see the dance within.  Anne. 
And so will I.  Fran. 
To part you it were sin.  Frank 
Now gallants while the Town musicans  
Finger their frets within, and the mad lads  
And country lasses, every mother's child  
With nosegays and bride-laces in their hats,  
Dance all their Country measures rounds and jigs,  
What shall we do? Hark, they are all on the hoygh,  
They toil like mill-horses, and turn as round;  
Marry not on the toe, ay, and they Caper  
But without cutting, you shall see tomorrow  
The hall flower pecked and dinted like a Millstone,  
Made with their high shoes, though their skill be small,  
Yet they tread heavy where their Hobnails fall.  Char. 
Well, leave them to their sports, Sir Francis Acton  
I'll make a match with you, meet me tomorrow  
At Chevy-Chase, I'll fly my Hawk with yours.  Fran. 
For what? for what?  Char. 
Why for a hundred pound.  Fran. 
Pawn me some gold of that.  Char. 
Here are ten angels,  
I'll make them good a hundred pound tomorrow  
Upon my Hawks wing.  Fran. 
'tis a match, 'tis done,  
another hundred pound upon your Dogs,  
Dare you Sir Charles?  Char. 
I dare, were I sure to lose  
I durst do more than that: here's my hand,  
The first course for a hundred pound.  Fran. 
A match.  Wend. 
Ten Angels on sir Francis Acton's Hawk:  
As much upon his Dogs.  Cran. 
I am for Sir Charles Mountford, I have seen  
His hawk and Dog both tried? What clap you hands?  
Or be't no bargain?  Wendoll 
Yes and stake them down,  
Were they five hundred they were all my own.  Fran. 
Be stirring early with the Lark tomorrow,  
I'll rise into my saddle ere the sun  
Rise from his bed.  Char. 
If there you miss me, say  
I am no Gentleman: I'll hold my day.  Fran. 
It holds on all sides, come tonight let's dance  
Early to morrow let's prepare to ride,  
We had need be three hours up before the Bride.  Enter Nick and Ierking, jacks slime, Roger Brickbat With country Wenches, and two or three musicans. Ienk. 
Come Nick. take you Ioune, Miniver to trace withal, Jack slime, traverse you with Sisly milkpail, I will take jane trubkin, & Roger Brikbat shall have Isbell motley, and now that they are busy in the parlour, come strike up, we'll have a crash here in the yard.  Nick. 
My humour is not compendious: dancing I possess not, though I can foot it, yet since I am fallen into the hands of Sisly milkpail I assent.  jack. 
Truly Nick though we were never brought up like serving Courtiers, yet we have been brought up with serving creatures, I and God's creatures to, for we have been brought up to serve Sheep, Oxen, Horses, and Hogs, and such like, and though we be but country fellow, it may be in the way of dancing, we can do the Horse-trick as well as servingmen.  Roger. 
ay, and the cross-point too.  jenk, 
Oh Slime: Oh Brickbat. Do not you know that comparisons are odious, now we are odious ourselves to, therefore there are no comparisons to be made betwixt us.  Nick. 
I am sudden and not superfluous:  
I am quarrelsome, and not seditious:  
I am peaceable, and not contentious:  
I am brief, and not compendious;  
Slime foot it quickly, if the music overcome not my melancholy I shall quarrel, and if they suddenly do not strike up, I shall presently strike thee down.  Ienk. 
No quarreling for God's sake: truly if you do I shall set a knave between you.  
Slime. I come to dance, not to quarrel: come what shall it be? Rogero  Ienk. 
Rogero: no, we, will dance the beginning of the world.  Sisly. 
I love no dance so well, as john come kiss me now.  Nick. 
ay, that have ere now deserved a Cushion, call for the cushion dance.  Rogero. 
For my part I like nothing so well as Tom tiler.  Ienk. 
No we'll have the hunting of the Fox.  Slime. 
The hay, the hay, there's nothing like the hay.  Nick. 
I have said, I do say, and I will say again.  jenk 
Every man agree to have it as Nick says.  All 
Content.  Nick. 
It hath been, it now is, and it shall be.  Sisly. 
What master Nichlas: what?  Nick. 
Put on your smock a Monday.  Ienk. 
So the dance will come cleanly off, come for God's sake agree of something, if you like not that put it to the musicans or Let me speak for all, and we'll have Sellenger's round.  All 
That: that: that.  Nick. 
No I am resolved thus it shallbe,  
First take hands, then take you to your heels.  Ienk. 
Why would you have us run a way?  Nick. 
No but I would have you shake your heels,  
Music strike up.  They dance, Nick dancing, speaks stately and scurvily, the rest after the Country fashion. Ienk. 
hay lively my lasses, here's a turn for thee.  Wind horns Enter Sir Charles, Sir Francis Malby, Cranwell, Wendoll, falconer, and Huntsmen. Char. 
So: well cast off, aloft, aloft, well flown:  
O now she takes her at the sowse, and strikes her  
down to the earth, like a swift thunderclap,  Wendol. 
She hath struck ten Angels out of my way.  Fran. 
A hundred pound from me.  Char. 
What falconer?  Faulk. 
At hand sir.  Char. 
Now she hath seized the fowl, and 'gins to plume her  
Rebeck her not, rather stand still and check her,  
So: cease her gets, her loesses, and her bells.  
Away?  Fran. 
My Hawk killed to.  Char. 
ay, but 'twas at the querre,  
Not at the mount like mine.  Fran. 
judgement my masters.  Cran, 
yours mist her at the far.  Wend. 
ay but our Merlin first hath plummed the fowl,  
And twice renewed her from the river to,  
Her bells Sir Francis had not both one weight,  
Nor was one semitune above the other,  
Methinks these Milan bells do sound too full,  
And spoil the mounting of your Hawk.  Char. 
'tis lost.  Fran. 
I grant it not: mine likewise seized a fowl  
Within her talents, and you saw her pause  
Full of the feathers, both her petty singles,  
And her long singles, gripped her more than other,  
The terrials of her legs were stained with blood;  
Not of the Foul only, she did discomfit,  
Some of her feathers, but she broke away,  
Come, come, your Hawk is but a rifler.  Fran. 
How?  Char. 
ay, and your Dogs are trindle tails and Curs.  Fran. 
You stir my blood.  Char. 
you keep not a good hound in all your kennel,  
Nor one good Hawk upon your Perch.  Fran. 
How Knight?  Char. 
So Knight? you will not swagger Sir?  Fran. 
Why, say I did?  Char. 
Why sir, I say you would gain as much by swaggering  
As you have got by wagers on your Dogs,  
you will come short in all things.  Fran. 
Not in this, now i'll strike home.  Char. 
Thou shalt to thy long home, or I will want my will.  Fran. 
All they that love Sir Francis follow me.  Char. 
All that affect Sir Charles draw on my part.  Cranwell. 
On this side heaves my hand.  Wendoll. 
Here goes my heart.  They divide themselves. Sir Charles. Cranwell, falconer, and Huntsman, fight against Sir Francis Wendall, his falconer, and Huntsman, and Sir Charles hath the better, and beats them away, killing one of Sir Francis his huntsman. Charles 
My God: what have I done? what have I done?  
My rage hath plunged into a Sea of blood,  
In which my soul lies drowned poor Innocent,  
For whom we are to answer: Well 'tis done,  
And I remain the victor? A great conquest;  
When I would give this right hand, nay this head,  
To breathe in them new life, whom I have slain.  
Forgive me God, 'twas in the heat of blood,  
And anger quite removes me from myself:  
It was not I, but rage, did this vile murder:  
Yet I, and not my rage, must answer it.  
Sir Francis Acton he is fled the field,  
With him, all those that did partake his quarrel,  
And I am left alone, with sorrow dumb,  
And in my height of conquest, overcome,  Enter jane. 
Oh God my Brother wounded among the dead,  
Unhappy jest that in such earnest ends,  
The rumor of this fear, stretched to my ears,  
And I am come to know if you be wounded.  Char. 
Oh sister, sister, wounded at the heart.  jane 
My God forbid.  Char. 
In doing that thing which he forbade,  
I am wounded sister.  jane 
I hope not at the heart.  Char. 
yes, at the heart.  jane 
Oh God: a surgeon there.  Char. 
Call me a surgeon sister for my soul,  
The sin of murder it hath pierced my heart,  
And made a wide wound there, but for these scratches,  
They are nothing; nothing.  jane. 
Charles what have you done?  
Sir Francis hath great friends, and will pursue you,  
Unto the utmost danger of the Law.  Char. 
My conscience is become my enemy,  
And will pursue me more than Acton can.  jane 
Oh, fly sweet Brother.  Char. 
Shall I fly from thee?  
What jane art weary of my company?  jane 
Fly from your foe,  Char. 
you sister are my friend,  
And flying you, I shall pursue my end.  jane 
your company is as my eyeball dear,  
Being far from you no comfort can be near:  
yet fly to save your life, what would I care,  
To spend my future age in black despair,  
So you were safe, and yet to live one week,  
Without my Brother Charles through every cheek  
My streaming tears would downwards run so rank,  
Till they could set on either side a bank,  
And in the midst a Channel; so my face  
For two salt waters Brooks, shall still find place.  Char. 
Thou shalt not weep so much, for I will stay  
In spite of dangers teeth: i'll live with thee:  
Or i'll not live at all, I will not sell  
My Country, and my father's patrimony,  
No, thy sweet sight, for a vain hope of life.  Enter shrieve with Officers. Shrief. 
Sir Charles, I am made the unwilling instrument  
Of your attach and apprehension:  
I am sorry that the blood of innocent men  
should be of you exacted. It was told me  
That you were guarded with a trope of friends,  
And therefore I come armed.  Char. 
O master sheriff  
I came into the field with man friends,  
But see they all have left me, only one  
Clings to my sad misfortune, my dear sister:  
I know you for an honest Gentleman,  
I yield my weapons, and submit to you,  
Convey me where you please.  Shrief. 
To prison then:  
To answer for the lives of these dead men.  jane 
Oh God? oh God?  Char. 
Sweet sister, every strain  
Of sorrow from your heart augments my pain,  
your grief abounds and hits against my breast.  Shrief. 
Sir will you go?  Char. 
even where it likes you best.  Enter Master Franckeford in a study. Frank. 
How happy am I amongst other men,  
That in my mean estate embrace content:  
I am a Gentleman, and by my birth  
Companion with a King, a king's no more:  
I am possessed of many fair revenues,  
Sufficient to maintain a Gentleman:  
Touching my mind I am studied in all Arts;  
The riches of my thoughts and of my time,  
Have been a good proficient, but the chief,  
Of all the sweet felicities on earth,  
I have a fair, a chaste, and loving wife,  
Perfection all, all truth, all ornament,  
If man on earth may truly happy be,  
Of these at once possessed: sure I am he.  Enter Nicholas. Nicho. 
