Part 60

_Fra._ Stay, mistresse Barnes, or mother, what ye will; Shees[1787] my wife, and here she shall be still.

_Mi. Ba._ How, sir? your wife! wouldst thou my daughter have? Ile rather have her married to her grave.[1788] 180 Go to, be gone, and quickly, or I sweare Ile have my men beate ye for staying here.

_Phi._ Beate him, mother! as I am true man, They were better beate the divell and his dam.

_Mi._ Bar. What, wilt thou take his part? 185

_Phil._ To do him good, And twere to wade hetherto up in blood.

_Fran._ God a mercy, Phil![1789]--But, mother, heare me.

_Mis._ Bar. Calst thou me mother? no, thy mothers name Carryes about with it reproche and shame. 190 Give me my daughter: ere that she shall wed A strumpets sonne, and have her so mislead, Ile marry her to a carter; come, I say, Give me her from thee.

_Fra._ Mother,[1790] not to day, 195 Nor yet to morrow, till my lives last morrow Make me leave that which I with leave did borrow: Heere I have borrowed love, Ile not denaie[1791] it.-- Thy wedding night's my day, then Ile repay it.-- Till then sheel trust me.--Wench, ist[1792] not so? 200 And if it be, say I, if not, say no.

_Mal._ Mother, good mother, heare me! O good God, Now we are even, what, would you make us odde? Now, I beseech ye, for the love of Christ, To give me leave once to do what I list. 205 I am as you were when you were a maide; Gesse by your selfe how long you would have staide, Might you have had your will: as good begin At first as last, it saves us from much sinne; Lying alone, we muse on things and things, 210 And in our mindes one thought another brings: This maides life, mother, is an idle life. Therefore Ile be, I, I will be a wife; And, mother, doe not mistrust[1793] my age or power, I am sufficient, I lacke nere an houre; 215 I had both wit to graunt when he did woe me, And strength to beare what ere he can doe to me.

_Mi. Bar._[1794] Well, bold-face, but I meane to make you stay. Goe to, come from him, or Ile make ye come: Will yee not come? 220

_Phi._ Mother, I pray forbeare; This match is for my sister.

_Mi. Bar._ Villaine, tis not; Nor she shall not be so matcht now.

_Phi._ In troth, she shall, and your unruly hate 225 Shall not rule us; weele end all this debate By this begun devise.

_Mi. Bar._ I, end what you begun! Villaines, theeves, Give me my daughter! will ye rob me of her?-- Help, help! theil rob me heere, theil rob me heere! 230

_Enter_ MASTER BARNES _and his men_.

_M. Bar._ How now? what outcry is here? why, how now, woman?

_Mi. Ba._ Why, Gourseys sonne, confederates[1795] with this boy, This wretch unnaturall and undutifull, Seekes hence to steale my daughter: will you suffer it? Shall he, thats sonne to my arche-enemy, 235 Enjoy her? have I brought her up to this? O God, he shall not have her, no, he shall not!

_M. Bar._ I am sorry she knowes it. [_Aside_].--Harke ye, wife, Let reason moderate your rage a little. If you examine but his birth and living, 240 His wit and good behaviour, you will say, Though that ill hate make your opinion bad, He dooth deserve as good a wife as she.

_Enter_ MISTRIS GOURSEY _and_ COOMES.[1796]

_Mi. Bar._ Why, will you give consent he shall enjoy her?

_M. Bar._ I, so that thy minde would agree with mine. 245

_Mi. Bar._ My minde shall nere agree to this agreement.

_M. Ba._ And yet it shall go forward:--but who's heere? What, mistris Goursey! how knew she of this?

_Phi._ Franke, thy mother.

_Fra._ Swones, where? a plague uppon it! 250 I thinke the devill is set to crosse this match.

_Mi. Go._ This is the house, Dick Coomes, and yonders light: Let us go neere. How now? me thinkes I see My sonne stand hand in hand with Barnes his daughter.-- Why, how now, sirra? is this time of night 255 For you to be abroad? what have we heere? I hope that love hath not thus coupled you.

_Fra._ Love, by my troth, mother, love: she loves me, And I love her; then we must needs agree.

_Mi. Bar._ I, but Ile keep her sure enough from thee. 260

_Mi. Go._ It shall not need. Ile keep him safe enough; Be sure he shal not graft in such a stock.

_Mi. Bar._ What stock, forsooth? as good a stock as thine: I doe not meane that he shall graft in mine.

_Mi. Gou._ Nor shall he, mistris.--Harke, boy; th'art but mad To love the branch that hath a roote so bad. 266

_Fra._ Then, mother, Ile graft a pippin on a crab.

