A Yorkshire Tragedy (Third Folio, 1664)
Not Peer Reviewed
76
A York-Shire Tragedy.
¶Dice and voluptuous meetings, midnight Revels,
¶The ancient honour of his House and Name:
95And this not all, but that which kills me most,
¶Not as a man repentant, but half mad,
¶His fortunes cannot answer his expence:
¶Forgetting heaven, looks downward, which makes
¶Him appear so dreadfull, that he frights my heart:
¶Walks heavily, as if his soule were earth;
105But vext, his money cannot make them last:
¶A fearfull melancholy, ungodly sorrow.
¶Oh yonder he comes, now in despight of ills
¶And do my best to drive it from his heart.
110
Enter Husband.
¶I'me damn'd, Ime damn'd, the Angels have forsook me;
¶Nay 'tis certainly true: for he that has no coyn,
115Is damn'd in this world; he's gone, he's gone.
¶Effect, quality, property, thou, thou, thou.
Exit.
¶Both beggery of the soule as of the body,
¶
Enter Husband again.
¶He comes again,
130 Hus. If marriage be honourable, then Cuckolds are
¶honourable, for they cannot be made without marriage.
¶Fool, what meant I to marry to get Beggars?
¶not live but upoth' fool, for he will have no Land to
¶inheritance, and makes me chaw upon Iron.
¶Thief, or an under-putter, a Slave Pander.
140I think the Devil scorns to be a Bawd:
¶He beares himself more proudly, has more care on his
¶credite.
¶Yet what is mine, either in Rings or Jewels,
150As you are a Gentleman by many bloods,
¶You have been Father to.
155begot in tricks.
¶Oh call to mind your Lands already morgag'd,
¶Your self wound into debts, your hopefull Brother
160At the University into bonds for you,
¶Like to be seiz'd upon. And-----
¶ Hus. Ha done, thou Harlot,
¶Whom though for fashion I married,
¶I never could abide. Think'st thou thy words
165Shall kill my pleasure? fall off to thy friends,
¶Thou and thy Bastards beg, I will not bate
¶A whit in humour: Midnight still I love you,
¶And revel in your company: curb'd in?
170That I broke custome? that I flagd in money?
¶No, those thy Jewels I will play as freely,
175
He spurns her.
¶I will for ever hold thee in contempt,
¶And never touch the Sheets that cover thee,
¶But be divorc't in bed, till thou consent,
¶ Wife. Sir, do but turn a gentle eye on me,
¶And what the law shall give me leave to do,
¶You shall command.
185And like a Slave wear nothing in my pockets,
¶
Holds his Hands in his Pockets.
¶But my hands to fill them up with nayles?
¶Oh much against my blood, let it be done,
¶I was never made to be a loker on:
¶And make them yield, I say look it be done.
¶a Wife, a trouble, trouble, three Children like three evils
¶pet and bastards.
¶
Enter three Gentlemen, hearing him.
¶Tongue?
¶Endangers others, but he's more then mad
¶Do proclaime it is not fit, I pray forsake it.
¶
Exeunt Gent.
210
Enter a Servant.
¶How now sirrha? what would you?
¶met by the way, by them who were sent for her up to
¶London by her honourable Unckle, your Worships late
215Guardian.
[E2v]
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