A Yorkshire Tragedy

By Shakespeare

The Project Gutenberg Etext of A Yorkshire Tragedy
(#52 in our series by Shakespeare and Shakespeare Apocrypha)

Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
copyright laws for your country before distributing this or any other
Project Gutenberg file.

We encourage you to keep this file, exactly as it is, on your
own disk, thereby keeping an electronic path open for future
readers.  Please do not remove this.

This header should be the first thing seen when anyone starts to
view the etext. Do not change or edit it without written permission.
The words are carefully chosen to provide users with the
information they need to understand what they may and may not
do with the etext.


**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**

**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**

*****These Etexts Are Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****

Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get etexts, and
further information, is included below.  We need your donations.

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a 501(c)(3)
organization with EIN [Employee Identification Number] 64-6221541



Title: A Yorkshire Tragedy

Author: William Shakespeare (Apocrypha)

Release Date: July, 2003  [Etext #4255]
[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
[This file was first posted on December 19, 2001]

Edition: 10

Language: English


The Project Gutenberg Etext of A Yorkshire Tragedy
******This file should be named 4255.txt or 4255.zip******

This etext was produced by Tony Adam.

Project Gutenberg Etexts are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US
unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we usually do not
keep etexts in compliance with any particular paper edition.

We are now trying to release all our etexts one year in advance
of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing.
Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections,
even years after the official publication date.

Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til
midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.
The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at
Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month.  A
preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
and editing by those who wish to do so.

Most people start at our sites at:
https://gutenberg.org or
http://promo.net/pg

These Web sites include award-winning information about Project
Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new
etexts, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!).


Those of you who want to download any Etext before announcement
can get to them as follows, and just download by date.  This is
also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the
indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an
announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter.

http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or
ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03

Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90

Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want,
as it appears in our Newsletters.


Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)

We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work.  The
time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours
to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc.   Our
projected audience is one hundred million readers.  If the value
per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2
million dollars per hour in 2001 as we release over 50 new Etext
files per month, or 500 more Etexts in 2000 for a total of 4000+
If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total
should reach over 300 billion Etexts given away by year's end.

The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext
Files by December 31, 2001.  [10,000 x 100,000,000 = 1 Trillion]
This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users.

At our revised rates of production, we will reach only one-third
of that goal by the end of 2001, or about 4,000 Etexts.  We need
funding, as well as continued efforts by volunteers, to maintain
or increase our production and reach our goals.

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created
to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium.

We need your donations more than ever!

As of November, 2001, contributions are being solicited from people
and organizations in: Alabama, Arkansas, Connecticut, Delaware,
Florida, Georgia, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky,
Louisiana, Maine, Michigan, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New
Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Oklahoma, Oregon,
Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee,
Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West Virginia, Wisconsin,
and Wyoming.

*In Progress

We have filed in about 45 states now, but these are the only ones
that have responded.

As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list
will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states.
Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state.

In answer to various questions we have received on this:

We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally
request donations in all 50 states.  If your state is not listed and
you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have,
just ask.

While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are
not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting
donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to
donate.

International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about
how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made
deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are
ways.

All donations should be made to:

Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
PMB 113
1739 University Ave.
Oxford, MS 38655-4109

Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment
method other than by check or money order.


The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by
the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN
[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154.  Donations are
tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law.  As fundraising
requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be
made and fundraising will begin in the additional states.

We need your donations more than ever!

You can get up to date donation information at:

https://www.gutenberg.org/donation.html


***

If you can't reach Project Gutenberg,
you can always email directly to:

Michael S. Hart 

Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message.

We would prefer to send you information by email.


**The Legal Small Print**


(Three Pages)

***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START***
Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers.
They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with
your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement
disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how
you may distribute copies of this etext if you want to.

*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT
By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept
this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive
a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by
sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person
you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical
medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.

ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS
This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etexts,
is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart
through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project").
Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright
on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and
distribute it in the United States without permission and
without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth
below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext
under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.

Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market
any commercial products without permission.

To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable
efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any
medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other
things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer
codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.

LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may
receive this etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims
all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.

If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of
receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
time to the person you received it from. If you received it
on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
copy. If you received it electronically, such person may
choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
receive it electronically.

THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
PARTICULAR PURPOSE.

Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
may have other legal rights.

INDEMNITY
You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation,
and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated
with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm
texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including
legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the
following that you do or cause:  [1] distribution of this etext,
[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the etext,
or [3] any Defect.

DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"
You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by
disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
or:

[1]  Only give exact copies of it.  Among other things, this
     requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
     etext or this "small print!" statement.  You may however,
     if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable
     binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
     including any form resulting from conversion by word
     processing or hypertext software, but only so long as
     *EITHER*:

     [*]  The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
          does *not* contain characters other than those
          intended by the author of the work, although tilde
          (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
          be used to convey punctuation intended by the
          author, and additional characters may be used to
          indicate hypertext links; OR

     [*]  The etext may be readily converted by the reader at
          no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
          form by the program that displays the etext (as is
          the case, for instance, with most word processors);
          OR

     [*]  You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
          no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
          etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
          or other equivalent proprietary form).

[2]  Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this
     "Small Print!" statement.

