Classic Audiobook Collection - Amends for Ladies by Nathan Field ~ Full Audiobook [comedy]

Episode Date: January 29, 2024

Amends for Ladies by Nathan Field audiobook. Genre: comedy Amends for Ladies falls within the genre of Jacobean city comedy. Three women debate which has the better lot: a maid, a wife, or a widow. Lady Honour, the maid, is loved by her servant, Ingen, and disguises herself as a boy to become servant to him. Lady Perfect, the wife, is suspected by her husband, Love-all, of infidelity; Love-all tries to trap his wife by having his devious friend, Subtle, seduce her. A young citizen, Bold, disguises himself as an old woman to enter into the service of the widow, Lady Bright, in the hopes of gaining access to her bed. Amends for Ladies also features a duel-gone-wrong, bawdy jokes aplenty, and a guest appearance by the 'Roaring Girl' herself, Moll Cutpurse For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 00 (00:02:11) Chapter 01 (00:31:42) Chapter 02 (00:58:26) Chapter 03 (01:24:58) Chapter 04 (01:54:20) Chapter 05 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Amends for ladies. Act one, scene one. Enter the lady honor, the lady perfect, the lady bright. A wife, the happiest date? It cannot be. Yes, such a wife as I, that have a man as if myself had made him. Such a one, as I may justly say, I am the rib, belonging to his breast. Widow and maid Your lives Compared to mine Are miserable

The wealth and beauty Meet in each of you Poor Virgin All thy sport is thought of love And meditation of a man The time and circumstance E'r thou canst fix thy thoughts On one thy fancy will approve

That trouble may be passed. Why, if it be, the doubt he will not hold his brittle faith, that he is not a compatible choice, and so your noble friends will cross the match. Doth make your happiness uncertain still, or say you married him, what he would prove. Can you compare your state then to a wife? Nay, all the freedom that a virgin hath is much to be preferred. who would endure the humours of so insolent a thing as is a husband which of all the herd runs not possessed with some notorious vice drinking or hoaring fighting jealousy even of a page at twelve or of a groom that rubs horse-heels is it not daily seen men take wives but to dress their meat to wash and starch the linen for the other matter of lying with them that's but when they please and whatsoever the joy be of the bed the pangs that follow procreation are hideous or you wives have gulled your husbands with your loud shriekings and your deathful throes a wife or widow to a virgin's life

why should the best of you think you enjoyed the roost and rule that a free widow does i am mine own commander and the bliss of woers and of each variety frequents me as our were a maid. No brother have I to dice my patrimony away, as you, my maiden madam may. No husband's death stand I in doubt on, for, thanks be to heaven, if mine were good, the grievous loss of him is not to come. If he were bad, he's gone, and I no more embrace my injury. But be yours ill, you knightly clasp your hate, or good, why, he may, he may be more. He may be yours, and he may, and may die or change his virtue and thou though single has the bad fellow as bad as the worst husband thought of one and what that is men with their wives do do and long expectance till the deed be done a wife is like a garment used and torn a maid like one made up but never worn a widow is a garment worn threadbare selling second-hand like brokers wear but let us speak of things the present time makes happy to us and see what is best i have a servant then the crown of men the fountain of humanity the prize of every virtue moral and divine

young valiant learned well-born rich and shaped as of wise nature when she fashioned him had meant to give him nothing but his form yet all additions are conferred on him that may delight a woman The same youth to me Have sacrificed his heart Yet I have checked his suit Laughed at his worthy service Made him the exercise of my cruelty Whilst constant as the sun For all these clouds

His love goes on Enter Ingen Peace Here is the man your name Widow will stand aside Good moral to the glory of our age The Lady Perfect and the Lady Bright meeting the wife and widow.

The virtuous wife and widow, but to you the lady honour and my mistress the happiness of your wishes. By this light, I never heard one speak so scurvily, utter such stale wit, and pronounce so ill.

But to you, my lady honour and my mistress, the happiness of your wishes. Stop your wit. You and fain show these ladies what a hand you hold over your servant, shall not need i will express your tyranny well enough i have loved this lady since i was a child since i could construe a ma now she says i do not love her cause i do not weep lay mine arms o'er my heart and wear no garters walk with mine eyes in my hat sigh and make faces for all the poets in the town to laugh at pox o this howling love tis like a dog shut out at midnight. Must love knees be powdered, lie, steeped in brine, or will it not

keep sweet? Is it like beef in summer? Did you ever hear one talk fustion like a butcher thus? Tis foolish this same telling folks we love. It needs no words. It will show itself in deeds. And did I take you for an entertainer, a lady that will ring one by the finger, whilst on another's Toes, she treads, and cries, My God, I love but one, and you are he. Either them, thinking himself the man, I tell you in your ear, put for the business, which granted or denied.

Madam, God be weighing. Come, these are daily slanders that you raise on our infirm and unresisting sex. You never met, I'm sure, with such a lady. Oh, many by this light I've seen a chamber frequented like an office of the law. Clients succeed at midnight one another, whilst the poor madam hath been so distressed, which of her lovers to show most countenance to, that her dull husband has perceived her wiles. Nay, perhaps taught her. Many of those husbands are base enough to live upon it.

I have seen another cheat by this light at cards, and set her woman to talk to the gentleman that played, that so distracted they might oversee. O fire upon ye, I dare swear you lie Do not fair mistress, you will be foresworn You men are all foul-mouthed I warrant, you talk thus of me and other ladies here Because we keep the city Oh profane, that thought would damn me

Will you marry yet? No, I will never marry. Shall we then, couple unlawfully? Or indeed this marrying is but proclaiming what we mean to do, which may be done privately in civil sort, and none the wiser, and by this white hand, the rack, strapado, or the boiling boot, should never force me tell to wrong your honour. May I believe this?

Let it be your creed. But if you should prove false? Nay, now unhang your sword, except you mean to hang yourself. Why? Where have you been drinking? Svet. You talk like one of these same rambling boys that rain, in Turnbull Street. How do you know? Indeed.

My knowledge is but speculative. Not practic, there. I have it by relation from such observers as yourself, dear servant. I must profess, I did think well of thee. But get thee from my sight. I never more will hear or see thee, but will hate thee deadly, as a man-enemy, or a woman turned.

Ladies, come forth. Enter, widow, wife. see sir what courtesy you have done to me a strange praise of you had newly left my lips just as you entered and how you have deserved it with your carriage villain thou hast hurt mine honour to these friends for what can they imagine but some ill hath passed betwixt us by thy broad discourse where my case theirs by virgin chastity i should condemn them hence depart my sight madam but hear me o that these were men, and durst but say or think you ill for this, I have so good a cause upon my side that I would cut their hearts out of their breasts, and the thoughts out of them that injured you, but I obey your haste and for my penance, will run a course never to see you more, and now I lose you. May I lose the light, since in that beauty dwelt my day or night.

Exit, Injun. Is this the virtuous youth? Your happiness? Wherein you thought your seat so far above ours? If one man could be good, this had been he. See, here come all your suitors and your husband, and room for laughter. Here's the Lord Fiesimple. What gentlewoman does he bring along?

Enter husband, embracing subtle, the Lord Fiesimple, with young bold, like a waiting gentlewoman, and well-tried. Well-tried, husband, and subtle, talk with wife. One and thirty good-morrows to the fairest, wisest, richest widow that ever conversation coped with all. Three score and two unto the wisest lord that ever was trained in university. O courteous, bounteous widow! She has outbid me thirty-one good-morrows at a clap. But, my lord, be simple.

You forget the business imposed on you. Gentlewoman, I cry thee mercy. But tis a fault in all, lords, not in me only. We do use to swear by our honours, and as we are noble, to dispatch such a business with such a gentleman. And we are bound, even by, by, to forget it in a quarter of an hour. And look as if we have never seen the party when we meet next. especially if none of our gentlemen have been considered.

I, but all yours have, for you keep none, my lord. Besides, though it stands with your honour to forget men's businesses, yet it stands not with your honour if you do not do a woman's. Why, then, madam, so it is that I request your ladyship to accept into your service, this gentlewoman, for truth and honesty I will be bound. I have known her too long to be deceived. aside This is the second time I have seen her

Why, how now, my lord? A preferer of gentlewomen to service, Like an old knitting woman. Where hath she dwelt before? She dwelt with young bold sister, He that is my co-rival in your love. She requested me to advance it to you, For you are a dubbed lady,

So is not she yet. But now you talk of young bold. When did you see him? him, lady. Not this month, Master well tried. I did conjure him to forbear my sight. Indeed, swore if he came, I'd be denied. But this strange you should ask of him,

he too will wot never to be asunder. Faith, madam, we never were together, but we differed on some argument or other, and doubting, lest our discord might at length breed to some quarrel, I forbear him, too. he quarrel bold hang him

if he dost have quarrelled the world knows he's within a mile of an oak has put him to it and soundly i never cared for him in my life but to see his sister he's an ass pox an arrant ass for do you think any but an arrant ass

would offer to come a wooing where a lord attempts he quarrel he dares not quarrel But he dares fight, my lord, upon my knowledge. And rail no more, my lord, behind his back. For if you do, my lord, blood must ensue. Draws. Oh, my honour dies. I am dead.

Swoons. Oh, it's light. What's the matter? Ring him by the nose. A pair of riding spurs now were worth gold. Pins are ours good. Prick him, prick him. He's come again. Lift him up.

How fair is your lordship? Oh, friends, you have wronged my spirit to call it back. I was even in Elysium at rest. But why, sir, did you swoon? Well, there I die, Mr. Welchard. Before all these, I do forgive you, because you were ignorant of my infirmity. Oh, sir, is not up yet?

I die again. Put up now whilst I wink, or I do wink forever. Gis up, my lord, open your eyes. But I pray, tell me, Is this antipathy twixt bright steel and you, natural, or how grew it? I'll tell you, sir, anything bright and edged works thus strongly with me. your hilt's now i can handle as boldly look you else nay never blame my lord master well tried for i know a great many will swoon at the sight of a shoulder a mutton or a quarter of lamb my lord may be excused then for a naked sword this lord and this knight in dog collars would make a fine brace of beagles but on my faith twas mightily overseen of your father not to bring you up to foils or if he had bound you prentice

to her cutthlaw and ironmonger. Ha, pox! Hang him, old gouty fool. He never brought me up to any lordly exercise, as fencing, dancing, tumbling, and such like, but forsooth I must write and read, and speak languages, and such base qualities fit for none but gentlemen.

