[Exit.]
HUSBAND Has the dog left me, then, After his tooth hath left me? oh, my heart Would fain leap after him. Revenge, I say, I'm mad to be reveng'd. My strumpet wife, It is thy quarrel that rips thus my flesh, And makes my breast spit blood, but thou shalt bleed. Vanquisht? got down? unable e'en to speak? Surely tis want of money makes men weak. Aye, twas that orethrew me; I'd nere been down else.
[Exit.]
SCENE III. The same.
[Enter wife in a riding suit with a servingman.]
SERVINGMAN. Faith, mistress, If it might not be presumption In me to tell you so, for his excuse You had small reason, knowing his abuse.
WIFE. I grant I had; but, alas, Why should our faults at home be spread abroad? Tis grief enough within doors. At first sight Mine Uncle could run o'er his prodigal life As perfectly, as if his serious eye Had numbered all his follies: Knew of his mortgaged lands, his friends in bonds, Himself withered with debts: And in that minute Had I added his usage and unkindness, Twould have confounded every thought of good: Where now, fathering his riots on his youth, Which time and tame experience will shake off, Guessing his kindness to me (as I smoothd him With all the skill I had) though his deserts Are in form uglier then an unshaped Bear, He's ready to prefer him to some office And place at Court, A good and sure relief To all his stooping fortunes: twill be a means, I hope To make new league between us, and redeem His vertues with his lands.
SERVINGMAN. I should think so, mistress. If he should not now be kind to you and love you, and cherish you up, I should think the devil himself kept open house in him.
WIFE. I doubt not but he will now: prethe, leave me; I think I hear him coming.
SERVINGMAN. I am gone.
[Exit.]
WIFE. By this good means I shall preserve my lands, And free my husband out of usurers hands: Now there is no need of sale, my Uncle's kind, I hope, if ought, this will content his mind.-- Here comes my husband.
[Enter Husband.]
HUSBAND. Now, are you come? where's the money? let's see the money. Is the rubbish sold, those wiseakers your lands? why, when? the money! where ist? powr't down, down with it, down with it: I say powr't oth ground! lets see't, lets see't.
WIFE. Good sir, keep but in patience and I hope My words shall like you well: I bring you better Comfort then the sale of my Dowrie.
HUSBAND. Ha, whats that?
WIFE. Pray, do not fright me, sir, but vouchsafe me hearing: my Uncle, glad of your kindness to me and mild usage--for so I made it to him--has in pity of your declining fortunes, provided a place for you at Court of worth and credit, which so much overjoyed me--
HUSBAND. Out on thee, filth! over and over-joyed, [spurns her] when I'm in torments? Thou pollitick whore, subtiller then nine Devils, was this thy journey to Nuncke, to set down the history of me, of my state and fortunes? Shall I that Dedicated my self to pleasure, be now confind in service to crouch and stand like an old man ith hams, my hat off? I that never could abide to uncover my head ith Church? base slut! this fruit bears thy complaints.
WIFE. Oh, heaven knows That my complaints were praises, and best words Of you and your estate: only my friends Knew of our mortgaged Lands, and were possest Of every accident before I came. If thou suspect it but a plot in me To keep my dowrie, or for mine own good Or my poor childrens: (though it suits a mother To show a natural care in their reliefs) Yet I'll forget my self to calm your blood: Consume it, as your pleasure counsels you, And all I wish e'en Clemency affords: Give me but comely looks and modest words.
HUSBAND. Money, hore, money, or I'll--
[Draws his dagger.]
[Enters a servant very hastily.]
What the devil? how now? thy hasty news?
[To his man.]
SERVINGMAN. May it please you, sir--
[Servant in a fear.]
HUSBAND. What? May I not look upon my dagger? Speak villain, or I will execute the point on thee: quick, short.