[3]  Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the
     gross profits you derive calculated using the method you
     already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  If you
     don't derive profits, no royalty is due.  Royalties are
     payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation"
     the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were
     legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent
     periodic) tax return.  Please contact us beforehand to
     let us know your plans and to work out the details.

WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of
public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed
in machine readable form.

The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time,
public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses.
Money should be paid to the:
"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."

If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or
software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at:
[email protected]

[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart
and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.]
[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales
of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or
software or any other related product without express permission.]

*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.10/04/01*END*




This etext was produced by Tony Adam.

Shakespeare, William.  A Yorkshire Tragedy.  Not So New as Lamentable
and True.  In C.F. Tucker Brooke, ed., The Shakespeare Apocrypha
(Oxford, 1918).



ALL'S ONE,
OR, ONE OF THE FOUR PLAYS IN ONE, CALLED
A YORK-SHIRE TRAGEDY
AS IT WAS PLAYED BY THE KING'S MAJESTY'S PLAYERS.



Dramatis Personae.

Husband.
Master of a College.
Knight, a Justice of Peace.
Oliver,
Ralph,
Samuel, serving-men.
Other Servants, and Officers.
Wife.
Maid-servant.
A little Boy.



SCENE I.  A room in Calverly Hall.

[Enter Oliver and Ralph, two servingmen.]


OLIVER.
Sirrah Ralph, my young Mistress is in such a pitiful passionate
humor for the long absence of her love--

RALPH.
Why, can you blame her? why, apples hanging longer on the tree
then when they are ripe makes so many fallings; viz., Mad
wenches, because they are not gathered in time, are fain to
drop of them selves, and then tis Common you know for every
man to take em up.

OLIVER.
Mass, thou sayest true, Tis common indeed: but, sirrah, is
neither our young master returned, nor our fellow Sam come
from London?

RALPH.
Neither of either, as the Puritan bawd says.  Slidd, I hear
Sam: Sam's come, her's!  Tarry! come, yfaith, now my nose
itches for news.

OLIVER.
And so does mine elbow.

[Sam calls within.  Where are you there?]

SAM.
Boy, look you walk my horse with discretion; I have rid him
simply.  I warrant his skin sticks to his back with very heat:
if a should catch cold and get the Cough of the Lungs I were
well served, were I not?

[Enter Sam.  Furnisht with things from London.]

What, Ralph and Oliver.

AMBO.
Honest fellow Sam, welcome, yfaith! what tricks hast thou
brought from London?

SAM.
You see I am hangd after the truest fashion: three hats, and
two glasses, bobbing upon em, two rebato wires upon my breast,
a capcase by my side, a brush at my back, an Almanack in my
pocket, and three ballats in my Codpiece:  nay, I am the true
picture of a Common servingman.

OLIVER.
I'll swear thou art.  Thou mayest set up when thou wilt.
There's many a one begins with less, I can tell thee, that
proves a rich man ere he dies.  But what's the news from
London, Sam?

RALPH.
Aye, that's well said; what's the news from London, Sirrah?
My young mistress keeps such a puling for her love.

SAM.
Why, the more fool she; aye, the more ninny hammer she.

OLIVER.
Why, Sam, why?

SAM.
Why, he's married to another Long ago.

AMBO.
Yfaith, ye jest.

SAM.
Why, did you not know that till now? why, he's married, beats
his wife, and has two or three children by her: for you must
note that any woman bears the more when she is beaten.

RALPH.
Aye, that's true, for she bears the blows.

OLIVER.
Sirrah Sam, I would not for two years wages, my young mistress
knew so much; she'd run upon the left hand of her wit, and
ne'er be her own woman again.

SAM.
And I think she was blest in her Cradle, that he never came
in her bed; why, he has consumed all, pawnd his lands, and
made his university brother stand in wax for him--There's a
fine phrase for a scrivener! puh, he owes more then his skin's
worth.

OLIVER.
Is't possible?

SAM.
Nay, I'll tell you moreover, he calls his wife whore as
familiarly as one would call Mal and Dol, and his children
bastards as naturally as can be.--But what have we here?  I
thought twas somewhat puld down my breeches: I quite forgot
my two potingsticks.  These came from London; now any thing
is good here that comes from London.

OLIVER.
Aye, far fetcht you know.

SAM.
But speak in your conscience, yfaith, have not we as good
Potingsticks ith Country as need to be put ith fire.  The mind
of a thing's all, and as thou saidst e'en now, far fetcht is
the best things for Ladies.

OLIVER.
Aye, and for waiting gentle women too.

SAM.
But, Ralph, what, is our beer sower this thunder?

OLIVER.
No, no, it holds countenance yet.

SAM.
Why, then, follow me; I'll teach you the finest humor to be
drunk in't; they call it knighting in London, when they drink
upon their knees.

AMBO.
Faith, that's excellent.  Come, follow me:  I'll give you all
the degrees ont in order.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE II.  Another apartment in the same.

