Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 07 of 10Fletcher, John
General
Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 07 of 10
Fletcher, John
English drama
_Al._ I'll do't before thy witness;
But where's thy Sister? if she live I am happy, though
I conceal our contract, which was
Stolen from me with the Evidence of this Land.
_The Boy goes to_ Maria, _and gives her a paper; she wonders,_
_and smiles upon_ Hartlove, _he amaz'd, approaches her:_
_afterward she shews it her mother, and then gives it to_
Hartlove.
_Nur._ Your daughter smiles.
_Lur._ I hope she lives, but where, I cannot tell, Sir.
_Boy._ Even here, and please you, Sir.
_Al._ How?
_Boy._ Nay, 'tis she;
To work thy fair way, I preserved you brother,
That would have lost me willingly, and serv'd ye
Thus like a boy; I served you faithfully,
And cast your plots [but] to preserve your credit;
Your foul ones I diverted to fair uses;
So far as you would hearken to my counsel;
That all the world may know how much you owe me.
_Al._ Welcome entirely, welcome my dear _Alathe_,
And when I lose thee agen, blessing forsake me:
Nay, let me kiss thee in these cloaths.
_Lur._ And I too,
And bless the time I had so wise a sister, wer't thou the little thief?
_Boy._ I stole the contract, I must confess,
And kept it to my self, it most concern'd me.
_Ha._ Co[n]tracted? this destroys his after marriage.
_Ma._ Dare you give this hand
To this young Gentleman? my heart goes with it.
_Al. Maria_ alive! how my heart's exalted, 'tis my duty;
Take her _Frank Hartlove_, take her; and all joyes
With her; besides some Lands to advance her Joynture:
_La._ What I have is your own, and blessings crown ye.
_Ha._ Give me room,
And fresh air to consider, Gentlemen,
My hopes are too high.
_Ma._ Be more temperate,
Or I'll be Welsh again.
_Al._ A day of wonder.
_Lur._ Lady, your love, I ha kept my word; there was
A time, when my much suffering made me hate you,
And to that end I did my best to cross you:
And fearing you were dead, I stole your Coffin,
That you might never more usurp my Office:
Many more knacks I did, which at the Weddings
Shall be told of as harmless tales. [_Shout within._
_Enter_ Wildbrain.
_Wild._ Hollow your throats apieces, I am at home;
If you can roar me out again--
_La._ What thing is this?
_Lur._ A continent of Fleas: room for the Pageant;
Make room afore there; your kinsman Madam.
_La._ My kinsman? let me wonder!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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