138 WOMEN BEWARE WOMEN: A TRAGEDY. BY THOMAS MIDDLETON. LIVIA, the Duke's creature, cajoles a poor Widow with the appearance of Hospitality and neighbourly Attentions, that she may get her Daughter-in-Law (who is left in the Mother's care in the Son's absence) into her trains, to serve the Duke's pleasure. LIVIA. WIDOW. A Gentleman, LIVIA's Guest. Liv. Widow, come, come, I have a great quarrel to you, Faith I must chide you that you must be sent for ; Wid. My thanks must needs acknowledge so much, madam. Liv. How can you be so strange then? I sit here Sometimes whole days together without company, When business draws this gentleman from home, And should be happy in society Which I so well affect as that of yours. I know you 're alone too; why should not we Wid. Age, madam! you speak mirth: 'tis at my door, But a long journey from your Ladyship yet. Liv. My faith, I'm nine and thirty, every stroke, And 'tis a general observation [wench: 'Mongst knights; wives, or widows, we account our selves Then old, when young men's eyes leave looking at us. Come, now I have thy company, I'll not part with it Till after supper. Wid. Yes, I must crave pardon, madam. Liv. I swear you shall stay supper; we have no strangers, woman, None but my sojourners and I, this gentleman Do you think I'll be forsworn? Wid. 'Tis a great while Till supper time; I'll take my leave then now, madam, And come again in the evening, since your ladyship Will have it so. Liv. In the evening! by my troth, wench, I'll keep you while I have you; you've great business Who may live merrier, aye, or more at heart's ease? tricks To drive out time till supper, never fear 't, wench. [A Chess-board is set. Wid. I'll but make one step home, and return straight, madam. Liv. Come, I'll not trust you, you make more excuses To your kind friends than ever I knew any. What business can you have, if you be sure You've lock'd the doors? and, that being all you have, I know you're careful on 't: one afternoon So much to spend here! say I should entreat you now Or leave your own house for a month together; Speak truly and freely. Wid. I were then uncivil, madam. [nights Liv. Go to then, set your men: we'll have whole Of mirth together, ere we be much older, wench. Wid. As good now tell her then, for she will know it; I've always found her a most friendly lady. [Aside. Liv. Why, widow, where 's your mind? Wid. Troth, even at home, madam. Liv. Another excuse. Wid. No, as I hope for health, madam, that's a Please you to send and see. Liv. What gentlewoman? pish. Wid. Wife to my son indeed. Liv. Now I beshrew you. Could you be so unkind to her and me, [truth; To come and not bring her? faith, 'tis not friendly. Liv. Too bold! Oh what's become Of the true hearty love was wont to be 'Mongst neighbours in old time? Wid. And she 's a stranger, madam. Liv. The more should be her welcome: when is In better practice, than when 'tis employ'd [courtesy In entertaining strangers. I could chide ye in faith. Leave her behind, poor gentlewoman, alone too! Make some amends, and send for her betimes, go. Wid. Please you command one of your servants, Liv. Within there.[madam. Attend the gentlewoman. BRANCHA resists the DUKE's attempt. Bran. Oh treachery to honor! Duke. Prithee tremble not. I feel thy breast shake like a turtle panting Bran. Oh my extremity ! My Lord, what seek you? * This is one of those scenes which has the air of being an immediate transcript from life. Livia the "good neighbour" is as real a creature as one of Chaucer's characters. She is such another jolly Housewife as the Wife of Bath. Duke. Love. Bran. 'Tis gone already : I have a husband. Duke. That's a single comfort; Take a friend to him. Bran. That's a double mischief; Or else there's no religion. Duke. Do not tremble At fears of thy own making. Make me not bold with death and deeds of ruin, And were as good be still. I'm not like those And call for strength to virtue. Winding Sheet. to have a being, and to live 'mongst men, Is a fearful living and a poor one; let a man truly think on 't. To have the toil and griefs of fourscore years Put up in a white sheet, tied with two knots: Great Men's looks. Did not the duke look up? methought he saw us.- Is at his own intentions, and his object Only the public good. Weeping in Love. Why should those tears be fetch'd forth! cannot love Be even as well express'd in a good look, But it must see her face still in a fountain? I did but chide in jest: the best loves use it A kiss tastes wondrous well, and full o' the grape. Wedlock. O thou the ripe time of man's misery, wedlock; After 'tis knit to marriage; it begins, As soon as the sun shines upon the bride, Marrying the Adulteress, the Husband dead. |