A Select Collection of Old English Plays - LightNovelsOnl.com
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GERA. A scarf o'er my face, lest I betray myself.
_Enter_ GERTRUDE _below_.
W. RASH. Here, here, lie still, she comes.
Now, Mercury, be propitious.
GERT. Where lies this spectacle of blood?
This tragic scene?
W. RASH. Yonder lies Geraldine.
GERT. O, let me see him with his face of death!
Why do you stay me from my Geraldine?
W. RASH. Because, unworthy as thou art, thou shalt not see The man now dead, whom living thou didst scorn.
The worst part that he had deserv'd thy best; But yet contemn'd, deluded, mock'd, despis'd by you, Unfit for aught but for the general work Which you were made for, man's creation.
GERT. Burst not my heart, before I see my love, Brother, upon my knees, I beg your leave, That I may see the wound of Geraldine: I will embalm his body with my tears, And carry him unto his sepulchre.
From whence I'll never rise, but be interr'd In the same dust he shall be buried in.
LONG. I do protest she draws sad tears from me.
I prythee, let her see her Geraldine. [_Aside._
GERT. Brother, if e'er you lov'd me as a sister, Deprive me not the sight of Geraldine.
W. RASH. Well, I am contented you shall touch his lips, But neither see his face nor yet his wound.
GERT. Not see his face?
W. RASH. Nay, I have sworn it to the contrary: Nay, hark you, farther yet.
GERT. What now?
W. RASH. But one kiss--no more.
GERT. Why, then, no more.
W. RASH. Marry, this liberty I'll give you: If you intend to make any speech of repentance Over him, I am content, so it be short.
GERT. What you command is law, and I obey.
JOYCE. Peace, give ear to the pa.s.sion. [_Aside._]
GERT. Before I touch thy body, I implore Thy discontented ghost to be appeas'd.
Send not unto me, till I come myself; Then shalt thou know how much I honour'd thee, O, see the colour of his coral lip Which, in despite of death, lives full and fresh, As when he was the beauty of his s.e.x!
'Twere sin worthy the worst of plagues to leave thee; Not all the strength and policy of man Shall s.n.a.t.c.h me from thy bosom.
LONG. Look, look; I think she'll ravish him! [_Aside._
W. RASH. Why, how now, sister?
GERT. Shall we have both one grave; here I am chain'd; Thunder nor earthquakes shall e'er shake me off.
W. RASH. No? I'll try that. [_Aside._] Come, dead man, awake! up with your bag and baggage, and let's have no more fooling.
GERT. And lives my Geraldine?
W. RASH. Live! faith, ay; Why should he not? he was never dead That I know on.
GERA. It is no wonder Geraldine should live, Though he had emptied all his vital spirits.
The lute of Orpheus spake not half so sweet, When he descended to th' infernal vaults, To fetch again his fair Eurydice, As did thy sweet voice unto Geraldine.
GERT. I'll exercise that voice, since it doth please My better self, my constant Geraldine.
JOYCE. Why so, la, here's an end of an old song!
Why could not this have been done before, I pray?
GERT. O, y' are a goodly sister, this is your plot.
Well, I shall live one day to requite you.
JOYCE. Spare me not: for wheresoever I set my affection, although it be upon a collier, if I fall back, unless it be in the right kind, bind me to a stake, and let me be burned to death with charcoal.
W. RASH. Well, thou art a mad wench, and there's no more to be done at this time, but, as we brought you together, so to part you: you must not lie at rack and manger; there be those within that will forbid the banns: time must shake good-fortune by the hand before you two must be great; 'specially you, sister. Come, leave swearing.
GERT. Must we then part?
W. RASH. Must you part! why, how think you? ud's foot! I do think we shall have as much to do to get her from him as we had to bring her to him. This love of women is of strange quality, and has more tricks than a juggler. [_Aside._]
GERT. But this, and then farewell.
GERA. Thy company[189] is heaven, thy absence h.e.l.l.
W. RASH. Lord, who'd think it? [_Aside._]
JOYCE. Come, wench. [_Exeunt omnes._
_Enter_ SPENDALL _and_ STAINES. _Tothill Fields_.
SPEND. This ground is firm and even, I'll go no farther.
STAINES. This be the place then; and prepare you, sir; You shall have fair play for your life of me, For, look, sir, I'll be open-breasted to you.
SPEND. Shame light on him that thinks His safety lieth in a French doublet.
Nay, I would strip myself, would comeliness Give sufferance to the deed, and fight with thee As naked as a Mauritanian Moor.
STAINES. Give me thy hand; by my heart, I love thee.
Thou art the highest-spirited citizen That ever Guildhall took notice of.
SPEND. Talk not what I am, until you have tried me.