Now, sir, would I tell him, Father, you are a count. I am a lord. A poxer writing and reading and languages. Let me brought up as I was born. But how, my lord, can you first not to endure the sight of steel? Why, I'll tell you, sir, when I was a child, an infant, an innocent. Made, aside, twas even now.

I, being in the kitchen, in my lord my father's house, the cook was making minced pies. So, sir, I standing by the dresser, there lay a heap of plums. Here was he mincing. What did me? I, sir, being a notable little witty coxcomb, but popped my hand just under his chopping knife to snatch some raisins, and so was cut out of the hand, and never since could I endure the sight of any edge tool. Indeed, they are not fit for you, my lord, and now you are all so well satisfied in this matter. Pray, ladies, how like you this, my gentlewoman? In troth, madam, exceedingly well, I. If you be provided, pray, let me have her.

It should be my request, but that I am full. What can you do? What's her name, my lord? Her name? I know not. What's her name, Master Well-Tried? Her name? Slid, tell my lady your name.

Mistress Mary Pryncox, forsooth. "'Mrs. Mary Pryncox? "'She has wit, I perceive that already. "'Me thinks she speaks as if she were my lord's brood.' "'Brewd, madam. "'Ats well known, I am a gentlewoman. "'My father was a man of five hundred per annum, "'and he held something in Capite, too.'

"'So does my lord something.' "'Nabre, my trough, what I hold in capetet with little or nothing. I have apt breeding, however my misfortune now makes me submit myself to service. But there is no ebb so low,

but hath his tide again. When our days are at worst, they will mend in spite of the frowning destinies, for we cannot be lower than earth, and the same blind dame that hath cast her blear eyes hitherto upon my occasion,

may turn her wheel, and at last wind them up with her white hand to some pinnacle that prosperously may flourish in the sunshine of promotion. Oh, mouthful of agility! I would give twenty marks now to any person that could teach me to convey my tongue, sounds tumbling, with such dexterity to such a period. For her truth and her honesty I am bound before, but now I have heard a talk, for her wit I will be bound body and goods. Od's light, I will not leave her for my hood. I never met with one of these eloquent, old, gentle women before. What age are you, mistress Mary Princock's? I will not lie, madam.

I have numbered 57 summers, and just so many winters have I passed. But they have not passed you. "'They lie frozen in your face.' "'Madam, if it shall please you to entertain me, "'so, if not, I desire you not to misconstrue my good will. "'There's no harm done, the doors as big as it was, "'and your ladyship's own wishes crown your beauty with content. "'As for these frumping glance, let them do their worst.

"'It is not in man's power to hurt me. "'Tis well known I came not to be scoffed. "'A woman may bear and bear till her back burst. "'I am a poor, gentlewoman, "'and since virtue hath nowadays no other companion but poverty, "'I set the hare's head unto the goose giblets, "'and what I want one way, "'I hope I shall be enabled to supply the other.'

"'And please God that thou wert not past children, Is it even so, my lord? Nay, good printcocks, do not cry. I do entertain you. How do you occupy? What can you use? Anything fit to be put into the hands of a gentle woman? What are your qualities?

I can sleep on a low stool. If your lady should be talking in the same room with any gentleman, I can read on a book. Sing love songs, look up the louvre light, hear and be deaf, see and be blind, be ever dumb to your secrets, swear and equivocate, and whatsoever I spy, say the best. O rare, corone, how art thou endued. But why did Master Boel's sister put you away? I beseech you, madam, to neglect that desire. Though I know your ladyship's understanding to be sufficient to partake or take in, the greatest secret can be imparted, yet— Nay, prithee, tell the cause.

Come, here's none but friends. Faith, madam, hey-ho. I was, to confess truly, a little foolish in my last service to believe men's oaths. but I hope my example, though prejudicial to myself, will be beneficial to other young gentlewomen in service. My mistress's brother, the gentleman you named even now, Master Behold, having often attempted my honour but finding it impregnable, vowed love and marriage to me at the last. I, a young thing, and raw, being seduced, set my mind upon him, but friends contradicting the match, I fell into a grievous consumption, and, upon my first recovery, lest the intended sacred ceremonies of nuptials should succeed. His sister, knowing this, thought it fit in her judgment we should be farther asunder, and so put me out of out of her service. God's a mercy for this discovery in faith.

Oh, man, what art thou when thy cock is up. Come, will your lordship walk in this dinner time? Enter hastily, Seldom, with papers on his arm. Who's this? Who's this? This is our landlord, Master Seldom, an exceedingly wise citizen. A very sufficient understanding man, and exceeding rich. Miracles are not ceased. Good morrow, landlord. Where have you been sweating?

Good morrow, to your honors. Thrift is industrious. Your ladyship knows we will not stick to sweat for our pleasures. How much more ought we to sweat for our profits? I am come from Master Ingin this morning. who is married, or to be married, and though your ladyship did not honor his nuptials with your presence, he hath by me sent each of you a pair of gloves, and grace seldom my wife is not forgot. Exit God give him joy, God give him joy.

Exeunt Let's all things most impossible change now. Oh, perjured man! Oaths are but words, I see. But wherefore should not we, that think we love upon full merit, That same worth once seizing, Cease our love too, and find new dessert? Alas, we cannot.

Love's a pit which, when we fall into, we ne'er get out again. And this same horrid news which me assaults, I would forget, love blanche's blackest faults. Oh, what path shall I tread for remedy, but darkest shades? where love with death doth lie. Exit. Manent. Husband, wife, subtle.

Sir, I have often heard my husband speak of your acquaintance. Nay, my virtuous wife. Had it been but acquaintance, this his absence had not appeared so uncouth. But we two were schoolfellows together, born and nursed, brought up and lived since, like the Gemini. Had but one suck. the tavern or the ordinary, where I was married, that saw one of us without the other, said we'd walked by halves.

Where, dear, dear friend, have you been all this while? Oh, most sweet friend, the world so vicious that had I, with such familiarity, frequented you since you were married, possessed and used your fortunes as before, as in like manner you commanded mine, the depraved thoughts of men would have proclaimed some scandalous rumours from this love of ours, as saying mine reflected on your lady. And what a wound had that been to our souls? When only friendship should have been the ground to hurt her honour and your comfort, confident peace, spite of mine own approved integrity.

Wife, kiss him, bid him welcome, pox of the world. Come, come, you shall not part from me in haste. I do command thee use this gentleman, in all things like myself, if I should die. I would bequeath him in my will to thee. Sir, you are most welcome, and let scandalous tongues no more deter you. I dare use you, sir, with all. the right belonging to a friend. And what I dare,

I dare let all men see. My conscience, rather than men's thoughts, be free. Will you look in? We'll follow you. Exit wife. Now, friend,

what think you of this lady? Why, sweet friend, that you are happy in her. She is fair, witty, and virtuous, and was rich to you. you? Can there be an addition to a wife? Yes, Constancy, for tis not chastity that lives remote from all attempters free, but there tis strong and pure, where all that wooed does resist,

and turns them virtuous too. Therefore, dear friend, by this, loves masculine kiss, by all our mutual engagements past, by all the hopes of amity to come, be you the settler of my jealous thoughts, and make me kill my fond suspect of her, by assurance that she is loyal, otherwise, that she is false, and then as she is past cure, my soul shall ever after be past care, that you are fittest for this enterprise you must needs understand, since prove she true in this your trial, you, my dearest friend, whom only rather than the world besides I would have satisfied of her virtue, shall see and best conceal my folly. Proof she weak? Tis better you should note than any man, who can reform her and do me no wrong. Chemical metals and bright gold itself

by sight are not distinguished, but by the test. Thought makes good wives, but trial makes the best. To the unskilledful owner's eyes alike, the bristow sparkles as the diamond, but by a lapidary the truth is found. Come, you shall not deny me. Do not wrong so fair a wife, friend, and so virtuous, whose good name is a theme unto the world. Make not a wound with searching where there was none. Misfortune still such projects does pursue. He makes a false wife that suspects are true. Yet, since you so importune, give me a little.

leave to ruminate a while, and I will straight follow and give you an answer. You must do it. Exit. Assure yourself, dear Coxcomb, I will do it, or strangely be denied. All's as I wished. This was my aim, although I have seemed strange. I know this fellow now to be an ass, a most unworthy husband. though in view he bears himself thus fair she knows it too therefore the stronger are my hopes to gain her and my dear friend that will have your wife tried i'll try her first then trust her if i can and as you said most wisely i hope to be both touchstone to your wife and lapid

Exit. End of Act 1. Act 2 of Amends for Ladies by Nathan Field. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Act 2. Scene 1. Enter Seldom and his wife, Grace, working as in their shop.

Husband, these gloves are not. fit for my wearing. I'll put them in the shop and sell them. You shall give me a plain pair for them. This is wonderful, wonderful. This is thy sweet care and judgment in all things. This goodness is not usual in our wives. Well, Grace seldom. That thou art fair is nothing. That thou art well-spoken is nothing. That thou art witty is nothing. That thou art witty is nothing. that thou art a citizen's wife is nothing. But, grace, that thou art fair, that thou art well-spoken,

that thou art witty, that thou art a citizen's wife, and that thou art honest. I say, and let any man deny it the can, it is something. It is something, I say. It is seldom something. And for all the sunshine of my joy,

Mine eyes must reign upon thee. Enter Mall Cut-Pers with a letter. By your leave, Master Seldom. Have you done the hangers I bespeak for the night? Yes. Mary, have I, mistress. Ike and heke. I'll fetch him to you.

Exit. Zounds. Does not your husband know my name? If it had been somebody else, I would have called him Cacoldy slave. If it had been somebody else, perhaps you might. Well, I may be even with him. All's clear. Pretty rogue, I've longed to know thee this twelve months, and had no other means,

but this to speak with thee. There's a letter to thee from the party. What party? The knight, Sir John Love All. Hence, lewd, impudent. I know not what to term me, man or woman. for nature, shaming to acknowledge thee for either, hath produced thee to the world without a sex. Some say thou art a woman, others a man, and many thou art both woman and man,

but I think rather neither. Or man and horse, as the old centaurs were fained. Why how now, mistress what lucky? Are you so fine, with a pox? I have seen a woman look as modestly as you, and speak as sincerely. and follow the friars as zealously and she has been as sound as a jumbler as air paid for tis true mistress vipenny i've sworn to leave this letter do you hear you sword and target to speak in your own key mary ambray long meg thou that in myself methinks alone and looks like a rogan whore under a hedge bard take your letter with you and begone when next you come my husband's constable

and Bridewell is hard by. You've a good wit and can conceive. Enter seldom with hangers. Look you. Here are the hangers. Let's see them. Fee, fee. You have mistook me quite. Exit.

