Enter Susan.
Maud. O Susan, she thou loved’st so dear is gone!
Susan. O sweet maid!
Touch. sen. This is she that help’d her still.—
I've a reward here for thee.
Yel. Take her in,
Remove her from our sight, our shame and sorrow.
Touch. sen. Stay, let me help thee, ’tis the last cold kindness
I can perform for my sweet brother’s sake.
[Exeunt Touchwood senior, Susan, and
Servants, carrying out Moll.
Yel. All the whole street will hate us, and the world
Point me out cruel: it’s our best course, wife,
After we’ve given order for the funeral,
T' absent ourselves till she be laid in ground.
Maud. Where shall we spend that time?
Yel. I'll tell thee where, wench:
Go to some private church, and marry Tim
To the rich Brecknock gentlewoman.
Maud. Mass, a match;
We’ll not lose all at once, somewhat we’ll catch.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

A room in Sir Oliver Kix’s house.
Enter Sir Oliver Kix and Servants.
Sir Ol. Ho, my wife’s quicken’d; I'm a man for ever!
I think I have bestirr’d my stumps, i’faith.
Run, get your fellows all together instantly,
Then to the parish church and ring the bells.
First Ser. It shall be done, sir. [Exit.
Sir Ol. Upon my love
I charge you, villain, that you make a bonfire
Before the door at night.
Sec. Ser. A bonfire, sir?
Sir Ol. A thwacking one, I charge you.
Sec. Ser. This is monstrous. [Aside, and exit.
Sir Ol. Run, tell a hundred pound out for the gentleman
That gave my wife the drink, the first thing you do.
Third Ser. A hundred pounds, sir?
Sir Ol. A bargain: as our joy[151] grows,
We must remember still from whence it flows,
Or else we prove ungrateful multipliers:
[Exit Third Servant.
The child is coming, and the land comes after;
The news of this will make a poor sir Walter:
I've strook it home, i’faith.
Fourth Ser. That you have, marry, sir;
But will not your worship go to the funeral
Of both these lovers?
Sir Ol. Both? go both together?
Fourth Ser. Ay, sir, the gentleman’s brother will have it so;
'Twill be the pitifull’st sight! there is such running,
Such rumours, and such throngs, a pair of lovers
Had never more spectators, more men’s pities,
Or women’s wet eyes.
Sir Ol. My wife helps the number then.
Fourth Ser. There is such drawing out of handkerchers;
And those that have no handkerchers lift up aprons.
Sir Ol. Her parents may have joyful hearts at this:
I would not have my cruelty so talk’d on
To any child of mine for a monopoly.
Fourth Ser. I believe you, sir.
’Tis cast[152] so, too, that both their coffins meet,
Which will be lamentable.
Sir Ol. Come, we’ll see’t. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Near a church.

Recorders[153] dolefully playing, enter at one door the coffin of Touchwood junior, solemnly decked, his sword upon it, attended by many gentlemen in black, among whom are Sir Oliver Kix, Allwit, and Parson, Touchwood senior being the chief mourner: at the other door the coffin of Moll, adorned with a garland of flowers, and epitaphs pinned on it,[154] attended by many matrons and maids, among whom are Lady Kix, Mistress Allwit, and Susan: the coffins are set down, one right over against the other; and while all the company seem to weep and mourn, there is a sad song in the music-room.[155]