WIFE.
What will become of us? all will away.
My husband never ceases in expense,
Both to consume his credit and his house;
And tis set down by heaven's just decree,
That Riot's child must needs be beggery.
Are these the vertues that his you did promise?
Dice, and voluptuous meetings, midnight Revels,
Taking his bed with surfetts: Ill beseeming
The ancient honor of his house and name!
And this not all: but that which kills me most,
When he recounts his Losses and false fortunes,
The weakness of his state so much dejected,
Not as a man repentant, but half mad,
His fortunes cannot answer his expense:
He sits and sullenly locks up his Arms,
Forgetting heaven looks downward, which makes him
Appear so dreadful that he frights my heart,
Walks heavily, as if his soul were earth:
Not penitent for those his sins are past,
But vext his money cannot make them last:--
A fearful melancholy, ungodly sorrow.
Oh yonder he comes, now in despite of ills
I'll speak to him, and I will hear him speak,
And do my best to drive it from his heart.

[Enter Husband.]

HUSBAND.
Pox oth Last throw! it made
Five hundred Angels vanish from my sight.
I'm damnd, I'm damnd: the Angels have forsook me.
Nay, tis certainly true: for he that has
No coin is damnd in this world: he's gone, he's gone.

WIFE.
Dear husband.

HUSBAND.
Oh! most punishment of all, I have a wife.

WIFE.
I do intreat you as you love your soul,
Tell me the cause of this your discontent.

HUSBAND.
A vengeance strip thee naked! thou art cause,
Effect, quality, property, thou, thou, thou!

[Exit.]

WIFE.
Bad, turnd to worse! both beggery of the soul,
As of the body.  And so much unlike
Him self at first, as if some vexed spirit
Had got his form upon him.--

[Enter Husband again.]

He comes again.
He says I am the cause; I never yet
Spoke less then words of duty, and of love.

HUSBAND.
If marriage be honourable, then Cuckolds are honourable, for
they cannot be made without marriage.  Fool! what meant I to
marry to get beggars? now must my eldest son be a knave or
nothing; he cannot live uppot'h fool, for he will have no
land to maintain him: that mortgage sits like a snaffle upon
mine inheritance, and makes me chaw upon Iron.  My second
son must be a promoter, and my third a thief, or an underputter,
a slave pander.
Oh beggery, beggery, to what base uses dost thou put a man!
I think the Devil scorns to be a bawd.  He bears himself more
proudly, has more care on's credit.  Base, slavish, abject,
filthy poverty!

WIFE.
Good sir, by all our vows I do beseech you,
Show me the true cause of your discontent.

HUSBAND.
Money, money, money, and thou must supply me.

WIFE.
Alas, I am the lest cause of your discontent,
Yet what is mine, either in rings or Jewels,
Use to your own desire, but I beseech you,
As y'are a gentleman by many bloods,
Though I my self be out of your respect,
Think on the state of these three lovely boys
You have been father to.

HUSBAND.
Puh!  Bastards, bastards, bastards; begot in tricks, begot
in tricks.

WIFE.
Heaven knows how those words wrong me, but I may
Endure these griefs among a thousand more.
Oh, call to mind your lands already mortgage,
Your self wound with debts, your hopeful brother
At the university in bonds for you,
Like to be ceasd upon; And--

HUSBAND.
Ha done, thou harlot,
Whom, though for fashion sake I married,
I never could abide; thinkst thou thy words
Shall kill my pleasures?  Fall off to thy friends,
Thou and thy bastards beg: I will not bate
A whit in humor! midnight, still I love you,
And revel in your Company.  Curbd in,
Shall it be said in all societies,
That I broke custom, that I flagd in money?
No, those thy jewels I will play as freely
As when my state was fullest.

WIFE.
Be it so.

HUSBAND.
Nay I protest, and take that for an earnest,

[spurns her]

I will for ever hold thee in contempt,
And never touch the sheets that cover thee,
But be divorst in bed till thou consent,
Thy dowry shall be sold to give new life
Unto those pleasures which I most affect.

WIFE.
Sir, do but turn a gentle eye on me,
And what the law shall give me leave to do
You shall command.

HUSBAND.
Look it be done:  shall I want dust and like a slave
Wear nothing in my pockets but my hands
To fill them up with nails?

[holding his hands in his pockets]

Oh much against my blood!  Let it be done.
I was never made to be a looker on,
A bawd to dice; I'll shake the drabs my self
And made em yield.  I say, look it be done.

WIFE.
I take my leave: it shall.

[Exit.]

HUSBAND.
Speedily, speedily.  I hate the very hour I chose a wife: a
trouble, trouble! three children like three evils hang upon
me.  Fie, fie, fie, strumpet and bastards, strumpet and
bastards!

[Enter three Gentlemen hearing him.]

1 GENTLEMAN.
Still do those loathsome thoughts
Jar on your tongue?
Your self to stain the honour of your wife,
Nobly descended!  Those whom men call mad
Endanger others; but he's more than mad
That wounds himself, whose own words do proclaim
Scandals unjust, to soil his better name:
It is not fit; I pray, forsake it.

2 GENTLEMAN.
Good sir, let modesty reprove you.

3 GENTLEMAN.
Let honest kindness sway so much with you.

HUSBAND.
God den, I thank you, sir, how do you? adieu!  I'm glad to
see you.  Farewell
Instructions, Admonitions.

[Exeunt Gentlemen.]

[Enter a servant.]

HUSBAND.
How now, sirra; what would you?

SERVANT.
Only to certify you, sir, that my mistress was met by the way,
by them who were sent for her up to London by her honorable
uncle, your worships late guardian.

