A Select Collection of Old English Plays - LightNovelsOnl.com
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LADY F. The more his error; but will you agree To be the Lady Fauconbridge one day?
ROB. When is't?
LADY. F. On Monday.
ROB. Wherefore is't?
LADY F. Nay, then, you do me wrong with inquisition, And yet I care not greatly if I tell thee.
Thou seest my husband full of jealousy: Prince Richard in his suit importunate, My brother Gloster threat'ned by young Henry, To clear these doubts, I will in some disguise Go to Blackheath, unto the holy hermit, Whose wisdom, in foretelling things to come, Will let me see the issue of my cares.
If destinies ordain me happiness, I'll chase these mists of sorrow from my heart With the bright sun of mirth; if fate agree To't[490], and my friends must suffer misery, Yet I'll be merry too, till mischief come.
Only I long to know the worst of ill.
ROB. I'll once put on a scarlet countenance.
LADY F. Be wary, lest ye be discovered, Robin.
ROB. Best paint me, then be sure I shall not blush.
_Enter_ BLOCK _bleeding_, GLOSTER _with him_.
BLO. Beat an officer, Redcap? I'll have ye talk'd withal!
Beat Sir Richard's porter? help, madam, help!
GLO. Peace, you d.a.m.ned rogue.
LADY F. Brother, I pray you forbear.
GLO. Zwounds! an hundred's at my heels almost, And yet the villain stands on compliment.
BLO. A bots on[491] you, is't you?
GLO. Will you to the door, you fool, and bar the gate?
Hold, there's an angel for your broken pate: If any knock, let them not in in haste.
BLO. Well, I will do, as I see cause; Blood, thou art dear to me.
But here's a sovereign plaister for the sore: Gold healeth wounds, gold easeth hearts!
What can a man have more? [_Exit_.
LADY F. Dear brother, tell us how you made escape?
GLO. You see I am here, but if you would know how, I cannot 'scape, and tell the manner too, By this I know your house is compa.s.sed With h.e.l.l-hound search[492].
LADY F. Brother, I'll furnish you with beard and hair, And garment like my husband's.
How like you that?
GLO. Well, when I have them: Quickly, then, dispatch. [_Exit_ LADY.] S'blood! turn Grey beard and hair.
Robin, conceal; this dieteth my mind.
Mirth is the object of my humorous spleen.
Thou high, commanding fury, further device!
Jests are conceited. I long to see their birth.
_Re-enter_ LADY FAUCONBRIDGE.
What, come ye, sister? Robin, a thief's hand!
But, prythee, where hadst thou this beard and hair?
LADY F. Prince Richard wore them hither in a masque.
GLO. Say'st thou me so? faith, [I] love the princely youth; Tut, you must taste stolen pleasure now and then.
ROB. But if she steal, and jealous eyes espy, She will be sure condemn'd of burglary.
GLO. Ha! crake! can your low stumps venture so deep Into affection's stream? go to, you wanton!
What want we now? my nightcap! O, 'tis here.
So now no Gloster, but old Fauconbridge.
Hark, the search knocks; I'll let them in myself: Welcome, good fellows; ha! what is't you lack?
_Enter REDCAP, with two others_[493].
RED. Ma-master Co-Constable, se-se-search you th-that way; a-and, you ho-honest man, th-that way. I'll ru-run th-this way m-my own se-self.
[_They disperse themselves_.
GLO. What search you for? what is it you would have?
_Enter_ BLOCK.
BLO. Madam, what shall I do to these brown-bill fellows? some run into the wine cellar; some here, some there.
GLO. Let them alone; let them search their fills.
BLO. I'll look to their fingers for all that.
GLO. Do so, good Block; be careful, honest Block.
BLO. Sir stammerer and your wa-watch, y'are pa-past, i'faith.
[_Exit_.
GLO, Will you not speak, knaves? tell me who you seek.
RED. Ma-marry, sir, we s-seek a va-va-vacabond, a fu-fugative, my la-lady's own b-brother; but, and he were the po-po-pope's own b-brother, I would s-search f-f-for him; for I have a p-poor father r-ready to be ha-ha-hang'd f-f-for him.
GLO. O, 'tis for Gloster? marry, search, a' G.o.d's name, Seek, peace[494]; will he break prison too?
It's a pity he should live; nay, I defy him.
Come, look about, search every little corner, Myself will lead the way; pray you, come.
Seek, seek, and spare not, though it be labour lost: He comes not under my roof; hear ye, wife?
He comes not hither, take it for a warning.
