Scene VI Mistress Frankford’s Bedchamber
Mistress Frankford in bed; enter Sir Charles Mountford, Sir Francis Acton, Malby, Cranwell, and Susan.
Malby.
How fare you, Mistress Frankford?
Mistress Frankford.
Sick, sick, oh, sick. Give me some air, I pray you.
Tell me, oh, tell me where is Master Frankford?
Will not he deign to see me ere I die?
Malby.
Yes, Mistress Frankford: divers gentlemen,
Your loving neighbours, with that just request
Have moved, and told him of your weak estate:
Who, though with much ado to get belief,
Examining of the general circumstance,
Seeing your sorrow and your penitence,
And hearing therewithal the great desire
You have to see him ere you left the world,
He gave to us his faith to follow us,
And sure he will be here immediately.
Mistress Frankford.
You have half revived me with those pleasing news:
Raise me a little higher in my bed.
Blush I not, brother Acton? Blush I not, Sir Charles?
Can you not read my fault writ in my cheek?
Is not my crime there? tell me, gentlemen.
Sir Charles Mountford.
Alas! good mistress, sickness hath not left you
Blood in your face enough to make you blush.
Mistress Frankford.
Then sickness, like a friend, my fault would hide.
Is my husband come? My soul but tarries
His arrive, then I am fit for Heaven.
Sir Francis Acton.
I came to chide you; but my words of hate
Are turned to pity and compassionate grief.
I came to rate you; but my brawls, you see,
Melt into tears, and I must weep by thee.
Here’s Master Frankford now.
Enter Frankford.
Frankford.
Good-morrow, brother; morrow, gentlemen:
God, that hath laid this cross upon our heads,
Might (had He pleased) have made our cause of meeting
On a more fair and more contented ground;
But He that made us, made us to this woe.
Mistress Frankford.
And is he come? Methinks that voice I know.
Frankford.
How do you, woman?
Mistress Frankford.
Well, Master Frankford, well; but shall be better,
I hope, within this hour. Will you vouchsafe,
Out of your grace and your humanity,
To take a spotted strumpet by the hand?
Frankford.
This hand once held my heart in faster bonds
Than now ’tis gripped by me. God pardon them
That made us first break hold!
Mistress Frankford.
Amen, amen.
Out of my zeal to Heaven, whither I’m now bound,
I was so impudent to wish you here;
And once more beg your pardon. O good man,
And father to my children, pardon me,
Pardon, oh, pardon me! My fault so heinous is,
That if you in this world forgive it not,
Heaven will not clear it in the world to come.
Faintness hath so usurped upon my knees
That kneel I cannot, but on my heart’s knees
My prostrate soul lies thrown down at your feet
To beg your gracious pardon. Pardon, oh, pardon me!
Frankford.
As freely, from the low depth of my soul,
As my Redeemer hath forgiven His death,
I pardon thee. I will shed tears for thee, pray with thee;
And, in mere pity of thy weak estate,
I’ll wish to die with thee.
All.
So do we all.
Nicholas.
So will not I;
I’ll sigh and sob, but, by my faith, not die.
Sir Francis Acton.
O Master Frankford, all the near alliance
I lose by her shall be supplied in thee:
You are my brother by the nearest way;
Her kindred hath fallen off, but yours doth stay.
Frankford.
Even as I hope for pardon at that day
When the great Judge of Heaven in scarlet sits,
So be thou pardoned. Though thy rash offence
Divorced our bodies, thy repentant tears
Unite our souls.
Sir Charles Mountford.
Then comfort, Mistress Frankford;
You see your husband hath forgiven your fall;
Then rouse your spirits, and cheer your fainting soul.
Susan.
How is it with you?
Sir Francis Acton.
How do ye feel yourself?
Mistress Frankford.
Not of this world.
Frankford.
I see you are not, and I weep to see it.
My wife, the mother to my pretty babes!
Both those lost names I do restore thee back,
And with this kiss I wed thee once again:
Though thou art wounded in thy honoured name,
And with that grief upon thy death-bed liest,
Honest in heart, upon my soul, thou diest.
Mistress Frankford.
Pardoned on earth, soul, thou in Heaven art free.
Once more:50 thy wife dies thus embracing thee. [Dies.
Frankford.
New married, and new widowed. Oh! she’s dead,
And a cold grave must be her nuptial bed.
Sir Charles Mountford.
Sir, be of good comfort; and your heavy sorrow
Part equally amongst us: storms divided
Abate their force, and with less rage are guided.
Cranwell.
Do, Master Frankford: he that hath least part
Will find enough to drown one troubled heart.
Sir Francis Acton.
Peace with thee, Nan. Brothers, and gentlemen,
All we that can plead interest in her grief,
Bestow upon her body funeral tears.
Brother, had you with threats and usage bad
Punished her sin, the grief of her offence
Had not with such true sorrow touched her heart.
Frankford.
I see it had not: therefore on her grave
Will I bestow this funeral epitaph,
Which on her marble tomb shall be engraved.
In golden letters shall these words be filled,51
“Here lies she whom her husband’s kindness killed.”