_Mi. Gou._ It will not proove well.

_Fra._ But Ile proove my skill.

_Mi. Bar._ Sir, but you shall not. 270

_Fra._ Mothers both, I will.

_M. Bar._ Harke, Phillip: send away thy sister straight; Let Francis meete her where thou shall appoint; Let them go severall to shun suspition, And bid them goe to Oxford both this night; 275 There to morrow say that we will meete them, And there determine of their marriage. [_Aside._]

_Phi._ I will: though it be very late and darke, My sister will endure it for a husband. [_Aside._] 279

_M. Ba._ Well, then, at[1797] Carfolkes,[1798] boy, I meane to meet them. [_Aside._]

_Phil._ Enough. _Exit_ [MASTER BARNES]. Would they would begin to chide! For I would have them brawling, that meane while They may steale hence, to meete where I appoint[1799] it. [_Aside_].-- What, mother, will you let this match go forward?-- Or, mistresse Goursey, will you first agree? 285

_Mi. Gou._ Shall I agree first?

_Phi._ I, why not? come, come.

_Mi. Go._ Come from her, sonne, and if thou lov'st thy mother.

_Mi. Bar._ With the like spell, daughter, I conjure thee.

_Mi. G._ Francis, by faire means let me win thee from her, 290 And I will gild my blessing, gentle sonne, With store of angels. I would not have thee Check thy good fortune by this cusning choise: O, doe not thrall thy happie libertie In such a bondage! if thou'lt be needs bound, 295 Be, then, to better worth; this worthlesse choise Is not fit for thee.

_Mi. Bar._ Ist not fit for him? wherefore ist not fit? Is he too brave[1800] a gentleman, I praie? No, tis not fit; she shall not fit his turne: 300 If she were wise, she would be fitter for Three times his better.--Minion, go in, or Ile make ye; Ile keep ye safe from him, I warrant ye.

_Mi. Gou._ Come, Francis, come from her.

_Fra._ Mothers, with both hands shove I hate from love, 305 That like an ill companion would infect The infant minde of our affection[1801]: Within this cradle shall this minutes babe Be laide to rest; and thus Ile hug[1802] my joy.

_Mi. Gou._ Wilt thou be obstinate, thou selfe wilde[1803] boy? 310 Nay, then, perforce Ile parte ye, since ye will not.

_Coom._ Doe yee heare, mistresse? praie yee give me leave to talke two or three cold words with my yong master.--Harke ye, sir, yee are my masters sonne, and so foorth; and indeed I beare ye some good will, partlie for his sake, and partly for your own; and I do hope you do the like to me,--I should be sorry els. I must needs saie, ye are a yong man; and for mine owne part, I have seene the world, and I know what belongs to causes, and the experience that I have, I thanke God I have travelled for it.

_Fra._ Why, how far have yee travelled for it? 320

_Boy._ From my masters house to the ale-house.

_Coo._ How, sir?

_Bo._ So, sir.

_Coo._ Go to.--I praie, correct you boie; twas nere a good world, since a boie would face a man so. 325

_Fra._ Go to.--Forward, man.

_Coom._ Wel, sir, so it is, I would not wish ye to marry without my mistres consent.

_Fra._ And why?

_Coom._ Nay, theres nere a why but there is a wherefore; I have known some have done the like, and they have daunst a galliard at Beggers bush[1804] for it. 332

_Boy._ At Beggers bush!--here him no more, maister; he doth bedawbe[1805] ye with his durty speech.--Doe ye heare, sir? how farre stands Beggers bushe from your fathers house, sir? How, thou whorson refuge[1806] of a tailor, that wert prentise to a tailor half an age, and because if thou hadst served ten ages thou wouldst proove but a botcher, thou leapst from the shop board to a blew coate,[1807] doth it become thee to use thy tearmes so? wel, thou degree above a hackney, and ten degrees under a page, sow up your lubber lips, or tis not your sworde and buckler shall keep my poniard from your brest. 342

_Coo._ Do yee heare, sir? this is your boy.

_Fran._ How then?

_Coom._ You must breech him for it. 345

_Fran._ Must I? how, if I will not?

_Coom._ Why, then, tis a fine world when boies keep boies, and know not how to use them.

_Fra._ Boy, ye rascall!

_Mi. Gour._ Strike him, and thou darst. 350

_Coom._ Strike me! alas, he were better strike his father!-- Sownes, go to, put up your bodkin.[1808]

_Fran._ Mother, stand by; Ile teach that rascall--

_Coom._ Go to, give me good words, or, by Gods dines,[1809] Ile buckle ye for all your bird-spit. 355

_Fran._ Will ye so, sir?

