MRS GOUR. What, shall I think her hate will yield so much?
FRAN. Why, doubt it not; her spirit may be such.
MR GOUR. Why, will it be?
PHIL. Yet stay, I have some hope.
Mother, why, mother, why, hear ye[438]: Give me your hand; it is no more but thus; 'Tis easy labour to shake hands with her: Little[439] breath is spent in speaking of fair words, When wrath hath violent delivery.
MR BAR. What, shall we be resolv'd?
MRS BAR. O husband, stay!-- Stay, Master Goursey: though your wife doth hate me, And bears unto me malice infinite And endless, yet I will respect your safeties; I would not have you perish by our means: I must confess that only suspect, And no proof else, hath fed my hate to her.
MRS GOUR. And, husband, I protest by heaven and earth That her suspect is causeless and unjust, And that I ne'er had such a vild[440] intent; Harm she imagin'd, where as none was meant.
PHIL. Lo, sir, what would ye more?
MR BAR. Yes, Philip, this; That I confirm him in my innocence By this large universe.
MR GOUR. By that I swear, I'll credit none of you, until I hear Friendship concluded straight between them two: If I see that they willingly will do, Then I'll imagine all suspicion ends; I may be then assured, they being friends.
PHIL. Mother, make full my wish, and be it so.
MRS BAR. What, shall I sue for friendship to my foe?
PHIL. No: if she yield, will you?
MRS BAR. It may be, ay.
PHIL. Why, this is well. The other I will try.-- Come, Mistress Goursey, do you first agree.
MRS GOUR. What, shall I yield unto mine enemy?
PHIL. Why, if she will, will you?
MRS GOUR. Perhaps I will
PHIL. Nay, then, I find this goes well forward still.
Mother, give me your hand [_to_ MRS G.], give me yours too-- Be not so loth; some good thing I must do; But lay your torches by, I like not them; Come, come, deliver them unto your men: Give me your hands. So, now, sir, here I stand, Holding two angry women in my hand: And I must please them both; I could please tone[441], But it is hard when there is two to one, Especially of women; but 'tis so, They shall be pleas'd, whether they will or no.-- Which will come first? what, both give back! ha, neither!
Why, then, yond help that both may come together[442].
So, stand still, stand [still] but a little while, And see, how I your angers will beguile.
Well, yet there is no hurt; why, then, let me Join these two hands, and see how they'll agree: Peace, peace! they cry; look how they friendly kiss!
Well, all this while there is no harm in this: Are not these two twins? twins should be both alike, If tone speaks fair, the tother should not strike: Jesus, the warriors will not offer blows!
Why, then, 'tis strange that you two should be foes.
O yes, you'll say, your weapons are your tongues; Touch lip with lip, and they are bound from wrongs: Go to, embrace, and say, if you be friends, That here the angry women's quarrels ends.
MRS GOUR. Then here it ends, if Mistress Barnes say so.
MRS BAR. If you say ay, I list not to say no.
MR GOUR. If they be friends, by promise we agree.
MR BAR. And may this league of friendship ever be!
PHIL. What say'st thou, Frank? doth not this fall out well?
FRAN. Yes, if my Mall were here, then all were well.
_Enter_ SIR RALPH SMITH _with_ MALL. [MALL _stays behind_.]
SIR RALPH. Yonder they be, Mall: stay, stand close, and stir not Until I call. God save ye, gentlemen!
MR BAR. What, Sir Ralph Smith! you are welcome, man: We wond'red when we heard you were abroad.
SIR RALPH. Why, sir, how heard ye that I was abroad?
MR BAR. By your man.
SIR RALPH. My man! where is he?
WILL. Here.
SIR RALPH. O, ye are a trusty squire!
NICH. It had been better, and he had said, a sure card.
PHIL. Why, sir?
NICH. Because it is the proverb.
PHIL. Away, ye ass!
NICH. An ass goes a four legs; I go of two, Christ cross.
PHIL. Hold your tongue.
NICH. And make no more ado.
MR GOUR. Go to, no more ado. Gentle Sir Ralph, Your man is not in fault for missing you, For he mistook by us, and we by him.
SIR RALPH. And I by you, which now I well perceive.
But tell me, gentlemen, what made ye all Be from your beds this night, and why thus late Are your wives walking here about the fields[443]: 'Tis strange to see such women of accompt Here; but I guess some great occasion [prompt.]
MR GOUR. Faith, this occasion, sir: women will jar; And jar they did to-day, and so they parted; We, knowing women's malice let alone Will, canker-like, eat farther in their hearts, Did seek a sudden cure, and thus it was: A match between his daughter and my son; No sooner motioned but 'twas agreed, And they no sooner saw but wooed and lik'd: They have it sought to cross, and cross['d] it thus.
SIR RALPH. Fie, Mistress Barnes and Mistress Goursey both; The greatest sin wherein your souls may sin, I think, is this, in crossing of true love: Let me persuade ye.
MRS BAR. Sir, we are persuaded, And I and Mistress Goursey are both friends; And, if my daughter were but found again, Who now is missing, she had my consent To be dispos'd of to her own content.
SIR RALPH. I do rejoice that what I thought to do, Ere I begin, I find already done: Why, this will please your friends at Abington.