A Yorkshire Tragedy (Third Folio, 1664)
Not Peer Reviewed
1
A YORK-SHIRE Tragedy,
¶
Not so New, as Lamentable and True.
¶
Enter Oliver and Raphe, two Serving-men.
¶of her Love.
¶ples hanging longer on the tree then when they are ripe,
10not gathered in time, are fain to drop of themselves, and
¶then 'tis common you know for every man to take them
¶up.
15low Sam come from London?
¶'Slid I hear Sam, Sam's come, here tarry, come ifaith,
¶now my nose itches for news.
20
Sam calls within. Where are you there?
¶back with very heat, if he should catch cold and get the
¶cough of the lungs, I were well served, were I not? What
25Raph and Oliver.
¶hast thou brought from London?
¶
Furnisht with things from London.
¶at my back, an Almanack in my pocket, and three Bal-
¶lats in my codpiece, nay I am the true picture of a com-
¶mon servingman.
¶that proves a rich man ere he dies, but what's the news
¶from London, Sam?
¶Love.
¶mer she.
¶ Oliv. Why Sam, why?
45 Sam. Why, he is married to another, long ago.
¶ Sam. Why, did you not know that till now? Why
¶he's married, beats his wife, and has two or three chil-
¶dren by her: for you must note, that any woman bears
50the more when she is beaten.
¶ Oliv. Sirrah Sam, I would not for two years wages
¶hand of her wit, and nere be her own woman again.
¶he never came in her bed, why he has consumed all,
¶pawn'd his Lands, and made his University Brother
¶ner, puh, he ows more then his skin is worth.
¶ Sam. Nay, I'le tell you moreover, he calls his Wife
¶whore, as familiarly as one would call Moll and Doll, and
¶children bastards, as naturally as can be, but what have
¶we here? I thought 'twas something pull'd down my
¶from London, now any thing is good here that comes from
¶London.
¶ Oliver.I, far fetcht you know.
70as good poting sticks i'th' Country as need to be put i'th
¶now, far fetcht are the best things far Ladies.
¶ Oliv. I, and for waiting gentlewomen too.
75 Raph. No, no, it holds countenance yet.
¶humour to be drunk in, I learn'd it at London last week.
¶ Amb. Faith let's hear it, let's hear it.
80be drunk in it, they call it knighting in London, when
¶they drink upon their knees.
¶ Amb. Faith that's excellent.
¶Come follow me, I'le give you all the degrees of it in or-
¶der.
Exeunt.
85
Enter Wife.
¶ Wife. What will become of us? all will away,
90That Riots child must needs be beggery.
¶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.
¶But let her look that the thing be done she wots of,
¶
Exit Servant.
220
Enter a Gentleman.
¶ Gent. Well or ill met, I care not.
¶ Hus. No nor I.
¶ Gent. I am come with confidence to chide you.
¶ Hus. Who me? chide me? do't finely then, let it not
¶ Gent. Strike thine own follies, for it is they
¶Deserve to be well beaten; we are now in private,
¶There's none but thou and I, thou art fond and peevish,
¶An unclean Rioter, thy lands and credit
¶That with his riches doth consume his name,
¶And such art thou.
¶ Hus. Peace.
¶Thy fathers and fore-fathers worthy honours,
¶Which were our Countrey monuments, our grace,
¶Follies in thee begin now to deface.
¶It scarce can enter into mens beliefs,
¶Are sorry to believe it: in thy change,
¶This voice into all places will be hurld:
245Thou and the Devil has deceiv'd the world.
¶ Hus. I'le not endure thee.
¶Thy virtuous wife, right honourably allied,
250 Hus. Nay then I know thee,
¶Thou art lier Champion thou, her private friend,
¶The party you wot on.
¶ Gent. Oh ignoble thought,
255And see my reputation toucht to death?
¶ Hus. This has gal'd you, has it?
¶My thoughts did onely tend to virtuous love.
¶ Hus. Love of her virtues? there it goes.
¶The fruitfull honour of thine own bed.
¶
They fight, and the Husband is hurt.
¶ Hus. Oh.
¶ Gent. Wilt thou yield it yet?
¶I hope, nor ne're shall do.
Fight agen.
¶ Hus. Have you got tricks? are you in cunning with me?
¶ Gent. No, plain and right.
¶He needs no cunning that for truth doth fight.
270
Husband falls down.
¶ Hus. Hard fortune, am I level'd with the ground?
¶'Tis not your honour, 'tis your folly bleeds:
¶Much good has been expected in your life,
280Cancel not all mens hopes, you have a Wife,
¶Kind and obedient: heap not wrongfull shame
¶And by this fall, rise never to fall more.