_Phi._ Stay, Franke, this pitch of frensie will defile thee; Meddle not with it: thy unreprooved vallour Should be high minded; couch it not so low.-- Dost heare me? take occasion to slip hence, 360 But secretly, let not thy mother see thee: At the back side there is a cunny greene;[1810] Stay there for me, and Mall and I will come to thee. [_Aside._]

_Fra._ Enough, I will. [_Aside_].--Mother, you doe me wrong To be so peremptory in your commaund, 365 And see that rascall to abuse me so.

_Coom._ Rascall! take that and take all! Do ye heare, sir? I doe not meane to pocket up this wrong.

_Bo._ I know why that is.

_Coo._ Why? 370

_Bo._ Because you have nere a pocket.

_Co._ A whip, sira, a whip!--But, sir, provide your tooles against to morrow morning; tis somewhat darke now, indeed: you know Dawsons close, betweene the hedge and the pond; tis good even ground; Ile meete you there; and I do not, call me cut,[1811] and you be a man, shew yourselfe a man; weele have a bout or two; and so weele part for that present. 377

_Fran._ Well, sir, well.

_Nic._ [_approaching._] Boy, have they appointed to fight?

_Boy._ I, Nicholas; wilt not thou go see the fray? 380

_Nich._ No, indeed; even as they brewe, so let them bake. I wil not thrust my hand into the flame, and[1812] need not; tis not good to have an oare in another mans boate; little said is soone amended, and in little medling commeth great rest; tis good sleeping in a whole skin; so a man might come home by Weeping Crosse[1813]: no, by lady, a friend is not so soone gotten as lost; blessed are the peace-makers; they that strike with the sword, shall be beaten with the scabberd. 388

_Phil._ Well said, proverbs: nere another to that purpose?

_Nic._ Yes, I could have said to you, sir, Take heed is a good reed.[1814] 391

_Phil._ Why to me, take heede?

_Ni._ For happy is he whom other mens harms do make to beware.

_Phi._ O, beware, Franke!--Slip away, Mall.--You know what I told ye. Ile hold our mothers both in talk meanwhile. [_Aside._] --Mother, and mistris Barnes, me thinkes you should not stand in hatred so hard one with the[1815] other.

_Mi. Bar._ Should I not, sir? should I not hate a harlot, That robs me of my right, vilde boye? 400

_Mi. Gou._ That tytle I returne unto thy teeth, [_Exeunt_ FRANCIS _and_ MALL.] And spit the name of harlot in thy face.

_Mi. Bar._ Well, tis not time of night to hold out chat With such a scold as thou art; therefore now Thinke that I hate thee as I doe the devill. 405

_Mi. Gou._ The devill take thee, if thou dost not, wretch!

_Mi. Bar._ Out upon thee, strumpet!

_Mi. Gou._ Out upon thee, harlot!

_Mis. Bar._ Well, I will finde a time to be reveng'd: Meane time Ile keep my daughter from thy sonne.-- 410 Where are you, minion? how now, are yee gone?

_Phi._ She went in, mother.

_Mi. Go._ Francis where are ye?

_Mi. Ba._ He is not heere. O, then, they slipt away, And both together! 415

_Phi._ Ile assure ye, no; My sister she went in, into the house.

_Mi. Ba._ But, then, sheele out againe at the backe doore, And meete with him: but I will search about All these same fields and paths neere to my house; 420 They are not far I am sure, if I make haste. _Exit._

_Mi. Go._ O God, how went he hence, I did not see him? It was when Barnses wife did scolde with me; A plague on[1816] her!--Dick, why didst not thou looke to him?

_Coo._ What should I looke for him? no, no, I looke not for him while[1817] to morrow morning. 426

_Mi. Gou._ Come, go with me to help to looke him out. Alas, I have nor light, nor linke, nor torche! Though it be darke, I will take any paines To crosse this match. I prethy, Dick, away. 430

_Coo._ Mistris, because I brought ye out, Ile bring ye home; but, if I should follow, so hee might have the law on his side.

_Mi. Go._ Come, tis no matter; prethee, goe with me.

_Exeunt_ [MISTRESS GOURSEY _and_ COOMES.]

_M. Ba._ Philip, thy mothers gone to seeke thy sister, And in a rage, i faith: but who comes heere? 435

_Ph._ Olde master Goursey, as I thinke, tis he.