Enter Lord proudly. Here's my Lord proudly. My horse, lacquer. Is my sister, honour above? I think her ladyship, my lord, is not well, and keeps her chamber. All's one, I must see her. Have the other ladies dined?

I think not, my lord. Then I'll take a pipe of tobacco here in your shop, if it be not offensive. I would be loath to be thought to come just at dinner time. To his servant, Garsohn, Phil, Sira. Enter page with a pipe of tobacco. What said the gold,

Smith full the money. Seldom, having fetched a candle, walks off at the other end of the shop. Lord proudly sits by his wife. He said, my lord, he would lend no man money, that he durst not arrest. How got that wit into cheap-side trow? He is a cuck-hold. Saw you, my lady, today? What says she? Takes tobacco. Marry, my lord. She said her old husband.

has a great payment to make this morning, and had not left her so much as a jewel. A pox of her old cat's chaps. The teeth she had have made a transmigration into hair. She hath a bigger beard than I by this light. Lord whispers to grace. This custom in us citizens is good. Thus walking off, when men talk with our wives, It shows us courteous and mannerly. Some count it baseness. He's a fool that does so.

It is the highest point of policy, especially when we have virtuous wives. Thigh, fie, you talk uncivilly, my lord. Uncivilly, mew? Can a lord talk uncivilly? I think you, a finical taffeta pipkin, may be proud I'll sit so near it. uncivilly mew your mother's cat has kitten in your mouth sir prithee but note yon fellow does he not walk and look as if he did desire to be a cuck-hold but you do not look as if you could make him one now they have dine to my lord

enter lord fee simple and well tried god save your lordship how dost thou caz has thou got any more wit yet no by my troth i have but little money with that little wit i have and the more wit ever the less money yet as little as i have of either i would give something that i durst but quarrel i would not be abused as daily as i am save you my lord good master well tried you can inform me pray how ended the quarrel betwixt young bold and the other gentleman why very fairly my lord On honorable terms. Young Bold was injured and did challenge him, fought in the field, and the other gave him satisfaction under his hand. I was Bold second, and can show it here.

Tis strange there was no hurt done. Yet I hold the other gentleman far the better man. So do not I. Besides, they say the satisfaction that walks in the ordinaries is counterfeit. He lies that say so. And I'll make it good, and for I know my friend is out of town. What man soever wrongs him is my foe? I say he had full satisfaction,

nay, that which we may call submission, that the other sought peace first. And who denies this, Lord, knight, or gentleman, English, French, or Scott, I'll fight, and prove it on him with my sword. No, sweet master, well try, Let's have no fighting, till, as you have promised, you have ridden me from this foolish fear, and taught me to endure to look upon a naked sword.

Well, and I'll be as good as my word. But do you hear, cousin proudly, they say my old father must marry your sister, honour, and that he will disinherit me, and entail all his lordships on her, and the air he shall beget on her body, is true or not? There is such a report? "'Why, then I pray God he may die "'an old, cuckoldy slave. "'Oh, world, what art thou? "'Where his parents love? "'Can he deny me for his natural child?

"'Yet see, oh, fornicator, old and stiff, "'not where he should be, that's my comfort yet. "'As for you, my lord, I will send to you as soon as I dare fight "'and look upon the steel, "'which, master well tried, I pray, I pray, let me with all possible speed. What did ye this afternoon? Faith, I have a great mind to see Long Meg and the ship of the fortune.

Nay, in faith, let's up and have a rest of Primero. Agreed, my lord. And toward the evening I'll carry you to the company. Well, no more words. Exeunt, Lord Proudly, Lord Fiesimple, and well-tried. I wonder, sir, you will walk soon. and let anybody sit prating to your wife. Well, I'm, I'd thrust him out of the shop by the head and shoulders. There were no policy in that, wife.

So should I lose my custom? Let them talk themselves weary and give thee love tokens. Still, I lose not buy it. Thy chastity's impregnable. I know it. Had I adame, whose eyes did swallow youth, whose unchasteed gulf together did take in, masters and men, the footboys and their lords,

making a gallamoffrey in her blood. I would not walk thus then, but virtuous wife, he that in chaste ears pours his ribald talk, but gets hate to himself, and not consent, and even his dirt, thrown hard against a wall, rebounds and sparkles in the thrower's eyes.

So ill words uttered to a virtuous name, turn and defile the speaker with red shame. Exeunt. Scene two, enter husband and wife. Sounds, you are a whore. Though I entreat him fair before his face and compliment or so, I not esteem him truly as this rush. There's no such thing as friendship in this world,

and he that cannot swear, disassembled lie, wants knowledge how to live and let him die. Sir, I did think you had esteemed of him, as you made show. Therefore I used him well, and yet, not so, but that the strictest eye I durst have made a witness of my carriage. Plagie your carriage. Why, he kissed your hand, looked babies in your eyes, and winked and pinked. I thought I had esteemed him, so blood you whore. Do not I know that you do know you lie? When didst you hear me say and mean one thing? Oh, I could kick you now and tear your face and eat thy breast like others. Sir, you may. But if I know what hath deserved all this, I am no woman, because he kissed my hand unwillingly. A little louder, pray.

You are a base fellow, an unworthy man, as a poor gentlewoman matched with all. Why should you make such show of love to any, without the truth? Thy beastly mind is like some decayed tradesman, that doth make his wife entertain those for gain he not endures. Pish, swell and burst. I had rather with thy sword be hewed to pieces than lead such a love. Life. Out with it valiant, sir. I hold you for a drawer upon women, not on men. I will no more conceal your hollow heart, but and report you as you are in truth.

This is called marriage. Stop your mouth, you whore. Thy mother was a whore if I be one. You know there's company in the house. Enter Settle. Sweet friend, what, have you writ your letter? "'Tis done, dear friend. I have made you stay too long. I fear you'll be benighted. Faye, no, no.

Madam and sweetest wife, farewell, God bless us, make much of Master Suttall here, my friend.' Kisses her. Till my return, which may be even as it happens. According as my business hath success. Exit. How will you pass the time now, fairest mistress? In troth, I know not

Wives without their husbands Methinks are loring days Indeed Some wives are like dead bodies In their husband's absence If any wife be I must needs be so That have a husband

Far above all men Untainted with the humours others have A perfect man And one that loves you You truly. You see the charge he left of your good usage. Pesh. He's an ass.

I know him a stunt ass of a most barbarous condition, false-hearted to his friend, rough unto you. A most dissembling and perfidious fellow. I care not if he heard me. This I know, and will make good upon him with my

sword or any for him, for he will not fight. Thy, servant, you show small civility and less humanity. Do you requite my husband's love thus ill? For what do you think of me that you will utter to my face such harsh, unfriendly, slanderous injuries, even of my husband? Sir, forbear I pray. My ears or your own tongue, I am no housewife to hear my husband's merit thus depraved. His merit is a halter by this light.

You think he's out of town now, no such matter, but gone aside and hath impoverdune me to try your chastity. It cannot be. Alas, he is as free from jealousy and ever was. as confidence itself. I know he loves me too too heartily to be suspicious or to prove my truth. If I do feign in alt,

ne'er may I precious the grace I hope for. And fair mistress, if you have any spirit or wit or sense, you will be even with such a wretched slave. Heaven knows I love you as the air I draw. think but how finely you may cuckold him, and safely too with me, who will report to him that you are most invincible, your chastity not to be subdued by man. When you know I am a whore?

A whore? Fine, no. That you have been kind or so. Your whore doth live in Picket Hatch, Turnbull Street. wife aside your whore lives there well servant leave me to myself a while return anon but bear this hope away chel be with you if i at all do stray exit subtle why here's right worldly friendship you're well met oh man what are you why is our poor sex still made the disgraced subjects in these places for vices, folly, and inconstancy. When, where men looked into with such critical eyes of observation, many would be found so full of gross and base corruption that none, unless the devil himself turned writer,

could feign so badly to express them truly. Some wives, that had a husband now, like mine, would yield their honors up to any man. Be it from my thoughts. O let me stand, thou God of marriage and chastity, an honor to my sex. No injury compel the virtue of my breast to yield.

It's not revenge for any wife to stain the nuptial bed, although she be yoked ill. Who falls because her husband so hath done? Cures not his wound, but in herself makes one. Exit wife. Scene three. Enter Injun, reading a letter. Sits down in a chair and stamps with his foot.

To him, a servant. Who brought this letter? A little Irish footboy, sir. He stays without for an answer. Bid him come in, Lord. What deep dissemblers are these females all? How far, unlike a friend this lady's, used me. And here, how like one mad

in love she writes. Enter maid, like an Irish footboy with a dart, gloves in her pocket, and a handkerchief. So bless me, heaven, but thou art the prettiest boy that ere ran by a horse. As thou dwelt long with thy fair mistress? I came but this morning, sir. How fair's thy lady, boy? Like to a turtle that hath lost her mate. Drooping, she sits. Her grief, sir, cannot speak. Had it a voice articulate, we should know how and for what cause she suffers, and perhaps, but is unlikely, give her comfort, sir. Weeping, she sits, and all the sound comes from her, is like the murmur of a silver brick, which her tears truly would make

thereabout her. Sat she in any hollow continent? Believe me, boy, thou hast a passionate tongue, live expression, or thy memory hath carried thy lesson well away. But wherefore mourns thy lady? Sir, you know, and would to God I did not know myself? Alas, it cannot be for love to me. When last I saw her she reviled me, boy, with bitterest words, I wish me never more to approach her sight. And for my marriage, now I do sustain it as appendants due to the desert that made her banish me. Sir, I dare swear. She did presume no words nor dangers have been powerful to restrain your coming to her when she gave the charge. But are you married, truly? Why, my boy, does think I mock myself? I sent her gloves. The glove she has returned to you, sir, by me, and prays you give them

to some other lady, that you'll deceive next, and be perjured to. Sure, you have wronged her. Sir, bad me tell you. She now thought goodness dwelt in many men. But what there was of goodness in the world, she thought you had at all. But now she sees the jewel she esteemed as counterfeit, that you are but a common man yourself, a traitor to her and her virtuous love, that all men are betrayers, and their breasts as full of dangerous gulfs as is the sea, where any woman, thinking to find a harbour, she and her honour are precipitated, and no. And no. And no. And, to be brought with safety off. Alas, my hapless lady desolate, distressed, forsaken virgin. Sure, this boy is of an excellent nature, who so newly taken to her service, feels his mistress's grief.

