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A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Vii Part 101

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FAU. Nay, do not weep: pardon me, gentle lady; I know thee virtuous, and I do protest Never to have an evil thought of thee.

ROB. Aye, aye, ye swear; who's that that will believe ye?

FAU. Now, by my halidom and honest faith, This gentlewoman shall witness what I swear.

Sweet duck, a little help me.

LADY F. Trust him, madam.



FAU. I will be kind, credulous, constant ever, Do what thou wilt, I'll be suspicious never.

ROB. For which I thank [the] n.o.ble Fauconbridge.

[_Discovers himself_.

FAU. Body of me, who's this? young Huntington?

LADY F. And I your lady, whom you courted last, [_Discovers herself_.

Ye looked about you ill, fox; we have caught ye; I met ye at Blackheath, and ye were hot.

FAU. I knew thee, Moll; now, by my sword, I knew thee.

I wink'd at all; I laughed at every jest.

ROB. Aye, he did wink; the blind man had an eye.[528]

FAU. Peace, Robin, thou't once be a man as I.

LADY F. Well, I must bear it all.

FAU. Come, and ye bear, It's but your office; come, forget, sweet Moll.

LADY. F. I do forgive it, and forget it, sir.

FAU. Why, that's well said; that's done like a good girl.

Ha, sirrah, ha, you match'd me, pretty earl.

ROB. I have, ye see, sir; I must unto Blackheath In quest of Richard, whom I sent to seek Earl Gloster out. I know he's at the hermit's.

Lend me your coach; I'll s.h.i.+ft me, as I ride; Farewell, Sir Richard.

[_Exit_.

FAU. Farewell, England's pride.

By the matins, Moll, it is a pretty child; Shall we go meet John? shall we go mock the prince?

LADY F. We will.

FAU. O, then we shall have sport anon.

Never wear yellow, Moll; 'twas but a trick; Old Fauconbridge will still be a mad d.i.c.k.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE THE TWENTY-NINTH.

_Enter_ REDCAP _and_ GLOSTER.

RED. Do ye s-s-say, fa-fa-father hermit, th-that Gl-Gloster is about this heath?

GLO. He is upon this heath, son; look about it.

Run but the compa.s.s, thou shalt find him out.

RED. R-r-run? I'll r-run the co-compa.s.s of all K-Kent but I'll f-find him out; my f-f-father (where'er he lays his head) dare ne-never come home, I know, t-t-till he be fo-fo-found.

GLO. Well, thou shalt find him. Know'st thou who's a-hunting?

RED. M-m-marry, 'tis the Earls of La-La-Lancaster and Le-Leicester, Fa-fa-farewell, f-father; and I find Skink or Glo-Gloster, I'll g-g-give thee the pr-price of a penny p-p-pudding for thy p-pains.

[_Exit_.

GLO. Adieu, good friend: this is sure the fellow I sent on message from the Parl'ament-- The porter's son--he's still in quest of me, And Skink, that cosen'd him of his red cap!

_Enter_ RICHARD, _like a Serving-man_.

But look about thee, Gloster; who comes yonder?

O, a plain serving-man, and yet perhaps His bags are lin'd, And my purse now grows thin: If he have any, I must share with him.

_Enter_ SKINK, _like a Hermit_.

And who's on yond side? O, it is my hermit; Hath got his other suit, since I went forth.

SKINK. Sblood, yonder's company; I'll back again, Else I would be with you counterfeit; I'll leave the rogue till opportunity, But never eat, till I have quit my wrong. [_Exit_.

RICH. I saw two men attend like holy hermits; One's slipp'd away, the other's at his beads.

Now, Richard, for the love of Marian, Make thy inquire, where mad Gloster lives.

If England or the verge of Scotland hold him, I'll seek him thus disguis'd. If he be pa.s.s'd To any foreign part, I'll follow him.

Love, thou art Lord of hearts; thy laws are sweet; In every troubled way thou guid'st our feet.

Lovers, enjoin'd to pa.s.s the dangerous sea Of big-swoll'n sorrow in the bark Affection, The winds and waves of woe need never fear, While Love the helm doth, like a pilot, steer.

GLO. Here's some lover come, a mischief on him!

I know not how to answer these mad fools; But I'll be brief; I'll mar the hermit's tale.

Off, gown; hold, buckler; slice it, Bilbo' blade.

RICH. What's this? what should this mean? old man, good friend.

GLO. Young fool, deliver; else see your end.

RICH. I thought thou hadst been holy and a hermit.

GLO. Whate'er you thought, your purse! come, quickly, sir; Cast that upon the ground, and then confer.

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A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Vii Part 101 summary

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