The grounds of Antonio’s house
Enter Gaspero and Florida.
FLORIDA
Prithee be careful of me, very careful now.
GASPERO
I warrant you, he that cannot be careful of a quean can be careful of nobody: ’tis every man’s humour, that. I should nev’r look to a wife half so handsomely.
FLORIDA
Oh softly, sweet sir; should your mistress meet me now in her own house, I were undone forever.
GASPERO
Never fear her, she’s at her pricksong close;
There’s all the joy she has or takes delight in.
Look, here’s the garden key, my master gave’t me,
And will’d me to be careful: doubt not you on’t.
FLORIDA
Your master is a noble complete gentleman,
And does a woman all the right that may be.
Enter Sebastian [disguised. Exit Florida].
SEBASTIAN
How now? What’s she?
GASPERO
A kind of doubtful creature;
I’ll tell thee more anon.
[Exit Gaspero.]
SEBASTIAN
I know that face
To be a strumpet’s, or mine eye is envious
And would fain wish it so where I would have it.
I fail if the condition of this fellow
Wears not about it a strong scent of baseness.
I saw her once before here; five days since ’tis,
And the same wary panderous diligence
Was then bestow’d on her. She came alter’d then,
And more inclining to the city tuck.
Whom should this piece of transformation visit
After the common courtesy of frailty
In our house here? Surely not any servant;
They are not kept so lusty, she so low.
I’m at a strange stand.
Enter Gaspero.
Love and luck assist me!
The truth I shall win from him by false play;
He’s now returned. — Well, sir, as you were saying,
Go forward with your tale.
GASPERO
What? I know nothing.
SEBASTIAN
The gentlewoman.
GASPERO
She’s gone out at back door now.
SEBASTIAN
Then farewell she, and you, if that be all.
GASPERO
Come, come, thou shalt have more: I have no power
To lock myself up from thee.
SEBASTIAN
So methinks.
GASPERO
You shall not think; trust me, sir, you shall not.
Your ear: she’s one o’ th’ falling family,
A quean my master keeps; she lies at Rutney’s.
SEBASTIAN
Is’t possible? I thought I had seen her somewhere.
GASPERO
I tell you truth sincerely. Sh’as been thrice here
By stealth within these ten days, and departed still
With pleasure and with thanks, sir; ’tis her luck.
Surely I think if ever there were man
Bewitch’d in this world, ’tis my master, sirrah.
SEBASTIAN
Thinkest thou so, Gasper?
GASPERO
Oh, sir, too apparent.
SEBASTIAN
[Aside] This may prove happy: ’tis the likeliest means
That fortune yet e’er show’d me.
Enter Isabella.
ISABELLA
You’re both here now,
And strangers newly lighted: where’s your attendance?
SEBASTIAN
[Aside] I know what makes you waspish: a pox on’t,
She’ll every day be angry now at nothing.
Exeunt [Sebastian and Gaspero].
ISABELLA
I’ll call her stranger ever in my heart;
Sh’as kill’d the name of sister through base lust
And fled to shifts. Oh, how a brother’s good thoughts
May be beguil’d in woman! Here’s a letter,
Found in her absence, reports strangely of her
And speaks her impudence: sh’as undone herself —
I could not hold from weeping when I read it —
Abus’d her brother’s house and his good confidence.
’Twas done not like herself: I blame [her] much.
But if she can but keep it from his knowledge,
I will not grieve him first; it shall not come
By my means to his heart.
Enter Gaspero.
Now, sir, the news?
GASPERO
You call’d ‘em strangers: ’tis my master’s sister, madam.
ISABELLA
Oh, is’t so? She’s welcome. Who’s come with her?
GASPERO
I see none but Abberzanes.
[Exit.]
ISABELLA
He’s enough
To bring a woman to confusion,
More than a wiser man, or a far greater.
A letter came last week to her brother’s hands
To make way for her coming up again,
After her shame was lighten’d; and she writ there
The gentleman her mother wish’d her to,
Taking a violent surfeit at a wedding,
Died ere she came to see him: what strange cunning
Sin helps a woman to! Here she comes now.
Enter Abberzanes and Francisca.
Sister, you’re welcome home again.
FRANCISCA
Thanks, sweet sister.