As he and they were old familiar friends, why weepest thou, gentle lad? Who hath one tear, and were not saved from all occasions, from brother's slaughters and from mother's deaths, to spend it here for my distressed lady. But, sir, my lady did command me beg to see your wife, that I may bear to her the sad report. What creature could make you untie the hand fast pledged unto her? Wife, wife, come forth. Now, gentle boy, be judge. Enter Injun's brother, like a woman, masked. Injun kisses her. if such a face as this being paid with scorn by her i did adore had not full power to make me marry by the god of love she's a fair creature but faith should be fairer my lady gentle mistress one that thought she had some interest in this gentleman who now is only yours commanded me to kiss your white hand and to sigh and weep and wish you that content she should have had in the fruition of her love

you hold. She bad me say, God give you joy to both. Yet this withal, if you were married, no one her footsteps evermore should meet, nor see her face but in a winding sheet. Alas, poor lady, faith, I pity her, and but to be in the same state could forego anything I possess to ease her woe. blessing light upon thy gentle soul. Men rail at women, mistress. But tis we are force and cruel, ten times more unkind. You are smoother far and of a softer mind. Sir, I have one request more. Gentle lad, it must be one of a strange quality that I deny thee. Both thy form and mind inform me that thy nurture hath been better than to betray thee to this present life.

is that you would vouchsafe to entertain me. My feet do tremble under me to bear my body back unto my uncouth lady, to assure her grief? What heart so hard would owe a tongue to tell so sad a tale to her? Alas! I dare not look upon her eyes, where wronged love sits like the basilisk. And sure, would kill me for my dire report, or rather, should I not appear like death. holding up his dart when every word i spake shot through her heart more mortally than his unsparing dart let me speak for the boy to what end love no i will sue to him to follow me entroth i love thy sweet condition and may live to inform thy lady of thee come in dry dry thine eyes respite thy woe the effects of causes crown or overthrow scene four enter lord proudly lord fee simple well-tried seldom widow bold pinning in a rough wife

slyte what should be become of her you swear she passed not forth of doors and in the house she is not did you not see her pryncox this same board has brought her letters from some younger brother, and she is stolen away. Baud? I defy, or indeed your lordship thinks you may make boards of whom you please. I'll take my oath upon a book. Since I met her in the necessary house in the morning, I ne'er set eye on her. She went not out of doors. Sure, she has an invisible ring. Mary, she's the honester woman Who some of their rings are visible enough

The more shame for them still say I Let the pond at Islington be searched Go to There's more have drowned themselves for love this year Than you are aware of Pish, you are a fool Sir Hart, call him a fool again By this light, and I will

As soon as ever you have shown me the swaggerers Her clothes are all yonder, my lord and even those same she had on today. Madam, where is your husband? Rid into the country. Oh, my conscience! Rid into France with your sister? Away, away for shame.

Why? I hope she is not the first lady that has ran away with other women's husbands. It may be she's told now to see a play. Who should go with her, man? Upon my life, you'll hear of her. of her at Master Ingen's house. Some love passed betwixt them, and we heard that he was married today to another.

Sot, I'll go see. Exit, Lord, proudly. Come to the squaggerers. Mercy upon me. A man or a lord now. Exun't, Lord Fisimple, well tried. He is of quarrel with a lord and his sister. Pryncox, has thou not

pinned in that rough yet. Oh, how thou fumble'st. Truth, madam, I was ne'er brought up to it. It is a chambermaid's work, and I have ever lived, gentlewoman, and been used accordingly. Exeunt. End of Act 2. Act 3 of Amends for Ladies by Nathan Field. This is a Librevox recording.

All Libervox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Act 3, Scene 1. Enter husband and subtle. She's a rare wife, believe it, sir. We're all such. We never should have false inheritors. Pish, friend, there is no woman in the world can hold out in the end. if youth shape wit met in one subject do assault her aptly. For failing once you must not faint, but try another way.

The passive woman's minds are crooked and diverse. They have byways to lead you to the palace of their pleasures, and you must woo discreetly. First, observe the disposition of her you attempt. If she be spriteful and heroical, possess her that you are valiant and have spirit, talk nothing but of beating every man that is your hindrance though you do not do it or dare not tis no matter be she free and of a liberal soul give bountously to all your servants and let your angels fly about the room although you borrowed them if she be witty so must your discourse get wit what shifts however you make for it though it cost you all your land and then a song or two is not a miss Although you buy them, there's many in the town will furnish you.

But still, I tell you, you must use her roughly. Beat her face black and blue. Take all her clothes and give them to some punk. This will be ground for me to work upon. All this I have done. I have left her now as bare that. Should I die her fortune on my conscience would be to marry some tobacco man.

she is nothing but an old black work waistcoat, which would serve exceedingly well to sit at the shop and light pipes for the lousy footmen, and sweet friend first, here's a jewel to present her, then here's a sonnet writ against myself, which as thine own thou shalt accost her with. Farewell, and happy success attend thee. Exit.

Ha, ha, ha, ha. He reads, Fairest still wilt thou be true, to man so false to thee did he lend a husband's Jew thou didst owe him loyalty but will curses wantum blows breed no change in thy white soul be not a fool to thy first vows since his first breach doth thy faith control no beauty else could be so chaste think not thou honorest woman then since by thy conscience, all disgraced, are robbed of the dear loves of men. Then grant me my desire that vow to prove a real husband, his adulterate love. Took ever man more pains to be a cuck-old.

Oh, monstrous age, where men themselves we see, study and pay for their own infamy. scene two enter injun made lord proudly brother like a woman swords drawn give me my sister i'll have her both thy heart no earthly lord can pull her out of that till he have plucked my heart first out my lord we're not inhospitable i could wrung you here in my own house i am so full of woe for your loss sister that by all my joys hope for in her my heart weeps tears of blood a whiter virgin and a worthier had ne'er creation lida swan was black to her virginity and immaculate thoughts where hast thou hid her give her me again for by the god of vengeance be she lost the female hate shall spring betwixt our names shall never die While one of either house survives, our children shall, at seven years old, strike knives in one another. Let hell gape, and take me quick if I know where she is, but I am so charged with sorrow for her loss, being the cause of it, as no doubt I am, that I had rather fall upon my sword, then breathe a minute longer.

Offering to kill himself. O sir, hold. Thou shalt not need. I have a sword to bathe in thy false blood, Inhumane murderer. Good sir, be pacified. I'll go. I'll run many a mile to find your sister out.

She never was so desperate of grace By violence to rob herself of life. And so her soul in danger. Comfort, sir. She's but retired somewhere, on my life. Injun, to his brother. Prithee, let me alone. Do I stand to defend that wretched life that is in doubt of hers?

Here, worthy Lord, behold, my breast framed of thy sister's love. Hew it for thou shalt strike but unostock, since she has gone. That was the cause it lived. Out, bossed assembler, art not married? No. behold it is my younger brother dressed plucks off his head tire a man no woman that hath gulled the world intended for a happier event than this that followed that she now is gone oh fond experiments of simple man full to thy fate since all thy project meant but mirth is now converted unto death lady honour aside oh do not burst me joy That modesty would let me show myself to finish all.

Nay, then thou hast my sister somewhere, villain. Tis plain now thou wilt steal thy marriage. She is no match for thee, assure thyself. If all the law in England, or my friends can cross it, it shall not be. Would twere so well, and that I knew the lady to be safe? Give me no ill words. sir this boy and i will wander like two pilgrims till we find her if you do love her as you talk do so the love or grief that is expressed in words is slight and easy tis but shallow woe that makes a noise deepest waters stillest go i love her better than thy parents did which is beyond a brother slave thou liest

His hounds. About to strike. Kill him. Oh, hold. Sir, you dishonour much your brother, to counsel him against hospitality, to strike in his own house. You, Lord, insolent,

I will fight with you. Take this as a challenge and set your time. Tomorrow morning, Injun, Tis that I covet, and provoke thee for. Will you not strike him now? No, my good boy is both discreet, and just in his advice.

Thy glories are to last but for a day. Give me thy hand. Tomorrow morning thou shalt be no lord. Tomorrow noon thou shalt not be at all. Pesh, why do you think so? Have not eye arms? A soul as bold as yours, a sword is true.

I do not think your honor in the field without your lordship's liveries will have odds. Farewell. And let's have no excuses, pray. Exit proudly. I warrant you. Pray, say your prayers tonight,

and bring an inkhorn where ye to set your hand to a satisfactory recantation. Exit. O wretched maid, whose sword can I pray for? But by the other's loss, I must find death. Odeus, brother, if he kill my love. Oh, bloody love! If he should kill my brother. Despair on both sides of my discontent

tells me no safety rests but to prevent. Exit. Scene three. Enter widow and bold like Pryncox. What's o'clock, Pryncox? Bedtime, and please you, madam. Come, undress me. Oh, would God had made me a man.

Why, madam? Because I would have been in bed. bed as soon as they. We are so long unpinning and unlacing. Yet many of us, madam, are quickly undone some time, but herein we have the advantage of men. Though they can be abed sooner than we, it's a great while, when they are a bed, here they can get up. Indeed, if they be well-laid, Princock's, one cannot get them up again in haste. Oh God! Madam, how mean you that? I hope you know ill things taken into a gentlewoman's ears are the quick corruptors of maiden modesty.

I would be loath to continue in any service unfit for my virgin estate, or where the world should take any notice of light behaviour in the lady I follow. for madam the main point of chastity in a lady is to build the rock of a good opinion amongst the people by circumstances and a fair show she must make see non caste tamencorte madam and though wit be a wanton madam yet i beseech your ladyship for your own credit and mine let the bridal of judgment be always in the chaps of it to give it head or restrain it, according as time and place shall be convenient. Precise and learned princogs, does not thou go to blackfriars? Most frequently, madam, unworthy vessel that I am to partake or retain any of the delicious dew that is there distilled.

But why shouldst thou ask me what I meant even now? I tell thee, there's nothing uttered but carries a double sense. One good, one bad. But if the hero apply it to the worst, the fault lies in his or her corrupt understanding, not in the speaker. For to answer your Latin, pravis omnia prava. Believe me, wench, if ill come into my fancy, I will purge it by speech. The less will remain within. A pox of these nests of these nests. nice-mouthed creatures. I have seen a narrow pair of lips utter as broad a tail as can be bought for money. Indeed, an ill-tail unuttered is like a maggot in a nut. It spoils the whitest colonel. You speak most intelligently, madam.