Sir, there's a Gent. attends without to speak with you.  Franck. 
On horseback.  Nick. 
I on horseback.  Franck. 
Entreat him to alight, I will attend him:  
Knowest thou him Nick?  Nick. 
I know him: his names Wendoll:  
It seems he comes in haste, his horse is booted  
Up to the flank in mire, himself all spotted  
And stained with plashing: sure he rid in fear  
Or for a wager: horse and man both sweat,  
I near saw two in such a smoking heat.  Franck. 
Entreat him in: About it instantly:  
This Wendoll I have noted, and his carriage  
Hath pleased me much by observation:  
I have noted many good deserts in him:  
he's affable and seen in many things,  
Discourses well, a good companion;  
And though of small means, yet a Gentleman  
Of a good house, somewhat priest by want:  
I have preferred him to a second place  
In my opinion, and my best regard.  Enter Wendoll, Master Franckeford, and Nick. Anne. 
O master Frankford; master Wendoll here,  
Brings you the strangest news that ere you heard.  Frank. 
What news sweet wife? what news good M. Wendol?  Wend. 
you knew the match made twixt Sir Francis Acton and Sir Charles Mountford.  Franck. 
True: with their Hounds and Hawks?  Wend. 
The matches were both played.  Franck. 
Ha: and which won?  Wend. 
Sir Francis your wives brother had the worst,  
And lost the wager.  Franck. 
Why the worse his chance;  
Perhaps the fortune of some other day,  
Will change his luck.  Anne. 
Oh, but you hear not all?  
Sir Francis lost, and yet was loath to yield:  
In brief the two Knights grew to difference,  
From words to blows, and so to banding sides,  
Where valorous Sir Charles slew in his spleen,  
Two of your Brother's men: his falconer,  
And his good Huntsman, whom he loved so well,  
More men were wounded, no more slain out right,  Franck. 
Now trust me I am sorry for the knight,  
But is my brother safe?  Wendol. 
All whole and sound,  
His body not being blemished with one wound:  
But poor Sir Charles is to the prison led,  
To answer at th'assize for them that's dead.  Frank. 
I thank your pains sir; had the news been better,  
your will was to have brought it master Wendol,  
Sir Charles will find hard friends, his case is heinous,  
And will be most severely censured on;  
I am sorry for him. Sir a word with you,  
I know you sir to be a gentleman  
In all things, your possibilities but mean,  
Please you to use my table and my purse,  
They are yours?  Wend. 
O Lord sir, I shall never deserve it?  Frank. 
Oh sir, disparage not your worth too much,  
you are full of quality and fair desert,  
Choose of my men which shall attend on you,  
And he is yours, I will allow you sir,  
your man, your gelding, and your table,  
All at my own charge, be my companion.  Wen. 
M. Frankford, I have oft been bound to you  
By many favours, this exceeds them all  
That I shall never merit your least favour,  
But when your last remembrance I forget,  
Heaven at my soul exact that weighty debt.  Franck. 
There needs no protestation, for I know you.  
Virtuous, and therefore grateful: prithee Nan,  
use him with all thy lovingest courtesy.  Anne 
As far as modesty may well extend,  
It is my duty to receive your friend.  Frank. 
To dinner, come sir, from this present day,  
Welcome to me for ever: come away.  Nick. 
I do nor like this fellow by no means,  
I never see him but my heart still earns,  
Zounds I could fight with him, yet know not why,  
The Devil and he are alone in my eye.  Enter jenkin. Ienk. 
O Nick, what Gent. is that comes to lie at our house, my master allows him one to wait on him, and I believe it will fall to thy lot.  Nick. 
I love my Master, by these hilts I do,  
But rather than I'll ever come to serve him,  
I'll turn away my master.  Enter Sisly. Sisly. 
Nichlas, where are you Nicklas, you must come in Nicklas and help the young Gentleman off with his boots.  Nick. 
If I pluck off his boots, I'll eat the spurs,  
And they shall stick fast in my throat like burrs. Exit.  Sisly. 
Then Ienkin, come you?  Ienk. 
'tis no boot for me to deny it, my Maist. hath given me a coat here, but he takes pains himself to brush it once or twice a day with a holly-wand.  Sisly. 
Come, come, make haste, that you may wash your hands again, and help to serve in dinner.  Ienk. 
You may see my masters, though it be afternoon with you, 'tis but early days with us, for we have not dined yet: stay but a little, I'll but go in, and help to bear up the first course and come to you again presently. Exit.  Enter Malby, and Cranwell. Mal. 
This is the session's day, pray can you tell me  
How young Sir Charles hath sped: Is he acquit,  
Or must he try the Laws strict penalty?  Cran. 
he's cleared of all, spite of his enemies,  
Whose earnest labours was to take his life,  
But in this suit of pardon, he hath spent  
All the revenues that his father left him,  
And he is now turned a plain Countryman,  
Reformed in all things; see sir, here he comes.  Enter Sir Francis and his keeper. Keep. 
Discharge your fees and you are then at freedom?  Char, 
Here master keeper, take the poor remainder,  
Of all the wealth I have, my heavy foes  
Have made my purse light, but alas to me,  
'tis wealth enough that you have set me free.  Mal. 
God give you joy of your delivery,  
I am glad to see you abroad Sir Charles.  Char. 
The poorest knight in England M. Malby,  
My life hath cost me all the patrimony  
My father left his son; well, God forgive them  
That are the Authors of my penury.  Enter Shafton. Shaf, 
Sir Charles a hand, a hand, at liberty:  
Now by the faith I owe, I am glad to see it:  
What want you? wherein may I pleasure you?  Char. 
Oh me? oh most unhappy Gentleman?  
I am not worthy to have friends stirred up,  
Whose hands may help me in this plunge of want:  
I would I were in heaven to inherit there,  
th'immortal birthright which my saviour keeps,  
And by no unthrift can be bought and sold,  
For here on earth, what pleasures should we trust?  Shaf. 
To rid you from these contemplations,  
Three hundred pounds you shall receive of me,  
Nay five for fail, come sir, the sight of Gold  
Is the most sweet receipt for melancholy,  
And will revive your spirits, you shall hold law  
With your proud adversaries, Tush, let Frank Acton  
Wage with Knighthood like expense with me,  
And he will sink, he will: nay, good Sir Charles  
Applaud your Fortune, and your fair escape,  
From all these perils.  Charles. 
Oh Sir, they have undone me:  
Two thousand and five hundred pound a year  
My father at his death possessed me of,  
All which the envious Acton made me spend:  
And notwithstanding all this large expense,  
I had much ado to gain my liberty:  
And I have now only a house of pleasure  
With some five hundred pounds, reserved  
Both to maintain me and my loving sister.  Shaf. 
That must I have: it lies convenient for me,  
If I can fasten but one finger on him,  
With my full hand I'll gripe him to the heart.  
'tis not for love I proffered him this coin,  
But for my gain and pleasure: come Sir Charles,  
I know you have need of money, take my offer.  Char. 
Sir I accept it, and remain indebted  
Even to the best of my unable power:  
Come Gentlemen and see it tendered down. Exeunt.  Enter Wendol melancholy. Wend. 
I am a villain, if I apprehend  
But such a thought, than to attempt the deed:  
Slave, thou art damned without redemption;  
I'll drive away this passion with a song,  
A song, ha, ha, a song as if fond man  
Thy eyes could swim in laughter, when thy soul  
Lies drenched and drowned in red tears of blood.  
I'll pray, and see if God within my heart  
Plant better thoughts? why prayers are meditations,  
And when I meditate oh God forgive me  
It is on her divine perfections.  
I will forget her, I will arm myself  
Not to entertain a thought of love to her,  
And when I come by chance into her presence  
I'll have these balls until my eyestrings crack,  
From being pulled and drawn to look that way,  Enter over the stage, Franckeford, his wife and nick. 
O, God? O, God? with what a violence  
I am hurried to my own destruction,  
There goest thou the most perfectest man  
That ever England bred a Gentleman,  
And shall I wrong his bed, thou God of Thunder,  
Stay in thy thoughts of vengeance and of wrath,  
Thy great Almighty, and all judging hand,  
From speedy execution on a villain,  
A villain, and a Traitor to his friend.  Entor jenkin. Ienk. 
Did your worship call?  Wend. 
He doth maintain me, he allows me largely  
Money to spend?  Ien. 
By my faith so do not you me, I cannot get a cross of you  Wench 
My gelding and my man.  Ienk. 
That's Sorrel and I.  Wend. 
This kindness grows of no alliance twixt us.  Ienk. 
Nor is my service of any great acquaintance.  Wend. 
I never bond him to be by desert,  
Of a mere stranger, a poor Gentleman,  
A man by whom in no kind he could gain.  
He hath placed me in the height of all his thoughts,  
Made me companion with the best and chiefest  
In Yorkshire: he cannot eat without me,  
Nor laugh without me, I am to his body  
As necessary as his digestion,  
And equally do make him whole or sick,  
And shall I wrong this man? base man, ingrate,  
Hast thou the power strait with thy gory hands  
To rip thy Image from his bleeding heart?  
To scratch thy name from out the holy book  
Of his remembrance, and to wound his name,  
That holds thy name so dear, or rend his heart  
To whom thy heart was joined and knit together.  
And yet I must, than Wendol be content,  
Thus villains, when they would cannot repent.  Ienk. 
What a strange humour is my new master in, pray God he be not mad, if he should be so, I should never have any mind to serve him in Bedlam: It may be he is mad for missing of me.  Wend. 
What jenkin? where's your Mistress?  Ienk. 
Is your worship married?  Wend. 
Why dost thou ask?  Ionk 
Because you are my M. and if I have a mistress, I would be glad like a good servant to do my duty to her.  Wend. 
I mean where's Mistress Frankford.  Ienk. 
Marry sir her husband is riding out of Town, and she went very lovingly to bring him on his way to horse: do you see sir here she comes, and here I go.  Wen. 
Vanish.  Enter Mistress Frankeford. Anne 
You are well met sir, now in troth my husband  
Before he took horse had a great desire  
To speak with you: we sought about the house,  
Hallowed into the fields, sent every way  
But could not meet you, therefore he enjoined me  
To do unto you his most kinds commends:  
Nay more, he will you as you prize his love,  
Or hold in estimation his kind friendship,  
To make bold in his absence and command  
Even as himself were present in the house,  
For you must keep his table, use his Servants,  
And be a present Frankford in his absence.  Wend. 
I thank him for his love,  
Give me a name you, whose infectious tongues  
Are tipped with gall and poison, as you would  
Think on a man that had your father slain,  
Murdered thy children, made your wives base strumpets,  
So call me, call me so? print in my face,  
The most stigmatic title of a villain,  
For hatching treason to so true a friend.  Anne 
Sir you are much beholding to my husband,  
You are a man most dear in his regard.  Wend. 
