A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Vii Part 67

NICH. No, indeed, whatsoe'er I think; and thought is free.

COOMES. You wh.o.r.eson wafer-cake, by G.o.d's dines, I'll crush ye for this!

NICH. Give an inch, and you'll take an ell; I will not put my finger in a hole, I warrant ye: what, man! ne'er crow so fast, for a blind man may kill a hare; I have known when a plain fellow hath hurt a fencer, so I have: what! a man may be as slow as a snail, but as fierce as a lion, and he be moved; indeed, I am patient, I must needs say, for patience in adversity brings a man to the Three Cranes in the Vintry.

COOMES. Do ye hear? set down your torch; draw, fight, I am for ye.

NICH. And I am for ye too, though it be from this midnight to the next morn.

COOMES. Where be your tools?

NlCH. Within a mile of an oak, sir; he's a proud horse will not carry his own provender, I warrant ye.

COOMES. Now am I in my quarrelling humour, and now can I say nothing but, zounds, draw! but I'll untruss, and then have to it. [_Aside_.]

_Enter [severally]_ HODGE _and_ BOY.

HOD. Who's there? boy! honest boy, well-met: where hast thou been?

BOY. O Hodge, d.i.c.k Coomes hath been as good as a cry of hounds, to make a breath'd[400] hare of me! but didst thou see my master?

HOD. I met him even now, and he ask'd me for thee, and he is gone up and down, whooing like[401] an owl for thee.

BOY. Owl, ye a.s.s!

HOD. a.s.s! no, nor gla.s.s, for then it had been Owlgla.s.s[402]: but who's that, boy?

BOY. By the ma.s.s, 'tis our Coomes and Nicholas; and it seems they are providing to fight.

HOD. Then we shall have fine sport, i'faith. Sirrah, let's stand close, and when they have fought a bout or two, we'll run away with the torch, and leave them to fight darkling, shall we?

BOY. Content; I'll get the torch: stand close.

COOMES. So now my back hath room to reach: I do not love to be lac'd in, when I go to lace a rascal. I pray G.o.d, Nicholas prove not a fly:[403]

it would do me good to deal with a good man now, that we might have half-a-dozen good smart strokes. Ha, I have seen the day I could have danc'd in my fight, one, two, three, four, and five, on the head of him; six, seven, eight, nine, and ten on the sides of him; and, if I went so far as fifteen, I warrant I shewed[404] him a trick of one-and-twenty; but I have not fought this four days, and I lack a little practice of my ward; but I shall make a shift: ha, close [_Aside_].

--Are ye disposed, sir?

NICH. Yes, indeed, I fear no colours: change sides, Richard.

COOMES. Change the gallows! I'll see thee hang'd first.

NICH. Well, I see the fool will not leave his bable[405] for the Tower of London.

COOMES. Fool, ye rogue! nay, then, fall to it.

NICH. Good goose, bite not.

COOMES. 'Sblood, how pursy I am! Well, I see exercise is all: I must practice my weapons oft'ner; I must have a goal or two at foot-ball, before I come to my right kind [_Aside_].

Give me thy hand, Nicholas: thou art a better man than I took thee for, and yet thou art not so good a man as I.

NICH. You dwell by ill-neighbours, Richard; that makes ye praise yourself.

COOMES. Why, I hope thou wilt say I am a man?

NICH. Yes, I'll say so, if I should see ye hang'd.

COOMES. Hang'd, ye rogue! nay, then, have at ye.

[_While they fight, exeunt_ HODGE _and_ BOY _with the torch_.]

Zounds, the light is gone!

NICH. O Lord, it is as dark as pitch!

COOMES. Well, here I'll lie, with my buckler thus, lest striking up and down at randall[406] the rogue might hurt me, for I cannot see to save it, and I'll hold my peace, lest my voice should bring him where I am.

[_Stand aside_.]

NICH. 'Tis good to have a cloak for the rain; a bad shift is better than none at all; I'll sit here, as if I were as dead as a door-nail.

[_Stand aside_.][407]

_Enter_ MR BARNES _and_ MR GOURSEY.

MR GOUR. Hark! there's one hallooes.

MR BARNES. And there's another.

MR GOUR. And everywhere we come, I hear some halloo, And yet it is our haps to meet with none.

MR BAR. I marvel where your Hodge is and my man.

MR GOUR. Ay, and our wives? we cannot meet with them, Nor with the boy, nor Mall, nor Frank, nor Philip, Nor yet with Coomes, and yet we ne'er stood still.

Well, I am very angry with my wife, And she shall find I am not pleas'd with her, If we meet ne'er so soon: but 'tis my hope[408]

She hath had as blind a journey on't as we; Pray G.o.d, she have, and worse, if worse may be!

MR BAR. This is but short-liv'd envy[409], Master Goursey: But, come, what say ye to my policy?

MR GOUR. I'faith, 'tis good, and we will practise it; But, sir, it must be handled cunningly, Or all is marr'd; our wives have subtle heads, And they will soon perceive a drift device.

_Enter_ SIR RALPH SMITH.

SIR RALPH. So ho!

MR GOUR. So ho!

SIR RALPH. Who there?

MR BAR. Here's one or two.