HUSBAND.
So, sir, then she is gone and so may you be:  But let her look
that the thing be done she wots of: or hell will stand more
pleasant then her house at home.

[Exit servant.]

[Enter a Gentleman.]

GENTLEMAN.
Well or ill met, I care not.

HUSBAND.
No, nor I.

GENTLEMAN.
I am come with confidence to chide you.

HUSBAND.
Who? me?
Chide me?  Doo't finely then: let it not move me,
For if thou chidst me angry, I shall strike.

GENTLEMAN.
Strike thine own follies, for it is they deserve
To be well beaten.  We are now in private:
There's none but thou and I.  Thou'rt fond and peevish,
An unclean rioter: thy lands and Credit
Lie now both sick of a consumption.
I am sorry for thee: that man spends with shame
That with his riches does consume his name:
And such thou art.

HUSBAND.
Peace.

GENTLEMAN.
No, thou shalt hear me further:
Thy fathers and forefathers worthy honors,
Which were our country monuments, our grace,
Follies in thee begin now to deface.
The spring time of thy youth did fairly promise
Such a most fruitful summer to thy friends
It scarce can enter into mens beliefs,
Such dearth should hang on thee.  We that see it,
Are sorry to believe it: in thy change,
This voice into all places will be hurld:
Thou and the devil has deceived the world.

HUSBAND.
I'll not indure thee.

GENTLEMAN.
But of all the worst:
Thy vertuous wife, right honourably allied,
Thou hast proclaimed a strumpet.

HUSBAND.
Nay, the, I know thee.
Thou art her champion, thou, her private friend,
The party you wot on.

GENTLEMAN.
Oh ignoble thought.
I am past my patient blood: shall I stand idle
And see my reputation toucht to death?

HUSBAND.
Ta's galde you, this, has it?

GENTLEMAN.
No, monster, I will prove
My thoughts did only tend to vertuous love.

HUSBAND.
Love of her vertues? there it goes.

GENTLEMEN.
Base spirit,
To lay thy hate upon the fruitful Honor
Of thine own bed.

[They fight and the Husband's hurt.]

HUSBAND.
Oh!

GENTLEMAN.
Woult thou yield it yet?

HUSBAND.
Sir, Sir, I have not done with you.

GENTLEMAN.
I hope nor nere shall do.

[Fight again.]

HUSBAND.
Have you got tricks? are you in cunning with me?

GENTLEMAN.
No, plain and right.
He needs no cunning that for truth doth fight.

[Husband falls down.]

HUSBAND.
Hard fortune, am I leveld with the ground?

GENTLEMAN.
Now, sir, you lie at mercy.

HUSBAND.
Aye, you slave.

GENTLEMAN.
Alas, that hate should bring us to our grave.
You see my sword's not thirsty for your life,
I am sorrier for your wound then your self.
Y'are of a vertuous house, show vertuous deeds;
Tis not your honour, tis your folly bleeds;
Much good has been expected in your life,
Cancel not all men's hopes: you have a wife
Kind and obedient: heap not wrongful shame
On her and your posterity, nor blame
Your overthrow; let only sin be sore,
And by this fall, rise never to fall more.
And so I leave you.

[Exit.]

HUSBAND
Has the dog left me, then,
After his tooth hath left me? oh, my heart
Would fain leap after him.  Revenge, I say,
I'm mad to be reveng'd.  My strumpet wife,
It is thy quarrel that rips thus my flesh,
And makes my breast spit blood, but thou shalt bleed.
Vanquisht? got down? unable e'en to speak?
Surely tis want of money makes men weak.
Aye, twas that orethrew me; I'd nere been down else.

[Exit.]


SCENE III.  The same.

[Enter wife in a riding suit with a servingman.]


SERVINGMAN.
Faith, mistress, If it might not be presumption
In me to tell you so, for his excuse
You had small reason, knowing his abuse.

WIFE.
I grant I had; but, alas,
Why should our faults at home be spread abroad?
Tis grief enough within doors.  At first sight
Mine Uncle could run o'er his prodigal life
As perfectly, as if his serious eye
Had numbered all his follies:
Knew of his mortgaged lands, his friends in bonds,
Himself withered with debts:  And in that minute
Had I added his usage and unkindness,
Twould have confounded every thought of good:
Where now, fathering his riots on his youth,
Which time and tame experience will shake off,
Guessing his kindness to me (as I smoothd him
With all the skill I had) though his deserts
Are in form uglier then an unshaped Bear,
He's ready to prefer him to some office
And place at Court, A good and sure relief
To all his stooping fortunes: twill be a means, I hope
To make new league between us, and redeem
His vertues with his lands.

SERVINGMAN.
I should think so, mistress.  If he should not now be kind
to you and love you, and cherish you up, I should think the
devil himself kept open house in him.

WIFE.
I doubt not but he will now:  prethe, leave me; I think I
hear him coming.

SERVINGMAN.
I am gone.

[Exit.]

WIFE.
By this good means I shall preserve my lands,
And free my husband out of usurers hands:
Now there is no need of sale, my Uncle's kind,
I hope, if ought, this will content his mind.--
Here comes my husband.

[Enter Husband.]