¶And so I leave you.
Exit.
285 Hus. Has the dog left me then,
¶After his tooth hath left me? Oh, my heart
¶Would fain leap after him, revenge I say,
¶I'me mad to be reveng'd, my strumpet Wife,
¶It is thy quarrel that rips thus my flesh,
¶Surely 'tis want of money makes men weak,
¶I, 'twas that ore-threw me, I'de nere been down else.
Exit.
¶
Enter Wife in a riding-sute, with a Serving-man.
¶ Wife. I grant I had, but alas,
¶Mine Uncle could run o're his prodigal life
¶As perfectly, as if his serious eye
¶Had numbred all his follies:
¶Knew of his morgag'd lands, his friends in bonds,
305Himself withered with debt; and in that minute
¶Had I added his usage and unkindness,
¶'Twould have confounded every thought of good:
¶Where now, fathering his riots on his youth,
¶Which time and tame experience will shake off,
¶Are in form uglier then an unshapt Bear.
¶He's ready to prefer him to some Office
¶And place at Court: a good and sure releif
315To all his stooping fortunes, 'twill be a means, I hope,
¶To make new league between us, and redeem
¶His virtues with his lands.
¶ Wife. I doubt not but he will now, prythee leave me,
¶I think I hear him coming.
¶Now there is no need of sale, my Uncle's kind,
¶I hope, if ought, this will content his mind.
¶Here comes my husband.
Enter Husband.
¶ Hus. Now, are you come? where's the money? let's
¶Lands, why then, the money, where is it? poure it
¶down, down with it, down with it; I say pour't on the
335My words shall like you well, I bring you better
¶Comfort then the sale of my Dowry.
¶ Hus. Ha, what's that?
¶ning fortunes, provided a place for you at Court, of worth
¶and credit; which so much overjoyed me----
¶ Hus. Out on thee, filth, over and over-joyed,
¶When I'me in torment.
spurns her.
345Thou politick whore, subtiller then nine Devils, was
¶me, my state and fortunes:
350hams, my Hat off? I that could never abide to uncover
¶plaints.
¶ Wife. Oh, heaven knowes,
355Of you, and your estate; onely my friends
¶Of every accident before I came.
¶To keep my dowry, or for mine own good,
360Or my poor Childrens (though it suits a mother
¶To shew a naturall care in their reliefs)
¶Yet I'le forget my self to calme your blood,
¶And all I wish, e'ne Clemency affords,
¶
Enter a Servant hastily.
¶What the Devil? how now thy hasty newes?
370 Hus.What, may I not look upon my Dagger?
¶Speak, Villain, or I will execute the point on thee:
¶quick, short.
¶below to speak with you.
¶That long word runs through me.
Exit.
¶Had not this newes stept in between, the point
¶Had offered violence unto my breast.
¶Among my miseries: I may compare
¶For wretched fortunes, with all Wives that are,
¶Nothing will please him, untill all be nothing.
385He calls it slavery to be preferr'd,
¶What shall become of me, and my poor Children?
¶Two here, and one at Nurse, my pretty beggars,
¶The heavy weight of sorrow drawes my lids
¶
Enter the Husband with the Master of the Colledge.
¶come.
¶come.
¶cumstance, but to be plain and effectuall; therefore to
¶the purpose.
¶ble; that hopefull young Gentleman your Brother, whose
405virtues we all love dearly, through your default and unna-
¶turall negligence, lies in bond executed for your debt, a
410 Hus. Hum, hum, hum.
¶mends, expect ponderous and sudden judgements to fall
¶grievously upon you; your Brother, a man who profited
415in his divine employments, and might have made ten
¶ Hus. Oh God, oh.
¶condemns you: and take this from the virtuous affection
¶I bear your Brother, never look for prosperous hour,
¶good thought, quiet sleeps, contented walks, nor any
425thing that makes man perfect, till you redeem him: what
¶swer.
¶ Hus. Sir, you have much wrought with me, I feel you
¶both for your words and pains I thank you: I cannot
¶but acknowledge grievous wrongs done to my Brother,
¶mighty, mighty, mighty, mighty wrongs.
435Within there.
¶
Enter a Servingman.
¶ Hus. Fill me a Bowle of Wine. Alass poor Brother,
440Till the Grave cure them.
Enter with Wine.
¶ Hus. Sir, I begin to you, y'ave chid your welcome.
¶walking about my grounds below, my man shall here
¶attend you: I doubt not but by that time to be furnisht
¶tisfied.
¶forth then upon a lucky day.
Exit.
