A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Vii Part 63

_Enter_ MALL.

MAL. Here is the place where Philip bad me stay, Till Francis came; but wherefore did my brother Appoint it here? why in the coney-burrow?

He had some meaning in't, I warrant ye.

Well, here I'll set me down under this tree, And think upon the matter all alone.

Good Lord, what pretty things these conies are!

How finely they do feed till they be fat, And then what a sweet meat a coney is!

And what smooth skins they have, both black and gray!

They say they run more in the night than day: What is the reason? mark; why in the light They see more pa.s.sengers than in the night; For harmful men many a hay[351] do set, And laugh to see them tumble in the net; And they put ferrets in the holes--fie, fie!-- And they go up and down where conies lie; And they lie still, they have so little wit: I marvel the warrener will suffer it; Nay, nay, they are so bad, that they themselves Do give consent to catch these pretty elves.

How if the warrener should spy me here?

He would take me for a coney, I dare swear.

But when that Francis comes, what will he say?

"Look, boy, there lies a coney in my way!"

But, soft, a light! who's that? soul, my mother!

Nay, then, all-hid[352]: i'faith, she shall not see me; I'll play bo-peep with her behind this tree.

[_Enter_ MISTRESS BARNES.]

MRS BAR. I marvel where this wench doth[353] hide herself So closely; I have search'd in many a bush.

MAL. Belike my mother took me for a thrush. [_Aside_.]

MRS BAR. She's hid in this same warren, I'll lay money.

MAL. Close as a rabbit-sucker[354] from an old coney. [_Aside_.]

MRS BAR. O G.o.d, I would to G.o.d that I could find her!

I would keep her from her love's toys yet.

MAL. Ay, so you might, if your daughter had no wit. [_Aside_.]

MRS BAR. What a vild[355] girl 'tis, that would hav't so young!

MAL. A murrain take that dissembling tongue!

Ere your calf's teeth were out, you thought it long. [_Aside_.]

MRS BAR. But, minion, yet I'll keep you from the man.

MAL. To save a lie, mother, say, if you can. [_Aside_.]

MRS BAR. Well, now to look for her.

MAL. Ay, there's the spite: What trick shall I now have to 'scape her light? [_Aside_.]

MRS BAR. Who's there? what, minion, is it you?-- Beshrew her heart, what a fright she put me to!

But I am glad I found her, though I was afraid. [_Aside_.]

Come on your ways; you are[356] a handsome maid!

Why [steal] you forth a-doors so late at night?

Why, whither go ye? come, stand still, I say.

MAL. No, indeed, mother; this is my best way.

MRS BAR. 'Tis not the best way; stand by me, I tell ye.

MAL. No; you would catch me, mother. O, I smell ye!

MRS BAR. Will ye not stand still?

MAL. No, by lady, no.

MRS BAR. But I will make ye.

MAL. Nay, then, trip-and-go.

MRS BAR. Mistress, I'll make ye weary, ere I have done.

MAL. Faith, mother, then, I'll try, how you can run.

MRS BAR. Will ye?

MAL. Yes, faith. [_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ [FRANK _and_ BOY.]

FRAN. Mall, sweet-heart, Mall! what, not a word?

BOY. A little farther, master; call again.

FRAN. Why, Mall! I prythee, speak; why, Mall, I say!

I know thou art not far, if thou wilt[357] speak; Why, Mall!-- But now I see she's in her merry vein, To make me call, and put me to more pain.

Well, I must bear with her; she'll bear with me: But I will call, lest that it be not so.-- What, Mall! what, Mall, I say! Boy, are we right?

Have we not miss'd the way this same dark night?

BOY. Ma.s.s, it may be so: as I am true[358] man, I have not seen a coney since I came; Yet at the coney-burrow we should meet.

But, hark! I hear the trampling of some feet.

FRAN. It may be so, then; therefore, let's lie close.

[_Enter_ MISTRESS GOURSEY _and_ COOMES.]

MRS GOUR. Where art thou, d.i.c.k?

COOMES. Where am I, quoth-a! marry, I may be where anybody will say I am; either 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.

MRS GOUR. O, what a blindfold walk have we had, d.i.c.k, To seek my son! and yet I cannot find him.

COOMES. Why, then, mistress, let's go home.

MRS GOUR. Why, 'tis so dark we shall not find the way.