see how Master Arthur takes it;
His former hate far more suspicious makes it.
[_Exit_.

_Enter_ HUGH, _and after him_, PIPKIN.

HUGH. My master hath left his gloves behind where he sat in his chair,
and hath sent me to fetch them; it is such an old snudge, he'll not
lose the droppings of his nose.

PIP. O mistress! O Hugh! O Hugh! O mistress!
Hugh, I must needs beat thee; I am mad!
I am lunatic! I must fall upon thee: my mistress is dead!
[_Beats_ HUGH.

HUGH. O Master Pipkin, what do you mean? what do you mean,
Master Pipkin?

PIP. O Hugh! O mistress! O mistress! O Hugh!

HUGH. O Pipkin! O God! O God! O Pipkin!

Pip. O Hugh, I am mad! bear with me, I cannot choose: O death!
O mistress! O mistress! O death! [_Exit_.

HUGH. Death, quotha? he hath almost made me dead with beating.

_Re-enter_ JUSTICE REASON, OLD MASTER ARTHUR,
_and_ OLD MASTER LUSAM.

JUS. I wonder why the knave, my man, stays thus,
And comes not back: see where the villain loiters.

_Re-enter_ PIPKIN.

PIP. O Master Justice! Master Arthur! Master Lusam! wonder not why I
thus blow and bluster; my mistress is dead! dead is my mistress! and
therefore hang yourselves. O, my mistress, my mistress!
[_Exit_.

O. ART. My son's wife dead!

O. LUS. My daughter!

_Enter_ YOUNG MASTER ARTHUR, _mourning_.

JUS. Mistress Arthur! Here comes her husband.

Y. ART. O, here the woful'st husband comes alive,
No husband now; the wight, that did uphold
That name of husband, is now quite o'erthrown,
And I am left a hapless widower.

O. ART. Fain would I speak, if grief would suffer me.

O. LUS. As Master Arthur says, so say I;
If grief would let me, I would weeping die.
To be thus hapless in my aged years!
O, I would speak; but my words melt to tears.

Y. ART. Go in, go in, and view the sweetest corpse
That e'er was laid upon a mournful room;
You cannot speak for weeping sorrow's doom:
Bad news are rife, good tidings seldom come.

[_Exeunt_.

ACT IV., SCENE I.

_A Street_.

_Enter_ ANSELM.

ANS. What frantic humour doth thus haunt my sense,
Striving to breed destruction in my spirit?
When I would sleep, the ghost of my sweet love
Appears unto me in an angel's shape:
When I'm awake, my fantasy presents,
As in a glass, the sha