I am bound unto your husband and you to,  
I will not speak to wrong a Gentleman  
Of that good estimation, my kind friend,  
I will not (Zounds I will not) I may choose,  
And I will chose? Shall I be so missed?  
Or shall I purchase to my father's crest  
The Motto of a villain. If I say  
I will not do it, what thing can enforce me?  
Who can compel me? What sad destiny  
Hath such command upon my yielding thoughts?  
I will not? Ha: some fury pricks me on,  
The swift fates drag me at their chariot wheel,  
And hurry me to mischief: speak I must:  
Injure myself, wrong her, deceive his trust.  Anne 
Are you not well sir, that you seem thus troubled?  
There is sedition in your countenance?  Wend. 
And in my heart fair Angel, chaste, and wise,  
I love you; start not, speak not, answer not,  
I love you: nay, let we speak the rest,  
Bid me to swear, and I will call to record  
the host of Heaven.  Anne. 
The host of heaven forbid,  
Wendol should hatch such a disloyal thought.  wend. 
Such is my fate, to this suit I was borne  
To wear rich pleasure's Crown, or fortune's scorn.  Anne. 
My husband loves you.  wend. 
I know it.  Anne. 
He esteems you  
Even as his brain, his eyeball, or his heart.  Wen. 
I have tried it.  Anne. 
His purse is you exchequer, and his table  
Doth freely serve you.  wen. 
So I have found it.  Anne. 
Oh with what face of brass, what brow of steel,  
Can you unblushing speak this to the face  
Of the espoused wife of so dear a friend:  
It is my husband that maintains your state,  
Will you dishonour him? I am his wife,  
That in your power hath left his whole affairs,  
It is to me you speak?  Wend. 
O speak no more  
For more than this I know and have recorded  
Within the red-leaved table of my heart;  
Fair, and of all beloved, I was not fearful  
Bluntly to give my life into your hand,  
And at one hazard all my earthly means.  
Go, tell your husband he will turn me off,  
And I am then undone, I care not I,  
'twas for your sake: perchance in rage heel kill me,  
I care not, 'twas for you: say I incur  
The general name of villain through the world,  
Of traitor to my friend, I care not I,  
Beggary, shame, death, scandal, and reproach,  
For you I'll hazard all, what care I:  
For you i'll live, and in your love I'll die.  Anne 
you move me sir to passion and to pity.  
The love I bear my husband is as precious  
As my soul's health.  Wend. 
I love your husband to,  
And for his love I will engage my life,  
Mistake me not, the augmentation  
Of my sincere affection borne to you,  
Doth no whit lessen my regard of him,  
I will be secret Lady, close as night,  
And not the light of one small glorious star  
Shall shine here in my forehead, to bewray  
That act of night.  Anne. 
What shall I say?  
My soul is wandering, and hath lost her way.  
Oh master Wendol: oh,  Wend. 
Sigh not sweet saint.  
For every sigh you breath, draws from my heart  
A drop of blood.  Anne. 
I near offended yet,  
My fault I fear, will in brow be writ;  
Women that fall not quite bereft of grace,  
Have their offences noted in their face.  
I blush and am ashamed, oh master Wendol  
Pray God I be not borne to curse your tongue,  
That hath enchanted me. This maze I am in,  
I fear will prove the labyrinth of sin.  Enter Nick. Wend. 
The path of pleasure, and the gate to bliss,  
Which on your lips I knock at with a kiss.  Nick. 
I'll kill the rogue.  Wend. 
your husband is from home, your beds no blab:  
Nay look not down and blush.  Nick. 
Zounds I'll stab:  
I Nick, was it thy chance to come  
Just in the nick, I love my master, and I hate that slave,  
I love my mistress, but these tricks I like not,  
My Master shall not pocket up this wrong;  
I'll eat my fingers first, what sayst thou mettle?  
does not the rascal Wendol go on legs  
That thou must cut off, hath he not Hamstrings  
That thou must hough? Nay metal thou shalt stand  
To all I say, I'll henceforth turn a spy,  
And watch them in their close conveyances,  
I never looked for better of that Rascal  
Since he came miching first into our house,  
It is that Sathan hath corrupted her,  
For she was fair and chaste, I'll have an eye  
In all their gestures, thus I think of them,  
If they proceed as they have done before,  
Wendol's a knave, my Mistress is a etc. Exit.  Enter Charles and Susan. Char. 
Sister, you see we are driven to hard shift  
To keep this poor house we have left unsold,  
I am now enforced to follow husbandry,  
And you to milk, and do we not live well?  
Well I thank God.  Susan. 
O brother here's a change,  
Since old Sir Charles died in our father's house  Char. 
All things on earth thus change, some up, some down,  
Contents a kingdom, and I wear that Crown,  Enter Shafton with a Sergeant. Shaf. 
God morrow, god morrow sir Charles what with your sister  
Plying your husbandry: Sergeant stand off,  
You have a pretty house here, and a garden,  
And goodly ground about it, since it lies  
So near a Lordship that I lately bought,  
I would fain buy it of you, I will give you.  Char. 
O pardon me, this house successively  
Hath longed to me and my progenitors  
Three hundred year, my great great Grandfather,  
He in whom first our gentle style began,  
Dwelled here, and in this ground increased this Molehill  
Unto that mountain which my father left me,  
Where he the first of all our house begun,  
I now the last will end and keep this house,  
This Virgin title never yet deflowered  
By any unthrift of the Mountfords' line;  
In brief I will not sell it for more gold  
Than you could hide or pave the ground withal.  Shaf. 
Ha, ha, a proud mind and a beggars purse.  
Where's my three hundred pounds beside the use,  
I have brought it to an execution  
By course of Law, what is my money ready?  Char. 
An execution sir, and never tell me,  
You put my bond in suit, you deal extremely  Shaf. 
Saddle me the land and I'll acquit you straight.  Char. 
Alas, alas, 'tis all trouble hath left me  
To cherish me and my poor sister's life,  
If this were sold our means should then be quite  
Razed from the Bed roll of gentility:  
You see what hard shift we have made to keep it  
Allied still to our own name, this palm you see  
Labour hath gloud within her silver brow,  
That never tasted a rough winter's blast  
Without a Mask or Fan, doth with a grace  
Defy cold winter and his storms outface.  Susan 
Sir, we feed sparing and we labour hard,  
We lie uneasy, to reserve to us.  
And our succession this small plot of ground.  Char. 
I have so bent my thoughts to husbandry,  
That I protest I scarcely can remember  
What a new fashion is, how silk or satin  
Feels in my hand: why pride is grown to us  
A mere mere stranger: I have quite forgot  
The names of all that ever waited on me,  
I cannot name ye any of my hounds,  
Once from whose echoing mouths I heard all the music  
That ere my heart desired: what should I say?  
To keep this place I have changed myself away.  Shaf. 
Arrest him at my suit, actions and actions,  
Shall keep thee in perpetual bondage fast,  
Nay more I'll sue thee by a late appeal,  
And call thy former life in question,  
The keeper is my friend, thou shalt have irons  
And usage such as I'll deny to dogs: Away with him.  Char. 
You are too timorous, but trouble is my master,  
And I will serve him truly my kind sister:  
Thy tears are of no force to mollify  
This flinty man, go to my father's Brother,  
My kinsmen and allies, entreat them from me  
To ransom me from this injurious man  
That seeks my ruin.  Shaf. 
Come Irons, Irons away,  
I'll see thee lodged far from the sight of day. Exeunt.  Enter Acton and Malby. Susan. 
My hearts so hardened with the frost of grief,  
Death cannot pierce it through, Tyrant too fell,  
So lead the Fiends condemned souls to hell.  Fran. 
Again to prison, Malby hast thou seen,  
A poor slave better tortured: shall we hear  
The music of his voice cry from the grate  
Meat for the lord's sake: no, no, yet I am not  
thoroughly revenged: they say he hath a pretty wench  
Unto his sister, shall I in mercy's sake  
To him and to his kindred bribe the fool,  
To shame herself by lewd dishonest lust,  
I'll proffer largely, but the deed being done  
I'll smile to see her base confusion.  Mal. 
Methinks Sir Francis you are full revenged,  
For greater wrongs than he can proffer you,  
See where the poor sad Gentlewoman stands.  Fran. 
Ha, ha, now I will flout her poverty,  
Deride her fortunes, scoff her base estate,  
My very soul the name of Mountford hates.  
But stay, my heart, or what a look did fly  
To strike my soul through with thy piercing eye,  
I am enchanted, all my spirits are fled,  
And with one glance my envious spleen stroke dead.  Susan. 
Acton that seeks our blood. Run away.  Fran. 
O chaste and fair.  Mal. 
Sir Francis, why Sir Francis, zounds in a trance,  
Sir Francis, what cheer man? Come, come, how be't?  Fran. 
Was she not fair, or else this judging eye  
Cannot distinguish beauty.  Mal. 
She was fair.  Fran. 
She was an Angel in a mortal's shape,  
And near descended from old Mountford's line.  
But soft, soft, let me call my wits together,  
A poor, poor wench, to my great adversary  
Sister, whose very souls denounce stern war  
One against other, how now Frank turned fool,  
Or madman, whether, but no master of  
My perfect senses and directest wits,  
Then why should I be in this violent humour  
Of passion, and of love, and with a person  
So different every way, and so opposed  
In all contractions and still warring actions:  
Fie, fie, how I dispute against my soul,  
Come, come, I'll gain her, or in her fair quest  
Purchase my soul free and immortal rest. Exeunt.  Enter 3. or 4. servingmen, one with a Voider and a Wooden knife, to take away all, another the salt and bread; another the Tablecloth and Napkins, another the carpet. jenkin with two lights after them. Ienk. 
So, march in order and retire in battle ray, my master and the guests have supped already, als taken away, here now spread for the servingmen in the hall, Butler it belongs to your office.  But. 
I know it jenkin: what do you call the Gentleman that supped there tonight?  Ienk. 
Who my master?  But. 
No, no, master Wendol, he is a daily guest, I mean the Gentleman that came but this afternoon.  Ienk. 
His name is M. Cranwell: God's light, hark within there, my M. calls to lay more billets on the fire: Come, come, Lord how we that are in office here in the house are troubled: one spread the Carpet in the parlour, & stand ready to snuff the lights, the rest be ready to prepare their stomachs. More lights in the hall there: come Nicklas.  Nick. 
I cannot eat, but had I Wendol's heart,  
I would eat that, the rogue grows impudent:  
Oh I have seen such vild notorious tricks  
Ready to make my eyes dart from my head,  
I'll tell my master, by this air I will,  
Fall what may fall, I'll tell him: Here he comes.  Enter Franckeford as it were brushing the crumbs from his clothes with a Napkin, and newly risen from supper. Frank. 
Nicklas what make you here? Why are not you  
At supper in the hall there with your fellows.  Nick. 
