A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Vii Part 84

SKINK. I would be sorry, John, but you should stay, Until my bias run another way.

Now pa.s.s and hey-pa.s.s, Skink, unto your tricks: 'Tis but a chance at hazard. There lies Gloster, And here stands Skink; now, John, play thou thy part, And if I 'scape I'll love thee with my heart.

[_Puts on_ PRINCE JOHN'S _cloak, sword, and hat_.

So, porter! let me forth.

_Enter_ PORTER.

POR. G.o.d bless your grace, spoke ye[483] with the Lord Morton?

SKINK. I have, and must about his business to the Court.

It grieves me to break my sport with Gloster: The melancholy earl is comfortless.

POR. I would your grace would comfort him from hence, The Fleet is weary of his company.

[REDCAP _knocks_.

SKINK. Drink that, some knocks; I prythee, let me out, His head shall off ere long, never make doubt.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ JOHN _at the other door_.

JOHN. Now, madcap, thou winn'st all; where art thou, Robin?

Uncased? nay, then, he means to play in earnest.

But where's my cloak, my rapier, and my hat?

I hold my birthright to a beggar's scrip, The b.a.s.t.a.r.d is escaped in my clothes.

'Tis well he left me his to walk the streets; I'll fire the city, but I'll find him out.

Perchance he hides himself to try my spleen.

I'll to his chamber. Gloster! hallo! Gloster!

[_Exit_.

_Enter_ REDCAP.

POR. I wonder how thou cam'st so strangely chang'd!

'Tis not an hour since thou went'st from hence.

RED. By my Ch-Ch-Christendom, I ha-have not b-been h-here this three nights; a p-p-plague of him, that made me such a ch-chanting, and s-sent me such a ja-ja-jaunt! blood, I was st-stayed for Skink, that ill-fa-fa-fac'd rogue.

POR. I pray G.o.d there be no practice in this change.

Now I remember these are Skink's clothes, That he wore last day at the Parl'ament.

_Knock; Enter at another door_ JOHN _in_ GLOSTER'S _gown_.

JOHN. Porter? you Porter?

POR. Do you not hear them knock? you must stay, sir.

JOHN. Blood, I could eat these rogues.

RED. Wh-wh-what, raw?

'Tis a very harsh mo-morsel, Ne-next your he-heart.

JOHN. A plague upon your jaunts! what, porter, slave?

RED. I have been at G-Gravesend, sir.

JOHN. What's that to me?

RED. And at Ca-Ca-Canterbury.

JOHN. And at the gallows! zounds, this frets my soul.

RED. But I c-could not f-find your s-s-sister the La-Lady Fau-Fauconbridge.

JOHN. You stammering slave, hence! chat among your daws.

Come ye to mad me? while the rogue your father--

_Enter_ PORTER.

RED. My f-fa-father?

JOHN. Porter, you d.a.m.ned slave.

POR. Is't midsummer: do you begin to rave?

JOHN. Hark, how the traitor flouts me to my teeth!

I would entreat your knaveship, let me forth, For fear I dash your brains out with the keys.

What is become of Gloster and my garments?

POR. Alas, in your apparel Gloster's gone, I let him out even now; I am undone.

JOHN. It was your practice, and to keep me back, You sent Jack Daw your son with ka-ka-ka, To tell a sleeveless tale! lay hold on him, To Newgate with him and your tut-a-tut!

Run, Redcap, and trudge about, Or bid your father's portership farewell.

[_Exeunt with_ PORTER.

RED. Eh! here's a go-good je-je-jest, by the L-Lord, to mo-mock an ape withal! my fa-fa-father has brought his ho-ho-hogs to a fa-fa-fair m-m-market. Po-po-porter, quoth you? p-po-porter that will for me; and I po-po-porter it, let them po-po-post me to heaven in this qua-quarter.

But I must s-s-seek this Gl-Gl-Gloster and Sk-Sk-Skink that co-coney-catching ra-ra-rascal, a pa-pa-plague co-co-confound him.

Re-Re-Redcap must ru-run, he cannot tell whi-whither.

[_Exit_.

SCENE THE FOURTEENTH.

_Sound trumpets, enter_ HENRY _the younger, on one hand of him_ QUEEN ELINOR, _on the other_ LEICESTER.

HEN. Mother and Leicester, add not oil to fire; Wrath's kindled with a word, and cannot hear The numberless persuasions you insort.