¶done thee, thy damnation has begger'd thee, that heaven
¶should then have proved all virtuous, for 'tis our blood
460to love what we are forbidden, what man would have
¶been forbidden, what man would have been fool to a
¶what is there in three Dice, to make a man draw thrice
¶out his posterity, thieves, or beggars; 'tis done, I have
¶don't ifaith: terrible, horrible misery,----------how well
¶was I left, very well, very well.
¶ My Lands shewed like a Full-Moon about me, but
470now the Moon's in the last quarter, waining, waining,
¶and I am mad to think that Moon was mine:
¶mine and my fathers, and my fore-fathers generations,
¶generations, down goes the house of us, down, down it
¶sinks: Now is the name a beggar, begs in me that name
475which hundreds of years has made this Shire famous; in
¶me and my posterity runs out.
¶my Riot is now my Brothers Jaylor, my Wifes sighing,
¶my three boyes penury, and mine own confusion.
480
He tears his hair.
¶In execution among devils that stretch him:
¶And make him give; and I in want,
485Not able for to live, nor to redeem him.
¶Divines and dying men may talk of hell,
¶But in my heart her several torments dwell,
¶Would not take up money upon his soul?
¶I, that did ever in abundance dwell,
¶For me to want, exceeds the throws of hell.
¶
Enter his little son, with a Top and Scourge.
¶Son. What aile you father, are you not well, I cannot
¶the room with your wide legs, puh, you cannot make me
¶afraid with this, I fear no vizards, nor bugbears.
¶
He takes up the child by the skirts of his long coat in one
¶
hand, and draws his dagger with the other.
¶ Son. Oh what will you do father, I am your white
¶boy.
Strikes him.
¶ Son. Oh you hurt me father.
¶usurer bred, to cry at a great mans gate, or follow, good
¶your Honour by a Coach, no, nor your brother: 'tis cha-
¶rity to brain you.
¶Be not thy names disgrace:
¶Come view thy second Brother: Fates,
¶How confidently we scorn beggery.
Exit with his son.
¶
Enter a maid with a child in her armes, the
¶
Mother by her asleep.
¶Hush, pretty boy, thy hopes might have bin better,
¶'Tis lost at Dice, what ancient honour won,
¶Hard when the father plaies away the Son:
525Ruine and desolation; oh.
¶
Enter Husband with the Boy bleeding.
¶ Hus. Whore, give me that Boy.
¶
He strives with her for the child.
¶ Maid. Oh help, help, out alas, murder, murder.
¶I'le break your clamour with your neck,
¶Down stayers; tumble, tumble, headlong,
¶
He throws her down.
535Is break her neck, a Polititain did it.
¶Son.Mother, mother, I am kill'd mother.
¶
His wife awakes, and catcheth up the youngest.
¶ Wife. Ha, who's that cry'd? O me my children,
¶Both, both; bloudy, bloudy.
540 Hus. Strumpet, let go the boy, let go the beggar.
¶ Hus. Filth, Harlot.
¶ Hus. There are too many beggars.
¶ Wife. Oh God!
550
Stabs at the child in her armes, and gets it from her.
¶ Hus.Have at his heart.
¶ Wife. Oh my dear boy.
¶ Hus. B
rat, thou shalt not live to shame thy house.
¶There's whores enow, and want would make thee one.
¶
Enter a lusty Servant.
¶
Husband overcomes him.
¶ Hus. Oh villain, now I'le tug thee, now I'le tear thee,
¶Fates, I'le not leave you one to trample on.
575
The Master meets him.
¶distracted colour.
¶Oh how damnation can make weak men strong.
¶
Enter Master and two servants.
¶And by the bleeding infants, the dead mother.
¶ Wife. Oh, oh.
¶One of his men all faint and bloudied.
600To raise the Town upon him.
¶
Exit Master and Servants.
¶ Wife. Oh my children.
605 Wife. Why do I now recover? why half live?
¶To see my children bleed before mine eyes,
¶tioner; what, art thou mangled too?
¶Ore-threw me with his armes, then he did bruise me,
¶And rent my flesh, and rob'd me of my hair,
¶Like a man mad in execution,
615Made me unfit to rise and follow him.
¶ Wife. What is it hath beguil'd him of all grace?
620
Enter two Servants.
¶A Surgeon waits within.
¶ Wife. Willing to leave it;
¶'Tis guilty of sweet bloud, innocent bloud,
625Murder hath took this chamber with full hands,
Exeunt.
¶
Enter Husband, as being thrown off his
¶
horse, and falls.