_M. Ba._ Tis so, indeed.

[_Enter_ MASTER GOURSEY.]

_M. Gour._ Whoes there?

_M. Bar._ A friend of yours.

_M. Gou._ What, master Barnes! did ye not see my wife? 440

_M. Bar._ Yes, sir, I saw her; she was heere even now.

_M. Gou._ I doubted that; that made me come unto you: But whether is she gone?

_Phil._ To seeke your sonne, who slipt away from her To meete with Mall my sister in a place 445 Where I appointed; and my mother too Seeke for my sister; so they both are gone: My mother hath a torch; mary, your wife Goes darkling up and downe, and Coomes before her.

_M. Gou._ I thought that knave was with her; but tis well: 450 I pray God, they may come by nere a light, But both be led a darke daunce in the night!

_Ho._ Why, is my fellow Dick in the dark with my mistres? I pray God, they be honest, for there may be much knaverie in the dark: faith, if I were there, I wold have some knavery with them. [_Aside._]--Good maister, wil ye carry the torch yourself, and give me leave to play the blind man buffe with my mistris? 457

_Phil._ On that condition thou wilt do thy best To keep thy mistresse and thy fellow Dick Both from my sister and thy masters sonne, 460 I will entreate thy master let thee goe.

_Hod._ O, I, I warrant ye, Ile have fine tricks to cousen them.

_M. Gou._ Well, sir, then, go your waies; I give you leave.

_Hod._ O brave! but where about are they?

_Phil._ About our cunny green they surely are, 465 If thou canst find them.

_Hod._ O, let me alone to grope for cunnies.

[_Gives_ PHIL. _the torch, and_] _exit_.

_Phi._ Well, now will I to Franke and to my sister. Stand you two harkning neere the cunny greene, But sure your light in you must not be seene; 470 Or els let Nicholas stand afarre off with it, [_Gives Nich. the torch._] And as his life keep it from mistris Goursey. Shall this be done?

_M. Bar._ Phillip, it shall.

_Phi._ God be with ye! Ile be gone. _Exit._ 475

_M. Bar._ Come on, master Goursey: this same is a meanes To make our wives friends, if they resist not.

_M. Go._ Tut, sir, howsoever it shall go forward.

_M. Bar._ Come, then, lets do as Phillip hath advisd. _Exeunt_ [_toward the cunny greene._]

[Scene Ninth.[1818] _The Cunny Greene._]

_Enter_ MALL.

_Mal._ Heere is the place where Phillip bid me stay Till Francis came; but wherefore did my brother[1819] Appoint it heere? why in the cunny borough? He had some meaning in't, I warrant ye. Well, heere Ile set me downe under this tree, 5 And thinke upon the matter all alone. Good Lord, what pritty things these cunnies are! How finely they do feed till they be fat, And then what a sweet meate a cunny is! And what smooth skins they have, both black and gray! 10 They say they run more in the night then day: What is the reason? marke; why, in the light They see more passengers then in the night; For harmfull men many a haye[1820] do set, And laugh to see them tumble in the net; 15 And they put ferrets in the holes,--fie, fie!-- And they go up and downe where conniees lye; And they lye still, they have so little wit: I marvell the warriner will suffer it; Nay, nay, they are so bad, that they themselves 20 Do give consent to catch these prettie elfes. How if the warriner should spie me here? He would take me for a conny I dare sweare. But when that Francis comes, what will he say? 'Looke, boy, there lyes a conney in my way!' 25 But, soft, a light! whose that? soule, my mother! Nay, then, all hid: i faith, she shall not see me; Ile play bo peepe with her behind this tree.

[_Enter_ MISTRESSE BARNES, _with a torch_.]

_Mis. Ba._ I marvell where this wench doth[1821] hide her selfe So closely; I have searcht in many a bush. 30

_Mal._ Belike my mother tooke me for a thrush. [_Aside._]--

_Mis. Bar._ Shees hid in this same warren, Ile lay money.

_Mal._ Close as a rabbet sucker[1822] from an olde conney. [_Aside._]

_Mi. Bar._ O God, I would to God that I could find her! I would keepe her from her loves toyes yet. 35

_Mal._ I, so you might, if your daughter had no wit. [_Aside._]

_Mi. Ba._ What a vilde girle tis, that would hav't so young!

_Mal._ A murren take that desembling tongue! Ere your calves teeth were out, you thought it long. [_Aside._]

_Mi. Bar._ But, minion, yet Ile keepe you from the man. 40

_Mall._ To save a lye, mother, say, if you can. [_Aside._]

_Mi. Bar._ Well, now to looke for her.

