Nob.

By your leave, lady.

Wid.

My lord, your honour is most chastly welcome.

Nob.

Madam, though I came now from court, I come not to flatter you. Upon whom can I justly cast this blot, but upon your own forehead, that know not ink from milk? such is the blind besotting in the state of an unheaded woman that's a widow. For it is the property of all you that are widows (a handful excepted) to hate those that honestly and carefully love you, to the maintenance of credit, state, and posterity; and strongly to dote on those that only love you to undo you. Who regard you least, are best regarded; who hate you most, are best beloved. And if there be but one man amongst ten thousand millions of men, that is accurst, disastrous, and evilly planeted; whom Fortune beats most, whom God hates most, and all societies esteem least, that man is sure to be a husband. Such is the peevish moon that rules your bloods^{7 note}

Wid.

Deceitful!

Pye.

All will out.

Idle.

'Sfoot, who has blab'd, George? that foolish Nicholas.

Nob.

For what they have besotted your easy blood withal, were nought but forgeries: the fortune-telling for husbands, the conjuring for the chain sir Godfrey heard the falshood of, all, nothing but mere knavery, deceit, and cozenage.

Wid.

O wonderful! indeed I wonder'd that my husband, with all his craft, could not keep himself out of purgatory.

Sir God.

And I more wonder'd, that my chain should be gone, and my taylor had none of it.

Mary.

And I wonder'd most of all, that I should be tied from marriage, having such a mind to it. Come, sir John Pennydub, fair weather on our side: The moon has chang'd since yesternight.

Pye.

The sting of every evil is within me.

Nob.

And that you may perceive I feign not with you, behold their fellow-actor in those forgeries; who full of spleen and envy at their so sudden advancements, reveal'd all their plot in anger.

Pye.

Base soldier, to reveal us!

Wid.

Is't possible we should be blinded so, and our eyes open?

Nob.

Widow, will you now believe that false which too soon you believ'd true?

Wid.

O, to my shame, I do.

Sir God.

But under favour, my lord, my chain was truly lost, and strangely found again.

Nob.

Resolve him of that, soldier.

Skir.

In few words, knight, then thou wert the arch-gull of all.

Sir God.

How, sir?

Skir.

Nay I'll prove it: for the chain was but hid in the rosemary-bank all this while; and thou got'st him out of prison to conjure for it, who did it admirably, fustianly; for indeed what needed any other, when he knew where it was?

Sir God.

O villainy of villainies! But how came my chain there?

Skir.

Where's Truly la, Indeed la, he that will not swear, but lie; he that will not steal, but rob; pure Nicholas Saint-Antlings?

Sir God.
O villain! one of our society,
Deem'd always holy, pure, religious,
A puritan a thief! When was't ever heard?
Sooner we'll kill a man, than steal, thou know'st.

Out slave! I'll rend my lion from thy back^{8 note}

Nich.

Dear master! O!

Nob.

Nay knight, dwell in patience. And now,

widow, being so near the church, 'twere great pity, nay uncharity, to send you home again without a husband. Draw nearer, you of true worship, state, and credit; that should not stand so far off from a widow, and suffer forged shapes to come between you. Not that in these I blemish the true title of a captain, or blot the fair margent of a scholar; for I honour worthy and deserving parts in the one, and cherish fruitful virtues in the other. Come lady, and you virgin, bestow your eyes and your purest affections upon men of estimation both in court and city, that have long wooed you, and both with their hearts and wealth sincerely love you.

Sir God.

Good sister, do. Sweet little Franke, these are men of reputation: you shall be welcome at court; a great credit for a citizen.—Sweet sister.

Nob.

Come, her silence does consent to't.

Wid.

I know not with what face—

Nob.

Poh, poh, with your own face; they desire no other.

Wid.

Pardon me, worthy sirs: I and my daughter Have wrong'd your loves.

Sir Oliv.

'Tis easily pardon'd, lady, if you vouchsafe it now.

Wid.

With all my soul.

Fran.

And I, with all my heart.

Mary.

And I, sir John, with soul, heart, lights and all.

Sir John.

They are all mine, Moll.

Nob.
Now lady:
What honest spirit, but will applaud your choice,
And gladly furnish you with hand and voice?
A happy change, which makes even heaven rejoice.
Come, enter into your joys; you shall not want^{9 note}

For fathers, now; I doubt it not, believe me,
But that you shall have hands enough to give ye¹. [Exeunt omnes. ¹But that you shall have hands enough to give.]

Thus the quarto. The editor of the folio, finding something deficient, added me at the end of the line. But the context clearly shows that the omitted word was ye.

At the end of this comedy in the original edition is placed the following scrap of Latin:

The dialogue of the Puritan is in general more lively than many of the dramatick pieces produced at the same time; and some parts of it are, I think, not without humour. Malone.

This sentence of Latin is likewise found at the end of Leicester's Commonwealth, as well as at the conclusions of many other ancient books. It was more probably introduced by printers than by authors.

Though Shakspeare has ridiculed the Puritans in his All's Well that Ends well, and Twelfth Night, yet he seems not to have had the smallest share in the present comedy. The author of it, however, was well acquainted with his plays, as appears from resemblances already pointed out. There is little attempt at character throughout the piece, and that little has not proved very successful. The suitors are an unmeaning group; and though we have eight of the sanctimonious tribe on the stage, they are by no means nicely discriminated from each other. Nicholas St. Antlings indeed might have been designed for their chief, as he possesses most of their qualities, i. e. is the greatest hypocrite of them all.—I have not met with the old ballad from which our comedy receives its title; but am told that the second of these performances has no other obligation to the first. Steevens.

YORKSHIRE TRAGEDY.

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