ISABELLA
Y’have had good speed.
FRANCISCA
[Aside] What says she? — I have made
All the best speed I could.
ISABELLA
I well believe you.
Sir, we’re all much beholding to your kindness.
ABBERZANES
My services ever, madam, to a gentlewoman.
I took a bonny mare I keep and met her
Some ten mile out of town: eleven, I think.
’Twas at the stump I met you, I remember,
At bottom of the hill.
FRANCISCA
’Twas there about, sir.
ABBERZANES
Full eleven then, by the rod, if they were measur’d.
ISABELLA
You look ill, methinks; have you been sick of late?
Troth, very bleak, does she not? How think you, sir?
ABBERZANES
No, no: a little sharp with riding; sh’as rid sore.
FRANCISCA
I ever look lean after a journey, sister;
One shall do that has travell’d, travell’d hard.
ABBERZANES
Till evening I commend you to yourselves, ladies.
Exit.
ISABELLA
[Aside] And that’s best trusting, too, if you were hang’d. —
Y’are well acquainted with his hand went out now?
FRANCISCA
His hand?
ISABELLA
I speak of nothing else; I think ’tis there.
[Hands her a letter, which she reads.]
Please you to look upon’t: and when y’have done
If you did weep, it could not be amiss,
A sign you could say grace after a full meal.
You had not need look paler; yet you do:
’Twas ill done to abuse yourself and us,
To wrong so good a brother, and the thoughts
That we both held of you. I did doubt you much
Before our marriage-day: but then my strangeness
And better hope still kept me off from speaking.
Yet may you find a kind and peaceful sister of me
If you desist here and shake hands with folly,
Which you ha’ more cause to do than I to wish you;
As truly as I bear a love to goodness,
Your brother knows not yet on’t, nor shall ever
For my part, so you leave his company:
But if I find you impudent in sinning,
I will not keep’t an hour; nay, prove your enemy
And you know who will aid me. As y’have goodness,
You may make use of this; I’ll leave it with you.
Exit.
FRANCISCA
Here’s a sweet churching after a woman’s labour,
And a [fine] “Give you joy!” Why, where the devil
Lay you to be found out? The sudden hurry
Of hast’ning to prevent shame brought shame forth.
That’s still the curse of all lascivious stuff;
Misdeeds could never yet be wary enough.
Now must I stand in fear of every look,
Nay, tremble at a whisper: she can keep it secret?
That’s very likely, and a woman, too!
I’m sure I could not do’t: and I am made
As well as she can be for any purpose.
’Twould never stay with me two days: I have cast it;
The third would be a terrible sick-day with me,
Not possible to bear it. Should I then
Trust to her strength in’t, that lies every night
Whispering the daily news in a husband’s ear?
No, and I have thought upon the means: bless’d fortune,
I must be quit with her in the same fashion,
Or else ’tis nothing; there’s no way like it
To bring her honesty into question cunningly.
My brother will believe small likelihoods
Coming from me, too; I, lying now i’ th’ house,
May work things to my will beyond conceit, too.
Disgrace her first, her tale will nev’r be heard:
I learn’d that counsel first of a sound guard.
I do suspect Gasper, my brother’s squire there,
Had some hand in this mischief, for he’s cunning,
And I perhaps may fit him.
Enter Antonio.
ANTONIO
Your sister told me
You were come: thou’rt welcome.
FRANCISCA
Where is she?
ANTONIO
Who? My wife?
FRANCISCA
Ay, sir.
ANTONIO
Within.
FRANCISCA
Not within hearing, think you?
ANTONIO
Within hearing?
What’s thy conceit in that? Why shak’st thy head so?
And look’st so pale and poorly?
FRANCISCA
I’m a fool indeed
To take such grief for others, for your fortune, sir.
ANTONIO
My fortune? [Aside] Worse things yet? Farewell life then!
FRANCISCA
I fear y’are much deceiv’d, sir, in this woman.
ANTONIO
Who? In my wife? Speak low: come hither, softly, sister.
FRANCISCA
I love her as a woman you made choice of,
But when she wrongs you, natural love is touch’d, brother,
And that will speak, you know.
ANTONIO
I trust it will.
FRANCISCA
I held a shrewd suspicion of her lightness
At first when I went down, which made me haste the sooner.