Master I stayed your rising from the board,  
To speak with you.  Frank. 
Be brief then gentle Nicklas,  
My wife and guests attend me in the parlour:  
Why dost thou pause? Now Nicklas you want money,  
And unthrift like would eat into your wages  
Ere you have earned it: here▪ sir half a crown,  
Play the good husband and away to supper.  Nick. 
By this hand an honourable Gentleman, I will not see him wronged: sir I have served you long, you entertained me seven years before your beard, you knew we sir, before you knew my mistress.  Frank. 
What of this good Nicklas.  Nick 
I never was a makebate or a knave  
I have no fault but one, I am given to quarrel,  
But not with women, I will tell you master  
That which will make your heart leap from your breast,  
Your hair to startle from your head, your ears to tingle.  Frank. 
What preparations this to dismal news?  Nck. 
'sblood sir I love you better than your wife,  
I'll make it good.  Frank. 
Thou art a knave, and I have much ado  
With wonted patience to contain my rage  
And not to break thy pate: thou art a knave,  
I'll turn you with your base comparisons  
Out of my doors.  Nick 
Do, do,  
There's not room for Wendoll and me to,  
Both in one house: oh master, master,  
That Wendol is a villain.  Frank. 
ay, saucy.  Nick. 
Strike, strike, do strike, yet hear me, I am no fool,  
I know a villain when I see him act  
Deeds of a villain, master, master, that base slave  
Enjoys my mistress, and dishonours you.  Frank. 
Thou hast killed me with a weapon whose sharpened point  
Hath pricked quite through and through my shivering heart,  
Drops of cold sweat fit dangling on my hairs,  
Like morning's dew upon the golden flowers,  
And I am plunged into a strange agony,  
What didst thou say? If any word that touched  
His Credit or her reputation,  
It is as hard to enter my belief,  
As dives into Heaven.  Nick. 
I can gain nothing, they are two  
That never wronged me, I knew before  
'twas but a thankless office, and perhaps  
As much as my service or my life is worth,  
All this I know, but this and more,  
More by a thousand dangers could not hire me  
To smother such a heinous wrong from you,  
I saw, and I have said.  Frank. 
'tis probable, though blunt, yet he is honest,  
Though I durst pawn my life, and on their faith  
Hazard the dear salvation of my soul,  
Yet in my trust I may be too secure:  
May this be true: Oh may it: can it be:  
Is it by any wonder possible,  
Man, woman, what thing mortal may we trust,  
When friends and bosom wives prove so unjust  
What instance hast thou of this strange report?  Nick. 
Eyes, eyes.  Frank. 
Thy eyes may be deceived I tell thee,  
For should an Angel from the heavens drop down  
And preach this to me that thyself hast told,  
He should have such ado to win belief  
In both their loves I am so confident.  Nick 
Shall I discourse the same by circumstance?  Frank. 
No more, to supper, and command your fellows  
To attend us and the strangers: not a word,  
I charge thee on thy life be secret then,  
For I know nothing.  Nick. 
I am dumb, and now that I have eased my stomach  
I will go fill my stomach Exit.  Frank. 
Away, be gone:  
She is well borne, descended Nobly,  
Virtuous her education, her repute  
Is in the general voice of all the country  
Honest and fair, her carriage, her demeanour  
In all her actions that concern the love  
To me her husband, modest, chaste, and godly.  
Is all this seeming gold plain Copper.  
But he; that judas that hath borne my purse,  
And sold me for a sin, oh God, oh God;  
Shall I put up these wrongs? no, shall I trust  
The bare report of this suspicious groom  
Before the double guilt, the well hatch over  
Of their two hearts? No, I will lose these thoughts,  
Distraction I will banish from my brow,  
And from my looks exile sad discontent,  
Their wonted favours in my tongue shall flow,  
Till I know all, I'll nothing seem to know?  
Lights and a Table there wife, Master Wendol and gentle  
Master Cranwell.  Enter Mistress Frankeford, master Wendoll, master Cranwell, Nick and jenkin, with Cards, Carpet, stools and other necessaries. Fran. 
O you are a stranger master Cranwell you,  
And often baulk my house: faith you are a Churl,  
Now we have supped, a table and to cards.  Ienk. 
A pair of Cards Nicklas, and a carpet to cover the table, where's Sisly with her Counters and her box, candles and candle sticks there, fie we have such a household of serving creatures, unless it be Nick and I, there's not one amongst them all can say, boe to a goose: well said Nick.  They spread a Carpet, set down lights and Cards. Anne. 
Come master Frankford, who shall take my part.  Frank. 
Marry that will I sweet wife.  Wend. 
No by my faith sir, when you are together I sit out, it must be Mistress Frankford and I, or else it is no match.  Frank. 
I do not like that match.  Nick. 
You have no reason marry knowing all.  Frank. 
'tis no great matter neither, come M. Cranwell shall you and I take them up?  Cran. 
At your pleasure sir.  Frank. 
I must look to you M. Wendol, for you will be playing false, nay so will my wife to.  Nick. 
ay, I will be sworn she will.  Anne. 
Let them that are taken playing false forfeit the set.  Franck. 
Content; It shall go hard but I'll take you.  Cran. 
Gentlemen what shall our game be?  wend. 
master Frankford you play best at Noddy,  Frank. 
you shall not find it so: Indeed you shall not?  Anne 
I can play at nothing so well as double ruff.  Frank. 
If master wendol and my wife be together, there's no playing against them at double hand.  Nick. 
I can tell you sir the game that master Wendol is best at?  Wend. 
What game is that Nick.  Nick. 
Marry sir, Knave out of doors.  Wend. 
She and I, will take you at Lodam.  Anne. 
Husband shall we play at Saint.  Franke. 
My Saints turned Devil: no, we'll none of Saint, your best at new Cut wife: you'll play at that.  Wend. 
If you play at new cut, I am soonest hitter of any here for a wager.  Franck. 
'tis me they play on: well you may draw out  
For all your cunning: 'twill be to your shame:  
I'll teach you at your new Cut, a new game,  
Come, come.  Cran. 
If you cannot agree upon the game to post and pair.  Wend. 
We shall be soonest pairs, and my good host,  
When he comes late home, he must kiss the post.  Frank. 
whoever wins, it shallbe to thy cost.  Cran. 
Faith let it be Vide-ruff, and let's make honours.  Frank. 
If you make honours, one thing let me crave,  
Honour the King, and Queen: except the knave.  Wend. 
Well as you please for that, lift who shall deal.  Anne 
The least in sight: what are you master Wendol,  Wend. 
I am a knave.  Nick. 
I'll swear it.  Anne. 
I a Queen?  Frank. 
A quean thou shouldst say? well the Cards are mine,  
They are the grossest pair that ere I felt.  Anne. 
Shuffle, I'll cut, would I had never dealt?  Frank. 
I have lost my dealing.  Wend. 
Sir the faults in me,  
This Queen I have more than my own you see,  
Give me the stock.  Frank. 
My minds not on my game,  
Many a deal I have lost, the more's your shame,  
you have served me a bad trick master Wendol?  Wend. 
Sir you must take your lot: to end this strife,  
I know I have dealt better with your wife.  Frank. 
Thou hast dealt falsely then.  Anne. 
What's Trumps.  Wend. 
Harts, partner I rub.  Frank. 
Thou robbest me of my soul, of her chaste love  
In thy false dealing, thou hast robbed my heart,  
Booty you play, I like a looser stand,  
Having no heart, or here, or in my hand:  
I will give over the set, I am not well,  
Come who will hold my Cards?  Anne. 
Not well sweet Master Frankford,  
Alas, what ail you: 'tis some sudden qualm.  Wend. 
How long have you been so master Frankford?  Frank. 
Sir I was lusty, and I had my health,  
But I grew ill when you began to deal.  
Take hence this table, gentle master Cranwell  
You are welcome, see your chamber at your pleasure,  
I am sorry that this Megrim takes me so  
I cannot sit and bear you company,  
jenkin some lights, and show him to his chamber.  Anne. 
A night gown for my husband quickly there,  
It is some rheum or cold?  Wend. 
Now in good faith this illness you have got  
By sitting late without your gown.  Frank. 
I know it master Wendol,  
Go, go, to bed, lest you complain like me,  
Wife, prithee wife into my bedchamber,  
The night is raw, and cold, and rheumatic,  
Leave me my gown and light, I'll walk away my fit.  Wend. 
Sweet sir good night.  Frank. 
myself good night.  Anne. 
Shall I attend you husband?  Frank. 
No, gentle wife thou'lt catch cold in thy head,  
Prithee begone sweet, I'll make haste to bed.  Anne. 
No sleep will fasten on mine eyes you know  
Until you come. Exit.  Frank 
Sweet Nan I prithee go,  
I have bethought me, get me by degrees  
The keys of all my doors which I will mould  
In wax, and take their fair impression,  
To have by them new keys: This being compassed,  
At a set hour a letter shallbe brought me,  
And when they think they may securely play,  
They are nearest to danger: Nick, I must rely  
Upon thy trust and faithful secrecy.  Nick. 
Build on my faith.  Frank. 
To bed then, not to rest,  
Care lodges in my brain, grief in my breast. Exeunt.  Enter Sir Charles, his sister, old Mountford, Sandy, Roder, and Tydy. Mount. 
You say my Nephew is in great distress,  
Who brought it to him but his own lewd life:  
I cannot spare a cross: I must confess  
He was me brother's son: why Niece, what then?  
This is no world in which to pity men.  Susan. 
I was not borne a beggar, though his extremes  
Enforce this language from me, I protest  
No fortune of mine could lead my tongue  
To this base key. I do beseech you uncle,  
For the name's sake, for Christianity,  
Nay for God's sake to pity his distress:  
He is denied the freedom of the prison,  
And in the hole is laid with men condemned,  
Plenty he hath of nothing but of irons,  
And it remains in you to free him thence.  Mount. 
Money I cannot spare: men should take heed,  
He lost my kindred when he fell to need. Exit.  Susan. 
Gold is but earth: thou earth enough shalt have  
When thou hast once took measure of thy grave:  
You know me master Sandy and my suit.  San. 
I knew you Lady when the old man lived,  
I knew you ere your brother sold his land,  
Than you were mistress Sue tricked up in jewels,  
Than you sung well, played sweetly on the flute,  
But now I neither know you nor your suit.  Su. 
You master Roder was my brother's tenant.  
Rent free he placed you in that wealthy farm  
Of which you are possessed.  Roder. 
True he did,  
And have I not there dwelled still for his sake:  
I have some business now, but without doubt  
They that have hurled him in will help him out. Exit.  Susan. 
Cold comfort still: what say you chosen Tydy?  Tydy. 
I say this comes of roisting, swaggering,  
Call me not cozen: each man for himself,  
Some men are borne to mirth and some to sorrow.  
