Joyce. Fie upon her! she's good for nothing then, no more than a jade that knows his own strength. The window is clasped; now, brother, pursue your project, and deliver your friend from the tyranny of my domineering sister.
[Aside.]
W. Rash. Do you hear, you drunkard in love? Come into us, and be ruled. You would little think that the wench that talked so scurvily out of the window there is more enamoured on thee than thou on her. Nay, look you now: see if he turn not away, slighting our good counsel. I am no Christian if she do not sigh, whine, and grow sick for thee. Look you, sir: I will bring you in good witness against her.
Joyce. Sir, you are
My brother's friend, and I'll be plain with you.
You do not take the course to win my sister,
But indirectly go about the bush; you come
And fiddle here, and keep a coil in verse;
Hold off your hat, and beg to kiss her hand;
Which makes her proud.
But, to be short; in two lines, thus it is—
Who most doth love, must seem most to neglect it;
For those that show most love, are least respected.
Long. A good observation, by my faith.
W. Rash. Well, this instruction comes too late now.
Stand you close, and let me prosecute my invention.—[187]
Sister, O sister! wake, arise, sister.
Enter Gertrude above.
Gert. How now, brother; why call you with such terror?
W. Rash. How can you sleep so sound, and hear such groans,
So horrid and so tedious to the ear, that I
Was frighted hither by the sound? O sister,
Here lies a gentleman that lov'd you too dearly
And himself too ill, as by his death appears.
I can report no farther without tears.
Assist me now.
[Aside to Longfield.
Long. When he came first, death startled in his eyes;
His hand had not forsook the dagger-hilt,
But still he gave it strength, as if he fear'd
He had not sent it home unto his heart.