King. A worthy work! the better being done
In the founder's eye, not left unto succession.
Steph. O my good lord, I ever kept in mind
An English sentence, which my tutor is,
And teaches me to act my charity
With mine own hands; so doubtful is performance,
When the benefactor's dead.
King. What is't, I prythee?
Steph. This, my good lord:
Women are forgetful, children unkind,
Executors covetous, and take what they find;
If any man ask, where the dead's goods became,
The executor swears he died a poor man.[106]
King. You have prevented well, so has this good alderman;
I wish you many scholars.
Wife. [To Steph.] You make some doubts of me in this, sir:
Did you not say that women are forgetful?
King. You have vex'd her now, sir: how do you answer that?
Steph. No, my lord, she's exempt from the proverb.
Wife. No, my lord, I'll help it better: I do confess
That women are forgetful, yet ne'ertheless
I am exempt: I know my fate, and find
My dear husband must not leave me behind,
But I must go before him;[107] and 'tis said,
The grave's good rest when women go first to bed.
Steph. Thanks for thy excuse, good wife, but not thy love
To fill my grave before me: I would not live to see that day.