A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Vii Part 64

FRAN. I pray G.o.d, ye may not, mother, till it be day! [_Aside_.

COOMES. 'Sblood, take heed, mistress, here's a tree.

MRS GOUR. Lead thou the way, and let me hold by thee.

BOY. d.i.c.k Coomes, what difference is there between a blind man and he that cannot see?

FRAN. Peace, a pox on thee!

COOMES. Swounds, somebody spake.

MRS GOUR. d.i.c.k, look about; It may be here we may find them out.

COOMES. I see the glimpse[359] of somebody here.-- And ye be a sprite, I'll fray the bugbear.-- There a-goes, mistress.

MRS GOUR. O, sir, have I spied you?

FRAN. A plague on the boy! 'was he that descried[360] me.

[_Exeunt_.

[_Enter_ PHILIP.]

PHIL. How like a beautous lady mask'd in black Looks that same large circ.u.mference of heaven!

The sky, that was so fair three hours ago, Is in three hours become an Ethiop; And being angry at her beauteous change, She will not have one of those pearled stars To blab her sable metamorphosis:[361]

'Tis very dark. I did appoint my sister To meet me at the coney-borough below, And Francis too; but neither can I see.

Belike my mother happ'ned on that place, And fray'd them from it, and they both are now Wand'ring about the[362] fields: how shall I find them?

It is so dark, I scarce can see my hand: Why, then, I'll hollow for them--no, not so; So will his voice betray him to our mothers, And if he answer, and bring them where he is.

What shall I then do? it must not be so-- 'Sblood,[363] it must be so; how else, I pray?

Shall I stand gaping here all night till day, And then be ne'er the near?[364] So ho, so ho!

[_Enter_ WILL.]

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

PHIL. How now, Frank, where hast thou[365] been?

WILL. Frank! what Frank? 'sblood, is Sir Ralph mad? [_Aside_.]

Here's the bow.

PHIL. I have not been much private with that voice: Methinks Frank Goursey's talk and his doth tell me I am mistaken; especially by his bow; Frank had no bow. Well, I will leave this fellow, And hollow somewhat farther in the fields. [_Aside_.]

--Dost thou hear, fellow? I perceive by thee That we are both mistaken: I took thee For one thou art not; likewise thou took'st me For Sir Ralph Smith, but sure I am not he: And so, farewell; I must go seek my friend.

So ho!

[_Exit_.

WILL. So ho, so ho! nay, then, Sir Ralph, so wh.o.r.e!

For a wh.o.r.e she was sure, if you had her here So late. Now, you are Sir Ralph Smith![366]

Well do ye counterfeit and change your voice, But yet I know ye. But what should be that Francis?

Belike that Francis cosen'd him of his wench, And he conceals himself to find her out; 'Tis so, upon my life. Well, I will go, And help him ring his peal of so ho, so ho! [_Exit_.

_Enter_ FRANK.

FRAN. A plague on Coomes! a plague upon the boy!

A plague, too--not on my mother for an hundreth pound!

'Twas time to run; and yet I had not thought My mother could have followed me so close, Her legs with age I thought had foundered; She made me quite run through a quickset hedge, Or she had taken me. Well, I may say, I have run through the briars for a wench; And yet I have her not--the worse luck mine.

Methought I heard one hollow hereabout; I judge it Philip; O, the slave will laugh, When as he hears how that my mother scar'd me!

Well, here I'll stand until I hear him hollow, And then I'll answer him; he is not far.

[_Enter_ SIR RALPH SMITH.]

SIR RALPH. My man is hollowing for me up and down, And yet I cannot meet with him. So ho!

FRAN. So ho!

SIR RALPH. Why, what a pox, wert thou so near me, man, And wouldst not speak?

FRAN. 'Sblood, ye're very hot.

SIR RALPH. No, sir, I am cold enough with staying here For such a knave as you.

FRAN. Knave! how now, Philip?

Art mad, art mad?

SIR RALPH. Why, art not thou my man, That went to fetch my bow?[367]

FRAN. Indeed, a bow Might shoot me ten bows down the weather so: I your man!

SIR RALPH. What art thou, then?

FRAN. A man: but what's thy name?

SIR RALPH. Some call me Ralph.

FRAN. Then, honest Ralph, farewell.

SIR RALPH. Well-said, familiar Will! plain Ralph, i'faith.

[_Hollow within_ PHILIP _and_ WILL.][368]

FRAN. There calls my man.

SIR RALPH. But there goes mine away; And yet I'll hear what this next call will say, And here I'll tarry, till he call again.

[_Retires_.][369]

[_Enter_ WILL.]

WILL. So ho!