MRS ART. I can endure no more, but I must weep;
My blabbing tears cannot my counsel keep. [Aside.
Y. ART. Why weep you, mistress? if you had the heart
Of her whom you resemble in your face—
But she is dead, and for her death
The sponge of either eye
Shall weep red tears, till every vein is dry.
MRS ART. Why weep you, friend? your rainy drops pray keep;
Repentance wipes away the drops of sin.
Yet tell me, friend—he did exceeding ill,
A wife that lov'd and honour'd him to kill.
Yet say one like her, far more chaste than fair,
Bids him be of good comfort, not despair.
Her soul's appeased with his repentant tears,
Wishing he may survive her many years.
Fain would I give him money to supply
His present wants, but fearing he should fly,
And getting over to some foreign shore,
These rainy eyes should never see him more.
My heart is full, I can no longer stay,
But what I am, my love must needs bewray. [Aside.
Farewell, good fellow, and take this to spend;
Say, one like her commends her to your friend. [Exit.
Y. ART. No friend of mine. I was my own soul's foe,
To murther my chaste wife, that lov'd me so!
In life she lov'd me dearer than her life:
What husband here but would wish such a wife?
I hear the officers with hue and cry;
She saved my life but now, and now I die.
And welcome, death! I will not stir from hence;
Death I deserv'd, I'll die for this offence.
Enter BRABO, with OFFICERS, MISTRESS SPLAY, and HUGH.
BRA. Here is the murderer; and, Reason's man,
You have the warrant: sirs, lay hands on him;
Attach the slave, and lead him bound to death.
HUGH. No, by my faith, Master Brabo, you have the better heart, at least you should have; I am sure you have more iron and steel than I have; do you lay hands on him; I promise you I dare not.
BRA. Constables, forward; forward, officers;
I will not thrust my finger in the fire.
Lay hands on him, I say: why step you back?
I mean to be the hindmost, lest that any
Should run away, and leave the rest in peril.
Stand forward: are you not asham'd to fear?
Y. ART. Nay, never strive; behold, I yield myself.
I must commend your resolution
That, being so many and so weapon'd,
Dare not adventure on a man unarm'd.
Now, lead me to what prison you think best.
Yet use me well; I am a gentleman.
HUGH. Truly, Master Arthur, we will use you as well as heart can think; the justices sit to-day, and my master is chief: you shall command me.