Читать книгу Burlesque Plays and Poems - Various - Страница 9

Enter Merchant and Humphrey.

Merch. And how faith? how goes it now, son Humphrey?

Hum. Right worshipful and my beloved friend,

And father dear, this matter's at an end.

Merch. 'Tis well, it should be so, I'm glad the girl

Is found so tractable.

Hum. Nay, she must whirl

From hence (and you must wink: for so I say,

The story tells), to-morrow before day.

Wife. George, dost thou think in thy conscience now 'twill be a match? tell me but what thou thinkest, sweet rogue, thou seest the poor gentleman (dear heart) how it labours and throbs I warrant you, to be at rest: I'll go move the father for't.

Cit. No, no, I prithee sit still, honeysuckle, thou'lt spoil all; if he deny him, I'll bring half a dozen good fellows myself, and in the shutting of an evening knock it up, and there's an end.

Wife. I'll buss thee for that i'faith, boy; well, George, well, you have been a wag in your days I warrant you; but God forgive you, and I do with all my heart.

Merch. How was it, son? you told me that to-morrow before daybreak, you must convey her hence.

Hum. I must, I must, and thus it is agreed,

Your daughter rides upon a brown bay steed,

I on a sorrel, which I bought of Brian,

The honest host of the Red Roaring Lion,

In Waltham situate: then if you may,

Consent in seemly sort, lest by delay,

The fatal sisters come, and do the office,

And then you'll sing another song.

Merch. Alas,

Why should you be thus full of grief to me,

That do as willing as yourself agree

To anything, so it be good and fair?

Then steal her when you will, if such a pleasure

Content you both, I'll sleep and never see it,

To make your joys more full: but tell me why

You may not here perform your marriage?

Wife. God's blessing o' thy soul, old man, i'faith thou art loath to part true hearts: I see a has her, George, and I'm glad on't; well, go thy ways, Humphrey, for a fair-spoken man. I believe thou hast not a fellow within the walls of London; an' I should say the suburbs too, I should not lie. Why dost not thou rejoice with me, George?

Cit. If I could but see Ralph again, I were as merry as mine host i'faith.

Hum. The cause you seem to ask, I thus declare;

Help me, O Muses nine: your daughter sware

A foolish oath, the more it was the pity:

Yet no one but myself within this city

Shall dare to say so, but a bold defiance

Shall meet him, were he of the noble science.

And yet she sware, and yet why did she swear?

Truly I cannot tell, unless it were

For her own ease; for sure sometimes an oath,

Being sworn thereafter, is like cordial broth:

And this it was she swore, never to marry,

But such a one whose mighty arm could carry

(As meaning me, for I am such a one)

Her bodily away through stick and stone,

Till both of us arrive, at her request,

Some ten miles off in the wide Waltham Forést.

Merch. If this be all, you shall not need to fear

Any denial in your love; proceed,

I'll neither follow nor repent the deed.

Hum. Good night, twenty good nights, and twenty more,

And twenty more good nights: that makes threescore. [Exeunt.

Enter Mistress Merry-thought and her son Michael.

Mist. Mer. Come, Michael, art thou not weary, boy?

Mich. No, forsooth, mother, not I.

Mist. Mer. Where be we now, child?

Mich. Indeed forsooth, mother, I cannot tell, unless we be at Mile End. Is not all the world Mile End, mother?

Mist. Mer. No, Michael, not all the world, boy; but I can assure thee, Michael, Mile End is a goodly matter. There has been a pitched field, my child, between the naughty Spaniels and the Englishmen; and the Spaniels ran away, Michael, and the Englishmen followed. My neighbour Coxstone was there, boy, and killed them all with a birding-piece.

Mich. Mother, forsooth.

Mist. Mer. What says my white boy?

Mich. Shall not my father go with us too?

Mist. Mer. No, Michael, let thy father go snick-up, he shall never come between a pair of sheets with me again while he lives: let him stay at home and sing for his supper, boy. Come, child, sit down, and I'll show my boy fine knacks indeed; look here, Michael, here's a ring, and here's a brooch, and here's a bracelet, and here's two rings more, and here's money, and gold by th' eye, my boy.

Mich. Shall I have all this, mother?

Mist. Mer. Ay, Michael, thou shalt have all, Michael.

Cit. How lik'st thou this, wench?

Wife. I cannot tell, I would have Ralph, George; I'll see no more else indeed la: and I pray you let the youths understand so much by word of mouth, for I will tell you truly, I'm afraid o' my boy. Come, come, George, let's be merry and wise, the child's a fatherless child, and say they should put him into a strait pair of gaskins, 'twere worse than knot-grass, he would never grow after it.

Enter Ralph, Squire, and Dwarf.

Cit. Here's Ralph, here's Ralph.

Wife. How do you, Ralph? You are welcome, Ralph, as I may say, it's a good boy, hold up thy head, and be not afraid, we are thy friends, Ralph. The gentlemen will praise thee, Ralph, if thou play'st thy part with audacity; begin, Ralph a God's name.

Ralph. My trusty squire, unlace my helm, give me my hat; where are we, or what desert might this be?

Dwarf. Mirror of knighthood, this is, as I take it, the perilous Waltham down, in whose bottom stands the enchanted valley.

Mist. Mer. Oh, Michael, we are betrayed, we are betrayed, here be giants; fly, boy; fly, boy; fly!

[Exeunt Mother and Michael.

Ralph. Lace on my helm again; what noise is this?

A gentle lady flying the embrace

Of some uncourteous knight: I will relieve her.

Go, squire, and say, the knight that wears this pestle

In honour of all ladies, swears revenge

Upon that recreant coward that pursues her;

Go, comfort her, and that same gentle squire

That bears her company.

Squire. I go, brave knight.

Ralph. My trusty dwarf and friend, reach me my shield,

And hold it while I swear, first by my knighthood,

Then by the soul of Amadis de Gaul,

My famous ancestor, then by my sword,

The beauteous Brionella girt about me,

By this bright burning pestle, of mine honour

The living trophy, and by all respect

Due to distressed damsels, here I vow

Never to end the quest of this fair lady,

And that forsaken squire, till by my valour

I gain their liberty.

Dwarf. Heaven bless the knight

That thus relieves poor errant gentlewomen. [Exit.