O hast not done yet. Thou art an old fumbler, I perceive. Me think thou dost not do things like a woman. Madam, I do my endeavour, and the best can do no more. They that could do better, it maybe would not, and then twere all one. But rather than be a burden to your ladyship, I protest sincerely. I would beg my bread. Therefore I beseech you, madam, to hold me excused, and let my goodwill stand for the action. Let thy good will stand for the action. If good will would do it, there's many a lady in this land would be content with her old lord. And thou canst not be a burden to me without thou lie upon me, and that were preposterous in thy sex. Take no exceptions at what I say. Remember you said stand even now. There was a word for one of your coat, indeed.

I swear, her, madam, you are very merry. God send you good luck. Has your ladyship no waters that you use at bedtime? No, in troth, Princock's. No complexion? None but mine own, I swear. Didst thou ever use any? No, indeed, madam.

Now and then a piece of scarlet or so, a little white and red cirrus. But in truth, madam, I have an excellent receipt for a night mask as ever you heard. What is it? Bours grease one ounce. Jordan almonds blanchton ground, a quartum, red rose water, half a pint, mares urine newly covered, half a score drops. Foo!

no more of thy medicine if thou lovest me few of our night's errand when they meet a fair lady errand in a morning would think her face had lain so plastered all night thou hast had some apothecary to thy sweetheart but leaving this face physic for by my troth it may make others have good ones but it makes me a scurvy one which of all the gallant in the town wouldst thou make a husband of if thou mightst have him for thy choosing? In truth, madam, but you'll say I speak blindly, but let my love stand aside. I think it not fit indeed. Your love should stand in the middle. I say master belt. Oh, do but mark him, madam. His leg, his hand, his body, and all his Memble stand in print. Out upon the print, cocks, no.

Me things, well tried, the handsome fellow. I like not these starched gallants. Masculine faces and masculine gestures please me best. How like you, Master Purt? Oh, fire upon him. When he is in his scarlet clothes, he looks like a man of wax, and I had a sleeve have a dog of wax. I do not think but he lies in a case of nights.

He walks as if he were made of gins, as if nature had wrought him in a frame. I have seen him sit discontented a whole play because one of the pearls of his band was fallen out of his reach to order again. Why, bold, madam, is clean contrary. Aye, but that's as ill. Each extreme is alike vicious. His careful carelessness is his study. He spends as much time to make himself slovenly as the other to be spruce. His garters hang over upon the calves of his legs, his doublet unbuttoned, and his points untrust, his hair in his eyes like a drunkard, and his head, worn on the hinder part of his head, as if he cared more for his memory than his wit,

makes him look as if he were distracted. Pryncox, I would have you lie with me. I do not love to lie alone. With all my heart, madam. Are you clean-skinned? Clean-skinned, madam? There's a question. Do you think I have the itch?

I am an English woman. I protest, I scorn the mrs. emotion. Nay, pretty, Prinkgox. Be not angry. It's a sign of honesty, I can tell you. Faith, madam, I think tis but simple honesty that dwells at the sign of the scab. Well, well, come to bed, and we'll talk further of all these matters. Exit. Fortune, I thank thee. I will hold thee eyes for this good turn. Now she is mine indeed. Thou hast given me that success my project hoped.

Off false disguise, thou hast been true to me, and now be bold, that thou mayest welcome be. Exit Scene four. Enter Horbang, bots, tear chaps, spill blood, and drawerer. Several patches on their faces. Damn me, we will have more wine, sirrah, or we'll down into the cell. and drown thee in a butt of Malmsey. And he while the hogsheads in pieces.

Hang him, rogue, shall he die as honourable as the Duke of Clarence? By this flesh, let's have wine, or I will cut thy head off and have it roasted and eaten in pie corner next Bartholumetide. Gentlemen, I beseech you consider where you are. Turnbull Street. A civil place. Do not disturb a number of. poor gentlewomen, Master Ho-Bang, Master Botts, Master Tear Chaps, and Master Spill Blood. The Watch are abroad.

The Watch? Why, are you rogue? Harnot we the Kings of Turnbull? Yes, marry are ye, sir. For my part, if you'll be quiet, I'll have a sign made of ye, and it shall be called the Four Kings of Turnbull. Will you fetch his wine? And a whore, sirrah? Why, what do you think of me?

Am I an infidel? A Turk? A pagan? A Saracen? I have been at best turnips And she swears all the gentlewoman Went to see a play at the fortune And are not to come in yet

And she believes they sup with the players. Damn me, we must kill all those rogues. We shall never keep you. a whore honest for them. Go your way, sirrah. We'll have but a gallon apiece and an ounce of tobacco. I beseech you, let it be but pottles. Sart, you rogue. Exit drawer. Enter, well-tried, and lord Friesimple. Master well-tried, welcome as my soul. Enter drawer with wine, plate, and tobacco. No, well lad, how dost thou.

Welcome as the tobacco and a wine, boy. Damn me, thou art. Bless me, save you, gentlemen. They have not one face among them. I would wish myself well from them. I would I put out something upon my return. I had his leaf be at Barmouthoce. Pray, welcome this gentleman.

Spill blood, aside. Is he valiant? Well tried, aside. Faith, he is a little full. faulty that way. Somewhat of a bashful and backward nature, yet I have brought him amongst you because he hath a great desire to be fleshed.

Yes, faith, sir. I have a great desire to be fleshed. Now, Master Well-Tried said he would bring me to the only flesh-mongers in the town. Well-tried, aside. Sir, he cannot endure the sight of steel. Not steel, zounce. Claps his sword over the table.

Oh, now I am going. Faints. Here's to you, sir. I'll fetch you again with a cup of sack. I pledge you, sir, and begin to you in a cup of claret. Well tried, aside. Hark you, my lord. What will you say if I make you beat all these out of the room?

Fee simple, aside. What will I say? Why, I say it is impossible. It is not immortal man. Well, drink apace. If any brave you, out brave him. I'll second you. They are a company of cowards, believe me.

By this light, I would they well, if I thought so, I would be upon the jack of one of him instantly, that same little damn me. But, Master Wellchite, if they be not very valiant, or dare not fight, how came they by such cuts and gashes

and such broken faces? Why, their whores strike them with cans and glasses, and quart pots. If they have nothing by them, they strike them with a box, and you know that will lay one's nose as flat as a basket-hilt dagger. Well, let me alone. This bully dares not drink. Dare I not, sir? Well said. Speak to him, man. You had best try me, sir.

We four will drink four healths to four of the seven deadly sins. Pride, drunkenness, wrath, and lettery. I'll pledge him, and I thank you. I know him all. Here's one. Which of the sins? By my troth, even to pride. Why, well said, and in this, do not you only pledge your mistress's health,

but all the women's in the world. So, now this little cup to wrath, because he and I are strangers. brave boy, damn me, he shall be a roarer. Damn me, I will be a roarer. Or it shall cost me a fall. The next place that falls, pray let him have it. Well, I have two of my health to drink yet. Letcheray and drunkenness, which even shall go together.

Why, how now, my lord, a moralist. Damn me, are thou a lord? What virtues hast thou? Virtues. Enough to keep air a damn me company in England. He thinks you should think it a virtue enough to be, your lord. Will you not pledge these healths, Master Well-Tried? We'll have no observers.

Why, Monsieur Porbang, I am no playmaker, and, for pledging your health, I love none of the four you drink to so well. Zounds, you shall pledge me this. Shall I? What's the matter? Dost hear me, Master Well-Tried. Use thine own discretion. Thou wilt not pledge him, say so,

and let me see if error damn me of them all will force thee. Puff, will your lordship take any tobacco? You, lord with the white face. Hart, he cannot put it through his nose. Faith, you have narrow nose to put it through. To hear I blow your face, Sarah. You pledge me, sir? Indeed, I will not.

Damn me, he. shall not then. Lord, use your own words. Damn me is mine. I'm known by it all the town o'er. Do you hear? It is as free for me as you, do you hear, Patch? I have paid more fort.

Nay, I'll bear him witness in a truth. His soul lies fort, my lord. Well tried, you are grown proud since you got good clothes and have followed your lord. Strikes, and they scuffle. I have not.

known you lousy well tried. Rorer, you lie. Draw and fight, throw pots and stools. Oh, Jesus. Zanzuns, cleave or be cleft, Perlmel, sloth arms and legs. Heart, let me alone with him. Break off and exeunt all the swaggerers.

Why, now the art a worthy white, Indeed, a lord of lorn. I am a madman. Look, is not that one of their heads? Fie, no, my lord. Damn me but it is. I would not wish you to cross me a purpose. If you have anything to say to me, so I am ready.

Oh, brave lord, many aurora thus is made by wine. Come, it is one of their heads, my lord. Why, so then I will have my humour. If you love me, let's go break windows somewhere. Dora, take your plate. For the reckoning, there's some of their cloaks. I will be no shot long to such. God's blessing all your hearts for thus ridding the house of them.

Exunct. End of Act 3. Act 4 of Amends for Ladies by Nathan Field. This is a Libervox recording. All Libervox recordings are in the public domain. more information or to volunteer, please visit librivox.org. Act four, scene one. Enter widow, undressed, a sword in her hand, and bold in his shirt as started from bed.

Uncivil man, if I should take thy life, twere not to be weighed with thy attempt. Thou hast forever lost me. Madam, why? Can love be get lost? Do I cover? you unlawfully? Am I an unfit man to make an husband of? Send for a priest, first consummate the match, and then to bed without more trouble. No, I will not do it. Why, you confess to me, as you or gentle woman, I was the man your heart did most affect, that you did dote upon my mind and body. So, by the sacred and inviolate knot of men, I do, but I will not wed thee.

Why, yet enjoy me now. Consider lady that little but blessed time I was in bed, although I lay as by my sister's side, the world is apt to censure otherwise, so tis necessity that we marry now. Pish, I regard not at a straw the world. Fame from the tongues of us. man does injury oftener than justice and as conscience only makes guilty persons not report for show we clear as springs unto the world if our own knowledge do not make us so that is no satisfaction to ourselves

so stand we never so leprous to man's eye it cannot hurt hard-known integrity you have trusted to that fond opinion this is the way to have a widowhood by getting her to bad-known integrity and you have trusted to that fond opinion this is the way to have a widowhood by getting her to bad Alas, young man, shouldst thou thyself tell thy companions thou hast dishonoured me? As you men have tongues forked and venomed against our subject sex, it should not move me that know it is not so. Therefore, depart. Truth be my virtuous shield. Few widows would do thus. All modest would.