I am no cozen unto them that borrow. Exit.  Susan. 
Oh charity why art thou fled to heaven,  
And left all things on this earth uneven,  
Their scoffing answers I will near return,  
But to myself his grief in silence mourn.  Enter Sir Francis and Malby. Fran. 
She is poor, I'll therefore tempt her with this gold.  
Go Malby in my name deliver it,  
And I will stay thy answer.  Mal. 
Fair mistress as I understand, your grief  
Doth grow from want, so I have here in store  
A means to furnish you, a bag of gold  
Which to your hands I freely tender you.  Susan 
I thank you Heavens, I thank you gentle sir?  
God make me able to requite this favour.  Mal. 
This Gold Sir Francis Acton sends by me,  
And prays you etc.  Susan. 
Acton: oh God that name I am borne to curse,  
Hence Bawd: hence Broker: see, I spurn his gold,  
My honour never shall for gain be sold.  Fran. 
Stay, Lady stay.  Susan 
From you I'll posting high,  
Even as the Doves from feathered Eagles fly.  Fran. 
She hates my name, my face, how should I woe?  
I am disgraced in every thing I do.  
The more she hates me, and disdains my love,  
The more I am wrapped in admiration  
Of her divine and chaste perfections.  
Woo her with gifts, I cannot: for all gifts,  
Sent in my name she spurns. With looks I cannot,  
For she abhors my sight. Nor yet with letters,  
For none she will receive. How then? how then?  
Well I will fasten such a kindness on her,  
As shall o'ercome her hate and conquer it.  
Sir Charles her Brother lies in execution  
For a great sum of money, and besides  
The appeal is sued still for my Huntsman's death.  
Which only I have power to reverse,  
In her I'll bury all my hate of him,  
Go seek the keeper Malby, bring me to him:  
To save his body I his debts will pay,  
To save his life, I his appeal will stay. Exeunt  Enter Sir Charles in prison with irons, his face bare, his garments all ragged and torn. Char. 
Of all on the earth's face most miserable,  
Breath in the hellish dungeon thy laments,  
Thus like a slave, raged like a felon given,  
That hurls thee headlong to this base estate.  
Oh unkind Uncle: oh my friends ingrate:  
Unthankful kinsmen, Mountford's all too base  
To let thy name lie fettered in disgrace.  
A thousand deaths here in this grave I die,  
Fear, hunger, sorrow, cold, all threat my death,  
And join together to deprive my breath,  
But that which most torments me, my dear sister  
Hath left to visit me, and from my friends  
Hath brought no hopeful answer, therefore I  
Divine they will not help my misery,  
If it be so, shame, scandal, and contempt,  
Attend their covetous thoughts, need make their graves,  
Usurers they live, and may they die like slaves.  Enter Keeper. Keep. 
Knight, be of comfort for I bring thee freedom  
From all thy troubles.  Char. 
Then I am doomed to die,  
Death is th'end of all calamity.  Keeper 
Live, your appeal is stayed, the execution  
Of all your debts discharged, your creditors  
Even to the utmost penny satisfied,  
In sign whereof, your shackles I knock off,  
you are not left so much indebted to us  
As for your fees, all is discharged, all paid,  
Go freely to your house, or where you please,  
After long miseries, embrace your ease.  Char. 
Thou grumblest out the sweetest music to me,  
That ever Organ played: is this a dream?  
Or do my waking senses apprehend  
The pleasing taste of these applausive news?  
Slave that I was, to wrong such honest friends,  
My loving kinsmen, and my near allies,  
Tongue I will bite thee for the scandal breath,  
Against such faithful kinsmen: they are all  
Composed of pity and compassion,  
Of melting charity, and of moving ruth,  
That which I spoke before was in my rage,  
They are my friends, the mirrors of this age:  
Bounteous and free, the Noble Mountford's race,  
near bred a covetous thought, or humour base.  Enter Susan. Susan 
I can no longer stay from visiting  
My woeful brother, while I could I kept  
My hapless tidings from his hopeful ear.  Char, 
Sister how much am I indebted to thee  
And to thy travel.  Susan 
What, at liberty?  Char. 
Thou seest I am thanks to thy industry:  
Oh unto which of all my courteous friends  
Am I thus bound, my uncle Mountford he,  
even of an infant loved me: was it he?  
So did my cousin Tydy: was it he?  
So master Roder, master Sandy to,  
Which of all these did this high kindness do.  Susan 
Charles, can you mock me in your poverty.  
Knowing your friends deride your misery,  
Now I protest I stand so much amazed  
To see your bonds free, and your irons knocked off,  
That I am wrapped into a maze of wonder,  
The rather for I know not by what means,  
This happiness hath chanced.  Char. 
Why by my uncle,  
My cousins, and my friends, who else I pray,  
Would take upon them all my debts to pay.  Susan. 
O brother they are men all of flint,  
Pictures of Marble, and as void of pity  
As chased Bears: I begged, I sued, I kneeled,  
Laid open all your griefs and miseries,  
Which they derided: more than that, denied us  
A part in their alliance, but in pride,  
Said that our kindred with our plenty died.  Char. 
Drudges too much: what did they; oh known evil  
Rich fly the poor, as good men shun the Devil:  
Whence should my freedom come, of whom alive,  
saving of those; have I deserved so well,  
Guess sister, call to mind, remember me,  
These I have raised, these follow the world's guise  
Whom rich in honour, they in woe despise.  Susan. 
My wits have lost themselves, let's ask the keeper.  Char. 
Jailor.  Keep. 
At hand sir.  Char. 
Of courtesy resolve me one demand?  
What was he took the burden of my debts  
From off my back, stayed my appeal to death,  
discharged my fees, and brought me liberty?  Keep. 
A courteous knight, one called sir Francis Acton.  Susan. 
Acton.  Char. 
Ha: Acton. Oh me, more distressed in this  
Then all my troubles: hail me back,  
Double my irons, and my sparing meals  
Put into halves, and lodge me in a dungeon  
More deep, more dark, more cold, more comfortless.  
By action freed, not all thy manacles  
Could fetter so my heels, as this one word  
Hath thralled my heart, and it must now lie bond  
In more strict prison than thy stony jail:  
I am not free, I go but under bail.  Keeper 
My charge is done sir, now I have my fees,  
As we get little, we will nothing lose. Exit.  Char. 
By Acton freed, my dangerous opposite,  
Why to what end? or what occasion? ha:  
Let me forget the name of enemy,  
And with indifference balance this hy favour; ha.  Susan 
His love to me, upon my soul 'tis so,  
That is the root from whence these strange things grow.  Char. 
Had this proceeded from my father he  
That by the law of nature is most bound  
In offices of love, it had deserved  
My best employment to requite that grace?  
Had it proceeded from my friends, or him,  
From them this action had deserved my life,  
And from a stranger more, because from such  
There is less execution of good deeds:  
But he, nor father, nor ally, nor friend,  
More than a stranger both remote in blood,  
And in his heart opposed my enemy,  
That this high bounty should proceed from him?  
Oh there I lose myself, what should I say?  
What think? what do? his bounty to repay.  Susan. 
you wonder I am sure whence this strange kindness  
proceeds in Acton, I will tell you Brother,  
He dotes on me, and oft hath sent me gifts,  
Letters and tokens, I refused them all.  Char. 
I have enough, though poor, my heart is set  
In one rich gift to pay back all my debt. Exeunt.  Enter Franckeford and Nickwith keys, and a letter in his hand. Frank. 
This is the night, and I must play the tuch,  
To try two seeming Angels, where's my keys?  Nick. 
They are made according to your mould in wax,  
I bade the Smith be secret, gave him money,  
And there they are.  Nick. 
The Letter sir.  Frank. 
True take it, there it is,  
And when thou seest me in my pleasantst vain  
Ready to sit to supper, bring it me.  Nick. 
I'll dov, make no more question but I'll do't. Exit.  Enter Mistress Frankeford Cranwell, Wendoll, and jenkin. Anne 
Sirrah, 'tis six o'clock already stroke,  
Go bid them spread the cloth and serve in supper.  Ienk. 
It shallbe done forsooth: mistress where is Spigot the butler, to give us out salt and trenchers.  Wend. 
We that have been a hunting all the day  
Come with prepared stomachs master Frankford,  
We wished you at our sport.  Franke. 
My heart was with you, and my mind was on you;  
Fie master Cranwell, you are still thus sad:  
A stool, a stool, where's jenkin, and where's Nick?  
'tis supper time at least an hour ago.  
What's the best news abroad?  Wend. 
I know none good.  Franck. 
But I know too much bad.  Enter Butler, and jenkin with a tablecloth, bread, trenchers, and salt. Cran. 
Methinks sir you might have that interest  
In your wives brother, to be more remiss  
In this hard dealing against poor Sir Charles,  
Who as I hear lies in York castle, needy,  
And in great want.  Frank. 
Did not more weighty business of my own  
Hold me away, I would have laboured peace  
Betwixt them, with all care, indeed I would sir.  Anne. 
I'll write unto my brother earnestly  
In that behalf.  Wend. 
A charitable deed,  
And will beget the good opinion  
Of all your friends that love you master Frankford.  Frank. 
That's you for one, I know you love Sir Charles  
And my wife too well.  Wend. 
He deserves the love  
Of all true Gentlemen, be yourselves judge.  Frank. 
But supper he: now as thou lovest me Wendol  
Which I am sure thou dost, be merry, pleasant,  
And frolic it tonight: sweet master Cranwell,  
Do you the like; wife, I protest my heart  
was near more bent on sweet alacrity:  
Where be those lazy knaves to serve in supper?  Enter Nick. Nick. 
Sir here's a letter.  Frank. 
Whence comes it? and who brought it?  Nick. 
A stripling that below attends your answer,  
And as he tells me it is sent from York.  Frank. 
Have him into the seller, let him taste a cup  
Of our March beer: go, make him drink.  Nick. 
I'll make him drunk, if he be a Trojan.  Frank 
My boots and spurs: where's jenkin? God forgive me  
How I neglect my business, wife look here,  
I have a matter to be tried tomorrow  
By eight o'clock, and my Attorney writes me  
I must be there betimes with evidence,  
Or it will go against me: where's my boots?  Enter jenkin with boots and spurs. Anxe. 
I hope your business craves no such dispatch,  
That you must ride tonight.  Wend. 
I hope it doth.  Frank 
God's me: no such dispatch?  
jenkin my boots, where's Nick, saddle my roan,  
And the grey dapple for himself: Content ye,  
It much concerns me gentle master Cranwell:  
And master Wendoll in my absence use  
The very ripest pleasure of my house.  Wend. 
Lord, master Frankford will you ride tonight?  
The ways are dangerous.  Frank. 
Therefore will I ride,  
Appointed well, and so shall Nick my man.  Anne. 
