Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n
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A12130
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The constant maid A comedy. Written by Iames Shirley.
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Shirley, James, 1596-1666.
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1640
(1640)
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STC 22438; ESTC S117315
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34,769
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72
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Yes Bell. What should move 'em To leave my house so late and Mr. Hartwell Without his clothes Some knock there Beshrew me but I trembled Nur. 'T is a stranger And sayes he would speake with you Bell. At this late houre What accidents are these from whence Nur. I know not Bell. Has he no name what should this meane Nur. He sayes he is a Countrey-man of Mr. Startups Bell. Admit him he perhaps does bring some newes Enter Countrey-man Count By your leave Mistresse pardon my importunitie At so unfit an houre Bell. Y' are welcome sir Count I met with fortunate directions Though I came late I understand you have A guest one Startup of Northampton-shire That comes a wooing to your daughter Bell. Such an one there was that supt with us and went To bed but since as I have faith I know not Which way he has convey'd himselfe another Gentleman too is missing and his Rivall Count Pray do not mock me Lady I ha rid A great way and the businesse much concernes him Bell. You may beleeve me he is no such treasure I should conceale him Enter Frances Count Then I see you dally Know Mistresse you may slack your preparations Your daughter must look out another husband He is contracted Bell. How Count And something more Gotten with child one that without blushing I cannot call my daughter he shall make Her credit straight agen although my fortunes Have no equalitie with his I shall Find Law to force him Fran. You preferr'd this sutor This newes returnes my bloud Bell. Sir you shall find All truth I have deliver'd I am not sorrie To heare this newes this is no time to seek him Please you accept the lodging that was his My servant shall attend you in the morning To help your search Count You seeme a noble Gentlewoman I take your courtesie Bell. Nurse a light pray walk sir Fran. I was unkind to Hartwell he not wise But love still apprehends too much or nothing Exit Countrey-man Bell. Frances a word do not you know what is Become o' these Gentlemen Fran. Not I their absence Is strange to me Bell. Oh Franck I am undone Fran. Good Heaven forbid Bell. This Gentleman Mr. Hartwell Whom we shall never see agen I feare Fran. How mother are you acquainted With any cause to feare thus Bell. 'T is in vaine To tell thee how I loved him Fran. Blesse my senses you love him Bell. 'Bove all the world affectionately plac'd him Too neere my heart Fran. I heard you made pretence Of Love to trie him for my sake and pardon me If yet I dare not beleeve more Bell. Oh Franck Fran. My heart doth thrill I feele a coldnesse run Through all my veines already Bell. I had no other thought At first but wisely to distinguish whether His heart was fixt on thee or my estate With resolution if I found him more A Courtier of thy fortune than thy person To punish him with losse of both But Love Hath chang'd both scene and title in our Comedy And what I meant should shipwrack all his hopes Hath ruin'd us his modest and calme answer To accept my tender with such force and reason Directed to my fancie turn'd my purpose And made me his indeed his perfect Lover But now we ha' both lost him Fran. All the pietie That ever taught children to love their mother Will but suffice to keep my heart obedient Was ever Maid so miserable Was there No other in my fate to rivall me I live too long oh breake breake my poore heart For she that gave me life hath took it from me Bell. Why do you weep Fran. I do not weep or if I do I know not why Bell. Now I perceive Thy duty was but counterfeit you love him Upon my life you love him still Have my Commands no more respect My care and love So ill rewarded that my heart desiring One comfort in the world and shall my childe Rise up to take it from me Fran. Alas I knew not You loved him too indeed I had rather die Than you should call me rebell Bell. Now I see The cause of his departure in this fashion Pray heaven he have not made away himselfe Did ever childe deceive a mother so I have a sad presage you may to bed And rise without my blessing yet You may stay wherefore should I despaire Of his returne You say you could not tell That I affected him Fran. Indeed not I And do believe it now against my will But I am your daughter Bell. Shew it in confirming Your selfe to my desires and what is past I can forgive you if he come againe Will you be rul'd and shew no favour to him For 't is in you I see to make me happy I will not tye you to affect the other Choose any for your husband but this man My love and prayers shall go along with you Answer Fran. Indeed I dare not yet could I Put off the knowledge that you are a mother Bell. What then Fran. Though in imagination I allow you The greatest woman in the earth whose frowne Could kill and eyes at pleasure make alive Agen I could say Bell. Pray let 's heare Fran. I durst tell you In confidence of my cause that you betray Two innocents to sorrow and though heaven Looke on and seem to smile upon your cruelty Yet there is punishment for divorcing those Whose hearts that hath conjoyned I durst tell you Though all your terrours were prepared to punish My bold defence you were a tyrant Bell. How Fran. A most unjust a sacrilegious tyrant Bell. You would not be so violent Fran. That thus Not only ruine and deface the Altar But steal away the very Sacrifice And I durst adde and smile upon your anger Though as you frown'd death stood in every wrinckle My soul 's above your tyranny and would From torturing flame receive new fire of love And make your eye faint to behold the brightnesse Of my poore bodies Martyrdome and if ever Love shewed a miracle my heart should beare The Characters of him you have torne from it With beames about it like a Saint that suffer'd But as you are my mother thus I kneele And beg a pardon for my innocence If that offend you Live you happy still And be the Mistris of your vowes live to Enjoy whom you affect may every houre Returne new blessings on you both renew Your spring and let him thinke you young againe And let me beg but this for all my duty Against that day you marry him to provide My Coffin for I feare I shal not have Breath many minutes after to pray for you The herbs that shall adorne your Bridall chamber Will serve my Funerall and deck my Herse Beneath which you should say there lies your daughter That dies to shew obedience Bell. Why shouldst thou Continue thus to him Fran. I know he loves me yet hereafter your affections May not Bell. But never procure thee one sad