To be in bed and in possession, even of the mob. I aimed at and go off foiled and disgraced. Come, come, you'll laugh at me behind my back. Publish I wanted spirit and mock me to the ladies. Call me child, say you denied me but to try the heat and zeal of my affection toward you, then clapped up with a rhyme. As, for example, he coldly loves retires for one vain trial, for we are yielding when we make denial.

Servant, I make no question. From this time you'll hold a more reverend opinion of some that wear long coats. And is my pride to assure you that there are amongst us good, and with this continency. If you go away, I'll be so far from thinking it defect that I will hold you worthiest of man. It's heart. I am tantalus. My long-for fruit bobs at my lips, yet still it shrinks from me. Have not I that which men say never fails to overcome any? Opportunity! Come, come. I am too cold in my assault. By all the virtues that you ever were in man or woman, I with reverence do love thee, lady, but will be no fool to let a occasions slip her foretop from me.

You will fail this way, too. Upon my niece I do desire thee to preserve thy virtues, and with my tears my honour. Tis as bad to lose our worth to them, or to deceive who have held worthy opinions of us, as to betray trust. All this I implore for thine own sake, not mine. As for myself, if thou beest violent,

By this stupid night and all the mischiefs her dark womb hath bred, I'll raise the house. I'll cry a rape. I hope you will not hang me. That were murder, lady, a greater sin than lying with me, sure. Come, flatter not yourself with argument. I will exclaim. The law hangs you, not I. Or if I did, I had rather far confound the dearest,

body in the world to me, then that that body should confound my soul. Your soul? Alas, mistress, are you so fond to think her general destruction can be procured by such a natural act? Which beasts are born to and have privilege in? Fy, fie, if this could be, far happier our insensitive souls in their creation than man, the prince of creatures. think you heaven regards such mortal deeds or punisheth those acts for which he have ordained us you argue like an atheist man is never the prince of creatures as you call him now but in his reason fail that he is worse than horse or dog or beast of wilderness and this dead reason teaches us to do our actions unlike them then that which you termed in them a privy beyond us, the baseness of their being doth express compared to ours. Horses, bulls and swine do leap their dams. Because man does not so, shall we conclude his making happiness?

You put me down, yet will not put me down. I am too gentle. Some of you, I have heard, love not these words, but force to have it done as they sing pricksong in the first sight. Go too. Keep off by heaven and earth, I'll call else. How if nobody hear you?

If they do not, I'll kill you with my own hand, never stare, or failing that fall on this sword myself. A widow, wonderful, if thou be'st not honest, now God forgive my mother and my sisters. Think but how finally, madam, undiscovered forever I might live. All day, your gentle woman to do you service.

But all night, your men to do you service. Nueness of the trick, if nothing else might stir you. This is a stale one, and was done in the fleet, years ago. Will you be gone? The door is open for you. Let me but tarry till the morning, madam, to send for clothes. Shall I go naked home? This best time now, it is but one o'clock, and you may go unseen. I swear by heaven, I would spend all the night to sit and talk with you if I durst trust you. I do love you so. My blood forsakes my heart

Now you depart So ha! Will you marry me here after then? No, you are too young And I am much too old Aye, and unworthy And the world will say we marry it not for love Good morrow, servant

Exit Widow Why so These women are the erroneous jugglers in the world The wry-legged fellow is an ass to them. Well, I must have this widow, whatever come on it. Faith, she has turned me out of her service very barely. Ock, what's here? Music!

Enter Suttle with a paper, and his boy with a cloak. Settle reads, Rise, lady mistress, rise. The knight hath tedious being. no sleep hath fallen into mine eyes nor slumbers made me sin is not she a saint then say thought of whom keeps sin away rise madam rise and give me light whom darkness still will cover and ignorance darker than night till thou smile on thy lover all want day till thy beauty rise till thy beauty rise for the grey morn breaks from thine eyes. Sing it now, sirrah.

The song is sung by the boy. Sfoot, who's this young master bold? God save you. You are an early stirre. You say true, Master Settle? I have been early up. But as God help me, I was never the near. Where have you been, sir?

What's that to you, sir? sir, at a woman's labour? Very good. I ne'er took you for a man-midwife before. The truth is, I've been up all night at dice and lost my clothes. Good morrow, Master Settle. Pray God the watch be broke up. I thank you for my music.

Exit. Tis palpable by this air. Her husband being abroad, bold has lain with her, and is now conveyed out of doors is this the lady perfect with a pox the truth is her virtuous chastity began to make me make a miracle of her still holding out to me notwithstanding her husband's most barbarous usage of her but now indeed tis no marvel since another possesses her well madam i will go find out your cuckold. I'll be revenged on you and tell a tale shall tickle him. This is a cheat in love not to be born, another to beguile me of the game I played for all this while. Exit. Scene two. Enter well-tried and bold, putting on his doublet. Fee simple asleep on a bed as in Bold's chamber.

You see, we made Bold with your lodging. Indeed, I did assure myself You were fast for this night But how the devil came this fool into your company? Saffut, man, I carried him last night Among the roars to flesh him. And, by this light, he got drunk, and beat him all. Why, then he could endure the sight of a drawn sword now?

Oh, God, sir. I think in my conscience he will eat steel shortly. I know not how his conversion will hold after this sleep, but in an hour or two last night he was grown such a little damn me that I protest I was afraid of the spirit that I myself had raised in him

but this other matter of your expulsion thus mads me to the heart were you in bed with her in bed by heaven I'll be hanged if you were not busy too soon you should have let her slept first Zoon's man she put her hand to my breasts

and swore I was no maid Now, I, being eager to prove her words true, took that hint, and would violently have thrust her hand lower, when her thought, being swifter than my strength, made her no sooner imagine that she was betrayed, but she leaps out of the bed, whips me down a sword that hung by, and, as if fortitude and justice had meant to assist her, spite of all argument fair or foul, she forced me away. But is it possible thou shouldst have no more wit? Wouldst thou come away upon any terms but sure ones, Having night, her chamber, and herself naked in thine arms? By that light, if I had a son of fourteen whom I had helped thus far, That had served me so, I would breach him. Tart. What would you have me done?

Have done, done twice at least. I've played Tarkwin, and revished her. Pish! Tarkwin was a block. If he had had any wit and could have spoke, Lucrease had never been ravished. She would have yielded, I warrant thee, and so will any woman. I was such an erroneous heretic to love and woman as thou art till now. God's precious. It makes me mad when I think on't.

Was there ever such an absurd trick? Now will she abuse thee horribly, say thou art a faint-hearted fellow, a milk-sop, and I know not what, as indeed the... art. Zones, would you at being in my place? Sounds, I would I had. I would have so jumbled her honestly. Wouldst thou be held out at stays end with words? Does thou not know a widow's weak vessel, and is easily cast if you close? Well tried, you deal unfriendly. By this light, I shall blush to be seen in thy company. Pray, leave my chamber. Pox upon your chamber. I care not for your chamber nor yourself more than you care for me.

Splad, I as little, for you. Why fare you well? Why fare well? Yeah, well tried, I prithee stay. Now knowest I love thee. Sir Hart, I love you as well. But for my spleen and collar, I think I have as much as you. Well, friend, this is the business you must do for me.

Repair unto the widow, where give at tomorrow morning, I should be married. Invite her to the wedding. I have a trick to put upon this lord to whom I made my instrument to prefer me. What shall follow I will not ask, because I mean to see it. The jars to his friends still keeps their friendship sweet. Exit. Fee simple, waking. Ugh. Why well tried, you rogue. What's that? A vision. Why, how now, my lord? Whom do you call rogue? The gentleman you name is my friend.

If you were wise, I should be angry. Angry with me. I damn me, sir, and you be. Out with your sword. It's not with me, I tell you, as it was yesterday. I am fleshed man, I. Have you any. to say to me. Nothing but this. How many do you think you've slain last night?

By five, I never kill less. There were but four. My lord, you at best provide yourself and be gone. Three, you have slain stark dead. You chest. It's most true. Well tried is fled. Why? Let the roarers meddle with me another time. "'It's for flying, I scorn it. "'I killed him like a man. "'When did you ever see a lord hang for anything? "'We may kill whom we list. "'Mary, my conscience pricks me.

"'Ah, plague of this drink! "'What things makes us do! "'I do no more remember this now than a puppy-dog. "'A bloody lord that ought to be dodged with gore! Vain world, adjure, for I will roar no more. Nay, stay, my lord, I did but try the tenderness of your conscience. All this is nothing so, but to sweeten the tale I have for you, I foretold you this feigned mischance. It is a tale belonging to the widow.

I think you are a witch. My grandmother was suspected. The widow has desired you by me to meet a witch. tomorrow morning at church in some unknown skies, lest any suspect it. For, quoth she, Long Haffy hailed me fast in his moist hand, therefore I will be his in nup to your band. Both, I have ever taken you to be my friend. I am very wise now, and valiant.

If this be not true, damn thee, sir, you are the son of a whore, and you lie, and I will and make it good with my sword. I am whate'er you please, sir, if it be not true. I will go with you to the church myself. You're disguised I have fought on. The widow is your own. Come, leave you fooling. If this be true, thou little boy bold,

so true as thou tells to me, Tomorrow morning when I have the widow, my dear friend shall thou be. Exunt. Scene three. Enter maid like the footboy, seldom with Pits and Honor, a couple of sergeants. Sir, tis most true, and in this shall you be unlike to other citizens, that arrest to undo gentlemen. Your clemency here, perchance, saves two lives, one from the other's sword, the other from the laws. This morn they fight, and though your debtor be a lord, yet, should he miscarry? Certainly your debt were lost.

Dost thou serve the Lord proudly? Sir, I do. Well, such a boy as thou is worth more money than thy Lord owes me. Tis not for the debt, I do arrest him, but to end this strife, which both may lose my money and his life. Enter Lord Proudly with a riding rod. My horse there, zounds I would not for the world. He should alight before me in the field.

My name and honour were forever lost. Good morrow to your honour. I do hear your lordship this fair morning is to fight. And for your honour. Did you never see the play or the fat knight, height, Hight, old castle? Did tell you truly what his honour was? Why, how now, good man, Flatcap? What dee lack? Whom do you talk to, Sirah?