HUSBAND.
Now, are you come? where's the money? let's see the money.
Is the rubbish sold, those wiseakers your lands? why, when?
the money! where ist? powr't down, down with it, down with it:
I say powr't oth ground! lets see't, lets see't.

WIFE.
Good sir, keep but in patience and I hope
My words shall like you well:  I bring you better
Comfort then the sale of my Dowrie.

HUSBAND.
Ha, whats that?

WIFE.
Pray, do not fright me, sir, but vouchsafe me hearing: my
Uncle, glad of your kindness to me and mild usage--for so I
made it to him--has in pity of your declining fortunes,
provided a place for you at Court of worth and credit, which
so much overjoyed me--

HUSBAND.
Out on thee, filth! over and over-joyed, [spurns her] when I'm
in torments?  Thou pollitick whore, subtiller then nine Devils,
was this thy journey to Nuncke, to set down the history of me,
of my state and fortunes?  Shall I that Dedicated my self to
pleasure, be now confind in service to crouch and stand like
an old man ith hams, my hat off?  I that never could abide to
uncover my head ith Church? base slut! this fruit bears thy
complaints.

WIFE.
Oh, heaven knows
That my complaints were praises, and best words
Of you and your estate: only my friends
Knew of our mortgaged Lands, and were possest
Of every accident before I came.
If thou suspect it but a plot in me
To keep my dowrie, or for mine own good
Or my poor childrens:  (though it suits a mother
To show a natural care in their reliefs)
Yet I'll forget my self to calm your blood:
Consume it, as your pleasure counsels you,
And all I wish e'en Clemency affords:
Give me but comely looks and modest words.

HUSBAND.
Money, hore, money, or I'll--

[Draws his dagger.]

[Enters a servant very hastily.]

What the devil? how now? thy hasty news?

[To his man.]

SERVINGMAN.
May it please you, sir--

[Servant in a fear.]

HUSBAND.
What? May I not look upon my dagger? Speak villain, or I will
execute the point on thee:  quick, short.

SERVINGMAN.
Why, sir, a gentleman from the University stays below to speak
with you.

HUSBAND.
From the University? so! University--
That long word runs through me.

[Exit.]

WIFE.
Was ever wife so wretchedly beset?

[Wife alone.]

Had not this news stept in between, the point
Had offered violence unto my breast.
That which some women call great misery
Would show but little here:  would scarce be seen
Amongst my miseries.  I may Compare
For wretched fortunes with all wives that are.
Nothing will please him, until all be nothing.
He calls it slavery to be preferd,
A place of credit a base servitude.
What shall become of me, and my poor children,
Two here, and one at nurse, my pretty beggers?
I see how ruin with a palsy hand
Begins to shake the auncient seat to dust:
The heavy weight of sorrow draws my lids
Over my dankish eyes: I can scarce see:
Thus grief will last; it wakes and sleeps with me.

[Exit.]


SCENE IV.  Another apartment in the same.

[Enter the Husband with the master of the College.]


HUSBAND.
Please you draw near, sir, y'are exceeding welcome.

MASTER.
Thats my doubt; I fear, I come not to be welcome.

HUSBAND.
Yes, howsoever.

MASTER.
Tis not my fashion, Sir, to dwell in long circumstance, but
to be plain, and effectual; therefore, to the purpose.  The
cause of my setting forth was piteous and lamentable: that
hopeful young gentleman, your brother, whose vertues we all
love dearly, through your default and unnatural negligence,
lies in bond executed for your debt, a prisoner, all his
studies amazed, his hope struck dead, and the pride of his
youth muffled in these dark clouds of oppression.

HUSBAND.
Hum, um, um.

MASTER.
Oh, you have kild the towardest hope of all our university:
Wherefore, without repentance and ameds, expect pondrous and
sudden Judgements to fall grievously upon you.  Your brother,
a man who profited in his divine Imployments, might have made
ten thousand souls fit for heaven, now by your careless courses
cast in prison, which you must answer for, and assure your
spirit it will come home at length.

HUSBAND.
Oh god! oh!

MASTER.
Wise men think ill of you, others speak ill of you, no man
loves you, nay, even those whom honesty condemns, condemn
you:  and take this from the vertuous affection I bear your
brother; never look for prosperous hour, good thought, quiet
sleeps, contented walks, nor any thing that makes man perfect
til you redeem him.  What is your answer? how will you bestow
him? upon desperate misery, or better hopes?  I suffer, till I
have your answer.

HUSBAND.
Sir, you have much wrought with me.  I feel you in my soul,
you are your arts master.  I never had sense til now; your
syllables have cleft me.  Both for your words and pains I
thank you:  I cannot but acknowledge grievous wrongs done to
my brother, mighty, mighty, mighty wrongs.--Within there!

[Enter a servingman.]

HUSBAND.
Sir, Fill me a bowl of wine.  Alas, poor brother,
Brus'd with an execution for my sake.

[Exit servant for wine.]

MASTER.
A bruse indeed makes many a moral sore
Till the grave cure em.

[Enter with wine.]

HUSBAND.
Sir, I begin to you, y'ave chide your welcome.

MASTER.
I could have wisht it better for your sake.
I pledge you, sir, to the kind man in prison.

HUSBAND.
Let it be so.  Now, Sir, if you so please.

[Drink both.]

