Epicoene; Or, The Silent Woman Part 14

MOR: It must be changed.

CUT [ASIDE TO PARSON.]: Cough again.

MOR: What says he?

CUT: He will cough out the rest, sir.

PAR: Uh, uh, uh!

MOR: Away, away with him! stop his mouth! away! I forgive it.--

[EXIT CUT. THRUSTING OUT THE PAR.]

EPI: Fie, master Morose, that you will use this violence to a man of the church.

MOR: How!

EPI: It does not become your gravity, or breeding, as you pretend, in court, to have offer'd this outrage on a waterman, or any more boisterous creature, much less on a man of his civil coat.

MOR: You can speak then!

EPI: Yes, sir.

MOR: Speak out, I mean.

EPI: Ay, sir. Why, did you think you had married a statue, or a motion, only? one of the French puppets, with the eyes turn'd with a wire? or some innocent out of the hospital, that would stand with her hands thus, and a plaise mouth, and look upon you?

MOR: O immodesty! a manifest woman! What, Cutbeard!

EPI: Nay, never quarrel with Cutbeard, sir; it is too late now. I confess it doth bate somewhat of the modesty I had, when I writ simply maid: but I hope, I shall make it a stock still competent to the estate and dignity of your wife.

MOR: She can talk!

EPI: Yes, indeed, sir.

[ENTER MUTE.]

MOR: What sirrah! None of my knaves there? where is this impostor, Cutbeard?

[MUTE MAKES SIGNS.]

EPI: Speak to him, fellow, speak to him! I'll have none of this coacted, unnatural dumbness in my house, in a family where I govern.

[EXIT MUTE.]

MOR: She is my regent already! I have married a Penthesilea, a Semiramis, sold my liberty to a distaff.

[ENTER TRUEWIT.]

TRUE: Where's master Morose?

MOR: Is he come again! Lord have mercy upon me!

TRUE: I wish you all joy, mistress Epicoene, with your grave and honourable match.

EPI: I return you the thanks, master Truewit, so friendly a wish deserves.

MOR: She has acquaintance, too!

TRUE: G.o.d save you, sir, and give you all contentment in your fair choice, here! Before, I was the bird of night to you, the owl; but now I am the messenger of peace, a dove, and bring you the glad wishes of many friends to the celebration of this good hour.

MOR: What hour, sir?

TRUE: Your marriage hour, sir. I commend your resolution, that, notwithstanding all the dangers I laid afore you, in the voice of a night-crow, would yet go on, and be yourself. It shews you are a man constant to your own ends, and upright to your purposes, that would not be put off with left-handed cries.

MOR: How should you arrive at the knowledge of so much!

TRUE: Why, did you ever hope, sir, committing the secrecy of it to a barber, that less then the whole town should know it? you might as well have told it the conduit, or the bake-house, or the infantry that follow the court, and with more security. Could your gravity forget so old and noted a remnant, as lippis et tonsoribus notum? Well, sir, forgive it yourself now, the fault, and be communicable with your friends. Here will be three or four fas.h.i.+onable ladies from the college to visit you presently, and their train of minions and followers.

MOR: Bar my doors! bar my doors! Where are all my eaters? my mouths now?-- [ENTER SERVANTS.]

Bar up my doors, you varlets!

EPI: He is a varlet that stirs to such an office. Let them stand open. I would see him that dares move his eyes toward it. Shall I have a barricado made against my friends, to be barr'd of any pleasure they can bring in to me with their honourable visitation?

[EXEUNT SER.]

MOR: O Amazonian impudence!

TRUE: Nay, faith, in this, sir, she speaks but reason: and, methinks, is more continent than you. Would you go to bed so presently, sir, afore noon? a man of your head and hair should owe more to that reverend ceremony, and not mount the marriage-bed like a town-bull, or a mountain-goat; but stay the due season; and ascend it then with religion and fear. Those delights are to be steeped in the humour and silence of the night; and give the day to other open pleasures, and jollities of feasting, of music, of revels, of discourse: we'll have all, sir, that may make your Hymen high and happy.

MOR: O, my torment, my torment!

TRUE: Nay, if you endure the first half hour, sir, so tediously, and with this irksomness; what comfort or hope can this fair gentlewoman make to herself hereafter, in the consideration of so many years as are to come--

MOR: Of my affliction. Good sir, depart, and let her do it alone.

TRUE: I have done, sir.

MOR: That cursed barber.

TRUE: Yes, faith, a cursed wretch indeed, sir.

MOR: I have married his cittern, that's common to all men. Some plague above the plague--

TRUE: All Egypt's ten plagues.

MOR: Revenge me on him!