Three Elizabethan Domestic Tragedies by Keith Sturgess

Author:Keith Sturgess [Sturgess, Keith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780241961469
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2011-12-16T05:00:00+00:00

SCENE FOUR

Enter the HUSBAND with the MASTER OF THE COLLEGE.

HUSBAND: Please you draw near, sir; y’are exceeding welcome.

MASTER: That’s my doubt; I fear, I come not to be welcome.

HUSBAND: Yes, howsoever.

MASTER: ’Tis not my fashion, sir, to dwell in long cir-

cumstance, but to be plain and effectual: therefore

to the purpose. The cause of my setting forth was pitious

and lamentable. That hopeful, young gentleman, your

brother, whose virtues we all love dearly, through your

default and unnatural negligence lies in bond executed

[10] for your debt, a prisoner, all his studies amazed, his

hope struck dead, and the pride of his youth muffled

in these dark clouds of oppression.

HUSBAND: Hum, um, um.

MASTER: Oh, you have killed the towardest hope of all

our university: wherefore, without repentance and

amends, expect ponderous and sudden judgements to

fall grievously upon you; your brother a man who pro-

fited in his divine employments and might have made

ten thousand souls fit for Heaven, now by your care-

[20] less courses cast in prison, which you must answer for;

and assure your spirit, it will come home at length.

HUSBAND: Oh God, oh!

MASTER: Wise men think ill of you, others speak ill of

you, no man loves you; nay, even those whom honesty

condemns, condemn you. And take this from the vir-

tuous affection I bear your brother: never look for

prosperous hour, good thought, quiet sleeps, con-

tented walks, nor anything that makes man perfect, till

you redeem him. What is your answer? How will you

[30] bestow him, upon desperate misery or better hopes?

I suffer till I hear your answer.

HUSBAND: Sir, you have much wrought with me; I feel

you in my soul; you are your art’s master. I never had

sense till now; your syllables have cleft me. Both for

your words and pains I thank you. I cannot but acknow-

ledge grievous wrongs done to my brother, mighty,

mighty, mighty wrongs.

[Addressing off-stage] Within there!

Enter a SERVINGMAN.

HUSBAND: Fill me a bowl of wine.

Exit SERVANT for wine.

Alas, poor brother,

[40] Bruis’d with an execution for my sake.

MASTER: A bruise indeed makes many a mortal sore

Till the grave cure ’em.

Enter [SERVANT] with wine [and exit].

HUSBAND: Sir, I begin to you; y’ave chid your welcome.

MASTER: I could have wished it better for your sake.

I pledge you, sir, to the kind man in prison.

HUSBAND: Let it be so.

Drink both.

Now, sir, if you so please

To spend but a few minutes in a walk

About my grounds below, my man here

Shall attend you. I doubt not but by that time

[50] To be furnished of a sufficient answer,

And therein my brother fully satisfied.

MASTER: Good sir, in that the angels would be pleased,

And the world’s murmurs calmed, and I should say,

I set forth then upon a lucky day. Exit.

HUSBAND: Oh thou confused man! Thy pleasant sins

have undone thee, thy damnation has beggared thee.

That Heaven should say we must not sin and yet made

women; gives our senses way to find pleasure which

being found confounds us! Why should we know

[60] those things so much misuse us? Oh, would virtue had

been forbidden; we should then have proved all vir-

tuous, for ’tis our blood to love what we are forbidden.

Had not drunkenness

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