Act 5 — [Scene V.][2938]

Mal. How fare you, Mistress Frankford? Mrs. F. Sick, sick, oh, sick! Give me some air, I pray you! Tell me, oh, tell me, where is Master Frankford? Will not he deign to see me ere I die? Mal. Yes, Mistress Frankford; divers gentlemen,5 Your loving neighbours, with that just request Have mov’d, and told him of your weak estate:[2939] Who, though with much ado to get belief, Examining of the general circumstance, Seeing your sorrow and your penitence,10 And hearing therewithal the great desire You have to see him, ere you left the world, He gave to us his faith to follow us, And sure he will be here immediately. Mrs. F. You have half reviv’d me with the pleasing news,15 Raise me a little higher in my bed.— Blush I not, brother Acton? Blush I not, Sir Charles? Can you not read my fault writ, in my cheek? Is not my crime there? Tell me, gentlemen. Sir C. Alas, good mistress, sickness hath not left you20 Blood in your face enough to make you blush. Mrs. F. Then, sickness, like a friend, my fault would hide.— Is my husband come? My soul but tarries His arrive; then I am fit for heaven. Sir F. I came to chide you, but my words of hate25 Are turn’d to pity and compassionate grief. I came to rate you, but my brawls, you see, Melt into tears, and I must weep by thee.— Here’s Master Frankford now.

Frank. Good morrow, brother; morrow, gentlemen!30 God, that hath laid this cross upon our heads, Might (had He pleas’d) have made our cause of meeting On a more fair and more contented ground; But He that made us made us to this woe. Mrs. F. And is he come? Methinks, that voice I know.35 Frank. How do you, woman? Mrs. F. Well, Master Frankford, well; but shall be better, I hope within this hour. Will you vouchsafe, Out of your grace and your humanity, To take a spotted strumpet by the hand?40 Frank. This hand once held my heart in faster bonds, Than now ’tis gripp’d by me. God pardon them That made us first break hold! Mrs. F. Amen, amen! Out of my zeal to Heaven, whither I’m now bound, I was so impudent to wish you here;45 And once more beg your pardon. O, good man, And father to my children, pardon me. Pardon, oh, pardon me: my fault so heinous is, That if you in this world forgive it not, Heaven will not clear it in the world to come.50 Faintness hath so usurp’d upon my knees, That kneel I cannot; but on my heart’s knees My prostrate soul lies thrown down at your feet, To beg your gracious pardon. Pardon, oh, pardon me! Frank. As freely, from the low depth of my soul,55 As my Redeemer hath forgiven His death, I pardon thee. I will shed tears for thee; pray with thee; And, in mere pity of thy weak estate, I’ll wish to die with thee. All. So do we all. Nich. So will not I; I’ll sigh and sob, but, by my faith, not die.60 Sir F. Oh, Master Frankford, all the near alliance I lose by her, shall be suppli’d in thee. You are my brother by the nearest way; Her kindred hath fall’n off, but yours doth stay. Frank. Even as I hope for pardon, at that day65 When the Great Judge of heaven in scarlet sits, So be thou pardon’d! Though thy rash offence Divorc’d our bodies, thy repentant tears Unite our souls. Sir C. Then comfort, Mistress Frankford! You see your husband hath forgiven your fall;70 Then rouse your spirits, and cheer your fainting soul! Susan. How is it with you? Sir F. How d’ ye feel yourself? Mrs. F. Not of this world. Frank. I see you are not. and I weep to see it. My wife, the mother to my pretty babes!75 Both those lost names I do restore thee back, And with this kiss I wed thee once again. Though thou art wounded in thy honour’d name, And with that grief upon thy death-bed liest, Honest in heart, upon my soul, thou diest.80 Mrs. F. Pardon’d on earth, soul, thou in heaven art free; Once more thy wife, dies thus embracing thee.[2940] [Dies.] Frank. New-married, and new-widow’d.—Oh! she’s dead. And a cold grave must be her nuptial bed. Sir C. Sir, be of good comfort, and your heavy sorrow85 Part equally amongst us; storms divided Abate their force, and with less rage are guided. Cran. Do. Master Frankford; he that hath least part, Will find enough to drown one troubled heart. Sir. F. Peace with thee, Nan!—Brothers and gentlemen,90 All we that can plead interest in her grief, Bestow upon her body funeral tears! Brother, had you with threats and usage bad Punish’d her sin, the grief of her offence Had not with such true sorrow touch’d her heart.95 Frank. I see it had not; therefore, on her grave Will I bestow this funeral epitaph, Which on her marble tomb shall be engrav’d, In golden letters shall these words be fill’d:[2941] Here lies she whom her husband’s kindness kill’d.

An honest crew, disposed to be merry, Came to a tavern by, and call’d for wine. The drawer brought it, smiling like a cherry, And told them it was pleasant, neat[2942] and fine. ‘Taste it,’ quoth one. He did so. ‘Fie!’ (quoth he)5 ‘This wine was good; now ’t runs too near the lee.’ Another sipp’d, to give the wine his due, And said unto the rest, it drunk too flat; The third said, it was old; the fourth, too new; Nay, quoth the fifth, the sharpness likes me not.10 Thus, gentlemen, you see how, in one hour, The wine was new, old, flat, sharp, sweet, and sour. Unto this wine we do allude[2943] our play, Which some will judge too trivial, some too grave: You as our guests we entertain this day,15 And bid you welcome to the best we have. Excuse us, then; good wine may be disgrac’d, When every several mouth hath sundry taste.