_Mal._ I, theres the spight: What trick shall I now have to scape her light? [_Aside._]

_Mi. Bar._ Whose there? what, minion, is it you?-- 45 Beshrew her heart, what a fright she put me to! But I am glad I found her, though I was afraide. [_Aside._] Come on your wayes; you are[1823] a handsome maide! Why [steal] you foorth a doores so late at night? Why, whether go ye? come, stand still, I say. 50

_Mal._ No, indeed, mother; this is my best way.

_M. Ba._ Tis not the best way; stand by me, I tell yee.

_Mall._ No; you would catch me, mother,--O, I smell ye!

_Mi. Bar._ Will ye not stand still?

_Mal._ No, by ladie, no. 55

_Mis. Bar._ But I will make ye.

_Mal._ Nay, then, trip and goe.

_Mi. Bar._ Mistresse, Ile make ye wearie ere I have done.

_Mal._ Faith, mother, then, Ile trie how you can runne.

_Mis. Bar._ Will ye? 60

_Mal._ Yes, faith. _Exeunt._

_Enter_ [FRANKE _and_ BOY.]

_Fran._ Mal, sweet heart, Mall! what, not a word?

_Boy._ A little further; call againe.

_Fran._ Why, Mal! I prethie, speake; why, Mal, I say! I know thou art not farre, if thou wilt not[1824] speake; 65 Why, Mal!-- But now I see shees in her merry vaine, To make me call, and put me to more paine. Well, I must beare with her; sheel beare with me: But I will call, least that it be not so.-- 70 What, Mal! what, Mall, I say!--Boy, are we right? Have we not mist the way this same darke night?

_Boy._ Masse, it may be so: as I am true man, I have not seen a cunny since I came; Yet at the cunny-borow we should meete. 75 But, harke! I heare the trampling of some feete.

_Fran._ It may be so, then; therefore lets lye close.

[_Enter_ MISTRESSE GOURSEY _and_ COOMES.]

_Mis. Gou._ Where art thou, Dicke?

_Coo._ Where am I, quoth a! mary, I may be where any body will say I am; eyther in France, or at Rome, or at Jerusalem, they may say I am, for I am not able to disprove them, because I cannot tell where I am. 82

_Mi. Gou._ O, what a blindfold walke have we had, Dicke, To seeke my sonne! and yet I cannot finde him.

_Coo._ Why, then, mistresse, lets goe home. 85

_Mi. Gou._ Why, tis so darke we shall not finde the way.

_Fran._ I pray God, ye may not, mother, till it be day! [_Aside._]

_Coo._ Sbloud, take heed, mistris, heres a tree.

_Mis. Go._ Lead thou the way, and let me hold by thee.

_Bo._ Dick Coome, what difference is there between a blind man and he that cannot see? 91

_Fra._ Peace, a poxe on thee!

_Coo._ Swounds, some body spake.

_Mi. Gou._ Dicke, looke about; It may be here we may finde them out. 95

_Coo._ I see the glimpse[1825] of some body heere.-- And ye be a sprite, Ile fraie the bug beare.-- There a goes, mistresse.

_Mi. Gour._ O sir, have I spide you?

_Fr._ A plague on the boy! twas he that descried[1826] me. _Exeunt._

[Scene Tenth. _A Grove in the Fields between the Cunny Greene and the Forest._]

[_Enter_ PHILIP.]

_Phi._ How like a beauteous lady, maskt in blacke Lookes that same large circumference of heaven! The skie, that was so faire three houres agoe, Is in three houres become an Ethiope; And being angrie at her beauteous change, 5 She will not have one of those pearled starres To blab her sable metamorphesis:[1827] Tis very darke. I did appoint my sister To meete me at the cunny berrie below, And Francis too; but neither can I see. 10 Belike my mother hapned on that place, And fraide them from it, and they both are now Wandring about the[1828] fields: how shall I finde them? It is so darke, I scarce can see my hand: Why, then, Ile hollow for them--no, not so; 15 So will his voice betray him to our mothers And if he answere, and bring them where he is. What shall I, then, do? it must not be so-- Sbloud,[1829] it must be so; how else, I pray? Shall I stand gaping heere all night till day, 20 And then nere the neere?[1830]--So ho, so ho!

[_Enter_ WILL.]

_Wil._ So ho! I come: where are ye? where art thou? here!

_Phi._ How now, Franke, where hast thou[1831] been?

_Wil._ Franke! what Franke? sbloud, is sir Raph mad? [_Aside_].-- Heeres the bow.[1832] 25