To spend but a few minutes in a walk
About my grounds below, my man here shall
Attend you.
I doubt not but by that time to be furnisht
Of a sufficient answer, and therein
My brother fully satisfied.

MASTER.
Good sir, in that the Angells would be pleased,
And the worlds murmurs calmd, and I should say
I set forth then upon a lucky day.

[Exit.]

HUSBAND.
Oh thou confused man! thy pleasant sins have undone thee, thy
damnation has beggerd thee!  That heaven should say we must
not sin, and yet made women! gives our senses way to find
pleasure, which being found confounds us.  Why should we know
those things so much misuse us?--oh, would vertue had been
forbidden! we should then have proved all vertuous, for tis our
blood to love that were forbidden.  Had not drunkenness been
forbidden, what man would have been fool to a beast, and Zany
to a swine, to show tricks in the mire? what is there in three
dice to make a man draw thrice three thousand acres into the
compass of a round little table, and with the gentlemans
palsy in the hand shake out his posterity thieves or beggars?
Tis done!  I ha dont, yfaith: terrible, horrible misery.--
How well was I left! very well, very well.  My Lands shewed
like a full moon about me, but now the moon's ith last
quarter, waning, waning:  And I am mad to think that moon
was mine; Mine and my fathers, and my forefathers--generations,
generations: down goes the house of us, down, down it sinks.
Now is the name a beggar, begs in me! that name, which
hundreds of years has made this shiere famous, in me, and my
posterity, runs out.
  In my seed five are made miserable besides my self: my riot
is now my brothers jailer, my wives sighing, my three boys
penury, and mine own confusion.

[Tears his hair.]

Why sit my hairs upon my cursed head?
Will not this poison scatter them? oh my brother's
In execution among devils that
Stretch him and make him give.  And I in want,
Not able for to live, nor to redeem him.
Divines and dying men may talk of hell,
But in my heart her several torments dwell.
Slavery and misery!  Who in this case
Would not take up money upon his soul,
Pawn his salvation, live at interest?
I, that did ever in abundance dwell,
For me to want, exceeds the throws of hell.

[Enter his little son with a top and a scourge.]

SON.
What, ail you father? are you not well?  I cannot scourge my
top as long as you stand so: you take up all the room with
your wide legs. Puh, you cannot make me afeard with this; I
fear no vizards, nor bugbears.

[Husband takes up the child by the skirts of his long coat in
one hand and draws his dagger with th' other.]

HUSBAND.
Up, sir, for here thou hast no inheritance left.

SON.
Oh, what will you do, father?  I am your white boy.

HUSBAND.
Thou shalt be my red boy: take that.

[Strikes him.]

SON.
Oh, you hurt me, father.

HUSBAND.
My eldest beggar! thou shalt not live to ask an usurer bread,
to cry at a great mans gate, or follow, good your honour, by
a Couch; no, nor your brother; tis charity to brain you.

SON.
How shall I learn now my heads broke?

HUSBAND.
Bleed, bleed rather than beg, beg!

[Stabs him.]

Be not thy names disgrace:
Spurn thou thy fortunes first if they be base:
Come view thy second brother.--Fates,
My childrens blood
Shall spin into your faces, you shall see
How Confidently we scorn beggery!

[Exit with his Son.]


SCENE V.  A bed-room in the same.

[Enter a maid with a child in her arms, the mother by her a
step.]


MAID.
Sleep, sweet babe; sorrow makes thy mother sleep:
It bodes small good when heaviness falls so deep.
Hush, pretty boy, thy hopes might have been better.
Tis lost at Dice what ancient honour won:
Hard when the father plays away the son!
No thing but misery serves in this house.
Ruin and desolation, oh!

[Enter husband with the boy bleeding.]

HUSBAND.
Whore, give me that boy.

[Strives with her for the child.]

MAID.
Oh help, help! out alas, murder, murder!

HUSBAND.
Are you gossiping, prating, sturdy queane?
I'll break your clamor with your neck: down stairs!
Tumble, tumble, headlong!

[Throws her down.]

So!
The surest way to charm a womans tongue
Is break her neck: a politician did it.

SON.
Mother, mother; I am kild, mother.

WIFE WAKES.
Ha, whose that cried? oh me, my children!
Both, both, both; bloody, bloody.

[Catches up the youngest.]

HUSBAND.
Strumpet, let go the boy, let go the beggar.

WIFE.
Oh my sweet husband!

HUSBAND.
Filth, harlot.

WIFE.
Oh what will you do, dear husband?

HUSBAND.
Give me the bastard.

WIFE.
Your own sweet boy!

HUSBAND.
There are too many beggars.

WIFE.
Good my husband--

HUSBAND.
Doest thou prevent me still?

WIFE.
Oh god!

HUSBAND.
Have at his heart!

[Stabs at the child in her arms.]

WIFE.
Oh my dear boy!

[Gets it from her.]

HUSBAND.
Brat, thou shalt not live to shame thy house!

WIFE.
Oh heaven!

[She's hurt and sinks down.]

HUSBAND.
And perish! now begone:
There's whores enow, and want would make thee one.

[Enter a lusty servant.]

SERVANT.
Oh Sir, what deeds are these?

HUSBAND.
Base slave, my vassail:
Comst thou between my fury to question me?

