A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Xi Part 45

GERT. This is pretty poetry: good fiction, this.

Sir, I must leave you.

GERA. Leave with me first some comfort.

GERT. What would you crave?

GERA. That which I fear you will not let me have.

GERT. You do not know my bounty. Say what 'tis?

GERA. No more, fair creature, than a modest kiss.

GERT. If I should give you one, would you refrain, On that condition, ne'er to beg again?

GERA. I dare not grant to that.

GERT. Then't seems you have, Though you get nothing, a delight to crave.

One will not hurt my lip, which you may take, Not for your love, but for your absence sake.

So farewell, sir. [_Exit_ GERTRUDE.

GERA. O, fare thee well, fair regent of my soul!

Never let ill sit near thee, unless it come To purge itself. Be, as thou ever seemest, An angel of thy s.e.x, born to make happy The man that shall possess thee for his bride.

_Enter_ SPENDALL _and_ LONGFIELD.

SPEND. Will you have it for thirteen shillings and sixpence? I'll fall to as low a price as I can, because I'll buy your custom.

LONG. How now, man? what, entranced?

GERA. Good sir, ha' you done?

LONG. Yes, faith, I think as much as you, and 'tis just nothing. Where's the wench?

GERA. She's here, sir, here.

[_Points to his heart._

LONG. Ud's pity! unb.u.t.ton, man, thou'lt stifle her else.

GERA. Nay, good sir, will you go?

LONG. With all my heart; I stay but for you.

SPEND. Do you hear, sir?

LONG. What say you?

SPEND. Will you take it for thirteen?

LONG. Not a penny more than I bid. [_Exeunt_ GERALDINE _and_ LONGFIELD.

SPEND. Why, then, say you might have had a good bargain. Where's this boy to make up the wares? Here's some ten pieces opened, and all to no purpose.

_Enter_ BOY.

BOY. O Frank! shut up shop, shut up shop!

SPEND. Shut up shop, boy? Why?

BOY. My master is come from the court knighted, and bid us; for he says he will have the first year of the reign of his knighthood kept holiday: here he comes.

_Enter_ SIR LIONEL RASH.

SPEND. G.o.d give your worship joy, sir.

SIR L. RASH. O Frank! I have the worship now in the right kind; the sword of my knighthood sticks still upon my shoulders, and I feel the blow in my purse; it has cut two leather bags asunder. But all's one, honour must be purchased. I will give over my city coat, and betake myself to the court jacket. As for trade, I will deal in't no longer; I will seat thee in my shop, and it shall be thy care to ask men what they lack: my stock shall be summed up, and I will call thee to an account for it.

SPEND. My service, sir, never deserved so much; Nor could I ever hope so large a bounty Could spring out of your love.

SIR L. RASH. That's all one.

I do love to do things beyond men's hopes.

To-morrow I remove into the Strand: There for this quarter dwell, the next at Fulham.

He that hath choice, may shift; the whilst shalt thou Be master of this house, and rent it free.

SPEND. I thank you, sir.

SIR L. RASH. To-day I'll go dine with my Lord Mayor, To-morrow with the sheriffs, and next day With th' aldermen. I will spread the ensign Of my knighthood over the face of the city, Which shall strike as great a terror to my enemies As ever Tamerlane [did] to the Turks.

Come, Frank, come in with me, and see the meat, Upon the which my knighthood first shall eat. [_Exeunt omnes._

_Enter_ STAINES.

STAINES. There is a devil has haunted me these three years, in likeness of an usurer: a fellow that in all his life never ate three groat loaves out of his own purse, nor ever warmed him but at other men's fires; never saw a joint of mutton in his own house these four-and-twenty years, but always cosened the poor prisoners, for he always bought his victuals out of the alms-basket; and yet this rogue now feeds upon capons, which my tenants send him out of the country; he is landlord, forsooth, over all my possessions. Well, I am spent; and this rogue has consumed me. I dare not walk abroad to see my friends, for fear the serjeants should take acquaintance of me: my refuge is Ireland or Virginia:[155] necessity cries out, and I will presently to West Chester.

_Enter_ BUBBLE.

How now, Bubble! hast thou pack'd up all thy things?

Our parting-time is come: nay, prythee, do not weep.

BUB. Affection, sir, will burst out.

STAINES. Thou hast been a faithful servant to me. