Rob. You will believe no witches? Gen. This makes me believe all, aye, anything; Or this new transform'd creature? Rob. I am Robin ; And this your wife, my mistress. Gen. Tell me, the earth Shall leave its seat, and mount to kiss the moon ; Shall leave her sphere, to stoop to us thus low. Rob. A bridle; a jugling bridle, Sir. A witch! my wife a witch! The more I strive to unwind Myself from this meander, I the more Therein am intricated. Art thou a witch? Prithee, woman, Wife. It cannot be denied, I am such a curst creature. Gen. Keep aloof: And do not come too near me. O my trust; Have I, since first I understood myself, Been of my soul so chary, still to study What best was for its health, to renounce all The works of that black fiend with my best force; And hath that serpent twined me so about, That I must lie so often and so long With a devil in my boson ? Wife. Pardon, Sir. [She looks down.] Gen. Pardon! can such a thing as that be hoped ? yon Lift up Unto that horrid dwelling, which thou hast sought Gen. With that word I am thunderstruck, Wife. I have. Gen. What? and how far? Wife. I have promis'd him my soul. Gen. Ten thousand times better thy body had Been promis'd to the stake; aye, and mine too, To have suffer'd with thee in a hedge of flames, Than such a compact ever had been made. Oh-Resolve me, how far doth that contract stretch? Wife. What interest in this Soul myself could claim, Gen. O cunning devil: foolish woman, know, Gen. Why, hast thou any hope? Wife. Yes, sir, I have. Gen. Make it appear to me. Wife. I hope I never bargain'd for that fire, Further than penitent tears have power to quench. Gen. I would see some of them. Wife. You behold them now (If you look on me with charitable eyes) Gen. May I presume 't? Wife. Alas, none better; Or after mature recollection can be Gen. Tell me, are those tears As mine of sorrow to behold what state, Gen. Rise; and, as I do you, so heaven pardon me ; Defend us! Well, I do remember, wife, When I first took thee, 'twas for good and bad : As may have power to quench invisible flames; Gentlemen, welcome; 'tis a word I use; • Compare this with a story in the Arabian Nights, where a man discov ers his wife to be a goul. Being set to meat, that I'll excuse your fare, And, had I known your coming, we'd have had A FAIR QUARREL: A COMEDY. BY THOMAS MIDDLETON AND WILLIAM ROWLEY. Captain Ager, in a dispute with a Colonel his friend, receives from the Colonel the appellation of Son of a Whore. A challenge is given and accepted: but the Captain, before he goes to the field, is willing to be confirmed of his mother's honor from her own lips. Lady Ager being questioned by her Son, to prevent a duel, falsely slanders herself of unchastity. The Captain, thinking that he has a bad cause, refuses to fight. But being reproached by the Colonel with cowardice, ke esteems that he has now sufficient cause for a quarrel, in the vindicating of his honor from that aspersion; and draws, and disarms kis opponent. LADY. CAPTAIN, her Son. La. Where left you your dear friend the Colonel } The fame and reputation of your timo Is much engag'd to. Cap. Yes, and you knew all, mother, La. I thought I'd known so much of his fair goodness, More could not have been look'd for. Cap. O yes, yes, Madam: And this his last exceeded all the rest. La. For gratitude's sako let me know this I prithee. Cap. Then thus; and I desire your consure freely, Whether it appear'd not a strange noble kindness in him. La. Trust me, I long to hear't. Cap. You know he's hasty; That by the way. La. So are the best conditions: Your father was the like. Cap. I begin now To doubt me more: why am not I so too then? And I've a slow-pac'd wrath: a shrewd dilemma.- [Aside. Cap. Marry, thus, good Madam. There was in company a foul-mouth'd villain Stay, stay Who should I liken him to that you have scen He comes so near one that I would not match him with, Faith, just o' the Colonel's pitch; he's never the worso man; Usurers have been compar'd to magistrates, Extortioners to lawyers, and the like, But they all prove ne'er the worse men for that. Cap. This rude fellow, A shame to all humanity and manners, Breathes from the rottenness of his gall and malice, La. Mine, my honor, Sir? Cap. The Colonel soon enrag'd (as he's all touchwood) Takes fire before me, makes the quarrel his, Appoints the field; my wrath could not be heard, His was so high picht, so gloriously mounted. A cause that were unjust in our defence, And so to lose him everlastingly, In that dark depth where all bad quarrels sink Never to rise again, what pity 'twere, First to die here, and never to die there? La. Why what's the quarrel, speak, Sir, that should rise |