¶Oh, I am sorely bruis'd, plague founder thee,
¶To throw me now, within a flight o'th'Town,
¶In such plain even ground,
635Sfoot, a man may dice upon it, and throw away the
¶Meadows, ah filthy beast.
¶ Cry within. Follow, follow, follow.
640Dispatch that little Beggar, and all's done.
¶ Cry within. Here, this way, this way.
¶ Hus. At my back? oh,
¶What fate have I, my limbs deny me to go,
¶My will is bated, Beggery claims a part,
645Oh I could here reach to the infants heart.
¶
Enter Master of the Colledge, three Gentlemen, and
¶
others with Halberds.
¶ All. Here, here, yonder, yonder.
¶ Ma. Unnatural, flinty, more then barbarous,
650The Scythians in their marble-hearted fates,
¶Could not have acted more remorseless deeds
¶In their relentless natures, then these of thine:
¶Was this the answer I long waited on,
¶And some of them want but fleaing.
660A Gentleman of worship dwells at hand,
¶There shall his deeds be blazed.
¶ Hus. Why all the better,
¶My glory 'tis to have my action known,
¶I grieve for nothing, but I mist of one.
665 Ma. There's little of a father in that grief:
¶Bear him away.
Exeunt.
¶
Enter a Knight, with two or three Gentlemen.
¶Children?
670 1. Gent. So the cry goes.
¶That ever he took life and natural being
675 1. Gent. Here come the men.
¶
Enter the Master of the Colledge, and the rest
¶
with the Prisoner.
¶time, that I am in place of justice.
¶ Knight. Do not repeat it twice, I know too much,
¶Would it had nere been thought on.
¶Sir, I bleed for you.
¶I have consum'd all, plaid away long acre,
¶And I thought it the charitablest deed I could do,
¶To cozen Beggery, and knock my house o'th'head.
690 Kni. I do not think, but in to morrow's judgement,
¶When the dread thought of Death remembers you;
¶To further which, take this sad voice from me,
¶Never was act plaid more unnaturally.
695 Hus. I thank you, Sir.
¶ Knight. Go lead him to the Jayle.
¶ Hus. Come, come, away with me.
¶
Exit Prisoner.
¶Would all did so, in you the Law is grace.
Exit.
¶
Enter Husband with the Officers, the Master and Gen-
¶
tlemen, as going by his house.
¶stors: I hear my Wife's alive, but much endangered;
¶gripe me.
¶
Enter his Wife brought in a Chair,
715band, now in the hands of unrelenting laws, my greatest
¶ Hus. How now? kind to me? did not I wound
¶thee, leave thee for dead?
¶You have been still unkind to me.
¶I did my murders roughly out of hand,
725A fine way now to kill me, thou hast given mine eyes
¶Seaven wounds apiece; now glides the devil from
¶Me, departs at every joint, heaves up my nails.
¶Oh catch him new torments, that were nere invented:
¶To make men act unnatural Tragedies,
¶To spread into a Father, and in fury,
¶Make him his childrens executioners,
¶Murder his wife, his servants, and who not?
735For that man's dark, where heaven is quite forgot.
¶For death I die, and for this have I long'd.
740Die, if the law could forgive as soon as I.
¶
Children laid out.
¶ Wife. Oh our two bleeding boyes
¶Laid forth upon the threshold.
¶Oh were it lawfull that your pretty souls
¶Might look from heaven into your fathers eyes,
¶And both your murders shoot upon my cheeks,
750But you are playing in the Angels laps,
¶And will not look on me,
¶Who void of grace, kill'd you in beggery.
¶Oh that I might my wishes now attain,
755Though I did beg with you, which thing I fear'd,
¶Oh 'twas the enemy my eyes so blear'd.
¶Oh would you could pray heaven me to forgive,
¶That will unto my end repentant live.
760And leave part with this.
¶ Officer. Come, will you go?
¶Farewell dear Wife, now thou and I must part,
765I of thy wrongs, repent me with my heart.
¶Farewell ye bloudy ashes of my boyes,
¶My punishments are their eternal joyes.
770Let every father look well into his deeds,
¶And then their heirs may prosper, while mine bleeds.
¶
Exeunt Husband with Officers.
¶Then former sorrows made me.
775 Mr. Oh kind Wife, be comforted,
¶One joy is yet unmurdered,
¶you have a boy at nurse, your joy's in him.
¶Heaven give my body strength, which is yet faint
780With much expence of bloud, and I will kneel,
¶Sue for his life, number up all my friends,
¶To plead for pardon for my dear husbandls life.
¶I shall bring news weighes heavier then the debt.
¶Two Brothers; the one in bond lies overthrown,
¶This, on a deadlier execution.
¶
FINIS.
