Jul. And the attendants who have waited on usDuke. They were my friends; who, having done my business, Are gone about their own. Jul. Why, then, 'tis clear. That I was ever born!-[Aside.] What are you, sir? Duke. (Rises.) I am an honest man-that may content you! Young, nor ill-favour'd-Should not that content you? Jul. I'll not endure it!-But remember this- Who, by the courtesy, will call you so. Jul. And I will have attendance! Duke. So you shall, When you have learnt to wait upon yourself. Jul. To wait upon myself! Must I bear this? I could tear out my eyes, that bade you woo me, And bite my tongue in two, for saying yes! [Crosses, R. Duke. And if you should, 'twould grow again. I think, to be an honest yeoman's wife (For such, my would-be duchess, you will find me,) You were cut out by nature. Jul. You will find, then, That education, sir, has spoilt me for it. Why! do you think I'll work? Duke. I think 'twill happen, wife. Jul. What! Rub and scrub Your noble palace clean? Duke. Those taper fingers Will do it daintily. Jul. And dress your victuals (If there be any)?— -Oh! I could go mad! [Crosses, L. Duke. And mend my hose, and darn my nightcaps neatly; Wait, like an echo, till you're spoken to Jul. Or like a clock, talk only once an hour? Duke. Or like a dial; for that quietly Performs its work, and never speaks at all. Jul. To feed your poultry and your hogs! Oh, monstrous! And when I stir abroad, on great occasions, Or jolt with higglers' wives the market trot, Duke. Excellent! How well you sum the duties of a wife! Duke. When they talk of you and me, [Crosses, R. Darby and Joan shall be no more remember'd ;- Jul. Shall we? Duke. Wondrous happy! Oh, you will make an admirable wife! Jul. I'll make a devil. Duke. What? Jul. A very devil. Duke. Oh, no. We'll have no devils. Jul. I'll not bear it! I'll to my father's! Duke. Gently; you forget You are a perfect stranger to the road. Jul. My wrongs will find a way, or make one. Duke. Softly! You stir not hence, except to take the air; And then I'll breathe it with you. Jul. What, confine me? Duke. "Twould be unsafe to trust you yet abroad. Jul. Am I a truant school-boy? Duke. Nay, not so; But you must keep your bounds. Jul. And if I break them, Perhaps you'll beat me.— Duke. Beat you! The man that lays his hand upon a woman, Jul. Well, if I may not travel to my father, Duke. You will find them In the next room. A word, before you go.— Jul. Your fortune! Duke. Peace!-No fooling, idle woman! Beneath th' attesting eye of Heaven I've sworn To love, to honour, cherish, and protect you. No human power can part us. What remains, then? To fret, and worry, and torment each other, And give a keener edge to our hard fate By sharp upbraidings, and perpetual jars ?Or, like a loving and a patient pair, (Waked from a dream of grandeur, to depend Upon their daily labour for support,) To soothe the taste of fortune's lowliness With sweet consent, and mutual fond endearment?- Jul. You shall know me For a right woman, full of her own sex; Who, when she suffers wrong, will speak her anger; To be taught patience, when her swelling heart [Exit, R.U.E. Duke. Why, let the flood rage on! There is no tide in woman's wildest passion Perchance she may have fits!-They are seldom mortal, Though I have heard some husbands say, and wisely, A woman's honour is her safest guard, Yet there's some virtue in a lock and key. [Goes off to lock door-returns. Of storm and sunshine:-and, when that is past, And where the thorns grew bare, the spreading blossoms The pure delights of a well-governed marriage. [Exit, R. You're riding out some pleasant day, It's hard to meet such pressing friends In such a lonely spot; It's very hard to lose your cash, But harder to be shot; And so you take your wallet out, Perhaps you're going out to dine- And says it is a dreadful thing He tells you of his starving wife, You're sitting on your window seat You hear a sound, that seems to wear And nearer, nearer still, the tide Of music seems to come, There's something like a human voice And something like a drum; |