you appeare As leane as Lent I 've a great mind to dance About a May-pole shall we Horn. She is mad Neece This Doctor has for tick led me I cannot chuse but laugh ha ha Vnckle if you 'l procure a dispensation To marrie me your selfe deduct the charge Out of my portion I could love an old man Rarely An old man with a bed full of bones c. Sings Vnckle when did you put on a clean shirt D' yee heare I dreamt o' th' Devill last night They say 't is good luck doe you know him Vnckle Horn. I know the Devill Neece He 's a fine old Gentleman And something like you no such Bug-beare as The world imagines you an he 'll keep house Together one day but you 'll burne Sea cole To save charges and stink the poore soules so Vnckle you are not merrie I pray laugh A little imagine y 'had undone a widdow Or turn'd an Orphan begging ha ha c. Faith how many Churches doe you meane to build Before you dye six bels in everie steeple And let 'em all goe to the Citie tune Turne agen Whittington who they say Grew rich and let his land out for nine lives 'Cause all came in by a Cat but let me counsell you To dye at all adventures great men doe 't in policie Horn. Why does she talk of dying she 's stark mad Could you not put into the next receit Something to make her sleep well Opium In a good quantitie they say will do 't Doct. I 'll so proportion it she shall never wake I did it for a Merchants wife last weeke Which loved a Knight a great man not long since Was wearie of his Countesse and I cur'd him So artificially of his disease Horn. She heares Doct. But collects nothing all her senses are scatter'd Neece Stay you shall give towards the building of a Church Nothing see the money first laid out That 's given already it were sin and pitie To abuse the dead but 't is no matter Vnckle You 'll be as famous for pulling downe the parish The Church will fall of it selfe With ding dong bell Sings Why did they put the poore fellow in prison Horn. Whom what fellow Neece Why the Corne-cutter Poore Gentleman he meant no hurt to the Citie His feet were verie wearie and that made him In everie street cry out Ha yee any cornes In your head or toes that head spoyl'd all Enter Pursevant Purs. Which is Master Hornet Horn. Ha with me Purs. A word Sir Neece Prethee what 's he he comes to borrow money On his wives wedding-ring or his childs whistle You may see by his nose he has no laud he looks As a Hawke what do you dreame on What Ladies timpany is your next cure Or whose stale body must be rectified Next with a glister Purs. There is no disputing I must attend you Horn. I am sent for by a Pursevant to his Highnesse Alas I am undone I never saw him How should he know me a poore wretch Doct. Is 't not some complaint think you Horn. That 's my feare there be Too many knaves i' th' world and a man cannot Grow rich but one State-Surgeon or other Must practise on his purse before this Judge A veine is open'd in the other Court So many ounces he must bleed agen Let me see all the treason I committed Is that I shifted houses for I took Delight to couzen him of his subsidies I alwayes live obscurely to avoyd Taxations I never pay the Church Her superstitious tithes nor come to trouble Sermons for feare of homilies before That beg for burning Neece Why how now Vnckle is your Scrivener broke You talk such lamentation Horn. I am sent for the King Neece shall be made a beggar As I was borne I see my chattell ceas'd This chest is ransackt and that bag deflour'd My doore seal'd up and with this hungrie Messenger I am already marching to the Fleet Neece Nay and you be at that ward I must leave you Fare well pray do not lift my Uncle too hard And so I leave you both to the mercy of the Bear-garden Doct. Best make fast her Chamber Horn. I I cursed dog Doct. Wo' not some money quallifie your haste Purs. Deale in your owne affairs Will you go sit Horn. Go I must go Doct. I 'll take my leave Have comfort sir this cloud may soon blow over Exit Horn. Yes when I am blowne up I reade imprisonment in his very looks And all my gold confiscate Exeunt Enter Nurse and Startup Nurs. I heard her say she would walke up to her chamber The trick was but to teach him whither he Should follow who as nimbly apprehended To acquaint her with his new affections I do this for your good that Mistris Frances Whom I 'll send to you presently may be Convinced in Hartwell's falshood and transplant Her love on you Start This will be excellent So we shall strangle him in his owne nooze And he nere know who hurt him Nurs. I 'll loose no time you know my instructions Start I had almost forgot there is a cast of angels more Nurs. They are not cast away Star If thou dost fear they 'll drowne Nurse I can give thee Lighter I have some want weight Nurs. If you have an evill angel about you Your businesse will thrive better when 't is departed Star There Nurs. Now all the good ones wait upon your worship Exit Start These things that go to and agen must have Their fees they 'll never speak in cause else Save you sweet Lady Enter Frances Fran. Kinde Mr. Startup Start Yes I am kinde if you knew all but you are Deceiv'd in some body love and love your heart out The party does not care a button for you Fran. What party Start No I am a foole a countrey clod sweet Lady Not worth one of your Shooe-tyes no not I I do not know who makes an asse of you Fran. How sir Start A gull a coxcomb I am asham'd you have So little wit Tell me and tell me truly Who loves this face of yours besides my selfe Fran. Although it were immodest to commend it I must thus far in gratitude to nature Acknowledge it no monster I have seen One more deform'd Start Sweet Lady I know that A worse face would become the Countrey nay There are but fifteen women in the parish I live in of which twelve are counted witches And wear beards But it troubles me sweet Lady You should be such an owle Fran. This is course language Start Not to see who abuses you Oh I could Now finde in my heart to baste you baste you soundly You think Mr. Hartwell loves you Fran. I Believe he hates me not Start You lye Fran. Good words Start You lye most basely he affects your mother Fran. My mother this fool 's mad Ztart. I would it were The fashion for women to weare swords Fran. What then Start I 'de breath you into a little