Part 2 / Act 3 — SCENE II.

A Room in the Physician’s House.

Enter Physician, Jane, Anne, and Dutch Nurse with a Child.

Phy. Sweet fro,^[761] to your most indulgent care

Take this my heart’s joy; I must not tell you

The value of this jewel in my bosom.

Nurse. Dat you may vell, sir; der can niet forstoore you.

Phy. Indeed I cannot tell you; you know, nurse,

These are above the quantity of price:

Where is the glory of the goodliest trees

But in the fruit and branches? the old stock

Must decay; and sprigs, scions such as these,

Must become new stocks, for^[762] us to glory

In their fruitful issue; so we are made

Immortal one by other.

Nurse. You spreek a most lieben fader, and ich sall do de best of tender nurses to dis infant, my pretty frokin.

Phy. I know you will be loving: here, sweet friend;

[Gives money.

Here’s earnest of a large sum of love and coin

To quit^[763] your tender care.

Jane. I have some reason too

To purchase your dear care unto this infant.

[Gives money.

Nurse. You be de witness of de baptim, dat is, as you spreken, de godimother, ich vell forstoore it so.

Jane. Yes, I’m the bad mother,—if it be offence.

[Aside.

496Anne. I must be a little kind too. [Gives money.

Nurse. Much tanks to you all! dis child is much beloven; and ich sall see much care over it.

Phy. Farewell.—Good sister, shew her the way forth.—

I shall often visit you, kind nurse.

Nurse. You sall be velcome.

[Exeunt Anne and Nurse.

Jane. O sir, what a friend have I found in you!

Where my poor power shall stay in the requital,

Yourself must from your fair condition^[764]

Make up in mere acceptance of my will.

Phy. O, pray you, urge it not! we are not born

For ourselves only; self-love is a sin;

But in our loving donatives to others

Man’s virtue best consists: love all begets;

Without, all are adulterate and counterfeit.

Jane. Your boundless love I cannot satisfy

But with a mental memory of your virtues:

Yet let me not engage your cost withal;

Beseech you then take restitution

Of pains and bounty which you have disburs’d

For your poor debtor.

Phy. You will not offer it?

Do not esteem my love so mercenary

To be the hire of coin: sure, I shall think

You do not hold so worthily of me

As I wish to deserve.

Jane. No^[765] recompense?

Then you will beggar me with too much credit:

Is’t^[766] not sufficient you preserve my name,

Which I had forfeited to shame and scorn,

497Cover my vices with a veil of love,

Defend and keep me from a father’s rage,

Whose love yet infinite, not knowing this,

Might, knowing, turn a hate as infinite;

Sure he would throw me ever from his blessings,

And cast his curses on me! Yes, further,

Your secrecy keeps me in the state of woman;

For else what husband would choose me his wife,

Knowing the honour of a bride were lost?

I cannot number half the good you do me

In the conceal’d retention of my sin;

Then make me not worse than I was before,

In my ingratitude, good sir.

Phy. Again?

I shall repent my love, if you’ll so call’t,

To be made such a hackney: give me coin?

I had as lief you gave me poison, lady,

For I have art and antidotes 'gainst that;

I might take that, but this I will refuse.

Jane. Will you then teach me how I may requite you

In some small quantity?

Phy. 'Twas that I look’d for.— [Aside.

Yes, I will tell you, lady, a full quittance,

And how you may become my creditress.

Jane. I beseech you, do, sir!

Phy. Indeed I will, lady:

Not in coin, mistress; for silver, though white,

Yet it draws black lines; it shall not rule my palm,

There to mark forth his base corruption:

Pay me again in the same quality

That I to you tender’d,—that is, love for love.

Can you love me, lady? you have confess’d

My love to you.

Jane. Most amply.

498Phy. Why, faith, then,

Pay me back that way.

Jane. How do you mean, sir?

Phy. Tush, our meanings are better understood

Than shifted to the tongue; it brings along

A little blabbing blood into our cheeks,

That shames us when we speak.

Jane. I understand you not.

Phy. Fie, you do; make not yourself ignorant

In what you know; you have ta’en forth the lesson

That I would read to you.

Jane. Sure then I need not

Read it again, sir.