SERVANT.
Were you the Devil, I would hold you, sir.

HUSBAND.
Hold me? presumption!  I'll undo thee for't.

SERVANT.
Sblood, you have undone us all, sir.

HUSBAND.
Tug at thy master!

SERVANT.
Tug at a Monster.

HUSBAND.
Have I no power? shall my slave fetter me?

SERVANT.
Nay, then, the Devil wrestles, I am thrown.

HUSBAND.
Oh, villain, now I'll tug thee,

[Overthrows him]

now I'll tear thee;
Set quick spurs to my vassail, bruize him, trample him.
So! I think thou wilt not follow me in haste.
My horse stands ready saddled.  Away, away;
Now to my brat at nurse, my suckling begger.
Fates, I'll not leave you one to trample on.


SCENE VI.  Court before the house.

[The Master meets him.]


MASTER.
How ist with you, sir? me thinks you look
Of a distracted colour.

HUSBAND.
Who?  I, sir? tis but your fancy.
Please you walk in, Sir, and I'll soon resolve you:
I want one small part to make up the sum,
And then my brother shall rest satisfied.

MASTER.
I shall be glad to see it: sir, I'll attend you.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE VII.  The same as Scene V.

SERVANT.
Oh I am scarce able to heave up my self:
Ha's so bruizd me with his devilish weight,
And torn my flesh with his blood-hasty spur,
A man before of easy constitution
Till now hell's power supplied, to his soul's wrong.
Oh, how damnation can make weak men strong.

[Enter Master, and two servants.]

SERVANT.
Oh, the most piteous deed, sir, since you came.

MASTER.
A deadly greeting! has he somde up these
To satisfy his brother? here's an other:
And by the bleeding infants, the dead mother.

WIFE.
Oh, oh.

MASTER.
Surgeons, Surgeons! she recovers life.
One of his men all faint and bloodied.

1 SERVANT.
Follow, our murderous master has took horse
To kill his child at nurse: oh, follow quickly.

MASTER.
I am the readiest, it shall be my charge
To raise the town upon him.

[Exit Master and servants.]

1 SERVANT.
Good sir, do follow him.

WIFE.
Oh my children.

1 SERVANT.
How is it with my most afflicted Mistress?

WIFE.
Why do I now recover? Why half live?
To see my children bleed before mine eyes?
A sight able to kill a mothers breast
Without an executioner! what, art thou
Mangled too?

1 SERVANT.
I, thinking to prevent what his quick mischiefs
Had so soon acted, came and rusht upon him.
We struggled, but a fouler strength then his
O'er threw me with his arms; then did me bruize me
And rent my flesh, and robd me of my hair,
Like a man mad in execution;
Made me unfit to rise and follow him.

WIFE.
What is it has beguild him of all grace
And stole away humanity from his breast?
To slay his children, purpose to kill his wife,
And spoil his servants.

[Enter two guards.]

AMBO.
Sir, please you leave this most accursed place,
A surgeon waits within.

WIFE.
Willing to leave it!
Tis guilty of sweet blood, innocent blood:
Murder has took this chamaber with full hands,
And will ne'er out as long as the house stands.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE VIII.  A high road.

[Enter Husband as being thrown off his horse,
And falls.]


HUSBAND.
Oh stumbling Jade, the spavin overtake thee,
The fifty disease stop thee!
Oh, I am sorely bruisde; plague founder thee:
Thou runst at ease and pleasure.  Hart of chance!
To Throw me now within a flight oth Town,
In such plain even ground, sfoot, a man
May dice up on't, and throw away the Meadows.
Filthy beast.

CRY WITHIN.
Follow, follow, follow.

HUSBAND.
Ha!  I hear sounds of men, like hew and cry:
Up, up, and struggle to thy horse, make on;
Dispatch that little begger and all's done.

KNIGHT.
Here, this way, this way!

HUSBAND.
At my back? Oh,
What fate have I? my limbs deny me go,
My will is bated: beggery claims a part.
Oh, could I here reach to the infants heart.

[Enter Master of the College, 3. Gentlemen, and others with
Holberds.]

[Find him.]

ALL.
Here, here:  yonder, yonder.

MASTER.
Unnatural, flinty, more than barbarous:
The Scythians or the marble hearted fates
Could not have acted more remorseless deeds
In their relentless natures, then these of thine:
Was this the answer I long waited on,
The satisfaction for thy prisoned brother?

HUSBAND.
Why, he can have no more on's then our skins,
And some of em want but fleaing.

1 GENTLEMAN.
Great sins have made him imprudent.

MASTER.
H'as shed so much blood that he cannot blush.

2 GENTLEMAN.
Away with him, bear him a long to the Justices;
A gentleman of worship dwells at hand;
There shall his deeds be blazed.

HUSBAND.
Why, all the better.
My glory tis to have my action known:
I grieve for nothing, but I mist of one.

MASTER.
There's little of a father in that grief:
Bear him away.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE IX.  A room in the house of a Magistrate.

[Enter a knight with two or three Gentlemen.]


KNIGHT.
Endangered so his wife? murdered his children?

1 GENTLEMAN.
So the Cry comes.

Knight.
I am sorry I ere knew him,
That ever he took life and natural being
From such an honoured stock, and faira descent;
Til this black minute without stain or blemish.

