Scene IV The Hoe
Enter Spencer and Captain Goodlack.
Goodlack.
You are too full of passion.
To have the guilt of murder burden me;
And next, my life in hazard to a death
So ignominious; last, to lose a love.
Spencer.
Canst thou blame me,
So sweet, so fair, so amorous, and so chaste,
And all these at an instant! Art thou sure
Carrol is dead?
Goodlack.
I can believe no less.
You hit him in the very speeding place.
Spencer.
Oh! but the last of these sits near’st my heart.
Goodlack.
Sir, be advised by me:
Try her, before you trust her. She, perchance,
May take the advantage of your hopeful fortunes;
But when she finds you subject to distress
And casualty, her flattering love may die,
Your hopes deceased.
Spencer.
Thou counsell’st well.
I’ll put her to the test and utmost trial,
Before I trust her further. Here she comes.
Enter Fawcett, and Bess with a bag.
Fawcett.
I have done my message, sir.
Bess.
Fear not, sweet Spencer; we are now alone,
And thou art sanctuarèd in these mine arms.
Goodlack.
While these confer, we’ll sentinel their safety.
This place I’ll guard.
Fawcett.
I this.
Bess.
Are you not hurt,
Or your skin rased with his offensive steel?
How is it with you?
Spencer.
Bess, all my afflictions
Are that I must leave thee: thou know’st, withal,
My extreme necessity, and that the fear
Of a most scandalous death doth force me hence.
I am not near my country; and to stay
For new supply from thence might deeply engage me
To desperate hazard.
Bess.
Is it coin you want?
Here is the hundred pound you gave me late:
Use that, beside what I have stored and saved,
Which makes it fifty more. Were it ten thousand,
Nay, a whole million, Spencer, all were thine.
Spencer.
No; what thou hast, keep still; ’tis all thine own.
Here be my keys: my trunks take to thy charge:
Such gold fit for transportage as I have,
I’ll bear along: the rest are freely thine.
Money, apparel, and what else thou find’st,
Perhaps worth my bequest and thy receiving,
I make thee mistress of.
Bess.
Before, I doted;
But now you strive to have me ecstasied.
What would you have me do, in which to express
My zeal to you?
Spencer.
I enjoin thee to keep
Ever my picture, which in my chamber hangs;
For when thou part’st with that, thou losest me.
Bess.
My soul may from my body be divorced,
But never that from me.
Spencer.
I have a house in Foy, a tavern called
The Windmill; that I freely give thee, too;
And thither, if I live, I’ll send to thee.
Bess.
So soon as I have cast my reckonings up,
And made even with my master, I’ll not fail
To visit Foy, in Cornwall. Is there else
Aught that you will enjoin me?
Spencer.
Thou art fair:
Join to thy beauty virtue. Many suitors
I know will tempt thee: beauty’s a shrewd bait,
But unto that if thou add’st chastity,
Thou shalt o’ercome all scandal. Time calls hence;
We now must part.
Bess.
Oh, that I had the power to make Time lame,
To stay the stars, or make the moon stand still,
That future day might never haste thy flight!
I could dwell here for ever in thine arms,
And wish it always night.
Spencer.
We trifle hours. Farewell!
Bess.
First take this ring:
’Twas the first token of my constant love
That passed betwixt us. When I see this next,
And not my Spencer, I shall think thee dead;
For, till death part thy body from thy soul,
I know thou wilt not part with it.
Spencer.
Swear for me, Bess; for thou mayst safely do’t.
Once more, farewell: at Foy thou shalt hear from me.
Bess.
There’s not a word that hath a parting sound
Which through mine ears shrills not immediate death.
I shall not live to lose thee.
Fawcett.
Best be gone;
For hark, I hear some tread.
Spencer.
A thousand farewells are in one contracted.
Captain, away!
[Exeunt Spencer and Goodlack.
Bess.
Oh! I shall die.
Fawcett.
What mean you, Bess? will you betray your friend,
Or call my name in question? Sweet, look up.
Bess.
Ha, is my Spencer gone?
Fawcett.
With speed towards Foy,
There to take ship for Fayal.
Bess.
Let me recollect myself,
And what he left in charge—virtue and chastity;
Next, with all sudden expedition
Prepare for Foy: all these will I conserve,
And keep them strictly, as I would my life.
Plymouth, farewell: in Cornwall I will prove
A second fortune, and for ever mourn,
Until I see my Spencer’s safe return.
[Exeunt.