_Cri._ Would you be a cuckold willingly? By my troth 'tis a comely, fine, and handsome sight, for one of my years to marry an old man; truth, 'tis restorative; what a comfortable thing it is to think of her husband, to hear his venerable cough o' the everlastings, to feel his rough skin, his summer hands and winter legs, his almost no eyes, and assuredly no teeth; and then to think what she must dream of, when she considers others' happiness and her own want! 'tis a worthy and notorious comfortable match. 27 _Sir Lio._ Pish, pish! will you have me? _Cri._ Will you assure me---- _Sir Lio._ Five hundred pound jointure? _Cri._ That you will die within this fortnight? _Sir Lio._ No, by my faith, Cris. _Cri._ Then Crisp by her faith assures you she'll have none of you. _Enter_ Young FREEVILL _disguised like a pander, and_ FRANCESCHINA. _Free._ By'r leave, gentles and men of nightcaps, I would speak, but that here stands one is able to express her own tale best. _Fra._ Sir, mine speech is to you; you had a son, matre Freevill? _Sir Lio._ Had, ha! and have. 40 _Fra._ No point,[87] me am come to assure you dat one mestre Malheureux hath killed him. _Bea._ O me! wretched, wretched! _Sir Hub._ Look to our daughter. _Sir Lio._ How art thou inform'd? _Fra._ If dat it please you to go vid me, ick sall bring you where you sall hear Malheureux vid his own lips confess it, and dare ye may apprehend him, and revenge your and mine love's blood. _Sir Hub._ Your love's blood! mistress, was he your love? 51 _Fra._ He was so, sir; let your daughter hear it: do not veep, lady; de young man dat be slain did not love you, for he still lovit me ten tousant tousant times more dearly. _Bea._ O my heart, I will love you the better; I cannot hate what he affected. O passion, O my grief! which way wilt break, think, and consume! _Cri._ Peace! _Bea._ Dear woes cannot speak. 60 _Fra._ For look you, lady, dis your ring he gave me, vid most bitter jests at your scorn'd kindness. _Bea._ He did not ill not to love me, but sure he did not well to mock me: gentle minds will pity, though they cannot love; yet peace and my love sleep with him. Unlace, good nurse; alas! I was not so ambitious of so supreme an happiness, that he should only love me; 'twas joy enough for me, poor soul, that I only might only love him. _Fra._ O but to be abused, scorn'd, scoff'd at! O ten tousand divla, by such a one, and unto such a one! 71 _Bea._ I think you say not true, sister; shall we know one another in the other world? _Cri._ What means my sister? _Bea._ I would fain see him again! O my tortured mind! Freevill is more than dead, he is unkind!