1 GENTLEMAN.
Here come the men.

[Enter the master of the college and the rest, with the
prisoner.]

KNIGHT.
The serpent of his house!  I'm sorry
For this time that I am in place of justice.

MASTER.
Please you, Sir.

KNIGHT.
Do not repeat it twice I know too much,
Would it had ne'er been thought on:
Sir, I bleed for you.

1 GENTLEMAN.
Your fathers sorrows are alive in me:
What made you shew such monstrous cruelty?

HUSBAND.
In a word, Sir, I have consumd all, played away long acre,
and I thought it the charitablest deed I could do to cussen
beggery and knock my house oth head.

KNIGHT.
Oh, in a cooler blood you will repent it.

HUSBAND.
I repent now, that ones left unkild,
My brat at nurse.  Oh, I would full fain have weand him.

KNIGHT.
Well, I do not think but in to morrows judgement,
The terror will sit closer to your soul,
When the dread thought of death remembers you;
To further which, take this sad voice from me:
Never was act played more unnaturally.

HUSBAND.
Thank you, Sir.

KNIGHT.
Go, lead him to the Jail:
Where justice claims all, there must pity fail.

HUSBAND.
Come, come, away with me.

[Exit prisoner.]

MASTER.
Sir, you deserve the worship of your place.
Would all did so: in you the law is grace.

KNIGHT.
It is my wish it should be so.--Ruinous man,
The desolation of his house, the blot
Upon his predecessors honord name!
That man is nearest shame that is past shame.

[Exit.]


SCENE X.  Before Calverly Hall.

[Enter Husband with the officers, The Master and gentlemen,
as going by his house.]


HUSBAND.
I am right against my house, seat of my Ancestors: I hear my
wife's alive; but much endangered. Let me intreat to speak
with her, before the prison gripe me.

[Enter his wife, brought in a chair.]

GENTLEMAN.
See here she comes of her self.

WIFE.
Oh my sweet Husband, my dear distressed husband,
Now in the hands of unrelenting laws!
My greatest sorrow, my extremest bleeding,
Now my soul bleeds.

HUSBAND.
How now? kind to me? did I not wound thee, left thee for dead?

WIFE.
Tut, far greater wounds did my breast feel:
Unkindness strikes a deeper wound than steel;
You have been still unkind to me.

HUSBAND.
Faith, and so I think I have:
I did my murthers roughly, out of hand,
Desperate and sudden, but thou hast deviz'd
A fine way now to kill me, thou hast given mine eyes
Seven wounds a piece; now glides the devil from me,
Departs at every joint, heaves up my nails.
Oh catch him new torments, that were near invented,
Bind him one thousand more, you blessed Angels,
In that pit bottomless; let him not rise
To make men act unnatural tragedies,
To spread into a father, and in fury,
Makes him his childrens executioners:
Murder his wife, his servants, and who not?
For that man's dark, where heaven is quite forgot.

WIFE.
Oh my repentant husband.

HUSBAND.
My dear soul, whom I too much have wrongd,
For death I die, and for this have I longd.

WIFE.
Thou sholdst not (be assurde) for these faults die,
I ft he law could forgive as soon as I.

HUSBAND.
What sight is yonder?

[Children laid out.]

WIFE.
Oh, our two bleeding boys
Laid forth upon the thresholds.

HUSBAND.
Here's weight enough to make a heart-string crack.
Oh, were it lawful that your pretty souls
Might look from heaven into your fathers eyes,
Then should you see the penitent glasses melt,
And both your murthers shoot upon my cheeks;
But you are playing in the Angels laps,
And will not look on me,
Who void of grace, kild you in beggery.
Oh that I might my wishes now attain,
I should then wish you living were again,
Though I did beg with you, which thing I feard:
Oh, twas the enemy my eyes so bleard.
Oh, would you could pray heaven me to forgive,
That will unto my end repentant live.

WIFE.
It makes me e'en forget all other sorrows
And live apart with this.

OFFICER.
Come will you go?

HUSBAND.
I'll kiss the blood I spilt and then I go:
My soul is bloodied, well may my lips be so.
Farewell, dear wife, now thou and I must part,
I of thy wrongs repent me with my heart.

WIFE.
Oh stay, thou shalt not go.

HUSBAND.
That's but in vain, you see it must be so.
Farewell, ye bloody ashes of my boys!
My punishments are their eternal joys.
Let every father look into my deeds,
And then their heirs may prosper, while mine bleeds.

WIFE.
More wretched am I now in this distress,

[Exeunt Husband with holberds.]

Then former sorrows made me.

MASTER.
Oh kind wife,
Be comforted.  One joy is yet unmurdered:
You have a boy at nurse; your joy's in him.

WIFE.
Dearer then all is my poor husbands life:
Heaven give my body strength, which yet is faint
With much expence of blood, and I will kneel,
Sue for his life, number up all my friends,
To plead for pardon for my dear husbands life.

MASTER.
Was it in man to wound so kind a creature?
I'll ever praise a woman for thy sake.
I must return with grief; my answer's set:
I shall bring news ways heavier then the debt.--
Two brothers: one in bond lies overthrown,
This on a deadlier execution.


FINIS.


End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of A Yorkshire Tragedy
by Shakespeare Apocrypha