Scud. What canst thou say? art thou not married?
Bel. Alas! I was enforc'd; first by the threats
Of a severe father, that in his hand
Did gripe my fortunes: next to that, the fame
Of your neglect and liberal-talking tongue,
Which bred my honour an eternal wrong.
Scud. Pish! these are painted causes. Till this morn
He liv'd not in this land, that durst accuse
My integrity of such an ignorance.
But take your letters here, your paper vows,
Your picture and your bracelets; and if ever
I build again upon a woman's faith,
May sense forsake me! I will sooner trust
Dice or a reconciled enemy: O God!
What an internal joy my heart has felt,
Sitting at one of these same idle plays,
When I have seen a maid's inconstancy
Presented to the life! how my glad eyes
Have stole about me, fearing lest my looks
Should tell the company convented there
The mistress that I had free of such faults.
Bel. O, still retain her so! dear Scudmore, hear me.
Scud. Retain thee so? it is impossible!
Art thou not married? 'tis impossible!
O no! I do despise thee, and will fly
As far on earth as to the Antipodes,
And by some learn'd magician, whose deep art
Can know thy residence on this hemisphere,
There I'll be plac'd, my feet just against thine,
To express the opposite nature, which our hearts
Must henceforth hold.
Bel. O, rather shoot me, friend,
Than let me hear thee speak such bitterness!
O, pity me! redeem me from the hell,
That in this marriage I am like to feel!
I'll rather fly to barren wildernesses,
And suffer all wants with thee, Scudmore, than
Live with all plenty in this husband's arms.
Thou shalt perceive I am not such a woman,
That is transported with vain dignities.
O, thy dear words have knock'd at my heart's gates,
And enter'd. They have pluck'd the devil's vizard
(That did deform this face, and blind my soul)
Off, and thy Bellafront presents herself,
Lav'd in a bath of contrite virginal tears:
Cloth'd in the original beauty that was thine!
Now, for thy love to God, count this not done:
Let time go back, and be as when before it,
Or from thy memory rase it for ever!
Scud. Ha, ha! heart! was there ever such strange creatures fram'd?
Why dost thou speak such foolish, senseless things?
Can thy forsaking him redeem thy fault?
No, I will never mend an ill with worse.
Why, thy example will make women false,
When they shall hear it, that before were true;
For after ill examples we do fly,
But must be vow'd to deeds of piety.
O woman, woman, woman, woman, woman!
The cause of future and original sin,
How happy (had you not) should we have been!
False, where you kiss, but murdering in your ire;
Love all can woo, know all men you desire:
Ungrateful, yet most impudent to crave,
Torturous as hell, insatiate as the grave:
Lustful as monkeys, grinning in your ease,
Whom if we make not idols, we ne'er please:
More vainly proud than fools, as ignorant;
Baser than parasites: witches that enchant
And make us senseless, to think death or life
Is yours to give, when only our belief
Doth make you able to deceive us so:
Begot by drunkards to breed sin and woe;
As many foul diseases hide your veins,
As there are mischiefs coin'd in your quick brains:
Not quick in wit, fit to perform least good,
But to subvert whole states, shed seas of blood:
Twice as deceitful as are crocodiles,
For you betray both ways, with tears and smiles.
Yet questionless there are as good, as bad.
Hence! let me go.
Bel. Hear me, and thou shalt go.
I do confess I do deserve all this,
Have wounded all the faith my sex doth owe,
But will recover it, or pay my life.
Strive not to go, for you shall hear me first.
I charge thee, Scudmore, thou hard-hearted man,
Upon my knees—
[Kneels.]
Thou most implacable man, since penitence
And satisfaction too gets not thy pardon,
I charge thee use some means to set me free,
[Rises again.]