Phy. Yes, it makes perfect:

You know the way unto Achilles’ spear;^[767]

If that hurt you, I have the cure, you see.

Jane. Come, you’re a good man; I do perceive you,

You put a trial to me; I thank you;

You are my just confessor, and, believe me,

I’ll have no further penance for this sin.

Convert a year unto a lasting ever,

And call’t Apollo’s smile; ’twas once, then never.

Phy. Pray you, mistake me not; indeed I love you.

Jane. Indeed? what deed?

Phy. The deed that you have done.

Jane. I cannot believe you.

Phy. Believe the deed then!

Jane. Away, you are a blackamoor! you love me?

499I hate you for your love! Are you the man

That in your painted outside seem’d so white?

O you’re a foul dissembling hypocrite!

You sav’d me from a thief, that yourself might rob me;

Skinn’d over a green wound to breed an ulcer:

Is this the practice of your physic-college?

Phy. Have you yet utter’d all your niceness^[768] forth?

If you have more, vent it; certes,^[769] I think

Your first grant was not yielded with less pain;

If 'twere, you have your price, yield it again.

Jane. Pray you, tell me, sir,—I ask’d it before,—

Is it a practice amongst you physicians?

Phy. Tush, that’s a secret; we cast all waters;

Should I reveal, you would mistrust my counsel:

The lawyer and physician here agrees,^[770]

To women-clients they give back their fees;

And is not that kindness?

Jane. This for thy love! [Spits at him.

Out, outside of a man! thou cinnamon-tree,

That but thy bark hast nothing good about thee!

The unicorn is hunted for his horn,

The rest is left for carrion: thou false man,

Thou’st fish’d with silver hooks and golden baits;

But I’ll avoid all thy deceiving sleights.^[771]

Phy. Do what you list, I will do something too;

Remember yet what I have done for you:

You have a good face now, but 'twill grow rugged;

Ere you grow old, old men will despise you:

Think on your grandame Helen, the fairest queen;

500When in a new glass^[772] she spied her old face,

She, smiling, wept to think upon the change:

Take your time; you’re craz’d, you’re an apple fall’n

From the tree; if you be kept long, you’ll rot.

Study your answer well: yet I love you;

If you refuse, I have a hand above [you]. [Exit.

Jane. Poison thyself, thou foul empoisoner!

Of thine own practique drink the theory!

What a white devil have I met withal!

What shall I do?—what do? is it a question?

Nor shame, nor hate, nor fear, nor lust, nor force,

Now being too bad, shall ever make me worse.

Re-enter Anne.

What have we here? a second spirit?

Anne. Mistress,

I am sent to you.

Jane. Is your message good?

Anne. As you receive it:

My brother sent me, and you know he loves you.

Jane. I heard say so; but ’twas a false report.

Anne. Pray, pardon me, I must do my message;

Who lives commanded must obey his keeper:

I must persuade you to this act of woman.

Jane. Woman? of strumpet!

Anne. Indeed, of strumpet;

He takes you at advantage of your fall,

Seeing you down before.

Jane. Curse on his feign’d smiles!

501Anne. He’s my brother, mistress; and a curse on you,

If e’er you bless him with that cursed deed!

Hang him, poison him! he held out a rose,

To draw the yielding sense, which, come to hand,

He shifts, and gives a canker.^[773]

Jane. You speak well yet.

Anne. Ay, but, mistress, now I consider it,

Your reputation lies at his mercy,

Your fault dwells in his breast; say he throw’t out,

It will be known; how are you then undone!

Think on’t, your good name; and they’re not to be sold

In every market: a good name is dear,

And indeed more esteemed than our actions,

By which we should deserve it.

Jane. Ay me, most wretched!

Anne. What? do you shrink at that?

Would you not wear one spot upon your face,

To keep your whole body from a leprosy,

Though it were undiscover’d ever? Hang him!

Fear him not: horseleeches suck out his corrupt blood!

Draw you none from him, 'less it be pure and good.

Jane. Do you speak your soul?

Anne. By my soul do I!

Jane. Then yet I have a friend: but thus exhort me,

And I have still a column to support me.

Anne. One fault

Heaven soon forgives, and ’tis on earth forgot;

The moon herself is not without one spot. [Exeunt.

502