We arrest you. Arrest me, rogue? I am a lord, ye curs, a parliament man. Sir, we arrest you, though. At whose suit? At mine, sir. Why thou base rogue? Did not I set the out? Having no stock but thy shop and fail wife? Into my house with him. Away with him. Away with him. A plot, a trick by heaven.

See, Injun's footboy. Tis by his master's means. O coward slave, I'll put in bail or pay the debt. Aye, aye, aye. We'll talk with you within. Thrust him in. Exun't Enter Ingin, looking on his sword and bending it,

His brother like a man. If I miss Carrie, Frank, I pretty see all my debts paid. About 500 pounds will fully satisfy all men, and my land. And what I else possess by nature's right, And thy descent, Frank, I make freely thine. I know you do not think I wish you dead, for all the benefit. it. Besides, your spirit so opposite to counsel to avert your resolution, that I save my breath, which would be lost in vain, to expire and spend upon your foe if you fall under him.

Frank, I protest you shall do injury upon my foe, and much disturbance, too, and to my soul departing. Die I hear fairly, and on my single enemy's sword. if you should not let him go off untouched. Now, by the master of thy life and mine, I love thee boy beyond any example, as well as thou dost me, but should I go thy second to the field as thou dost mine, and if thine enemy kill thee like a man,

I would desire never to see him more. But he should bear himself off with those wounds he has received from thee, from that time safe, and without persecution by the law. For what hap as our foes might be our own, and no man's judgment sits in justice place, but weighing other men's as his own case.

He has the advantage of you, being a lord, for should you kill him, you are sure to die. And by some lawyer with a golden tongue that cries for right, ten angels on his side, your daring meet him called presumption. But, kill he, you. He and his noble friends have such a golden snaffle for the jaws of man-devouring Pythagorean law.

They'll reign her stubborn chaps even to her tail. And, though she have iron teeth to meaner men, so master her, that who displeased her most, she shall lie under like a tired jade for small boats on rough seas are quickly lost but ships ride safe and cut the waves that tossed follow what may i am resolved dear brother this monster valour that doth feed on men groans in me for my reputation this charge i give thee too if i do die never depart from the young boy which late i entertained but love him for my sake. And for my mistress, the lady honour, whom to deceive I have deceived myself, if she be dead, pray God I may give up my life a sacrifice on her brother's sword. But if thou thou livest to see her gentle brother, if I be slain, tell her I died because I had

transgressed against her worthy love. This sword is not well mounted. Let's see thine. enter maid like a footboy your staying sir is in vain for my lord proudly just at his taking horse to meet you here at seldom suit the citizen was arrested upon an action of two hundred pounds i saw it sir tis true oh scurvy lord it had been a cleanlier shift than this to have had it hindered by command he being a lord but i will find him Enter Lord Proudly. You see, valiant, sir, I have got loose for all your stratagem. Oh, rogue, are you there? Proudly stabs his sister. Most ignoble hard.

Injun stabs proudly in the left arm. Coward, thou didst this, that I might be disabled for the fight, or that thou mightst have some excuse to shun me, but tis my left arm thou hast lighted on. I have no second, heareth three of you. If all do murder me, your consciences will more than hang you, Damio? Come, prepare.

Brother, walk off, and take the boy away. Is he hurt much? Nothing, or very little. Proudly thrusts the boy out. I'll bind up your wound first. Your loss of blood may sooner make you faint. Injun, thou art a worthy, gentlemen. For this courtesy, go too.

I'll save thy life. Come on, sir. A pass or two. I'll cut your codpiece point, sir, with this thrust, and then down go your breeches. Your lordship's mare. Pass. I had like to have spoiled your cutwork back.

Enter maid like a footboy running. Brother after her. Maid kneels betwixt to them. Oh, master, hold your hand. My lord, hold yours. Or let your swords meet in this wretched breast? Yet you are both well. What blood you have lost.

Give it as for the injury you did. And now be friends. Sot, tis a loving rogue. Kind boy, stand up. Tis for thy wound he bleed. My wrong is yet unsatisfied. Hence, away, it is a sister's loss that wets my sword. Maid discovers herself.

O stay, my lord, behold your sister here, bleeding by your hand. Servant, see your mistress turn to thy servant, running by thy horse, whose meaning twas to have prevented this? But all in vain. O noble lady, most worthy pattern of all womankind. Injun, I am satisfied. Put up your sword. Sister, you must with me. I have a husband. The Lord Fiesimples, bar the old but rich. This gentleman is no match for you. Neal not. That portion of yours I have consumed. Thus marrying, you shall never come to want.

Oh sweet, my lord, my brother, do not force me to break my faith, or to a loathed bed. Force you, he shall not. Brother, bear her hints. She is my wife, and thou shalt find my cause ten times improved now. Oh, have it you, sir. Pass. Hold, hold for heaven's sake. Was there a wretched lady put to this hazard? Sir, let me speak but one word with him, and I'll go away. with you, and undergo whatever you command. Do it quickly, for I love no whispering.

Tis strange to see you, madam, with a sword. You should have come hither in your lady's clothes. Well, as you please, my lord, you are witness. Whatsoever her before have passed betwixt us. Thus I do undo. When not I'm mad to think thou couldst love me, That wouldst have slain my brother. Sayest true, say.

sister. O thou fair creature, wilt thou be as false as other ladies? Thou art my example. I'll kiss thee once. Farewell, forever. Come, my lord, now match me with whom ye please. A tumbler! I must do this.

Else had they fought again. Mine own best sister. Farewell, Master, Injun. Exeunt proudly and made. O ancient truth to be denied of no man An eel by the tails held sure than a woman Exeunt End of Act 4

Act 5 of Amends for Ladies by Nathan Field This is a Libravox recording All Libervox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer Please visit Libravox.org Act 5, Scene 1. Enter Settle with Husband. She is not to be cast. It cannot be. Had you a wife and I were in your case,

I would be hanged even at the chamber door where I attempted, but I'd lay her flat. Why, tell me truly, would it please you best to have her remain chased or conquered? Oh friend, it would do me good at the heart to have her overcome. She does so brag and stand upon her chastity, Foursuit. Why then? In plain terms, sir, the fort is mine. Your wife has yielded. Up Tales is her song. The deed is done.

Come now be merry, man. Is the deed done indeed? Come, come, you jest. Has my wife yielded? Is uptails her song? Faith come to prose. How got you to the matter first, huh? Pish, you are so bashful now.

Why, by my troth, I'll tell you, because you are my friend. Otherwise, you must note, it is a great hurt to the art of whoremastery to discover. Besides, the skill was never mine of the problem. price. Very good. On, sir? At first, she was horrible stiff against me. Then, sir, I took her by the hand, which I kissed. Good, sir. And I called her pretty rogue, and I thrust my finger betwixt her breasts, and I made lips. At last, I poured her by the chin to me, and I kissed her. Hmm, very good. So,

at the first she kissed very strangely. Close and untoward. Then I said to her, Think but upon the wrongs, The intolerable wrongs, The rogue your husband does you. Aye, that was very good. What said she to you then, sir?

Nay, I went on. First, quoth I, think how he hath used you. Left you no means, given all your clothes to his punks, struck you, turned your grey eyes into black ones, but yet... A pretty conceit. Quoth I, these things are nothing in the rascal. Think but what a base whore, master, the rascal is. Did you call me rascal so often? Are you sure?

Yes, an oftener. For, said I, none comes amiss, to the rogue. I have known him, quoth I, do three lousy beggars under hedges in a riding of ten miles. And I swore this to... Twas very well, but you did lie. On, pray. Fish, one must lie a little. Now, sir, by this time she began to kiss somewhat more openly and familiarly. Her resistance began to slacken, and my assault began to stiffen.

The more her bulwark decayed, the more my battery fortified. At last, sir, a little fumbling being passed to make the conquest more difficult, she perceived my artillery mounted, falls flat upon her back, cries me out aloud. alas i yield use me not roughly friend my fort that like troy town ten years hath stood besieged and shot at did remain unwon but now tis conquered so the deed was done then came the hottest service forward with your tale sir nay ceterre quesnacet Lasi requievimus ambo. Provenient me di Sikmii sepdies. Which is as much as to say I am a cuckold in all languages.

But sure, tis not so. It is impossible my wife should yield. Hey day. E now it was impossible she should hold out. And now it is impossible she should yield. Stay you but here and be an ill. Hear witness to what follows. I'll fetch your wife.

Aside. I know he will not stay. Exit. Love all. Aside. Good faith, sir, but he will. I do suspect some knavery in this. Here will I hide myself when thought is gone.

If they do art unfitting, I will call witness and straightaway sue for a divorce. Exit. Enter wife and son. subtle. I knew he would not stay. Now, noble mistress, I claim your promise. What was that, good servant? That you would lie with me. If with any man, but prithee first consider with thyself. If I should yield to thee, what a load thy conscience would bear about it. For I wish quick thunder may strike me if I yet have lost the truth or whiteness of the hand I gave in church,

and twill not be thy happiness, as thou thinkest, that thou alone shouldst make a woman fall that did resist all else, but to thy soul, a bitter corrosive, that thou didst stain virtue, that else had stood immaculate, nor speak I this as yielding unto thee, for, For tis not in thy power, Wirt thou the sweetest of nature's children and the happiest, to conquer me, nor in mine own to yield. And thus it is with every pious wife.

Thy daily railing at my absent husband makes me endure thee worse, for let him do the most preposterous, ill-relishing things. To me, they seem good since my husband does him. Nor am I to revenge or govern him. And thus it should be with all virtuous wives. Poxer this virtue and this chastity?

Do you not know, fair mistress, a young gentleman about this town called Bald? Where did he lie last night, sweet mistress? Oh, oh, are you catched? I saw him slip out of the house this morn as naked as this truth. And for this cause I have told your husband that you yielded to me. And he, I warrant you, will blaze it thoroughly. As good do now then, as be thought to do.

No, t'will not be yet, though injurious man. How wilt thou write me in my husband's thoughts That on a false surmise and spite Has told a tale to breed incurable discontent? Bold was that old wench that did serve the widow And thinking by this way to gain her love missed of his purpose And was thus cashiered Nor cares she to proclaim it to the world

Zounds I have wronged you mistress On my knees Neals I ask your pardon and will never more attempt your purity But neglect all things Till that foul wrong I have read in your knight I have expelled

And set your loves Aright Enter husband Which now is already done, madam Wife Neals Upon my knees with weeping eyes, heavy hands, I ask thy pardon. Oh, sweet, virtuous creature, I pray thee break my head.