I'll call you up by five o'clock tomorrow.  Frank. 
No by my faith wife, I'll not trust to that,  
'tis not such easy rising in a morning  
From one I love so dearly: no by my faith,  
I shall not leave so sweet a bedfellow,  
But with much pain: you have made me a sluggard  
Since I first knew you.  Anne. 
Then if you needs will go  
This dangerous evening: master Wendoll  
Let me entreat you bear him company.  Wend. 
With all my heart, sweet mistress: my boots there?  Frank. 
Fie, fie, that for my private business  
I should disease my friend, and be a trouble  
To the whole house: Nick?  Nick. 
Anon sir.  Frank. 
Bring forth my gelding as you love me sir,  
Use no more words, a hand good master Cranwell.  Cran. 
Sir God be your good speed.  Frank. 
Goodnight sweet Nan: nay, nay, a kiss, and part,  
Dissembling lips, you suit not with my heart.  Wend. 
How business, time, and hours, all gracious proofs  
And are the furtherers to my new born love.  
I am husband now in master Frank fords place,  
And must command the house, my pleasure is  
We will not sup abroad so publicly  
But in your private Chamber mistress Frankford.  Anne. 
O sir, you are too public in your love,  
And master Frankford's wife.  Cran. 
Might I crave favour,  
I would entreat you I might see my Chamber,  
I am on the sudden grown exceeding ill,  
And would be spared from supper.  Wen. 
Light their hoe?  
See you want nothing sir, for if you do  
You injury that good man, and wrong me to.  Cran. 
I will make bold: goodnight.  Wend. 
How all conspire  
To make our bosom sweet and full entire,  
Come Nan, I prithee let us sup within.  Anne. 
O what a clog unto the soul is sin,  
We pale offenders, are still full of fear,  
Every suspicious eye brings danger near,  
When they whose clear heart from offence are free,  
Despise report, base scandals to outface,  
And stand at mere defiance with disgrace.  Wend. 
Fie, fie, you talk too like a Puritan.  Anne. 
you have tempted me to mischief master Wendel,  
I have done I know not what: well, you plead custom,  
That which for want of wit I granted erst,  
I now must yield through fear: Come, come, let's in  
Once over shoes, we are straight o'er head in sin.  Wend. 
My jocund soul is joyful above measure,  
I'll be profuse in Frankford's richest treasure. Exeunt.  Enter Sisly, jenkin, Butler, and other servingmen. Ienk. 
My mistress and M. Wendol my master, sup in her chamber tonight, Sisly you are preferred from being the cook to be chamber maid, of all the loves betwixt thee and me, tell me what thou thinkest of this.  Sisly 
Mum, there's an old proverb, when the Cats away, the mouse may play.  Ienk. 
Now you talk of a Cat Sisly, I smell a Rat.  Sis. 
Good words jenkin, lest you be called to answer them.  Ienk. 
Why God make my mistress an honest woman: are not these good words? pray God my new master play not the knave with my old master, is there any hurt in this? God send no villainy intended, and if they do sup together, pray God they do not lie together: god keep my mistress chaste, and make us all his servants, what harm is there in all this? Nay more, here is my hand, thou shalt never have my heart unless thou say, Amen.  Sis. 
Amen I pray God I say.  Enter servingmen. Ser. 
My mistress sends that you should make less noise, to lock up the doors, and see the household all got to bed: you jenkin for his night are made the Porter, to see the gates shut in.  Ienk. 
Thus by little and little I creep into office: Come to kennel my masters to kennel, 'tis eleven o'clock already.  Ser. 
When you have locked the gates in, you must send up the keys to my mistress.  Sis. 
Quickly for God's sake jenkin; for I must carry them: I am neither pillow nor bolster, but I know more than both.  Ienk. 
To bed good Spigot, to bed good honest serving creatures, and let us sleep as snug as pigs in peas-straw. Exeunt.  Enter Franckeford and Nick. Frank. 
Soft, soft, we have tied our geldings to a tree two flight shoot off, lest by their thundering hooves they blab our coming back, Hearst thou no noise?  Nick. 
Hear, I hear nothing but the Owl and you.  Frank. 
So: now my watch's hand points upon twelve,  
And it is dead midnight: where are my keys?  Nick. 
He ere sir.  Frank. 
This is the key that opes my outward gate,  
This is the Hall door, this my withdrawing chamber.  
But this, that door that's Bawd unto my shame:  
Fountain and spring of all my bleeding thoughts,  
Where the most hallowed order and true knot  
Of nuptial sanctity hath been profaned,  
It leads to my polluted bedchamber,  
Once my terrestrial heaven, now my earth's hell,  
The place where sins in all their ripeness dwell:  
But I forget myself, now to my gate.  Nick. 
It must ope with far less noise than Cripplegate, or your plots dashed.  Frank. 
So reach me my dark Lantern to the rest,  
Tread softly, softly.  Nick. 
I will walk on Eggs this pace.  Frank. 
A general silence hath surprised the house,  
And this is the last door, astonishment,  
Fear and amazement, play against my heart,  
Even as a madman beats upon a drum:  
O keep my eyes you heavens before I enter,  
From any sight that may transfix my too,  
Or if there be so black a spectacle,  
Oh strike mine eyes stark blind, or if not so,  
Lend me such patience to digest my grief,  
That I may keep this white and virgin hand  
From any violent outrage, or red murder,  
And with that prayer I enter.  Nick. 
Here's a circumstance,  
A man may be made Cuckold in the time  
That he's about it, and the case were mine  
As 'tis my masters, 'sblood that he makes me swear,  
I would have placed his action entered there,  
I would, I would.  Faank. 
Oh: oh.  Nick 
Master, 'sblood, master, master.  Frank. 
oh me unhappy, I have found them lying  
Close in each others arms, and fast asleep,  
But that I would not damn two precious souls  
Bought with my saviours blood, and send them laden  
With all their scarlet sins upon their backs  
Unto a fearful judgement, their two lives  
Had met upon my rapier.  Nick. 
'sblood master have you left them sleeping still? let me go wake them.  Frank. 
Stay, let me pause a while:  
Oh God, oh God, that it were possible  
To undo things done, to call back yesterday;  
That time could turn up his swift sandy glass,  
To untell the days, and to redeem these hours:  
Or that the sun  
Could rising from the West, draw his coach backward  
Take from the account of time so many minutes  
Till he had all these seasons called again,  
Those minutes and those actions done in them,  
Even from her first offence, that I might take her  
As spotless as an Angel in my arms,  
But oh: I talk of things impossible,  
And cast beyond the moon, God give me patience,  
For I will in to wake them. Exit.  Nick. 
Here's patience perforce,  
He needs must trot afoot that tires his horse.  Enter Wendol running over the stage in a nightgown, he after him with his sword drawn, the maid in her smock stays his hand, and clasps hold on him, he pauses a while. Frank. 
I thank thee maid, thou like the angel's hand  
Hast stayed me from a bloody sacrifice:  
Go villain, and my wrongs sit on thy soul  
As heavy as this grief doth upon mine:  
When thou record'st my many courtesies,  
And shalt compare them with thy treacherous heart,  
Lay them together, weigh them equally,  
twill be revenge enough, go, to thy friend  
A judas, pray, pray, lest I live to see  
Thee judas like, hanged on an Elder-tree.  Enter mistress Frankeford in her smock, nightgown, and nîght attire. Anne 
O by what word, what title, or what name  
Shall I entreat your pardon: pardon: oh,  
I am as far from hoping such sweet grace  
As Lucifer from heaven: to call you husband,  
Oh me most wretched; I have lost that name  
I am no more your wife.  Nick. 
'sblood sir she sounds.  Frank. 
Spare thou thy tears, for I will weep for thee;  
And keep thy countenance, for I'll blush for thee;  
Now I protest I think 'tis I am tainted,  
For I am most ashamed, and 'tis more hard  
For me to look upon thy guilty face,  
Then on the suns clear brow, what wouldst thou speak?  An. 
I would I had no tongue, no ears, no eyes,  
No apprehension, no capacity,  
When do you spurn me like a Dog? when tread me  
Under your feet? when drag me by the hair?  
Though I deserve a thousand thousand fold.  
More than you can inflict: yet once my husband,  
For womanhood to which I am ashamed,  
Though once an ornament, even for his sake  
That hath redeemed our souls, mark not my face  
Nor hack me with your sword, but let me go  
Perfect and undeformed to my tomb.  
I am not worthy that I should prevail  
In the least suit, no not to speak to you,  
Nor look on you, nor to be in your presence:  
Yet as an abject this one suit I crave,  
This granted I am ready for my grave.  Frank. 
My God with patience arm me: rise, nay rise,  
And I'll debate with thee: Was it for want  
Thou play'dst the strumpet? Wast thou not supplied  
With every pleasure, fashion, and new toy,  
Nay even beyond my calling.  Anne. 
I was.  Frank. 
Was it then disability in me,  
Or in thine eye seemed he a properer man?  Anne. 
Oh no.  Frank. 
Did I not lodge thee in thy bosom? wear thee  
Here in my heart.  Anne. 
You did.  Frank. 
I did indeed, witness my tears I did.  
Go bring my infants hither: oh Nan, oh Nan,  
If either fear of shame, regard of honour,  
The blemish of my house, not my dear love,  
could have withheld thee from so lewd a fact:  
Yet for these infants, these young harmless souls,  
On whose white brows thy shame is charactered,  
And grows in greatness as they wax in years,  
Look but on them, and melt away in tears.  
Away with them, lest as her spotted body  
Hath stained their names with stripe of bastardy,  
So her adulterous breath may blast their spirits,  
With her infectious thoughts: away with them?  An. 
In this one life I die ten thousand deaths.  Frank. 
Stand up, stand up, I will do nothing rashly,  
I will retire a while into my study,  
And thou shalt hear thy sentence presently. Exit.  Anne. 
'tis welcome be it death: oh me, base strumpet,  
That having such a husband, such sweet children;  
Must enjoy neither: oh to redeem my honour  
I would have this hand cut off, these my breasts seared,  
Be racked, strappadoed, put to any torment,  
Nay, to whip but this scandal out, I would hazard  
The rich and dear redemption of my soul.  
He cannot be so base, as to forgive me?  
Nor I so shameless, to accept his pardon:  
Oh women, women, you that have yet kept  
Your holy matrimonial vow unstained,  
Make me your instance, when you tread awry,  
Your sins like mine will on your conscience lie.  Enter Sissily, Spigot, all the servingmen, and jenkin as newly come out of bed. All. 
Oh mistress, mistress, what have you done mistress?  Nick. 
'sblood what a Caterwauling keep you here.  Ienkin. 
O Lord mistress, how comes this to pass, my master is run away in his shirt, and never so much as called me to bring his clothes after him.  Anne. 
