ween thy youth and my
decrepitude; to put an end to such a madness, surely was not wrong!
Wronged me? Thy levity hath righted my poor mind, which, pondering
o'er thy beauties, listed to one side.

_Hester._ Oh! pardon me!

_Roger._ Pardon thee? yea, why should I not? I do pardon thee; yea,
more, I do applaud thine act. Thou wast no slothful servant; thou
didst not fear the coming of thy lord; thou puttest all to use and
gottest cent per cent. Therefore, the care I show for thee is hire
and wages; it is thy due, accept it freely.

_Hester._ Let me and my babe depart. Receive thy money and thy
house, I can take nothing from thee. Ah! if I could I would return
thee every penny I have spent of thine.

_Roger._ Wait till I ask thee to account. What! am I so old, and yet
not know the cost of dalliance? Nothing dearer. And he who eared my
field during my absence, being now, in thy abasement, so chary of
his presence, spent little of his gold, I'll warrant. Who is he,
Hester?

_Hester._ Thou shalt never know.

_Roger._ Never's a long word, Hester; it stretches beyond the
judgment into eternity. Come, I'll know him then, tell me now.

_Hester._ He is a scholar and can cope with thee; thou canst not
find him.

_Roger._ If he do walk the earth, I'll find him out; if he be now in
Hell, I'll follow him; where'er he be, his peace is forfeited and I
will--

_Hester._ What wilt thou do to him?

_Roger._ Nothing, Hester, nothing. I merely wish to thank him for
the love he showed thee during my absence, whereby thou didst mourn
for me the less.

_Hester._ Thou wilt not kill him?

_Roger._ What a silly thing thou hast become, now thou hast left the
path of virtue! Do I kill thee? Am I dangerous? Is there force in
this withered body to harm a lusty knave, a brave seducer of ripe
womanhood?

_Hester._ Nay, do not harm him.

_Roger._ At thy request, mistress.

_Hester._ The fault was mine.

_Roger._ No doubt 'twas thine alone.

_Hester._ Wreak vengeance then on me alone.

_Roger._ I have none.

_Hester._ I would I could believe thee.

_Roger._ As well give faith to me as him. But, truly, Hester, I had
thought these puritans, these pilgrim fathers, had left all fleshly
lusts behind them with their vanities in England. He must be a rare
bird in these parts--O, I shall know him by his plumage!

_Hester._ He's safe enough.

_Roger._ Perhaps, but then these poachers, who fish in others'
ponds, are proud of their a