Читать книгу Burlesque Plays and Poems - Various - Страница 13

Boy danceth.

Wife. Look, George, the little boy's come again; methinks he looks something like the Prince of Orange, in his long stocking, if he had a little harness about his neck. George, I will have him dance Fading; Fading is a fine jig, I'll assure you, gentlemen. Begin, brother; now a capers, sweetheart; now a turn a th' toe, and then tumble. Cannot you tumble, youth?

Boy. No, indeed, forsooth.

Wife. Nor eat fire?

Boy. Neither.

Wife. Why, then I thank you heartily; there's two pence to buy you points withal.

Enter Jasper and Boy.

Jasp. There, boy, deliver this. But do it well.

Hast thou provided me four lusty fellows,

Able to carry me? And art thou perfect

In all thy business?

Boy. Sir, you need not fear,

I have my lesson here, and cannot miss it:

The men are ready for you, and what else

Pertains to this employment.

Jasp. There, my boy,

Take it, but buy no land.

Boy. Faith, sir, 'twere rare

To see so young a purchaser. I fly,

And on my wings carry your destiny. [Exit.

Jasp. Go, and be happy. Now my latest hope

Forsake me not, but fling thy anchor out,

And let it hold. Stand fixt, thou rolling stone,

Till I possess my dearest. Hear me, all

You Powers, that rule in men, celestial. [Exit.

Wife. Go thy ways, thou art as crooked a sprig as ever grew in London. I warrant him he'll come to some naughty end or other; for his looks say no less. Besides, his father (you know, George) is none of the best; you heard him take me up like a gill flirt, and sing bad songs upon me. But i'faith, if I live, George——

Cit. Let me alone, sweetheart, I have a trick in my head shall lodge him in the Arches for one year, and make him sing Peccavi, ere I leave him, and yet he shall never know who hurt him neither.

Wife. Do, my good George, do.

Cit. What shall we have Ralph do now, boy?

Boy. You shall have what you will, sir.

Cit. Why so, sir, go and fetch me him then, and let the Sophy of Persia come and christen him a child.

Boy. Believe me, sir, that will not do so well; 'tis stale, it has been had before at the Red Bull.

Wife. George, let Ralph travel over great hills, and let him be weary, and come to the King of Cracovia's house, covered with black velvet, and there let the king's daughter stand in her window all in beaten gold, combing her golden locks with a comb of ivory, and let her spy Ralph, and fall in love with him, and come down to him, and carry him into her father's house, and then let Ralph talk with her.

Cit. Well said, Nell, it shall be so. Boy, let's ha't done quickly.

Boy. Sir, if you will imagine all this to be done already, you shall hear them talk together. But we cannot present a house covered with black velvet, and a lady in beaten gold.

Cit. Sir Boy, let's ha't as you can then.

Boy. Besides, it will show ill-favouredly to have a grocer's prentice to court a king's daughter.

Cit. Will it so, sir? You are well read in histories: I pray you what was Sir Dagonet? Was not he prentice to a grocer in London? Read the play of the "Four Prentices of London," where they toss their pikes so. I pray you fetch him in, sir; fetch him in.

Boy. It shall be done, it is not our fault, gentlemen. [Exit.

Wife. Now we shall see fine doings, I warrant thee, George. Oh, here they come; how prettily the King of Cracovia's daughter is drest.

Enter Ralph and the Lady, Squire and Dwarf.

Cit. Ay, Nell, it is the fashion of that country, I warrant thee.

Lady. Welcome, Sir Knight, unto my father's court,

King of Moldavia, unto me Pompiona,

His daughter dear. But sure you do not like

Your entertainment, that will stay with us

No longer but a night.

Ralph. Damsel right fair,

I am on many sad adventures bound,

That call me forth into the wilderness.

Besides, my horse's back is something gall'd,

Which will enforce me ride a sober pace.

But many thanks, fair lady, be to you,

For using errant knight with courtesy.

Lady. But say, brave knight, what is your name and birth?

Ralph. My name is Ralph. I am an Englishman,

As true as steel, a hearty Englishman,

And prentice to a grocer in the Strand,

By deed indent, of which I have one part:

But fortune calling me to follow arms,

On me this holy order I did take,

Of Burning Pestle, which in all men's eyes

I bear, confounding ladies' enemies.

