A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Viii Part 92

[CLINTON _draweth his sword_.

MAR. Put up thy sword; be it thy morning's work: Farewell to-night; but fail me not to-morrow.

CLIN. Farewell, my love. No rest shall close these eyes, Until the morning peep; and then he dies.

[_Exit_ CLINTON.

CAS. [_Soliloq_.] Now I remember, I have quite outrun My time prefix'd to dwell upon the earth: Yet Akerc.o.c.k is absent: where is he?

O, I am glad I am so well near rid Of my earth's plague and my lascivious dame.

MAR. Hath he discover'd my intendment, That he presages his ensuing death?

I must break off these fearful meditations.

CAS. How shall I give my verdict up to Pluto Of all these accidents?

MAR. Why, how now, man?

CAS. What, my dear dame! my reconciled spouse!

Upon my soul, my love to thee is more Now at this present than 'twas e'er before.

MAR. He hath descried me sure, he sootheth me so! [_Aside_.]

CAS. I love thee now, because I now must leave thee.

This was the day of my nativity, And therefore, sweet wife, let us revel it.

MAR. Nay, I have little cause to joy at all.

CAS. Thou Grossest still my mirth with discontents!

If ever heretofore I have displeas'd thee, Sweet dame, I crave thy pardon now for all.

This is my birthday, girl, I must rejoice: Ask what thou wilt, and I will give it thee.

MAR. Should I but ask to lead a quiet life, You hardly would grant this unto your wife; Much less a thing that were of more import.

CAS. Ask anything, and try if I'll deny thee.

MAR. O my poor Musgrave, how hast thou been wrong'd, And my fair lady!

CAS. Use no preambles, But tell me plainly.

MAR. Nay, remember them, And join their slander to that love you owe me, And then old Lacy's jealousy.

CAS. What then?

MAR. Nay, now I see you will not understand me.

CAS. Thou art too dark; speak plainly, and 'tis done.

MAR. Then doom the earl, and bless poor Musgrave's eyes With Honorea's love; for this in thy hands lies.

CAS. How should I doom him?

MAR. How else, but to death?

CAS. As if his life or death lay in my hands?

MAR. He is thy patient, is he not?

CAS. He is.

MAR. Then in thy hands lie both his life and death.

Sweet love, let Marian beg it at thy hand: Why should the grey-beard live to cross us all?

Nay, now I see thee frown: thou wilt not do it.

CAS. Fie, fie, dame! you are too suspicious.

Here is my hand, that thou may'st know I love thee; I'll poison him this night before I sleep.

MAR. Thou dost but flatter me!

CAS. Tus.h.!.+ I have sworn it.

MAR. And wilt thou do it?

CAS. He is sure to die.

MAR. I'll kiss thy lips for speaking that kind word: But do it, and I'll hang about thy neck, And curl thy hair, and sleep betwixt thy arms, And teach thee pleasures which thou never knew'st.

CAS. Promise no more, and trouble me no more: The longer I stay here, he lives the longer.

I must go to him now, and now I'll do it.

Go home and hasten supper 'gainst I come: We will carouse to his departing soul.

MAR. I will, dear husband; but remember me: [_Aside_.] When thou hast poison'd him, I'll poison thee.

[_Exit_ MARIAN.

CAS. O wonderful, how women can dissemble!

Now she can kiss me, hang about my neck, And soothe me with smooth smiles and lewd entreaties.

Well, I have promis'd her to kill the earl; And yet, I hope ye will not think I'll do it.[474]

Yet I will sound the depth of their device, And see the issue of their b.l.o.o.d.y drift.

I'll give the earl, unknown to any man, A sleepy potion, which shall make him seem As if he were stark dead, for certain hours: But in my absence no man shall report That for my dame's sake I did any hurt.

[_Exit_.

ACT V., SCENE I.

_Enter_ GRIM, _with_ JOAN.

GRIM. Nay, but, Joan, have a care! bear a brain[475] for all at once.