THEO. Those lips can vent no curses; 'twould take off Much from the sweetness of her virtuous sorrow. Where lives this lovely maid?
EUG. No, friend; he died When she was in her infancy. Her mother Two years ago deceas'd, and left her all The substance that she had; which was not great, But does maintain her. In that little house, E'er since this fatal accident, she lives A miracle of truth and constancy, Wailing her love; and now, it seems, has[13] come To vent her woful passions to the woods.
THEO. How happy had he been in such a love, If fate had spar'd his life! But he is dead, And time at last may wear this sorrow off, And make her relish the true joys of love. But why do I thus wander in my thoughts? This passion must be curb'd in the beginning; 'Twill prove too stubborn for me, if it grow. [_Aside._
EUG. Come, let us to my cave, as we intended, Ere this sad object stay'd us.
THEO. Sad indeed! Believe me, friend, I suffer with thee in it; But we were wounded in two different kinds. [_Aside._ Come, let's be gone; though--I could still--dwell here. [_Exeunt._
MAT. Methought I heard a noise within the wood; As if men talk'd together not far off; But could discover none. The time has been,[14] In such a solitary place as this, I should have trembled at each moving leaf; But sorrow and my miserable state Have made me bold. If there be savages That live by rapine in such woods as these, As I have heard in ancient times there were, My wretched state would move their pity rather Than violence. I'll confidently go, Guarded with nothing but my innocence. [_Exit._
FRUIT. Come, master steward, you have had a time Of sweating for this wedding.
TRUSTY. I have ta'en A little pains to-day: yours, Master Fruitful, Is yet to come; I mean your sermon.
FRUIT. Yes, but the pains are pass'd; and that's the study. But to our business that more concerns us: Is the deed ready-written that my lady Must seal to-day?
FRUIT. I warrant you; I have so followed her, And laid it to her conscience, that I dare Hazard my life 'tis done.
TRUSTY. Well, here's the deed: 'tis plainly written.
FRUIT. I'll peruse't anon. I know the other feoffees are as true And honest men as any are i' th' world. [_Exit_ TRUSTY.