Enter TOUCHWOOD SENIOR and his WIFE
MISTRESS TOUCHWOOD |
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’Twill be so tedious sir to live from you, |
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But that necessity must be obeyed. |
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I would it might not wife, the tediousness |
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Will be the most part mine, that understand |
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The blessings I have in thee; so to part, |
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That drives the torment to a knowing heart; |
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But as thou sayst, we must give way to need |
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And live awhile asunder; our desires |
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Are both too fruitful for our barren fortunes. |
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How adverse runs the destiny of some creatures – |
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Some only can get riches and no children, |
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We only can get children and no riches; |
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Then ’tis the prudent’st part to check our wills, |
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And till our state rise, make our bloods lie still. |
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[Aside] Life every year a child, and some years two, |
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Besides drinkings abroad, that’s never reckoned; |
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This gear will not hold out. |
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MISTRESS TOUCHWOOD |
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Sir, for a time, I’ll take the courtesy of my uncle’s house |
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If you be pleased to like on’t, till prosperity |
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Look with a friendly eye upon our states. |
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TOUCHWOOD SENIOR |
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Honest wife I thank thee; I ne’er knew |
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The perfect treasure thou brought’st with thee more |
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Than at this instant minute. A man’s happy |
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When he’s at poorest that has matched his soul |
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As rightly as his body. Had I married |
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A sensual fool now, as ’tis hard to ’scape it |
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’Mongst gentlewomen of our time, she would ha’ hanged |
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About my neck, and never left her hold |
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Till she had kissed me into wanton businesses, |
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Which at the waking of my better judgement |
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I should have cursed most bitterly, |
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And laid a thicker vengeance on my act |
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Than misery of the birth, which were enough |
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Is sure of beggary, though it were got in wine. |
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Fullness of joy showeth the goodness in thee – |
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Thou art a matchless wife; farewell my joy. |
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MISTRESS TOUCHWOOD |
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I shall not want your sight? |
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TOUCHWOOD SENIOR I’ll see thee often, |
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Talk in mirth, and play at kisses with thee, |
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Anything wench but what may beget beggars; |
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There I give o’er the set, throw down the cards, |
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And dare not take them up. |
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MISTRESS TOUCHWOOD Your will be mine sir. Exit |
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TOUCHWOOD SENIOR |
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This does not only make her honesty perfect, |
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But her discretion, and approves her judgement. |
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Had her desires been wanton, they’d been blameless |
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In being lawful ever, but of all creatures |
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I hold that wife a most unmatched treasure |
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That can unto her fortunes fix her pleasure, |
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And not unto her blood – this is like wedlock; |
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The feast of marriage is not lust but love, |
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And care of the estate. When I please blood, |
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’Tis many a wise man’s fault; but of all men |
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I am the most unfortunate in that game |
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That ever pleased both genders: I ne’er played yet |
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Under a bastard. The poor wenches curse me |
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To the pit where e’er I come; they were ne’er served so, |
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I have such a fatal finger in such business |
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I must forth with’t, chiefly for country wenches, |
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For every harvest I shall hinder hay-making; |
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Enter a WENCH with a child
I had no less than seven lay in last Progress, |
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Within three weeks of one another’s time. |
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WENCH |
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O Snaphance, have I found you? |
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TOUCHWOOD SENIOR How Snaphance? |
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WENCH |
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Do you see your workmanship? |
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Nay turn not from it, nor offer to escape, for if you do, |
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I’ll cry it through the streets, and follow you. |
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Your name may well be called Touchwood, a pox on you, |
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You do but touch and take; thou hast undone me; |
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I was a maid before, I can bring a certificate for it, |
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From both the churchwardens. |
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TOUCHWOOD SENIOR |
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I’ll have the parson’s hand too, or I’ll not yield to’t. |
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WENCH |
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Thou shalt have more, thou villain. Nothing grieves me, but |
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Ellen my poor cousin in Derbyshire, thou hast cracked her |
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marriage quite; she’ll have a bout with thee. |
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TOUCHWOOD SENIOR |
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Faith when she will I’ll have a bout with her. |
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WENCH |
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A law bout sir I mean. |
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TOUCHWOOD SENIOR |
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True, lawyers use such bouts as other men do, |
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And if that be all thy grief, I’ll tender her a husband; |
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Do but in courtesy, faith, wench, excuse me |
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Of this half yard of flesh, in which I think it wants |
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A nail or two. |
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WENCH No, thou shalt find villain |
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It hath right shape, and all the nails it should have. |
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TOUCHWOOD SENIOR |
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Faith I am poor; do a charitable deed wench, |
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I am a younger brother, and have nothing. |
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WENCH |
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Nothing! Thou hast too much thou lying villain |
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Unless thou wert more thankful. |
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TOUCHWOOD SENIOR I have no dwelling, |
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I brake up house but this morning; pray thee pity me, |
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I am a good fellow, faith have been too kind |
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To people of your gender; if I ha’t |
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Without my belly, none of your sex shall want it; |
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[Aside] That word has been of force to move a woman. |
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There’s tricks enough to rid thy hand on’t wench, |
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Some rich man’s porch, tomorrow before day, |
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Or else anon i’the evening – twenty devices; |
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Here’s all I have, i’faith, take purse and all, |
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[Aside] And would I were rid of all the ware i’the shop so. |
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WENCH |
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Where I find manly dealings I am pitiful; |
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This shall not trouble you. |
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TOUCHWOOD SENIOR |
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And I protest wench, the next I’ll keep myself. |
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WENCH |
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Soft, let it be got first. |
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[Aside] This is the fifth; if e’er I venture more |
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Where I now go for a maid, may I ride for a whore. Exit |
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What shift she’ll make now with this piece of flesh |
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In this strict time of Lent, I cannot imagine; |
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Flesh dare not peep abroad now; I have known |
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This city now above this seven years, |