Rise, rise, sir, pray. You have done no wrong to me, at least I think so. Heaven hath prevented all my injury. I do forgive and marry you anew. Come, we are all invited to the wedding. The Lady Honor and the rich old Count, young bold unto another gentlewoman, we and the widow are invited thither. Embrace and love henceforth more really, not so like worldlings. Here then ends all strife. Thus false friends are made true by a true wife.

Exunate Scene two. Enter Old Count wrapped in first. The lady honour, dressed like a bride. The Lord proudly, well-tried, bold, leading fee-simple like a lady masked. Husband, wife, subtle, widow. To them, brother, with a letter. Seldom, with his wife. Health and all joy unto this fair assembly. My brother, who last tide is gone for France, a branch of willow feathering his hat. Bat me salute you, lady, and present you with this letter written in his blood. He prays no man for his sake ever more to credit woman, nor no lady ever to believe man. So either sex shall rest uninjured by the other.

This is all, and this I have delivered. I and well, you pronounce rarely, did you never play? Yes, that I have. The fool. Some lords do. Set forward there. Oh, oh, a pox, ah, this cold. A cold of this pox, you might say, I am afraid. How full of ghastly wounds as letters shows!

Oh, oh! Swoons. Look to my sister. So, the lady, swoons. Strong water there. If strong breath would recognize. Cover her. I am for her. Alas, good lady.

Coughs perpetually. He has fetched her again with coughing. Convey me to my bed. Send for a priest and a physician. Your bride, I fear, instead of epithalamians, shall need a dirge or a pet half. Oh, lead me in.

My body dies with my soul's perjured sin. Exeunt, maid, grace, wife, Husband, subtle. Hyman comes towards us in a morning robe. I hope, friend, we shall have the better day. I'll fetch the parson and physician. Exit, Lord, proudly. They are both ready for you.

Exit, brother. Madam, this is the gentlewoman, who, something bashful, does desire your pardon that she does not unmask. Good master, well tried. I would not buy her face. and for her manners, if they were worse, they shall not displease me. I thank your ladyship. Look how he owed us my father stands.

He looks like the bear in the play. He has killed the lady with his very sight. Is God help me, I have the most due to forbear unmasking me, that I might tell him his own as can be. Fye, by no means. The widow comes towards you. O, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. Servant, God give you joy,

and gentlewoman, or lady, as full joy I wish to you. No doubt that I will hinder you your love, but here am come to do all courtesy to your fair self and husband that shall be. I thank you heartily. It's a heart. Speak smaller, man.

I thank you, heartily. You're going to this gear, too, Master of Old. Not to your coffin gear, my lord. Though I be not so old or rich as your lordship, yet I love a young wench as well. As well as my lord? Nay, by my faith, that you do not love a young wench as well as he.

I wonder you will be as unmanneredly to say so. Faith, Master well tried. Thoth is I love them well. but they love me not. You see what ill luck I have with them. A pox on thus cold, still say I. Where got you this cold, my lord? It can get in nowhere that I can see,

but at your nostrils or eyes. All the other parts are so barricadoed with fur. It got in at its eyes, and made that bird-line there, where Cupid's wings you hang entangled. Is this your wife that shall be, Master Bold? Ah, be so bold as kiss her. Widow and Bold, whisper aside.

Sir, forbear, I have won bold enough to kiss my lips. Oh, old Coxcomb, kiss thine own natural son. Poh, tis worse than a justice is lying with his own daughter. But Master Welchide, when we're not. the widow break this matter to me? Count sits in a chair and falls asleep. Not till the very close of all. She dissembles it yet,

because, my lord, your father, is here, and her other suitor, Bold. That's all one. He's the plot of my side. Tis needless, master bold, but I will do anything you require to satisfy you. Why should you doubt I will forbid the bans, for so your friend here told me,

I should rather doubt that you will not marry. Madam, by heaven, as fully I am resolved to marry now and will too, if you do not endure it, as ever lover was. Only because the world has taken notice some passage twixt you and me, and then to satisfy my sweetheart here, who, poor soul, is afraid to have some public disgrace put upon her, I do require some small thing at your hands. Well, I will do it, and this profess besides,

Married, you shall as welcome be to me as mine own brother, and yourself, fair lady, even as myself, both to my board and bed. Aha, I'll like you that. Now she begins, abundant thanks unto your widowhood. Sounds, my father's asleep on his wedding day. I wondered where his cough was all this while. Enter Injun like a doctor. A parson, brother, Lord Proudly, seldom,

Mistress seldom, husband, wife, and subtle. I pray forbear the chamber. Noise does hurt her. Her sickness, I guess, rather of the mind than of her body. For her pulses beat well. Her vital functions not decay to wit. But have their natural life and operation. My lord, be cheered. I have an ingredient about me shall make her well. I doubt not.

In Master Parson, it shall be yours to pray. The soul's physician should still have the way. Exit Injun, Parson shuts the door. How cheers she, pray. In troth, exceeding ill. A very weak woman indeed she is, and surely I think cannot escape it. Did you mark how she eyed the physician? Oh God, aye, she is very loth to die. Ah, that's now the better sign, I can tell you.

And when the person came to her, she turned away, and still let the physician hold her by the hand. But see what thought the bridegroom takes. My conscious knows now this is a most preposterous match. Yet, for the commodity, we wink at all it. inconveniency. My lord, my lord. I'd resue you for winking of me. Now shall I have such a fit of coffee. A wappless wife that shall have thee, that either must let thee sleep continually or be kept waking herself by the cough. You have a proper gentleman to your son, my lord.

He were fitter for this young lady than you. Do you mark that again? Oh, sweet widow. He, uh, wife, he a fool's head of his own. No, of my father's. What should he do with a... What, with a cough? Why he would spit, and that's more than you can do.

Your bride, my lord, is dead. Ah, Mary, even God be with her. The reef will not help it. A most excellent spouse. How fair is she, master doctor? Zounds, what's here? Hey, day. How now?

How now? Looking in at the window. Look, look, the person joins the doctor's hand and hers. Now the doctor kisses her by this light. Woo-hoo! Now goes his gown off. Hey-day! He has red bridges on.

Sounds! The physician is got on the top of her. But like, it is the mother she has. Hark! The bed creaks! Sart, the door's fast. Break them open. We are betrayed.

Frank, draws and holds out a pistol. No breaking open doors. He that stirs first, I'll pop a leaden pill into his guts. shall purge him quite away. No haste, good friends. When they have done what's fit, you shall not need to break the door. They'll open it themselves.

A curtain drawn, a bed discovered, Ingin with his sword in his hand and a pistol, the lady in her petticoat, the parson. Thy blood-base villain shall answer this? The brother set back to back. I'll die thy not. nuptial bed in thy heart's gore. Come, come, my lord, tis not so easily done.

You know it is not. Forgive this by attempt upon your sister. Before God and man, she was my wife. An air bed-rid gout shall have my wench to get diseases on. Well, mayst thou term her so that hast consented, even with her will to be dishonored. Not so, yet have I lain with her. But first, witness this priest. We both were married.

True, it is, Dominé. Their contracts run into a marriage, and that, my lord, into a carriage. I will undo thee, priest. It is too late. I am undone already by wine and tobacco. I defy thee, thou temporal lord. Purdy, thou never shalt keep me in jail, and hence brings my reason. My act is neither felony nor treason. I, sir, but you do not know what kindred she may have. Come, come, come, there is no remedy. And weigh it right.

In my opinion, my honoured Lord, and everybody's else, this is a match fitted ten thousand times than your intent. Most certain it is. Besides, this gentleman, your brother-in-law's, parted and fair meaned and all this come about you must conceive by your own sister's wit as well as his come come tis but getting of me knighted my lord and i shall become your brother well enough brother your hand lords may have projects still but there's a greater lord will have his will this is dispatch now madam is the time for i long to be at it Your hands, sweetheart. No, boys.

My lord and gentleman, I crave your witness to what I now shall utter. Twix this gentleman and myself, there have been some love passages, from which here I do free him. And he take this lady. Lai ye, and pray him take this lady. Which, with a mother's love, I give to him, and wish all joy may crown their marriage. Nay, madam, yet she is not satisfied.

Bold gives her a ring and she puts it on her thumb. Further before you all, I take this ring, as an assumptions it, by the virtue of which I bind myself in all my lands and goods, that in his choice I'll be no hindrance, or by forbidding bans, or claiming him myself for mine, but let the match go on without my check which he intendest now. And once again I say, I bind myself. Then once again I say, widow, thou art mine.

Priest marry us. This match I did intend, you all are witnesses. If thou hinder it, widow, your lands and goods are forfeit mine. Nay, take me to. since there's no remedy. Your widow, without goods, sells scurvily. Hey, God give you joy. Slight, I am co-sined on all sides.

I had good hope of the widow of myself. But now I see everybody leaves me, saving... Trove, my lord, and that will stick by you, I warrant. But how, sir, shall we sell... this gentlewoman. Anger, whore. Fye, you are too uncivil. Whore in thy face,

I do defy thy tones. Nay, hold fair lady. Now I think upon, The old cow has no wife. Let's make a match. If he be so contented. With all my heart. Then kiss your spouse.

Good. She has a beard. How now My son? Fee simple unmasks Tis the Lord Fisimple Father, lend me your sword. You and I

have made a couple of fine fools, are we not? If I were not valiant now, and meant to beat them all, here would lie a simple disgrace upon us. A fee simple one indeed. Mark now what I'll say to him. Do hear me, my masters. Damn me, you're all the son of a whore.

And you lie, and I will make it good with my sword. This is cold roaring, father. I'll not meddle with you, sir. You are my blood? And I fleshed you, you know. And I have a charge coming. I must not fight now. Has either of you anything to say to me?

Not we, sir. Then have I something to say to you? Have you anything to say to me? Yes. Mary have I, sir. then I have nothing to say to you for that's a fashion. Father, if you will come away with your cough, do. Let me see. How many challenges I must get rid.

You shall hear on me, believe it. Nay, will not now part angry. Stay the feasts that must attend the weddings. You shall stay. Why, then, all friends. I thought you would not have had the manners to bid or stay dinner neither. Then all our friends and lady-wife, I crown thy virtues with this wreath,

and that it may be said, there's a good wife. A widow and a maid. They set garlands on their heads. Yet mine is now approved the happiest life, since each of you hath changed to be a wife. Exeunt. End of Act 5. End of Amends for Ladies by Nathan Field.