A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Vii Part 69

_Enter_ FRANK _and his_ BOY.

FRAN. O, have I catch'd ye, sir? It was your doing That made me have this pretty dance to-night; Had not you spoken, my mother had not scar'd me: But I will swinge ye for it.

PHIL. Keep the king's peace!

FRAN. How! art thou become a constable?

Why, Philip, where hast thou been all this while?

PHIL. Why, where you were not: but, I pray [you], where's my sister?

FRAN. Why, man, I saw her not; but I have sought her, As I should seek--

PHIL. A needle, have ye not?

Why you, man, are the needle that she seeks To work withal! Well, Francis, do you hear?

You must not answer so, that you have sought her; But have ye found her? faith, and if you have, G.o.d give ye joy of that ye found with her!

FRAN[413]. I saw her not: how could I find her?

MR GOUR. Why, could ye miss from Master Barnes's house Unto his coney-burrow?

FRAN. Whether I could or no, father, I did.

PHIL. Father, I did! Well, Frank, wilt thou believe me?

Thou dost not know how much this same doth grieve me: Shall it be said thou miss'd so plain a way, When as so fair a wench did for thee stay?

FRAN. Zounds, man!

PHIL. Zounds, man! and if thou hadst been blind, The coney-burrow thou needest must find.

I tell, thee, Francis, had it been my case, And I had been a wooer in thy place, I would have laid my head unto the ground, And scented out my wench's way, like a hound; I would have crept upon my knees all night, And have made the flintstones links to give me light; Nay, man, I would.

FRAN. Good Lord, what you would do!

Well, we shall see one day, how you can woo.

MR GOUR. Come, come, we see that we have all been cross'd; Therefore, let's go, and seek them we have lost.

[_Exeunt_

_Enter_ MALL.

[MAL.] Am I alone? doth not my mother come?

Her torch I see not, which I well might see, If any way she were coming toward me: Why, then, belike she's gone some other way; And may she go, till I bid her [to] turn!

Far shall her way be then, and little fair, Foe she hath hindered me of my good turn; G.o.d send her wet and weary, ere she turn!

I had been at Oxenford, and to-morrow Have been releas'd from all my maiden's sorrow, And tasted joy, had not my mother been; G.o.d, I beseech thee, make it her worst sin!

How many maids this night lies in their beds, And dream that they have lost their maidenheads!

Such dreams, such slumbers I had too enjoy'd, If waking malice had not them destroy'd.

A starved man with double death doth die, To have the meat might save him in his eye, And may not have it: so am I tormented, To starve for joy I see, yet am prevented.

Well, Frank, although thou wooedst and quickly won, Yet shall my love to thee be never done; I'll run through hedge and ditch, through brakes and briars, To come to thee, sole lord of my desires: Short wooing is the best, an hour, not years, For long-debating love is full of fears.

But, hark! I hear one tread. O, were't my brother, Or Frank, or any man, but not my mother!

[_Enter_ SIR RALPH SMITH.]

SIR RALPH. O, when will this same year of night have end?

Long-look'd for day's sun, when wilt thou ascend?

Let not this thieve[414] friend, misty veil of night, Encroach on day, and shadow thy fair light, Whilst thou com'st tardy from thy Thetis' bed, Blus.h.i.+ng forth golden hair and glorious red; O, stay not long, bright lanthorn of the day, To light my miss'd-way feet to my right way!

MAL. It is a man, his big voice tells me so, Much am I not acquainted with it, tho'; And yet mine ear, sound's true distinguisher, Boys[415] that I have been more familiar With it than now I am: well, I do judge, It is no envious fellow, out[416] of grudge; Therefore I'll plead acquaintance, hire his guiding, And buy of him some place of close abiding, Till that my mother's malice be expir'd, And we may joy in that is long desired [_Aside_]

--Who's there?

SIR RALPH. Are ye a maid? No question, this is she My man doth miss: faith, since she lights on me, I do not mean till day to let her go; For whe'er[417] she is my man's love, I will know [_Aside_ Hark ye, maid, if [a] maid, are ye so light, That you can see to wander in the night?

MAL. Hark ye, true man, if true, I tell ye, no; I cannot see at all which way I go.

SIR RALPH. Fair maid, is't so? say, had ye ne'er a fall?

MAL. Fair man, not so; no, I had none at all.

SIR RALPH. Could you not stumble on one man, I pray?

MAL. No, no such block till now came in my way.

SIR RALPH. Am I that block, sweet tripe; then, fall and try.

MAL. The ground's too hard a feather-bed; not I.

SIR RALPH. Why, how, and you had met with such a stump?

MAL. Why, if he had been your height, I meant to jump.

SIR RALPH. Are ye so nimble?

MAL. Nimble as a doe.

SIR RALPH. Bak'd in a pie.

MAL. Of ye.

SIR RALPH. Good meat, ye know.

MAL. Ye hunt sometimes?

SIR RALPH. I do.

MAL. What take ye?

SIR RALPH. Deer.

MAL. You'll ne'er strike rascal[418]?

SIR RALPH. Yes, when ye are there.