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But I protest in better state of government |
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I never knew it yet, nor ever heard of; |
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There has been more religious wholesome laws |
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In the half circle of a year erected |
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For common good, than memory ever knew of, |
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Enter SIR OLIVER KIX and his LADY
Setting apart corruption of promoters, |
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And other poisonous officers that infect |
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And with a venomous breath taint every goodness. |
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LADY KIX |
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O that e’er I was begot, or bred, or born. |
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SIR OLIVER |
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Be content sweet wife. |
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TOUCHWOOD SENIOR What’s here to do now? |
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I hold my life she’s in deep passion |
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For the imprisonment of veal and mutton |
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Now kept in garrets, weeps for some calf’s head now; |
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Methinks her husband’s head might serve with bacon. |
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Enter TOUCHWOOD JUNIOR
LADY KIX |
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Hist. |
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SIR OLIVER |
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Patience sweet wife. |
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TOUCHWOOD JUNIOR |
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TOUCHWOOD SENIOR |
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Why, what’s the business? |
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With all speed thou canst, procure a licence for me. |
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TOUCHWOOD SENIOR |
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How, a licence? |
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TOUCHWOOD JUNIOR |
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Cud’s foot she’s lost else, I shall miss her ever. |
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TOUCHWOOD SENIOR |
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Nay sure thou shalt not miss so fair a mark |
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For thirteen shillings fourpence. |
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TOUCHWOOD JUNIOR Thanks by hundreds. Exit |
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SIR OLIVER |
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Nay pray thee cease, I’ll be at more cost yet, |
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Thou know’st we are rich enough. |
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LADY KIX All but in blessings, |
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And there the beggar goes beyond us. O, O, O, |
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To be seven years a wife and not a child, O not a child! |
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SIR OLIVER |
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Sweet wife have patience. |
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LADY KIX |
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Can any woman have a greater cut? |
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SIR OLIVER |
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I know ’tis great, but what of that wife? |
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I cannot do withal; there’s things making |
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By thine own doctor’s advice at ’pothecary’s; |
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I spare for nothing wife, no, if the price |
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Were forty marks a spoonful, |
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I’d give a thousand pound to purchase fruitfulness; |
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’Tis but bating so many good works |
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In the erecting of Bridewells and spital-houses, |
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And so fetch it up again – for having none |
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I mean to make good deeds my children. |
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LADY KIX |
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Give me but those good deeds, and I’ll find children. |
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SIR OLIVER |
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Hang thee, thou hast had too many! |
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LADY KIX |
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Thou lie’st, brevity! |
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SIR OLIVER |
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O horrible, dar’st thou call me ‘brevity’? |
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Dar’st thou be so short with me? |
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LADY KIX |
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Thou deservest worse. |
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Think but upon the goodly lands and livings |
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That’s kept back through want on’t. |
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SIR OLIVER |
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Talk not on’t pray thee, |
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Thou’lt make me play the woman and weep too. |
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LADY KIX |
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’Tis our dry barrenness puffs up Sir Walter – |
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None gets by your not-getting, but that knight; |
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He’s made by th’means, and fats his fortunes shortly |
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In a great dowry with a goldsmith’s daughter. |
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[Exit TOUCHWOOD SENIOR] |
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SIR OLIVER |
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They may all be deceived, |
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Be but you patient wife. |
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LADY KIX |
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I have suffered a long time. |
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SIR OLIVER |
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Suffer thy heart out; a pox suffer thee! |
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LADY KIX |
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Nay thee, thou desertless slave! |
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SIR OLIVER |
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Come, come, I ha’ done; |
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Yes, to my much joy; |
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Everyone gets before me – there’s my sister |
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Was married but at Bartholomew eve last, |
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And she can have two children at a birth; |
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O one of them, one of them would ha’ served my turn. |
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SIR OLIVER |
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Sorrow consume thee, thou art still crossing me, |
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And know’st my nature. |
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Enter a MAID
MAID |
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O mistress, weeping or railing, |
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That’s our house harmony. |
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LADY KIX |
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What sayst Jugg? |
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MAID |
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The sweetest news. |
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LADY KIX |
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What is’t wench? |
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MAID |
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Throw down your doctor’s drugs, |
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They’re all but heretics; I bring certain remedy |
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That has been taught, and proved, and never failed. |
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SIR OLIVER |
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O that, that, that or nothing. |
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MAID |
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There’s a gentleman, |
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I haply have his name, too, that has got |
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Nine children by one water that he useth; |
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It never misses, they come so fast upon him, |
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He was fain to give it over. |
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LADY KIX His name sweet Jugg? |
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MAID |
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One Master Touchwood, a fine gentleman, |
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But run behind hand much with getting children. |
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SIR OLIVER |
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Is’t possible? |
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Using that water, within fifteen year, |
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For all your wealth, to make you a poor man, |
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You shall so swarm with children. |
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SIR OLIVER |
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I’ll venture that i’faith. |
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LADY KIX That shall you husband. |
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MAID |
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But I must tell you first, he’s very dear. |
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SIR OLIVER |
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No matter, what serves wealth for? |
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LADY KIX True, sweet husband. |
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[SIR OLIVER] |
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There’s land to come; put case his water stands me |
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In some five hundred pound a pint, |
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’Twill fetch a thousand, and a kersten soul. |
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[LADY KIX] |
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And that’s worth all, sweet husband. |
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[SIR OLIVER] I’ll about it. |
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I’ll about it. |
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Ex[eunt] |
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