Nicholas. ’Sblood, what a caterwauling keep you here! Jenkin. O Lord, mistress, how comes this to pass? My master is run away in his shirt, and never so much as called me to bring his clothes after him. Mistress Frankford. See what guilt is! here stand I in this place, Ashamed to look my servants in the face. _Enter_ Frankford _and_ Cranwell, _whom seeing she falls on her knees_. Frankford. My words are registered in Heaven already, With patience hear me. I’ll not martyr thee, Nor mark thee for a strumpet; but with usage Of more humility torment thy soul, And kill thee even with kindness. Cranwell. Master Frankford---- Frankford. Good Master Cranwell. Woman, hear thy judgment. Go make thee ready in thy best attire; Take with thee all thy gowns, all thy apparel; Leave nothing that did ever call thee mistress, Or by whose sight, being left here in the house, I may remember such a woman by. Choose thee a bed and hangings for thy chamber; Take with thee every thing that, hath thy mark, And get thee to my manor seven mile off, Where live; ’tis thine; I freely give it thee. My tenants by shall furnish thee with wains To carry all thy stuff, within two hours,-- No longer will I limit thee my sight. Choose which of all my servants thou likest best, And they are thine to attend thee. Mistress Frankford. A mild sentence. Frankford. But, as thou hopest for Heaven, as thou believest Thy name’s recorded in the book of life, I charge thee never, after this sad day, To see me, or to meet me, or to send By word or writing, gift, or otherwise, To move me, by thyself, or by thy friends; Nor challenge any part in my two children. So, farewell, Nan! for we will henceforth be As we had never seen, ne’er more shall see. Mistress Frankford. How full my heart is, in mine eyes appears; What wants in words, I will supply in tears. Frankford. Come, take your coach, your stuff; all must along; Servants and all, make ready; all be gone. It was thy hand cut two hearts out of one. [_Exeunt_. ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I.--_The Entrance to_ Sir Francis Acton’s _House_. _Enter_ Sir Charles Mountford, _and_ Susan, _both well dressed_. Susan. Brother, why have you tricked me like a bride, Bought me this gay attire, these ornaments? Forget you our estate, our poverty? Sir Charles Mountford. Call me not brother, but imagine me Some barbarous outlaw, or uncivil kern;[1.41] For if thou shutt’st thy eye, and only hearest The words that I shall utter, thou shalt judge me Some staring ruffian, not thy brother Charles. O sister!---- Susan. O brother, what doth this strange language mean?