Lady. Oft have I heard of your brave countrymen,

And fertile soil, and store of wholesome food;

My father oft will tell me of a drink

In England found, and Nipitato call'd,

Which driveth all the sorrow from your hearts.

Ralph. Lady, 'tis true, you need not lay your lips

To better Nipitato than there is.

Lady. And of a wildfowl he will often speak,

Which powdered beef and mustard called is:

For there have been great wars 'twixt us and you;

But truly, Ralph, it was not long of me.

Tell me then, Ralph, could you contented be

To wear a lady's favour in your shield?

Ralph. I am a knight of a religious order,

And will not wear a favour of a lady

That trusts in Antichrist, and false traditions.

Cit. Well said, Ralph, convert her if thou canst.

Ralph. Besides, I have a lady of my own

In merry England; for whose virtuous sake

I took these arms, and Susan is her name,

A cobbler's maid in Milk Street, whom I vow

Ne'er to forsake, whilst life and pestle last.

Lady. Happy that cobbling dame, whoe'er she be,

That for her own (dear Ralph) hath gotten thee.

Unhappy I, that ne'er shall see the day

To see thee more, that bear'st my heart away.

Ralph. Lady, farewell; I must needs take my leave.

Lady. Hard-hearted Ralph, that ladies dost deceive.

Cit. Hark thee, Ralph, there's money for thee; give something in the King of Cracovia's house; be not beholding to him.

Ralph. Lady, before I go, I must remember

Your father's officers, who, truth to tell,

Have been about me very diligent:

Hold up thy snowy hand, thou princely maid.

There's twelve pence for your father's chamberlain,

And there's another shilling for his cook,

For, by my troth, the goose was roasted well.

And twelve pence for your father's horse-keeper,

For 'nointing my horse back; and for his butter,

There is another shilling; to the maid

That wash'd my boot-hose, there's an English groat,

And two pence to the boy that wip'd my boots.

And last, fair lady, there is for your self

Three pence to buy you pins at Bumbo Fair.

Lady. Full many thanks, and I will keep them safe

Till all the heads be off, for thy sake, Ralph.

Ralph. Advance, my squire and dwarf, I cannot stay.

Lady. Thou kill'st my heart in parting thus away. [Exeunt.

Wife. I commend Ralph yet, that he will not stoop to a Cracovian; there's properer women in London than any are there, I wis. But here comes Master Humphrey and his love again; now, George.

Cit. Ay, bird, peace.

Enter Merchant, Humphrey, Luce, and Boy.

Merch. Go, get you up, I will not be entreated.

And, gossip mine, I'll keep you sure hereafter

From gadding out again with boys and unthrifts;

Come, they are women's tears, I know your fashion.

Go, sirrah, lock her in, and keep the key [Exeunt Luce and Boy.

Safe as your life. Now, my son Humphrey,

You may both rest assuréd of my love

In this, and reap your own desire.

Humph. I see this love you speak of, through your daughter,

Although the hole be little, and hereafter

Will yield the like in all I may or can,

Fitting a Christian and a gentleman.

Merch. I do believe you, my good son, and thank you,

For 'twere an impudence to think you flattered.

Humph. It were indeed, but shall I tell you why,

I have been beaten twice about the lie.

Merch. Well, son, no more of compliment; my daughter

Is yours again: appoint the time and take her.

We'll have no stealing for it, I myself

And some few of our friends will see you married.

Humph. I would you would i'faith, for be it known

I ever was afraid to lie alone.

Merch. Some three days hence, then.

Humph. Three days, let me see,

'Tis somewhat of the most, yet I agree,

Because I mean against the 'pointed day,

To visit all my friends in new array.

Enter Servant.

Serv. Sir, there's a gentlewoman without would speak with your worship.

Merch. What is she?

Serv. Sir, I asked her not.

Merch. Bid her come in.

Enter Mistress Merry-thought and Michael.

Mist. Mer. Peace be to your worship, I come as a poor suitor to you, sir, in the behalf of this child.

Merch. Are you not wife to Merry-thought?

Mist. Mer. Yes truly, would I had ne'er seen his eyes, he has undone me and himself, and his children, and there he lives at home and sings and hoits, and revels among his drunken companions; but I warrant you, where to get a penny to put bread in his mouth, he knows not. And therefore if it like your worship, I would entreat your letter to the honest host of the Bell in Waltham, that I may place my child under the protection of his tapster, in some settled course of life.