A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Ii Part 65

_Give a leg, &c.

This is no deadly wound: It may be cured well.

See here what physic we have found Thy sorrows to expel.

[Wit lifting himself up, sitting on the ground.

The way is plain, the mark is fair, Lodge not thyself in deep despair_.

WIT.[412]

What noise is this, that ringeth in my ears, Her noise that grieveth my mishap with tears?

Ah, my mishap, my desperate mishap, On[413] whom ill-fortune poureth down all mishap at a clap, What shall become of me, where shall I hide my head?

O, what a death is it to live for him that would be dead?

But since it chanceth so, whatever wight thou be, That findeth me here in heavy plight, go, tell her this from me.

Causeless I perish here, and cause to curse I have.

The time that erst I lived to love, and now must die her slave, The match was over-much for me, she understood, Alas, why hath she this delight to lap in guiltless blood?

How did I give her cause to show me this despite, To match me where she wist full well I should be slain in fight?

But go, and tell her plain, although too late for me, Accursed be the time and hour, which first I did her see.

Accursed be the wight, that will'd me first thereto, And cursed be they all at once, that had therewith to do.

Now get thee hence in haste, and suffer me to die.

Whom scornful chance and lawless love have slain most traitorously.

RECREATION.

O n.o.ble Wit, the miracle of G.o.d and eke of Nature: Why cursest thou thyself and every other creature?

What causeth thee thine innocent dear lady to accuse?

Who would lament it more than she to hear this woful news?

Why wilt thou die, whereas thou may'st be sure of health?

Whereas thou seest a plain pathway to worship and to wealth.

Not every foil doth make a fall, nor every soil doth slay; Comfort thyself: be sure thy luck will mend from day to day.

WILL.

These gentlewomen of good skill are[414] come to make you sound, They know which way to salve your sore, and how to cure your wound.

Good sir, be ruled by her then, and pluck your spirit to you: There is no doubt, but you shall find your loving lady true.

WIT.

Ah, Will, art thou alive that doth my heart some ease, The sight of thee, sweet boy, my sorrows doth appease: How hast thou 'scap'd? what fortune thee befel?

WILL.

It was no trusting to my hands, my heels did serve me well, I ran with open mouth to cry for help amain, And, as good fortune would, I hit upon these twain.

WIT.

I thank both thee and them; what will ye have me do?

RECREATION.

To rise and dance a little s.p.a.ce with us two.

WIT.

What then?

RECREATION.

That done, repair again to Study and Instruction; Take better hold by their advice, your foe to set upon.

WIT.

Can any recompense recover this my fall?

RECREATION.

My life to yours, it may be mended all.

WIT.

Speak, Will.

WILL.

I have no doubt, sir, it shall be, as you would wish.

WIT.

But yet this repulse of mine they will lay in my dish.

RECREATION.

No man shall let them know thereof, unless yourself do it.

WIT.

On that condition, a G.o.d's name, fall we to it.

WILL.

Nay, stand we to it, and let us fall no more.

WIT.

Will dancing serve, and I will dance, until my bones be sore, Pipe us up a galliard, minstrel, to begin.

[_Let Will call for dances, one after another_.

WILL.

Come, damsel, in good faith, and let me have you in, Let him practise in dancing all things to make himself breathless.[415]

RECREATION.

Enough at once, now leave, and let us part.

WIT.

This exercise hath done me good, even to the very heart.

Let us be bold with you more acquaintance to take, And dance a round yet once more for my sake, Enough is enough; farewell, and at your need Use my acquaintance, if it may stand you in stead.

Right worthy damsels both, I know you seek no gains In recompense of this desert your undeserved pains.

But look what other thing my service may devise, To show my thankful heart in any enterprise.

Be ye as bold therewith, as I am bold on you, And thus with hearty thanks I take my leave as now.

RECREATION.

Farewell, friend Wit, and since you are relieved, Think not upon your foil, whereat you were so griev'd, But take your heart to you, and give attempt once more: I warrant you to speed much better than before.

[_Exeunt_.