Touch. sen. Never could death boast of a richer prize
From the first parent; let the world bring forth
A pair of truer hearts. To speak but truth
Of this departed gentleman, in a brother
Might, by hard censure, be call’d flattery,
Which makes me rather silent in his right
Than so to be deliver’d to the thoughts
Of any envious hearer, starv’d in virtue,
And therefore pining to hear others thrive;
But for this maid, whom envy cannot hurt
With all her poisons, having left to ages
The true, chaste monument of her living name,
Which no time can deface, I say of her
The full truth freely, without fear of censure:
What nature could there shine,[156] that might redeem
Perfection home to woman, but in her
Was fully glorious? beauty set in goodness
Speaks what she was; that jewel so infix’d,
There was no want of any thing of life
To make these virtuous precedents man and wife.
Allwit. Great pity of their deaths!
First Mour.[157] Never more pity!
Lady Kix. It makes a hundred weeping eyes, sweet gossip.
Touch. sen. I cannot think there’s any one amongst you
In this full fair assembly, maid, man, or wife,
Whose heart would not have sprung with joy and gladness
To have seen their marriage-day.
Sec. Mour. It would have made
A thousand joyful hearts.
Touch. sen. Up then apace,
And take your fortunes, make these joyful hearts;
Here’s none but friends.
[Moll and Touchwood junior rise out of their coffins.
Third Mour. Alive, sir?
Fourth Mour. O sweet, dear couple!
Touch. sen. Nay, do not hinder ’em now, stand from about ’em;
If she be caught again, and have this time,
I'll ne’er plot further for ’em, nor this honest chambermaid,
That help’d all at a push.
Touch. jun.[158] Good sir, apace.
Parson. Hands join now, but hearts for ever,
[Moll and Touchwood junior join hands.
Which no parent’s mood shall sever.
You shall forsake all widows, wives, and maids—
You lords, knights, gentlemen, and men of trades;—
And if in haste any article misses,
Go interline it with a brace of kisses.
Touch. sen. Here’s a thing troll’d nimbly.—Give you joy, brother;
Were’t not better thou shouldst have her than the maid should die?
Mis. All. To you, sweet mistress bride.
First Mour.[159] Joy, joy to you both.
Touch. sen. Here be your wedding-sheets you brought along with you;
You may both go to bed when you please too.
Touch. jun. My joy wants utterance.
Touch. sen. Utter all at night
Then, brother.
Moll. I am silent with delight.
Touch. sen. Sister, delight will silence any woman;
But you’ll find your tongue again ’mong maid servants,
Now you keep house, sister.
Sec. Mour. Never was hour so fill’d with joy and wonder.
Touch. sen. To tell you the full story of this chambermaid,
And of her kindness in this business to us,
'Twould ask an hour’s discourse; in brief, ’twas she
That wrought it to this purpose cunningly.
Third Mour. We shall all love her for’t.
Fourth Mour. See, who comes here now!
Enter Yellowhammer and Maudlin.
Touch. sen. A storm, a storm! but we are shelter’d for it.
Yel. I will prevent[160] you all, and mock you thus,
You and your expectations; I stand happy,
Both in your lives, and your hearts' combination.
Touch. sen. Here’s a strange day again!
Yel. The knight’s prov’d villain;
All’s come out now, his niece an arrant baggage;
My poor boy Tim is cast away this morning,
Even before breakfast, married a whore
Next to his heart.
Mourners. A whore!
Yel. His niece, forsooth.
Allwit. I think we rid our hands in good time of him.
Mis. All. I knew he was past the best when I gave him over.—
What is become of him, pray, sir?
Yel. Who, the knight?
He lies i' th' Knights' ward,[161]— now your belly, lady, [To Lady Kix.
Begins to blossom, there’s no peace for him,
His creditors are so greedy.
Sir Ol. Master Touchwood,
Hear’st thou this news? I'm so endear’d to thee
For my wife’s fruitfulness, that I charge you both,
Your wife and thee, to live no more asunder
For the world’s frowns; I've purse, and bed, and board for you:
Be not afraid to go to your business roundly;
Get children, and I'll keep them.
Touch. sen. Say you so, sir?
Sir Ol. Prove me with three at a birth, and[162] thou dar’st now.
Touch. sen. Take heed how you dare a man, while you live, sir,
That has good skill at his weapon.
Sir Ol. ’Foot, I dare you, sir!
Enter Tim, Welshwoman, and Tutor.
Yel. Look, gentlemen, if e’er you saw[163] the picture
Of the unfortunate marriage, yonder ’tis.
Welsh. Nay, good sweet Tim——
Tim. Come from the university
To marry a whore in London, with my tutor too!
O tempora! O mores!
Tutor. Prithee, Tim, be patient.
Tim. I bought a jade at Cambridge;
I'll let her out to execution, tutor,
For eighteenpence a-day, or Brainford[164] horse-races,
She’ll serve to carry seven miles out of town well.
Where be these mountains? I was promis’d mountains,
But there’s such a mist, I can see none of ’em.
What are become of those two thousand runts?[165]
Let’s have a bout with them in the meantime;
A vengeance runt thee!
Maud. Good sweet Tim, have patience.
Tim. Flectere[166] si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo, mother.
Maud. I think you have married her in logic, Tim.
You told me once by logic you would prove
A whore an honest woman; prove her so, Tim,
And take her for thy labour.
Tim. Troth, I thank you:
I grant you, I may prove another man’s wife so,
But not mine own.
Maud. There’s no remedy now, Tim;
You must prove her so as well as you may.
Tim. Why then
My tutor and I will about her as well as we can:
Uxor non est meretrix, ergo falleris.[167]
Welsh. Sir, if your logic cannot prove me honest,
There’s a thing call’d marriage, and that makes me honest.
Maud. O, there’s a trick beyond your logic, Tim!
Tim. I perceive then a woman may be honest
According to the English print, when she’s
A whore in the Latin; so much for marriage and logic:
I'll love her for her wit, I'll pick out my runts there;
And for my mountains, I'll mount upon ——[168]
Yel. So fortune seldom deals two marriages
With one hand, and both lucky; the best is,
One feast will serve them both: marry, for room,
I'll have the dinner kept in Goldsmiths' Hall,
To which, kind gallants, I invite you all.
[Exeunt omnes.