The Puritan Widow or the Puritaine Widdow, Shakespeare Apocrypha E-Book

William Shakespeare

• Herausgeber: Seltzer Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 101

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Elizabethan play, sometimes attributed in part to Shakespeare. According to Wikipedia: "William Shakespeare (baptised 26 April 1564 – died 23 April 1616) was an English poet and playwright, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's pre-eminent dramatist. He is often called England's national poet and the "Bard of Avon" (or simply "The Bard"). His surviving works consist of 38 plays, 154 sonnets, two long narrative poems, and several other poems. His plays have been translated into every major living language, and are performed more often than those of any other playwright."

Leseprobe

The Puritaine Widdow, Attributed in Part to William Shakespeare

published by Samizdat Express, Orange, CT, USA

established in 1974, offering over 14,000 books

Other plays partially attributed to William Shakespeare:

Cromwell

Edward III

Faire Em

Fairy Tale in Two Acts

London Prodigal

Merry Devil

Sir John Oldcastle

Sir Thomas More

Tragedy of Locrine

Two Noble Kinsmen

All's One

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THE

ACTORS

NAME

In the Play Intitled

The Puritan Widow.

The Scene London.

Lady Plus, a Citizens Widow.

Frances,

Moll, her two Daughters.

Sir Godfrey, Brother-in-Law to the Widow Plus.

Master Edmond, Son to the Widow Plus.

George Pye-boord, a Scholar and a Citizen.

Peter Skirmish, an old Soldier.

Captain Idle, a Highway-man.

Corporal Oath, a vain-glorious Fellow.

Nichols St. Antlings,

Simon St. Mary Overies,

Frailty, Serving-men to the Lady Plus.

Sir Oliver Muck-hill, a Suitor to the Lady Plus.

Sir John Penny-Dub, a Suitor to Moll.

Sir Andrew Tipstaff, a Suitor to Frances.

The Sheriff of London.

Puttock,

Ravenshaw, Two of the Sheriffs Sergeants.

Dogson, a Yeoman.

A Noble-man.

A Gentleman Citizen.

Officers.

ACTUS PRIMUS.

Scene I.  A Garden behind the widow's house.

[Enter the Lady Widdow-Plus, her two daughters Frank and Moll,

her husband's Brother an old Knight Sir Godfrey, with her Son

and heir Master Edmond, all in mourning apparel, Edmond in a

Cyrpess Hat.  The Widdow wringing her hands, and bursting out

Into passion, as newly come from the Burial of her husband.

WIDOW.

Oh, that ever I was borne, that ever I was borne!

SIR GODFREY.

Nay, good Sister, dear sister, sweet sister, be of good

comfort; show your self a woman, now or never.

WIDOW.

Oh, I have lost the dearest man, I have buried the sweetest

husband that ever lay by woman.

SIR GODFREY.

Nay, give him his due, he was indeed an honest, virtuous,

Discreet, wise man,--he was my Brother, as right as right.

WIDOW.

O, I shall never forget him, never forget him; he was a man

so well given to a woman--oh!

SIR GODFREY.

Nay, but, kind Sister, I could weep as much as any woman,

but, alas, our tears cannot call him again:  me thinks you

are well read, Sister, and know that death is as common as

Homo, a common name to all men:--a man shall be taken when

he's making water.--Nay, did not the learned Parson, Master

Pigman, tell us e'en now, that all Flesh is frail, we are

borne to die, Man ha's but a time:  with such like deep and

profound persuasions, as he is a rare fellow, you know, and

an excellent Reader:  and for example, (as there are

examples aboundance,) did not Sir Humfrey Bubble die tother

day?  There's a lusty Widdow; why, she cried not above half

an hour--for shame, for shame! Then followed him old Master

Fulsome, the Usurer:  there's a wise Widdow; why, she cried

ne'er a whit at all.

WIDOW.

O, rank not me with those wicked women:  I had a husband

Out-shined 'em all.

SIR GODFREY.

Aye, that he did, yfaith:  he out-shined 'em all.

WIDOW.

Doost thou stand there and see us all weep, and not once

shed a tear for thy father's death? oh, thou ungratious son

and heir, thou!

EDMOND.

