Sister! I know you are come to welcome This day's return. 'Twas well done.
_Lucy_. You seem ruffled. In years gone by this day was used to be The smoothest of the year. Your honey turn'd So soon to gall?
_Selby_. Gall'd am I, and with cause, And rid to death, yet cannot get a riddance, Nay, scarce a ride, by this proud Widow's leave.
_Lucy_. Something you wrote me of a Mistress Frampton.
_Selby_. She came at first a meek admitted guest, Pretending a short stay; her whole deportment Seem'd as of one obliged. A slender trunk, The wardrobe of her scant and ancient clothing, Bespoke no more. But in few days her dress, Her looks, were proudly changed. And now she flaunts it In jewels stolen or borrow'd from my wife; Who owes her some strange service, of what nature I must be kept in ignorance. Katherine's meek And gentle spirit cowers beneath her eye, As spell-bound by some witch.
_Lucy_. Some mystery hangs on it. How bears she in her carriage towards yourself?
_Selby_. As one who fears, and yet not greatly cares For my displeasure. Sometimes I have thought, A secret glance would tell me she could love, If I but gave encouragement. Before me She keeps some moderation; but is never Closeted with my wife, but in the end I find my Katherine in briny tears. From the small chamber, where she first was lodged, The gradual fiend by spacious wriggling arts Has now ensconced herself in the best part Of this large mansion; calls the left wing her own; Commands my servants, equipage.--I hear Her hated tread. What makes she back so soon?
_Mrs. F._ O, I am jolter'd, bruised, and shook to death, With your vile Wiltshire roads. The villain Philip Chose, on my conscience, the perversest tracks, And stoniest hard lanes in all the county, Till I was fain get out, and so walk back, My errand unperform'd at Andover.
_Lucy_. And I shall love the knave forever after. [_Aside_.
_Selby_. My eldest sister, Lucy, Come to congratulate this returning morn.-- Sister, my wife's friend, Mistress Frampton.
_Mrs. F._ Pray, Be seated; for your brother's sake, you are welcome. I had thought this day to have spent in homely fashion With the good couple, to whose hospitality I stand so far indebted. But your coming Makes it a feast.