But more, to make amends, at my return now
I found apparent signs.
ANTONIO
Apparent, say’st thou?
FRANCISCA
Ay, and of base lust, too; that makes th’ affliction.
ANTONIO
There has been villainy wrought upon me then,
’Tis too plain now.
FRANCISCA
Happy are they, I say still,
That have their sisters living i’ th’ house with ‘em,
Their mothers, or some kindred: a great comfort
To all poor married men; it is not possible
A young wife can abuse a husband then,
’Tis found straight. But swear secrecy to this, brother.
ANTONIO
To this, and all thou wilt have.
FRANCISCA
Then this follows, sir.
[She whispers to him.]
ANTONIO
I praise thy counsel well: I’ll put ‘t in use straight.
[Exit Francisca. Enter Isabella.]
[Aside] See where she comes herself. — Kind, honest lady,
I must borrow a whole forthnight’s leave of thee.
ISABELLA
How, sir? A forthnight’s?
ANTONIO
It may be but ten days; I know not yet.
’Tis business for the state, and ‘t must be done.
ISABELLA
I wish good speed to’t then.
ANTONIO
Why, that was well spoke.
I’ll take but a footboy: I need no more.
The rest I’ll leave at home to do you service.
ISABELLA
Use your own pleasure, sir.
ANTONIO
‘Till my return
You’ll be good company, my sister and you?
ISABELLA
We shall make shift, sir.
ANTONIO
I’m glad now she’s come,
And so the wishes of my love to both.
Exit.
ISABELLA
And our good prayers with you, sir.
Enter Sebastian [disguised].
SEBASTIAN
[Aside] Now my fortune! —
By your kind favour, madam.
ISABELLA
With me, sir?
SEBASTIAN
The words shall not be many, but the faithfulness
And true respect that is included in ‘em
Is worthy your attention, and may put upon me
The fair repute of a just, honest servant.
ISABELLA
What’s here to do, sir,
There’s such great preparation toward?
SEBASTIAN
In brief, that goodness in you is abus’d, madam;
You have the married life, but ’tis a strumpet
That has the joy on’t, and the fruitfulness:
There goes away your comfort.
ISABELLA
How? A strumpet?
SEBASTIAN
Of five years’ cost and upwards, a dear mischief,
As they are all of ‘em; his forthnight’s journey
Is to that country, if it be not rudeness
To speak the truth: I have found it all out, madam.
ISABELLA
Thou’st found out thine own ruin, for to my knowledge
Thou does belie him basely: I dare swear
He’s a gentleman, as free from that folly
As ever took religious life upon him.
SEBASTIAN
Be not too confident to your own abuse, madam.
Since I have begun the truth, neither your frowns —
The only curses that I have on earth
Because my means [depend] upon your service —
Nor all the execration of man’s fury
Shall put me off: though I be poor, I’m honest
And too just in this business. I perceive now
Too much respect and faithfulness to ladies
May be a wrong to servants.
ISABELLA
Art thou yet
So impudent to stand in’t?
SEBASTIAN
Are you yet so cold, madam,
In the belief on’t? There my wonder’s fix’d,
Having such blessed health and youth about you,
Which makes the injury mighty.
ISABELLA
Why, I tell thee
It were too great a fortune for thy [lowness]
To find out such a thing: thou does not look
As if thou’rt made for’t. By the precious sweets of love,
I would give half my wealth for such a bargain
And think ‘twere bought too cheap: thou canst not guess
Thy means and happiness should I find this true.
First, I’ld prefer thee to the lord my uncle,
He’s governor of Ravenna; all the advancements
I’ th’ kingdom [flow] from him: what need I boast that
Which common fame can teach thee?
SEBASTIAN
Then thus, madam:
Since I presume now on your height of spirit
And your regard to your own youth and fruitfulness,
Which every woman naturally loves and covets,
Accept but of my labour in directions.
You shall both find your wrongs, which you may right
At your own pleasure, yet not miss’d tonight
Here in the house neither: none shall take notice
Of any absence in you, as I have thought on’t.
ISABELLA
Do this, and take my praise and thanks forever.
SEBASTIAN
As I deserve, I wish ‘em, and will serve you.
Exeunt.