Part 2 / Act 4 — SCENE III.

A Hall in Antonio’s House.

Enter Francisca above.^[555]

Fran. ’Tis now my brother’s time, even much about it;

For though he dissembled a whole fortnight’s absence,

He comes again to-night; ’twas so agreed

Before he went. I must bestir my wits now,

To catch this sister of mine, and bring her name

To some disgrace first, to preserve mine own:

There’s profit in that cunning. She cast off

My company betimes to-night by tricks and slights,^[556]

And I was well contented. I’m resolv’d^[557]

There’s no hate lost between us; for I know

She does not love me now, but painfully,

Like one that’s forc’d to smile upon a grief,

To bring some purpose forward; and I’ll pay her

In her own metal. They’re now all at rest,

And Gaspar there, and all: list! fast asleep;

He cries it hither: I must disease you straight, sir.

For the maid-servants and the girls o’ th’ house,

I spic’d them lately with a drowsy posset^[558]

They will not hear in haste. [Noise within.] My brother’s come:

315O, where’s this key now for him? here ’tis, happily:

But I must wake him first.—Why, Gaspar, Gaspar!

Gas. [within] What a pox gasp you for?

Fran. Now I’ll throw’t down.

Gas. [within] Who’s that call’d me now? somebody call’d Gaspar?

Fran. O, up, as thou’rt an honest fellow, Gaspar!

Gas. [within] I shall not rise to-night then. What’s the matter?

Who’s that? young mistress?

Fran. Ay; up, up, sweet Gaspar!

Enter Gasparo.

My sister hath both knock’d and call’d this hour,

And not a maid will stir.

Gas. They’ll stir enough sometimes.

Fran. Hark, hark, again! Gaspar, O run, run, prithee!

Gas. Give me leave to clothe myself.

Fran. Stand’st upon clothing

In an extremity? Hark, hark again!

She may be dead ere thou com’st: O, in quickly!—

[Exit Gasparo.

He’s gone: he cannot choose but be took now,

Or met in his return; that will be enough.—

Enter Antonio.

Brother? here, take this light.

Ant. My careful sister!

316Fran. Look first in his own lodging ere you enter.

[Exit Antonio.

Ant. [within] O abus’d confidence! there’s nothing of him

But what betrays him more.

Fran. Then ’tis too true, brother?

Ant. [within] I’ll make base lust a terrible example;

No villany e’er paid dearer.

Flo.^[559] [within] Help! hold, sir!

Ant. [within] I’m deaf to all humanity.

Fran. List, list!

A strange and sudden silence after all:

I trust has spoil’d 'em both; too dear a happiness!

O how I tremble between doubts and joys!

Ant. [within] There perish both, down to the house of falsehood,

Where perjurous wedlock weeps!

[Re-entering with his sword drawn.

O perjurous woman!

Sh’ad took the innocence of sleep upon her

At my approach, and would not see me come;

As if sh’ad lain there like a harmless soul,

And never dream’d of mischief. What’s all this now?

I feel no ease; the burden’s not yet off

So long as the abuse sticks in my knowledge.

O, ’tis a pain of hell to know one’s shame!

Had it been hid and done, 't had been done happy,

For he that’s ignorant lives long and merry.

Fran. I shall know all now. [Aside.]—Brother!

Ant. Come down quickly,

For I must kill thee too.

Fran. Me?

Ant. Stay not long:

317If thou desir’st to die with little pain,

Make haste I’d wish thee, and come willingly;

If I be forc’d to come, I shall be cruel

Above a man to thee.

Fran. Why, sir!—my brother!——

Ant. Talk to thy soul, if thou wilt talk at all;

To me thou’rt lost for ever.

Fran. This is fearful in you:

Beyond all reason, brother, would you thus

Reward me for my care and truth shewn to you?

Ant. A curse upon 'em both, and thee for company!

’Tis that too diligent, thankless care of thine

Makes me a murderer, and that ruinous^[560] truth

That lights me to the knowledge of my shame.

Hadst thou been secret, then had I been happy,

And had a hope, like man, of joys to come:

Now here I stand a stain to my creation;

And, which is heavier than all torments to me,

The understanding of this base adultery;

And that thou toldst me first, which thou deserv’st

Death worthily for.

Fran. If that be the worst, hold, sir,

Hold, brother; I can ease your knowledge^[561] straight,

By my soul’s hopes, I can! there’s no such thing.

Ant. How?

Fran. Bless me but with life, I’ll tell you all:

Your bed was never wrong’d.

Ant. What? never wrong’d?

Fran. I ask but mercy as I deal with truth now:

'Twas only my deceit, my plot, and cunning,

To bring disgrace upon her; by that means

To keep mine own hid, which none knew but she:

To speak troth, I had a child by Aberzanes, sir.

318Ant. How? Aberzanes?

Fran. And my mother’s letter

Was counterfeited, to get time and place

For my delivery.

Ant. O, my wrath’s redoubled!

Fran. At my return she could speak all my folly,

And blam’d me, with good counsel. I, for fear

It should be made known, thus rewarded her;

Wrought you into suspicion without cause,

And at your coming rais’d up Gaspar suddenly,

Sent him but in before you, by a falsehood,

Which to your kindled jealousy I knew

Would add enough: what’s now confess’d is true.

Ant. The more I hear, the worse it fares with me.

I ha’ kill’d 'em now for nothing; yet the shame

Follows my blood still. Once more, come down:

Look you, my sword goes up. [Sheathing sword.]

Call Hermio to me:

Let the new man alone; he’ll wake too soon

[Exit Francisca above.

To find his mistress dead, and lose a service.

Already the day breaks upon my guilt;

Enter Hermio.

I must be brief and sudden.—Hermio.

Her. Sir?

Ant. Run, knock up Aberzanes speedily;

Say I desire his company this morning

To yonder horse-race, tell him; that will fetch him:

O, hark you, by the way—— [Whispers.

Her. Yes, sir.

Ant. Use speed now,

Or I will ne’er use thee more; and, perhaps,

I speak in a right hour. My grief o’erflows;

I must in private go and vent my woes. [Exeunt.

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