Troth, Mother, I should not weep, I'm sure; I am past a

child, I hope, to make all my old School fellows laugh at

me; I should be mocked, so I should.  Pray, let one of my

Sisters weep for me.  I'll laugh as much for her another

time.

WIDOW.

Oh, thou past-Grace, thou! out of my sight, thou graceless

imp, thou grievest me more than the death of thy Father! oh,

thou stubborn only son! hadst thou such an honest man to thy

Father--that would deceive all the world to get riches for

thee--and canst thou not afford a little salt water? he that

so wisely did quite over-throw the right heir of those lands,

which now you respect not:  up every morning betwixt four

and five; so duly at Westminster Hall every Term-Time, with

all his Cards and writings, for thee, thou wicked Absolon--

oh, dear husband!

EDMOND.

Weep, quotha?  I protest I am glad he's Churched; for now

he's gone, I shall spend in quiet.

FRANCES.

Dear mother, pray cease; half your Tears suffice.

Tis time for you to take truce with your eyes;

Let me weep now.

WIDOW.

Oh, such a dear knight! such a sweet husband have I lost,

have I lost!--If Blessed be the coarse the rain rains upon,

he had it pouring down.

SIR GODFREY.

Sister, be of good cheer, we are all mortal our selves.  I

come upon you freshly.  I near speak without comfort, hear

me what I shall say:--my brother ha's left you wealthy,

y'are rich.

WIDOW.

Oh!

SIR GODFREY.

I say y'are rich:  you are also fair.

WIDOW.

Oh!

SIR GODFREY.

Go to, y'are fair, you cannot smother it; beauty will come

to light; nor are your years so far enter'd with you, but

that you will be sought after, and may very well answer

another husband; the world is full of fine Gallants, choice

enow, Sister,--for what should we do with  all our Knights,

I pray, but to marry rich widows, wealthy Citizens' widows,

lusty fair-browed Ladies? go to, be of good comfort, I say:

leave snobbing and weeping--Yet my Brother was a kind hearted

man--I would not have the Elf see me now!--Come, pluck up a

woman's heart--here stands your Daughters, who be well

estated, and at maturity will also be enquir'd after with

good husbands, so all these tears shall be soon dried up and

a better world than ever--What, Woman? you must not weep

still; he's dead, he's buried--yet I cannot choose but weep

for him!

WIDOW.

Marry again! no! let me be buried quick then!

And that same part of Quire whereon I tread

To such intent, O may it be my grave;

And that the priest may turn his wedding prayers,

E'en with a breath, to funeral dust and ashes!

Oh, out of a million of millions, I should ne'er find such

a husband; he was unmatchable,--unmatchable! nothing was

too hot, nor too dear for me, I could not speak of that

one thing, that I had not:  beside I had keys of all, kept

all, receiv'd all, had money in my purse, spent what I would,

came home when I would, and did all what I would.  Oh, my

sweet husband!  I shall never have the like.

SIR GODFREY.

Sister, ne'er say so; he was an honest brother of mine, and

so, and you may light upon one as honest again, or one as

honest again may light upon you:  that's the properer

phrase, indeed.

WIDOW.

Never! Oh, if you love me, urge it not.

[Kneels.]

Oh may I be the by-word of the world,

The common talk at Table in the mouth

Of every Groom and Waiter, if e'er more

I entertain the carnal suite of Man!

MOLL.

I must kneel down for fashion too.

FRANCES.

And I, whom never man as yet hath scald,

E'ev in this depth of general sorrow, vow

Never to marry, to sustain such loss

As a dear husband seems to be, once dead.

MOLL.

I lov'd my father well, too; but to say,

Nay, vow, I would not marry for his death--

Sure, I should speak false Latin, should I not?

I'd as soon vow never to come in Bed.

Tut!  Women must live by th' quick, and not by th' dead.

WIDOW.

Dar Copy of my husband, oh let me kiss thee.

How like is this Model! This brief Picture

[Drawing out her husband's Picture.]

Quickens my tears:  my sorrows are renew'd

At this fresh sight.

SIR GODFREY.

Sister--

WIDOW.

Away,

All honesty with him is turn'd to clay.

Oh my sweet husband, oh--

FRANCES.

