Y. LUS. Trust me, the virtues of young Arthur's wife,
Her constancy, modest humility,
Her patience, and admired temperance,
Have made me love all womankind the better.
Re-enter PIPKIN.
PIP. O, my mistress! my mistress! she's dead!
She's gone! she's dead! she's gone!
ANS. What's that he says?
PIP. Out of my way! stand back, I say!
All joy from earth has fled!
She is this day as cold as clay;
My mistress she is dead!
O Lord, my mistress! my mistress! [Exit.
ANS. What, Mistress Arthur dead? my soul is vanish'd,
And the world's wonder from the world quite banish'd.
O, I am sick, my pain grows worse and worse;
I am quite struck through with this late discourse.
FUL. What! faint'st thou, man? I'll lead thee hence; for shame!
Swoon at the tidings of a woman's death!
Intolerable, and beyond all thought!
Come, my love's fool, give me thy hand to lead;
This day one body and two hearts are dead.
[Exeunt ANSELM and FULLER.
Y. LUS. But now she was as well as well might be,
And on the sudden dead; joy in excess
Hath overrun her poor disturbed soul.
I'll after, and see how Master Arthur takes it;
His former hate far more suspicious makes it.
[Exit.
Enter HUGH, and after him, PIPKIN.