Act 5 — SCENE II.

A room in Yellowhammer’s house.

Enter Yellowhammer and Maudlin.

Maud. O husband, husband, she will die, she will die!

There is no sign but death.

Yel. ’Twill be our shame then.

Maud. O, how she’s chang’d in compass of an hour!

Yel. Ah, my poor girl! good faith, thou wert too cruel

To drag her by the hair.

Maud. You’d have done as much, sir,

To curb her of her humour.

Yel. ’Tis curb’d sweetly;

She catch’d her bane o' th' water.

Enter Tim.

Maud. How now, Tim?

Tim. Faith, busy, mother, about an epitaph

Upon my sister’s death.

Maud. Death? she’s not dead, I hope?

Tim. No, but she means to be, and that’s as good,

And when a thing’s done, ’tis done; you taught me^[149] that, mother.

Yel. What is your tutor doing?

Tim. Making one too, in principal pure Latin,

Cull’d out of Ovid^[150] de Tristibus.

Yel. How does your sister look? is she not chang’d?

Tim. Chang’d? gold into white money was ne’er so chang’d

As is my sister’s colour into paleness.

88Enter Moll, led in by Servants, who place her in a chair.

Yel. O, here she’s brought; see how she looks like death!

Tim. Looks she like death, and ne’er a word made yet?

I must go beat my brains against a bed-post,

And get before my tutor. [Exit.

Yel. Speak, how dost thou?

Mol. I hope I shall be well, for I'm as sick

At heart as I can be.

Yel. ’Las, my poor girl!

The doctor’s making a most sovereign drink for thee,

The worst ingredience dissolv’d pearl and amber;

We spare no cost, girl.

Moll. Your love comes too late,

Yet timely thanks reward it. What is comfort,

When the poor patient’s heart is past relief?

It is no doctor’s art can cure my grief.

Yel. All is cast away, then;

[I] prithee, look upon me cheerfully.

Maud. Sing but a strain or two; thou wilt not think

How ’twill revive thy spirits: strive with thy fit,

Prithee, sweet Moll.

Moll. You shall have my good will, mother.

Maud. Why, well said, wench.

Moll. [sings]

Weep eyes, break heart!

My love and I must part.

Cruel fates true love do soonest sever:

O, I shall see thee never, never, never!

O, happy is the maid whose life takes end

Ere it knows parent’s frown or loss of friend!

Weep eyes, break heart!

My love and I must part.

89Maud. O, I could die with music!—Well sung, girl.

Moll. If you call’t so, it was.

Yel. She plays the swan,

And sings herself to death.

Enter Touchwood senior.

Touch. sen. By your leave, sir.

Yel. What are you, sir? or what’s your business, pray?

Touch. sen. I may be now admitted, though the brother

Of him your hate pursu’d: it spreads no further;

Your malice sets in death, does it not, sir?

Yel. In death?

Touch. sen. He’s dead: ’twas a dear love to him,

It cost him but his life, that was all, sir;

He paid enough, poor gentleman, for his love.

Yel. There’s all our ill remov’d, if she were well now.— [Aside.

Impute not, sir, his end to any hate

That sprung from us; he had a fair wound brought that.

Touch. sen. That help’d him forward, I must needs confess;

But the restraint of love, and your unkindness,

Those were the wounds that from his heart drew blood;

But being past help, let words forget it too:

Scarcely three minutes ere his eyelids clos’d,

And took eternal leave of this world’s light,

He wrote this letter, which by oath he bound me

To give to her own hands; that’s all my business.

Yel. You may perform it then; there she sits.

Touch. sen. O, with a following look!

Yel. Ay, trust me, sir,

I think she’ll follow him quickly.

90Touch. sen. Here’s some gold

He will’d me to distribute faithfully

Amongst your servants. [Gives gold to Servants.

Yel. ’Las, what doth he mean, sir?

Touch. sen. How cheer you, mistress?

Moll. I must learn of you, sir.

Touch. sen. Here is a letter from a friend of yours,

[Giving letter to Moll.

And where that fails in satisfaction,

I have a sad tongue ready to supply.

Moll. How does he, ere I look on’t?

Touch. sen. Seldom better;

Has a contented health now.

Moll. I'm most glad on’t.

Maud. Dead, sir?

Yel. He is: now, wife, let’s but get the girl

Upon her legs again, and to church roundly with her.

Moll. O, sick to death, he tells me: how does he after this?

Touch. sen. Faith, feels no pain at all; he’s dead, sweet mistress.

Moll. Peace close mine eyes! [Swoons.

Yel. The girl! look to the girl, wife!

Maud. Moll, daughter, sweet girl, speak! look but once up,

Thou shalt have all the wishes of thy heart

That wealth can purchase!

Yel. O, she’s gone for ever!

That letter broke her heart.

Touch. sen. As good now then

As let her lie in torment, and then break it.

Enter Susan.

Maud. O Susan, she thou loved’st so dear is gone!

Susan. O sweet maid!

91Touch. sen. This is she that help’d her still.—

I've a reward here for thee.

Yel. Take her in,

Remove her from our sight, our shame and sorrow.

Touch. sen. Stay, let me help thee, ’tis the last cold kindness

I can perform for my sweet brother’s sake.

[Exeunt Touchwood senior, Susan, and

Servants, carrying out Moll.

Yel. All the whole street will hate us, and the world

Point me out cruel: it’s our best course, wife,

After we’ve given order for the funeral,

T' absent ourselves till she be laid in ground.

Maud. Where shall we spend that time?

Yel. I'll tell thee where, wench:

Go to some private church, and marry Tim

To the rich Brecknock gentlewoman.

Maud. Mass, a match;

We’ll not lose all at once, somewhat we’ll catch.

[Exeunt.