See what guilt is, here stand I in this place,  
Ashamed to look my servants in the face.  Enter master Frankeford and Cranwell, whom seeing she falls on her knees. Franke. 
My words are registered in heaven already,  
With patience hear me: I'll not martyr thee,  
Nor mark thee for a strumpet, but with usage  
Of more humility torment thy soul,  
And kill thee, even with kindness.  Cran. 
Master Frankford.  Frank. 
Good master Cranwell: woman, hear thy judgement:  
Go make thee ready in thy best attire,  
Take with thee all thy gowns, all thy apparel,  
Leave nothing that did ever call thee mistress.  
Or by whose sight being left here in the house  
I may remember such a woman by,  
Choose thee a bed and hangings for a Chamber,  
Take with thee every thing that hath thy mark,  
And get thee to my Manor seven mile off,  
Where live, 'tis thine, I freely give it thee,  
My Tenants by shall furnish thee with wains  
To carry all thy fluff, within two hours,  
No longer will I limit thee my sight,  
Choose which of all my servants thou likest best,  
And they are thine to attend thee.  Anne. 
A mild sentence.  Frank. 
But as thou hopest for heaven, as thou believ'st  
thy names recorded in the book of life,  
I charged thee never after this sad day  
To see me, or to meet me, or to send  
By word, or writing, gift, or otherwise  
To move me, by thyself, or by thy friends,  
Nor challenge any part in my two children;  
So farewell Nan, for we will henceforth be  
As we had never seen, near more shall see.  Anne. 
How full my heart is in my eyes appears,  
What wants in words, I will supply in tears.  Frank. 
Come take your Coach, your stuff, all must along,  
Servants and all make ready, all be gone,  
It was thy hand cut two hearts out of one.  Enter Sir Charles gentlemanlike, and his Sister gentlewoman like. Susan. 
Brother, why have you tricked me like a bride?  
Bought me this gay attire, these ornaments?  
forget you our estate, our poverty?  Charles. 
Call me not brother, but imagine me  
Some barbarous Outlaw, or uncivil Kern,  
For if thou shutst thy eye, and only hearst  
The words that I shall utter, thou shalt judge me  
Some staring Ruffian, not thy brother Charles  
Oh Susan.  Susan. 
Oh brother, what doth this strange language mean?  Charles. 
Dost love me sister? Wouldst thou see me live  
A bankrupt beggar in the world's disgrace,  
And die indebted to my enemies?  
Wouldst thou behold me stand like a huge Beam  
In the worlds eye, a byword and a scorn?  
It lies in thee of these to acquit me free,  
And all my debt I may outstrip by thee.  Susan. 
By me: why? I have nothing, nothing, left,  
I owe even for the clothes upon my back,  
I am not worth, etc.  Charles 
Oh sister say not so,  
It lies in you my downcast state to raise,  
To make me stand on even points with the world:  
Come Sister, you are rich? Indeed you are:  
And in your power you have, without delay,  
Acton's five hundred pound back to repay.  Susan. 
Till now I had thought you loud me, by mine honour  
Which I had kept as spotless as the Moon,  
I near was mistress of that single doit,  
Which I reserved not to supply your wants:  
And do you think that I would hoard from you.  
Now by my hopes in heaven, knew I the means  
To buy you from the slavery of your debts,  
Especially from Acton whom I hate,  
I would redeem it with my life or blood.  Charles 
I challenge it, and kindred set apert  
Thus Russian like I lay siege to your heart:  
What do I owe to Acton?  Susan. 
Why some five hundred pounds, toward which I swear  
In all the world I have not one dinar.  Charles 
It will not prove so: sister, now resolve me,  
What do you think, and speak your conscience?  
Would Acton give might he enjoy your bed?  Susan. 
He would not shrink to spend a thousand pound,  
To give the Mountford's name so deep a wound  Charles 
A thousand pound, I but five hundred owe,  
Grant him your bed, he'll paid with interest so.  Susan. 
Oh brother:  Charles 
O sister only this one way,  
With that rich jewel you my debts may pay,  
In speaking this my cold heart shakes with shame,  
Nor do I woo you in a Brother's name,  
But in a stranger's: shall I die in debt  
To Acton my grand foe, and you still wear  
The precious jewel that he holds so dear?  Susan. 
My honour I esteem as dear and precious,  
As my redemption.  Charles. 
I esteem you sister.  
As dear, for so dear prizing it.  Susan. 
Will Charles  
Have me cut of my hands, and send them Acton:  
Rip up my breast, and with my bleeding heart,  
Present him as a token.  Charles. 
Neither jane:  
But hear me in my strange assertion,  
Thy honour and my soul are equal in my regard,  
Nor will thy Brother Charles survive thy shame,  
His kindness like a burden hath surcharged me,  
And under his good deeds I stooping go,  
Not with an upright soul: had I remained  
In prison still, there doubtless I had died:  
Then unto him that freed me from that prison,  
Still do I owe that life: what moved my foe  
To enfranchise me? 'twas sister for your love?  
With full five hundred pounds he bought your love,  
And shall he not enjoy it? Shall the weight  
Of all this heavy burden lean on me,  
And will not you bear part? you did partake  
The joy of my release, will you not stand  
In joint bond bound to satisfy the debt,  
Shall I be only charged?  Susan. 
But that I know  
These arguments come from an honoured mind,  
As in your most extremity of need,  
Scorning to stand in debt to one you hate,  
Nay rather would engage your unstained honour,  
Than to be held ingrate, I should condemn you,  
I see your resolution, and assent,  
So Charles will have me, and I am content.  Charles. 
For this I tricked you up.  Susan. 
But here's a knife,  
to save mine honour, shall slice out my life.  Charles. 
I know thou pleasest me a thousand times  
More in that resolution than thy grant:  
Observe her love to soothe them in my suit,  
Her honour she will hazard though not loose,  
To bring me out of debt, her rigorous hand  
Will pierce her heart: Oh wonder, that will choose  
Rather than stain her blood, her life to lose.  
Come, you sad sister to a woeful brother,  
This is the gate: I'll bear him such a present,  
Such an acquittance for the knight to seal  
As will amaze his senses, and surprise  
With admiration all his fantasies.  Enter Acton and Malbie. Susan. 
Before his unchaste thoughts shall seize on me,  
'tis here shall my imprisoned soul set free.  Acton. 
How: Mountford with his sister hand in hand,  
What Miracles afoot?  Malby. 
It is a sight  
Begets in me much admiration.  Charles. 
Stand not amazed to see me thus attended,  
Acton I owe thee money, and being unable  
To bring thee the full sum to ready coin,  
Lo for thy more assurance here's a pawn.  
My sister, my dear Sister, whose chaste honor  
I prize above a Million: here, nay take her,  
she's worth your money man, do not foretake her.  Francis. 
I would he were in earnest.  Susan. 
Impute it not to my immodesty,  
My Brother being rich in nothing else  
But in his interest that he hath in me,  
According to his poverty hath brought you  
Me, all her store, whom howsoe'er you prize  
As forfeit to your hand, he values 〈…〉,  
And would not sell, but to acquit your 〈◊〉  
For any Emperor's ransom.  Francis. 
Stern heart, relent  
Thy former cruelty, at length repent;  
Was ever known in any former age,  
Such honourable wrested courtesy,  
Lands, honours, lines, and all the world forgot  
Rather than stand engaged to such a foe.  Charles. 
Acton she is too poor to be thy Bride,  
And I too much opposed to be thy brother,  
There take her to thee, if thou hast the heart  
To seize her as a Rape or lustful prey,  
To blur our house that never yet was stained,  
To murder her that never meant thee harm,  
To kill me now whom once thou savedst from death,  
Do them at once on her, all these rely  
And perish with her spotted chastity.  Francis 
You overcome me in your love sir Charles,  
I cannot be so cruel to a Lady  
I love so dearly, since you have not spared  
To engage your reputation to the world,  
Your sister honour which you prize so dear,  
Nay, all the comforts which you hold on earth  
To grow out of my debt being your foe,  
Your honoured thoughts, do thus I recompense  
Your metamorphisd foe, receives your gift  
In satisfaction of all former wrongs.  
This jewel I will wear, here in my heart,  
And where before I thought her for her wants  
Too base to be my Bride, to end all strife,  
I seal you my dear brother, her my wife.  Susan. 
You still exceed us, I will yield to fate,  
And learn to love, where I till now did hate.  Charles 
With that enchantment you have charmed my soul,  
And made me rich even in those very words,  
I pay no debt but am indebted more  
Rich in your love I never can be poor  Francis. 
Alas mine is yours, we are alike in state,  
Let's knit in love what was proposed in hate;  
Come, for our Nuptials we will strait provide,  
Blessed only in our brother and fair bride. Exeunt.  Enter Cranwell, Frankeford, and Nick. Cran. 
Why do you search each room about your house.  
Now that you have dispatched your wife away?  Frank 
O sir to see that nothing may be left  
That ever was my wives, I loved her dearly,  
And when I do but think of her unkindness,  
My thoughts are all in Hell, to avoid which torment  
I would not have a Bodkin or a Cuff,  
A bracelet, necklace, or Rebato wire,  
Nor any thing that ever was hers,  
Left me, by which I might remember her,  
Seek round about?  Nick. 
'sblood master, here's her lute stung in a cornet,  Frank. 
Her Lute, oh God upon this instrument,  
Her fingers have run quick division,  
Sweeter than that which now divides our hearts.  
These frets have made me pleasant, that have now,  
Frets of my heartstrings made, oh master Cranwell,  
Oft hath she made this melancholy wood,  
Now mute and dumb for her disastrous chance,  
Speak sweedy many a note, sound many a strain,  
To her own ravishing voice which being well strung,  
What pleasant strange airs have they jointly sung.  
Post with it after her, now nothings left,  
Of her, and hers, I am at once bereft.  Nick. 
I'll ride and overtake her, do my message,  
And come back again.  Cran. 
Mean time sir, if you please,  
I'll to sir Francis Acton, and inform him  
Of what hath passed betwixt you and his sister.  Frank. 
Do as you please how ill am I bestead  
To be a widower ere my wife be dead.  Enter mistress Frankeford, with Jenkin, her maid Sislee, her Coachman, and three Carters. Anne. 
Bid my Coach stay, why should I ride in state?  
Being hurled so low down by the hand of fate.  
A seat like to my Fortunes let me have,  
Earth for my chair, and for my bed a grave.  Ienkin. 
Comfort good mistress, you have watered your Coach with tears already, you have but two mile now to go to your manor, a Man cannot say by my old Master Frankford as he may say by me, that he wants manners, for he hath three or four, of which this is one, that we are going to.  Sisly. 
Good mistress be of good cheer, sorrow you see hurts you, but helps you not, we all mourn to see you so sad.  Carter. 
Mistress I spy one of my Landlord's men  
Come riding post, 'tis like he brings some news.  Anne. 
