The Complete Works of William Shakespeare - Israel Gollancz William Shakespeare [2009]
MOUNCHENSEY.
Bring my gelding, sirra.
BILBO.
Well, nothing grieves me, but for the poor wench; she must now cry vale to Lobster pies, hartichokes, and all such meats of mortality; poor gentlewoman, the sign must not be in virgo any longer with her, and that me grieves full well.
Poor Milliscent
Must pray and repent:
O fatal wonder!
She'll now be no fatter,
Love must not come at her
Yet she shall be kept under.
[Exit.]
JERNINGHAM.
Farewell, dear Raymond.
HARRY CLARE.
Friend, adieu.
MILLISCENT.
Dear sweet,
No joy enjoys my heart till we next meet.
[Exeunt.]
FABELL.
Well, Raymond, now the tide of discontent
Beats in thy face; but, er't be long, the wind
Shall turn the flood. We must to Waltham abbey,
And as fair Milliscent in Cheston lives,
A most unwilling Nun, so thou shalt there
Become a beardless Novice; to what end,
Let time and future accidents declare:
Taste thou my sleights, thy love I'll only share.
MOUNCHENSEY.
Turn friar? Come, my good Counsellor, let's go,
Yet that disguise will hardly shroud my woe.
[Exeunt.]
ACT III.
SCENE I. Cheston Priory.
[Enter the Prioress of Cheston, with a Nun or two, Sir Arthur
Clare, Sir Raph Jerningham, Henry and Francke, the Lady, and
Bilbo, with Millisent.]
LADY CLARE.
Madam,
The love unto this holy sisterhood,
And our confirmd opinion of your zeal
Hath truly won us to bestow our Child
Rather on this then any neighbouring Cell.
PRIORESS.
Jesus daughter, Mary's child,
Holy matron, woman mild,
For thee a mass shall still be said,
Every sister drop a bead;
And those again succeeding them
For you shall sing a Requiem.
FRANK.
The wench is gone, harry; she is no more a woman of this world: mark her well, she looks like a Nun already. What thinkst on her?
HARRY.
By my faith, her face comes handsomely to 't. But peace, let's hear the rest.
SIR ARTHUR.
Madam, for a twelvemonths approbation,
We mean to make this trial of our child.
Your care and our dear blessing in mean time
We pray may prosper this intended work.
PRIORESS.
May your happy soul be blithe,
That so truly pay your tithe:
He who many children gave,
Tis fit that he one child should have.
Then, fair virgin, hear my spell,
For I must your duty tell.
MILLISCENT.
—Good men and true, stand together, and hear your charge.
PRIORESS.
First, a mornings take your book,
The glass wherein your self must look;
Your young thoughts, so proud and jolly,
Must be turnd to motions holy;
For your busk, attires, and toys
Have your thoughts on heavenly joys;
And for all your follies past
You must do penance, pray, and fast.
BILBO.
—Let her take heed of fasting; and if ever she hurt her self with praying, I'll ne'er trust beast.
MILLISCENT.
—This goes hard, berladye!
PRIORESS.
You shall ring the sacring bell,
Keep your hours, and tell your knell,
Rise at midnight at your matins,
Read your Psalter, sing your latins,
And when your blood shall kindle pleasure,
Scourge your self in plenteous measure.
MILLISCENT.
—Worse and worse, by Saint Mary.
FRANK.
—Sirra Hal, how does she hold her countenance? Well, go thy ways, if ever thou prove a Nun, I'll build an Abbey.
HARRY.
—She may be a Nun; but if ever she prove an Anchoress, I'll dig her grave with my nails.
FRANK.
—To her again, mother!
HARRY.
—Hold thine own, wench!
PRIORESS.
You must read the mornings mass,
You must creep unto the Cross,
Put cold ashes on your head,
Have a hair cloth for your bed.
BILBO.
—She had rather have a man in her bed.
PRIORESS.
Bid your beads, and tell your needs,
Your holy Avies, and you Creeds;
Holy maid, this must be done,
If you mean to live a Nun.
MILLISCENT.
—The holy maid will be no Nun.
SIR ARTHUR.
Madam, we have some business of import,
And must be gone.
Wilt please you take my wife into your closet,
Who further will acquaint you with my mind;