Читать книгу Six Plays - Lady Florence Henrietta Fisher Darwin - Страница 10

Old Man. May all the blessings of heaven rest on you, my lord, for ’tis plain to see that you be one of the greatest and finest gentlemen ever born to the land.

Giles. My good friend, you’re wrong there, I was a poor country lad, but I had the greatest treasure that a man could hold on this earth. ’Twas the love of my cousin Millie. And being poor, I was put from out the home, and sent to seek my fortune in parts beyond the sea.

Old Man. Now, who’d have thought ’twas so, for the looks of you be gentle born all over.

Giles. “Come back with a bushel of gold in one hand and one of silver in t’other” the old farmer said to me, “and then maybe I’ll let you wed my daughter.”

Old Man. And here you be comed back, and there lie the gold and the silver bags.

Giles. And yonder is Millie given in marriage to another.

George. ’Taint done yet, master.

John. ’Tisn’t too late, by a long way, master.

Giles. [To Old Man.] And so I would crave something of you, old friend. Lend me your smock, and your big hat and your staff. In that disguise I will go to the farm and look upon my poor false love once more. If I find that her heart is already given to another, I shall not make myself known to her. But if she still holds to her love for me, then—

George. Go in the fine clothes what you have upon you, master. And even should the maid’s heart, be given to another, the sight of so grand a cloth and such laces will soon turn it the right way again.

John. Ah, that’s so, it is. You go as you be clothed now, master. I know what maids be, and ’tis finery and good coats which do work more on the hearts of they nor anything else in the wide world.

Giles. No, no, my lads. I will return as I did go from yonder. Poor, and in mean clothing. Nor shall a glint of all my wealth speak one word for me. But if so be as her heart is true in spite of everything, my sorrowful garments will not hide my love away from her.

Old Man. [Taking off his hat.] Here you are master.

[Giles hands his own hat to George. He then takes off his coat and gives it to John. The Old Man takes off his smock, Giles puts it on.

Old Man. Pull the hat well down about the face of you, master, so as the smooth skin of you be hid.

Giles. [Turning round in his disguise.] How’s that, my friends?

George. You be a sight too straight in the back, master.

Giles. [Stooping.] I’ll soon better that.

John. Be you a-going in them fine buckled shoes, master?

Giles. I had forgot the shoes. When I get near to the house ’tis barefoot that I will go.

George. Then let us be off, master, for the’ time be running short.

John. Ah, that ’tis. I count it be close on noon-day now by the look of the sun.

Old Man. And heaven be with you, my young gentleman.

Giles. My good friends, you shall go with me a little further. And when we have come close upon the farm, you shall stop in the shelter of a wood that I know of and await the signal I shall give you.

George. And what’ll that be, master?

Giles. I shall blow three times, and loudly from my whistle, here.

John. And be we to come up to the farm when we hears you?

Giles. As quickly as you can run. ’Twill be the sign that I need all of you with me.

George and John. That’s it, master. Us do understand what ’tis as we have got to do.

Old Mar. Ah, ’tis best to be finished with hearts that beat to the tune of a maid’s tongue, and to creep quiet along the roads with naught but them pains as hunger and thirst do bring to th’ inside. So ’tis.

[Curtain.]