Comes he from master Frankford, he is welcome,  
So are his news, because they come from him.  Enter Nick. Nick. 
There.  Anne. 
I know the Lute, oft have I sung to thee,  
We both are out of tune, both out of time.  Nick. 
Would that had been the worst instrument that ere you played on: my master commends him to ye, their's all he can find that was ever yours, he hath nothing left that ever you could claim to lay, but 〈◊〉 heart, & he could afford you that: All that I have to deliver you is this, he prays you to forget him, and so he bids your farewell.  Anne. 
I thank him, he is kind and ever was,  
All you that have true feeling of my grief,  
That know my loss, and have relenting hearts,  
Gird me about, and help me with your tears,  
To wash my spotted sins, my Lute shall grove  
It cannot weep, but shall lament my moan.  Enter Wendoll. Wendoll. 
Pursued with horror of a guilty soul,  
And with the sharp scourge of repentance lashed,  
I fly from my own shadow: oh my stars  
What have my parents in their lives deserved,  
That you should lay this penance on their son?  
When I but think of master Frankford's love,  
And lay it to my treason, or compare  
My murdering him for his relieving me,  
It strikes a terror like a lightning's flash,  
To search my blood up: thus I like the Owl  
Ashamed of day, live in these shadowy woods  
Afraid of every leaf or murmuring blast,  
Yet longing to receive some perfect knowledge  
How he hath dealt with her: Oh my sad fate,  
Here, and so far from home, and thus attended:  
Oh God, I have divorced the truest Turtles  
That ever lived together, and being divided  
In several places, make their several moan;  
She in the fields laments, and he at home.  
So Poets write that Orpheus made the trees,  
And stones to dance, to his melodious harp,  
meaning the rustic and the barbarous Hinds,  
That had no understanding part in them,  
So she from these rude Carters tears extracts,  
Making their flinty hearts with grief to rise,  
And draw Rivers from their rocky eyes.  Anne. 
If you return unto your master say:  
Though not from me, for I am all unworthy  
To blast his name with a strumpet's tongue,  
That you have seen me weep, wish myself dead:  
nay, you may say to, for my vow is past,  
Last night you saw me eat and drink my last.  
This to you master you may say and swear,  
For it is writ in heaven and decreed here.  Nick. 
I'll say you wept, I'll swear you made me sad,  
Why how now eyes; what now, what's here to do?  
I am gone, or I shall straight turn baby to.  Wen. 
I cannot weep, my heart is all on fire,  
Cursed be the fruits of my unchaste desire.  Anne 
Go break this lute my Coaches wheel,  
As the last music that I ere shall make,  
not as my husband's gift, but my farewell,  
To all earth's joy, and so your master tell.  Nick. 
If I can for crying.  Wen. 
Grief have done,  
Or like a Madman I shall frantic run.  Anne. 
You have beheld the woefullest wretch on earth,  
A woman made of tears, would you had words  
To express but what you see: my inward grief  
No tongue can utter, yet unto your power  
You may describe my sorrow, and disclose  
To thy sad master my abundant woes.  Nick. 
I'll do your commendations.  Anne. 
O no:  
I dare not so presume, nor to my children,  
I am disclaimed in both; alas I am,  
Oh never teach them when they come to speak,  
To name the name of Mother: chide their tongue  
If they by chance light on that hated word:  
Tell them 'tis nought: for when that word they name,  
Poor pretty souls they harp on their own shame.  Wen. 
To recompense her wrongs, what canst thou do?  
Thou hast made her husbandless, and childless to.  Anne. 
I have no more to say: speak not for me  
Yet you may tell your master what you see?  Nick. 
I'll do't. Exit  Wen. 
I'll speak to her, and comfort her in grief,  
Oh but her wound cannot be cured with words:  
No matter though, I'll do my best good will,  
To work a cure on her whom I did kill.  Anne. 
So, now unto my Coach, then to my home,  
So to my deathbed, for from this sad hour,  
I never will, nor eat, nor drink, nor taste  
Of any Cates that may preserve my life:  
I never will nor smile, nor sleep, nor rest,  
But when my tears have washed my black soul white,  
Sweet Saviour to thy hands I yield my sprite.  Wen. 
Oh mistress Frankford?  Anne. 
Oh for God's sake fly,  
The Devil doth come to tempt me ere I die:  
My Coach: this sin that with an angel's face,  
Courted mine honour till he sought my wrack,  
In my repentant eyes seems ugly black.  Exeunt all: the Carters whistling. Ienk. 
What my young master that fled in his shirt, how come you by your clothes again? you have made our house in a sweet pickle, have you not think you? What shall I serve you still, or cleave to the old house?  Wen. 
Hence slave, away with thy unseasoned mirth,  
Unless thou canst shed tears, and sigh, and howl,  
Curse thy sad fortunes, and exclaim on fate,  
Thou art not for my turn.  Ienk. 
Marry and you will not another will: farewell and be hanged, would you had never come to have kept this coil within our doors, we shall ha' you run away like a sprite again.  Wen. 
she's gone to death, I live to want and woe,  
Her life, her sins, and all upon my head,  
And I must now go wander like a Cain  
In foreign Countries, and remoted climes,  
Where the report of my ingratitude  
Cannot be heard, I'll over, first to France,  
And so to Germany, and Italy,  
Where when I have recovered, and by travel.  
Gotten those perfect tongues, and that these rumours  
May in their height abate, I will return,  
And I divine, however now dejected  
My worth and parts being by some great man praised,  
At my return I may in Court be raised. Exit.  Enter sir Francis, sir Charles, Cranwell, and Susan. Francis. 
Brother, and now my wife, I think these troubles  
Fall on my head, by justice of the heavens,  
For being so strict to you in your extremities,  
But we are now atoned, I would my sister  
Could with like happiness, o'ercome her griefs,  
As we Have ours.  Susan. 
You tell us master Cranwell wondrous things,  
Touching the patience of that gentleman,  
With what strange virtue he demeans his grief.  Cran. 
I told you what I was witness of,  
It was my fortune to lodge there that night.  Francis. 
O that same villain Wendoll, 'twas his tongue  
That did corrupt her, she was of herself.  
Chaste and devoted well. Is this the house?  Cran. 
Yes sir, I take it here your sister lies.  Francis. 
My brother Frankford showed too mild a spirit  
In the revenge of such a loathed crime;  
Less than he did, no man of spirit could do,  
I am so far from blaming his revenge  
That I commend it: had it been my case  
Their souls at once had from their breasts been freed,  
Death to such deeds of shame is the due meed.  Enter jenkin and Sislie. Ienk. 
O my mistress, my mistress, my poor mistress.  Sislie. 
Alas that ever I was born, what shall I do, for my poor mistress.  Charles, 
Why, what of her?  Ienk. 
O Lord sir, she no sooner heard that her brother  
And his friends were come to see how she did,  
But she for very shame of her guilty conscience, fell  
Into a swoon, and we had much ado to  
Get life into her.  Susan. 
Alas that she should bear so hard a fate,  
Pity it is, repentance comes too late.  Acton. 
Is she so weak in body?  Ienk. 
O sir I can assure you there's no help of life  
In her, for she will take no sustenance, she hath plainly  
Starved herself, that now she is as lean  
As a lath, she ever  
Looks for the good hour: many  
Gentlemen and gentlewomen of the country are come to,  
Comfort her.  Enters Mistress Frankeford in her bed. Malby. 
How fare you mistress Frankford?  Anne. 
Sick, sick, oh sick, give me some air I pray you.  
Tell me, oh tell me, where's master Frankford?  
Will not he deign to see me ere I die?  Malby. 
Yes mistress Frankford, divers gentlemen,  
Your loving neighbours with that just request,  
Have moved and told him of your weak estate,  
Who though with much ado to get belief.  
Examining of the general circumstance,  
Seeing your sorrow and your penitence  
And hearing there withal the great desire  
You have to see him ere you left the world,  
He gave to us his faith to follow us,  
And sure he will be here immediately.  Anne. 
You half revived me with those pleasing news,  
Raise me a little higher in my bed.  
Blush I not master Frankford? blush I not sir Charles?  
Can you not read my fault writ in my cheek?  
Is not my crime there? tell me gentlemen?  Charles. 
Alas good mistress, sickness hath not left you  
Blood in your face enough to make you blush:  
Then sickness like a friend my fault would hide,  Anne. 
Is my husband come? My soul but tarries  
His arrive and I am fit for heaven.  Charles. 
I came to chide you, but my words of hate,  
Are turned to pity and compassionate grief:  
I came to rate you, but my brawls you see,  
Melt into tears, and I must weep by thee.  Enter Frankeford. 
Here's master Frankford now.  Fran. 
Good morrow brother, good morrow gentlemen,  
God that hath laid this cross upon our heads,  
Might had he pleased have made our cause of meeting  
On a more fair and a more contented ground,  
But he that made us, made us to this woe.  Anne. 
And is he come, methinks that voice I know  Frank. 
How do you woman?  Anne. 
Well, master 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?  Frank. 
That hand once held my heart in faster bonds  
Than now 'tis gripped by me: God pardon them  
That made us first break hold.  Anne. 
Amen, amen,  
Out of my zeal to heaven whither I am 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, oh 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 usurped 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.  Frank. 
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 state, I'll wish to die with thee.  All. 
So do we all.  Nick. 
So will not I,  
I'll sigh and sob, but by my faith not die.  Acton 
Oh master Frankford all the near alliance,  
I lose by her, shall be supplied in thee,  
you are my brother by the nearest way,  
Her kindred hath fallen off, but yours doth stay.  Frank. 
even as I hope for pardon at that day,  
When the great judge of Heaven in Scarlet sits,  
So be thou pardoned, though thy rash offence,  
divorced our bodies, thy repentant tears  
Unite our souls.  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?  Acton. 
How do you feel yourself?  Anne. 
Not of this world.  Frank. 
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,  
Though thou art wounded in thy honoured name,  
And with that grief upon thy deathbed liest,  
Honest in heart, upon my soul thou diest.  Anne. 
Pardoned on earth, soul, thou in heaven art free,  
Once more thy wife, dies thus embracing thee.  Frank. 
New married, and new widowed, oh she's dead,  
And a cold grave must be our Nuptial bed.  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.  Cran. 
Do master Frankford, he that hath least part,  
Will find enough to drown one troubled heart.  Acton. 
Peace with thee Nan: Brothers and Gentlemen,  
All we that can plead interest in her grief  
Bestow upon her body funeral tears;  
Brother, had you with threats and usage bad,  
Punished her sin, the grief of her offence  
Had not with such true sorrow touched her heart.  Frank. 
I see it had not, therefore on her grave,  
I will bestow this funeral Epitaph,  
Which on her Marble Tomb shall be engraved,  
In Golden letters shall these words be filled,  
Here lies she, whom her husband's kindness killed.  
FINIS.