1Enter the Lady Widdow-Plus, her two Daughters, Frank
¶_and Moll, her hu
sbands Brother an old Knight Sir
¶_Godfrey, with her Son and Heir Ma
ster Edmond, all
¶_in mourning apparell, Edmond in a Cypre
sse Hat.
5_The Widow wringing her hands, and bur
sting out into
¶_pa
ssion, as newly come from the Buriall of her hus-
.
¶0H, that ever I was born, that ever I was born!
10Sir Godfrey. Nay good
si
ster, dear
si
ster,
¶sweet
si
ster, be of good comfort,
shew your
¶self a woman, now or never.
¶Wid. Oh, I have lo
st the deare
st man, I have buried
¶the
sweete
st hu
sband that ever lay by woman.
15Sir God. Nay give him his due, he was indeed an ho-
¶ne
st, virtuous, di
screet wi
se man,---he was my Brother,
¶Wid. O, I
shall never forget him, never forget him,
¶he was a man
so well given to a woman---oh!
20Sir God. Nay, but kind
si
ster, I could weep as much
¶as any woman, but alass, our teares cannot call him again:
¶me thinks you are well read,
si
ster, and know that death
¶is as common as
Homo, a common name to all men;---a
¶man
shall be taken when he's making water,---nay,
25did not the learned Par
son Ma
ster
Pigman tell us e'ne
¶now, that all Fle
sh is frail, we are born to die, Man has
¶but a time: with
such like deep and profound per
swa
si-
¶ons, as he is a rare fellow you know, and an excellent
¶Reader: and for example, (as there are examples abun-
30dance) did not Sir
Humphrey Bubble die tother day,
¶there's a lu
sty Widow, why
she cri'd not above half an
¶hour---for
shame, for
shame: then followed him old Ma-
¶ster
Fulsome the U
surer, there's a wi
se Widow, why
she
¶cry'd ne're a whit at all.
35Wid. O ranck not me with tho
se wicked women, I
¶had a hu
sband out-
shin'd 'em all.
¶Sir God. I that he did, ifaith, he out-
shin'd 'em all.
¶Wid. Do
st thou
stand there and
see us all weep, and
¶not once
shed a tear for thy fathers death? oh thou un-
40gracious
son and heir thou?
¶Edm. Troth, Mother, I
should not weep I'me
sure;
¶I am pa
st a Child I hope, to make all my old School-fel-
¶lowes laugh at me; I
should be mockt,
so I
should; pray
¶let one of my
si
sters weep for me, I'le laugh as much for
¶Wid. O thou pa
st-Grace thou, out of my
sight, thou
¶gracele
sse Imp, thou grieve
st me more then the death of
¶thy Father: oh thou
stubborn onely Son: had
st thou
such
¶an hone
st man to thy Father---that would deceive all the
50world to get riches for thee, and can
st thou not afford a
¶little
salt water? he that
so wi
sely did quite overthrow
¶the right heir of tho
se Lands, which now you re
spect not:
¶up every morning betwixt four and five,
so duely at
West-
¶minster-
Hall every Tearm-time, with all his Cards and
55Writings, for thee, thou wicked
Absalon---oh dear hu
s-
¶Edm. Weep, quotha? I prote
st I am glad he's Chur-
¶ched? for now he's gone I
shall
spend in quiet.
¶Fran.Dear Mother, pray cea
se, half your teares
suffice,
60'Tis time for you to take truce with your eyes,
¶Wid. O
such a dear Knight,
such a
sweet Hu
sband have
¶I lo
st, have I lo
st?----if ble
ssed be the Coar
se the rain
¶rains upon, he had it, pouring down?
65Sir. God. Si
ster, be of good cheer, we are all mortall
¶our
selves, I come upon you fre
shly, I ne're
speak without
¶comfort, hear me what I
shall
say;---my brother has left
¶you wealthy, y'are rich.
70Sir God. I
say y'are rich: you are al
so fair.
¶Sir God. Go to, y'are fair, you cannot
smother it,
¶beauty will come to light; nor are your yeares
so far en-
¶ter'd with you, but that you will be
sought after, and
75may very well an
swer another hu
sband; the world is
¶full of fine Gallants, choyce enow,
si
ster,---for what
¶should we doe with all our Knights I pray? but to marry
¶rich Widowes, wealthy Citizens Widowes; lu
sty fair-
¶brow'd Ladies; go to, be of good comfort I
say, leave
80snobbing and weeping---yet my Brother was a kind-
¶hearted man---I would not have the Elf
see me now?
¶---come, pluck up a womans heart---here
stands your
¶Daughters, who be well e
stated, and at maturity will al
so
¶be enquir'd after with good hu
sbands,
so all the
se teares
85shall be
soon dried up, and a better world then ever
¶what, Woman? you mu
st not weep
still? he's dead, he's
¶buried---yet I cannot chu
se but weep for him.
¶Wid. Marry again! no, let me be buried quick then!
¶And that
same part of Quire whereon I tread
90To
such intent, O may it be my grave:
¶And that the Prie
st may turn his wedding prayers,