My dear father!

[Exeunt mother and Frances.]

MOLL.

Here's a pulling, indeed!  I think my Mother weeps for all

the women that ever buried husbands; for if from time to

time all the Widowers' tears in England had been bottled

up, I do not think all would have filled a three-half-penny

Bottle.  Alas, a small matter bucks a hand-kercher,--and

sometimes the spittle stands to nie Saint Thomas a Watrings.

Well, I can mourn in good sober sort as well as another;

but where I spend one tear for a dead Father, I could give

twenty kisses for a quick husband.

[Exit Moll.]

SIR GODFREY.

Well, go thy ways, old Sir Godfrey, and thou mayest be

proud on't, thou hast a kind loving sister-in-law; how

constant! how passionate! how full of April the poor soul's

eyes are!  Well, I would my Brother knew on't, he would

then know what a kind wife he had left behind him:  truth,

and twere not for shame that the Neighbours at th' next

garden should hear me, between joy and grief I should e'en

cry out-right!

[Exit Sir Godfrey.]

EDMOND.

So, a fair riddance!  My father's laid in dust; his Coffin

and he is like a whole-meat-pye, and the worms will cut

him up shortly.  Farewell, old Dad, farewell.  I'll be

curb'd in no more.  I perceived a son and heir may quickly

be made a fool, and he will be one, but I'll take another

order.--Now she would have me weep for him, for-sooth, and

why? because he cozn'd the right heir, being a fool, and

bestow'd those Lands upon me his eldest Son; and therefore

I must weep for him, ha, ha.  Why, all the world knows, as

long as twas his pleasure to get me, twas his duty to get

for me:  I know the law in that point; no Attorney can

gull me.  Well, my Uncle is an old Ass, and an Admirable

Cockscomb.  I'll rule the Roast my self.  I'll be kept

under no more; I know what I may do well enough by my

Father's Copy:  the Law's in mine own hands now:  nay, now

I know my strength, I'll be strong enough for my Mother,

I warrant you.

[Exit.]

SCENE II.  A street.

[Enter George Pye-board, a scholar and a Citizen, and unto

him an old soldier, Peter Skirmish.]

PYE.

What's to be done now, old Lad of War? thou that wert wont

to be as hot as a turn-spit, as nimble as a fencer, and as

lousy as a school-master; now thou art put to silence like

a Sectary.--War sits now like a Justice of peace, and does

nothing.  Where be your Muskets, Caleiuers and Hotshots? in

Long-lane, at Pawn, at Pawn.--Now keys are your only Guns,

Key-guns, Key-guns, and Bawds the Gunners, who are your

Sentinels in peace, and stand ready charg'd to give warning,

with hems, hums, and pockey-coffs; only your Chambers are

licenc'st to play upon you, and Drabs enow to give fire to 'em.

SKIRMISH.

Well, I cannot tell, but I am sure it goes wrong with me, for

since the cessure of the wars, I have spent above a hundred

crowns out a purse.  I have been a soldier any time this

forty years, and now I perceive an old soldier and an old

Courtier have both one destiny, and in the end turn both into

hob-nails.

PYE.

Pretty mystery for a begger, for indeed a hob-nail is the true

emblem of a begger's shoe-sole.

SKIRMISH.

I will not say but that war is a blood-sucker, and so; but,

in my conscience, (as there is no soldier but has a piece of

one, though it be full of holes like a shot Antient; no matter,

twill serve to swear by) in my conscience, I think some kind

of Peace has more hidden oppressions, and violent heady sins,

(though looking of a gentle nature) then a profest war.

PYE.

Troth, and for mine own part, I am a poor Gentleman, and a

Scholar:  I have been matriculated in the University, wore

out six Gowns there, seen some fools, and some Scholars, some

of the City, and some of the Country, kept order, went bare-

headed over the Quadrangle, eat my Commons with a good

stomach, and Battled with Discretion; at last, having done

many slights and tricks to maintain my wit in use (as my brain

would never endure me to be idle,) I was expeld the University,

only for stealing a Cheese out of Jesus College.

SKIRMISH.

Ist possible?

PYE.

Oh! there was one Welshman (God forgive him) pursued it hard;