_Jasp._ Forbear thy pains, fond man, it is too late. _Merch._ Heav'n bless me! Jasper! _Jasp._ Ay, I am his ghost, Whom thou hast injur'd for his constant love: Fond worldly wretch, who dost not understand In death that true hearts cannot parted be. First know, thy daughter is quite borne away On wings of angels, through the liquid air Too far out of thy reach, and never more Shalt thou behold her face: but she and I Will in another world enjoy our loves, Where neither father's anger, poverty, Nor any cross that troubles earthly men, Shall make us sever our united hearts. And never shalt thou sit, or be alone In any place, but I will visit thee With ghastly looks, and put into thy mind The great offences which thou didst to me. When thou art at thy table with thy friends, Merry in heart, and fill'd with swelling wine, I'll come in midst of all thy pride and mirth, Invisible to all men but thyself, And whisper such a sad tale in thine ear, Shall make thee let the cup fall from thy hand, And stand as mute and pale as death itself. _Merch._ Forgive me, Jasper! Oh! what might I do, Tell me, to satisfy thy troubled ghost? _Jasp._ There is no means, too late thou think'st on this. _Merch._ But tell me what were best for me to do? _Jasp._ Repent thy deed, and satisfy my father, And beat fond Humphrey out of thy doors. [_Exit_ JASPER. _Enter_ HUMPHREY. _Wife._ Look, George, his very ghost would have folks beaten. _Humph._ Father, my bride is gone, fair Mistress Luce. My soul's the font of vengeance, mischief's sluice. _Merch._ Hence, fool, out of my sight, with thy fond passion Thou hast undone me. _Humph._ Hold, my father dear, For Luce thy daughter's sake, that had no peer. _Merch._ Thy father, fool? There's some blows more, begone. [_Beats him._ Jasper, I hope thy ghost be well appeased To see thy will perform'd; now will I go To satisfy thy father for thy wrongs. [_Exit._ _Humph._ What shall I do? I have been beaten twice, And Mistress Luce is gone. Help me, device: Since my true love is gone, I never more, Whilst I do live, upon the sky will pore; But in the dark will wear out my shoe-soles In passion, in Saint Faith's Church under Paul's. [_Exit._ _Wife._ George, call Ralph hither; if you love me, call Ralph hither. I have the bravest thing for him to do, George; prithee call him quickly. _Cit._ Ralph, why Ralph, boy! _Enter_ RALPH. _Ralph._ Here, sir. _Cit._ Come hither, Ralph, come to thy mistress, boy.