A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Vi Part 57

JUDGE.

But, Signor Mercatore, I trow, ye will be a Turk for all this.

MERCATORE.

Signor, no: not for all da good in da world me forsake a my Christ.

JUDGE.

Why, then, it is as sir Gerontus said; you did more for the greediness of the money Than for any zeal or goodwill you bear to Turkey.

MERCATORE.

O sir, you make a great offence: You must not judge a my conscience.

JUDGE.

One may judge and speak truth, as appears by this; Jews seek to excel in Christianity and Christians in Jewishness.

[_Exit_.

MERCATORE.

Vell, vell; but me tank you, Sir Gerontus, with all my very heart.

GERONTUS.

Much good may it do you, sir; I repent it not for my part.

But yet I would not have this bolden you to serve another so: Seek to pay, and keep day with me, so a good name on you will go.

[_Exit_.

MERCATORE.

You say vel, sir; it does me good dat me have cosen'd de Jew.

Faith, I would my Lady Lucre de whole matter now knew: What is dat me will not do for her sweet sake?

But now me will provide my journey toward England to take.

Me be a Turk? no: it will make my Lady Lucre to smile, When she knows how me did da scal' Jew beguile.

[_Exit_.

_Enter_ LUCRE, _and_ LOVE _with a vizard, behind_.

LUCRE.

Mistress Love, I marvel not a little what coy conceit is crept into your head, That you seem so sad and sorrowful, since the time you first did wed.

Tell me, sweet wench, what thou ailest, and if I can ease thy grief, I will be prest to pleasure thee in yielding of relief.

Sure, thou makest me for to think something has chanc'd amiss.

I pray thee, tell me what thou ailest, and what the matter is.

LOVE.

My grief, alas! I shame to show, because my bad intent Hath brought on me a just reward and eke a strange event.

Shall I be counted Love? nay, rather lascivious l.u.s.t, Because unto Dissimulation I did repose such trust.

But now I moan too late, and blush my hap to tell.

My head in monstrous sort, alas! doth more and more still swell.

LUCRE.

Is your head then swollen, good Mistress Love? I pray you let me see.

Of troth it is, behold a face that seems to smile on me: It is fair and well-favoured, with a countenance smooth and good; Wonder is the worst,[224] to see two faces in a hood.

Come, let's go, we'll find some sports to spurn away such toys.

LOVE.

Were it not for Lucre, sure, Love had lost all her joys.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ SERVICEABLE DILIGENCE, _the Constable, and_ SIMPLICITY, _with an Officer to whip him, or two, if you can_.

SIMPLICITY.

Why, but must I be whipp'd, Master Constable, indeed?

You may save your labour, for I have no need.

DILIGENCE.

I must needs see thee punished; there is no remedy, Except thou wilt confess, and tell me, Where thy fellows are become, that did the robbery.

SIMPLICITY.

Indeed, Master Constable, I do not know of their stealing, For I did not see them, since we went together a-begging.

Therefore pray ye, sir, be miserable[225] to me, and let me go, For I labour to get my living with begging, you know.

DILIGENCE.

Thou wast seen in their company a little before the deed was done; Therefore it is most likely thou knowest where they are become.

SIMPLICITY.

Why, Master Constable, if a sheep go among wolves all day, Shall the sheep be blam'd if they steal anything away?

DILIGENCE.

Ay, marry, shall he; for it is a great presumption That, keeping them company, he is of like profession-- But despatch, sirs; strip him and whip him: Stand not to reason the question.

SIMPLICITY.

Indeed, 'twas Fraud, so it was, it was not I; And here he comes himself: ask him, if I lie.

_Enter_ FRAUD.

DILIGENCE.

What sayest thou, villain? I would advise thee hold thy tongue: I know him to be a wealthy man and a burgess of the town.-- Sir, and it please your mastership, here one slanders you with felony: He saith you were the chief doer of a robbery.

FRAUD.

What says the rascal? But you know, It standeth not with my credit to brawl; But, good Master Constable, for his slanderous report Pay him double, and in a greater matter command me you shall.

[_Exit_.

SIMPLICITY.

Master Constable, must the countenance carry out the knave?

Why, then, if one will face folks out, some fine repariment he must have.

[BEADLE _put off his clothes_.

BEADLE.

Come, sir Jack-sauce, make quick despatch at once: You shall see how finely we will fetch the skin from your bones.

SIMPLICITY Nay, but tell me whether you be right-handed or no?

BEADLE.