A Yorkshire Tragedy.
Gent.
No monster, I proue
My thoughts did onely tend to vertuous loue.
No monster, I proue
My thoughts did onely tend to vertuous loue.
Hus. Loue of her vertues? there it goes.
Gent. Base spirit, to lay thy hate vpon
The fruitfull honour of thine own bed.
The fruitfull honour of thine own bed.
They fight, and the Husband is hurt.
Hus. Oh.
Gent. Wilt thou yeeld it yet?
Hus. Sir, Sir, I haue not done with you.
Fight agen. Gent. I hope nor nere shall do.
Hus. Haue you got tricks? are you in cunning with me?
Gent. No, plaine and right.
He needs no cunning that for truth doth fight.
He needs no cunning that for truth doth fight.
Husband falls downe.
Hus. Hard fortune, am I leueld with the ground?
Gent. Now sir, you lie at mercy.
Hus. I you slaue.
Gent. Alas, that hate should bring vs to our graue,
You see my sword's not thirsty for your life,
I am sorrier for your wound, then your selfe,
Y'are of a vertuous house, shew vertuous deeds,
Tis not your honour, tis your folly bleeds,
Much good has beene expected in your life,
Cancell not all mens hopes, you haue a Wife,
Kinde and obedient: heape not wrongfull shame
On her your posterity, let onely sinne be sore,
And by this fall, rise neuer to fall more.
Exit.And so I leaue you.
You see my sword's not thirsty for your life,
I am sorrier for your wound, then your selfe,
Y'are of a vertuous house, shew vertuous deeds,
Tis not your honour, tis your folly bleeds,
Much good has beene expected in your life,
Cancell not all mens hopes, you haue a Wife,
Kinde and obedient: heape not wrongfull shame
On her your posterity, let onely sinne be sore,
And by this fall, rise neuer to fall more.
Exit.And so I leaue you.
Hus. Has the dogg left me then
After
