MRS MA. Ay, true, you did, but since you saw me not; At twelve o'clock you parted from my house, And now 'tis morning, and new-strucken seven; Seven hours thou stay'd'st from me; why didst thou so? They are my seven years' 'prenticeship of woe. Y. ART. I prythee, be patient; I had some occasion That did enforce me from thee yesternight. MRS MA. Ay, you are soon enforc'd; fool that I am, To dote on one that nought respecteth me! 'Tis but my fortune, I am born to bear it, And ev'ry one shall have their destiny. Y. ART. Nay, weep not, wench; thou wound'st me with thy tears. MRS MA. I am a fool, and so you make me too; These tears were better kept than spent in waste On one that neither tenders them nor me. What remedy? but if I chance to die, Or to miscarry with that I go withal, I'll take my death that thou art cause thereof; You told me that, when your wife was dead, You would forsake all others, and take me. Y. ART. I told thee so, and I will keep my word, And for that end I came thus early to thee; I have procur'd a licence, and this night We will be married in a lawless[20] church. MRS. MA. These news revive me, and do somewhat ease The thought that was new-gotten to my heart. But shall it be to-night? Y. ART. Ay, wench, to-night. A se'nnight and odd days, since my wife died, Is past already, and her timeless death Is but a nine-days' talk; come, go with me, And it shall be despatched presently. MRS. MA. Nay, then, I see thou lov'st me; and I find By this last motion thou art grown more kind. Y. ART. My love and kindness, like my age, shall grow, And with the time increase; and thou shalt see The older I grow, the kinder I will be. MRS. MA, Ay, so I hope it will; but, as for mine, That with my age shall day by day decline. [_Aside_. Come, shall we go? Y. ART. With thee to the world's end, Whose beauty most admire, and all commend. [_Exeunt_. SCENE III. _The Street near the House of Anselm's Mother_. _Enter_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER. ANS. 'Tis true, as I relate the circumstance, And she is with my mother safe at home; But yet, for all the hate I can allege Against her husband, nor for all the love That on my own part I can urge her to, Will she be won to gratify my love. FUL. All things are full of ambiguity, And I admire this wond'rous accident. But, Anselm, Arthur's about a new wife, _a bona roba_; How will she take it when she hears this news? ANS. I think, even as a virtuous maiden should; It may be that report may, from thy mouth, Beget some pity from her flinty heart, And I will urge her with it presently.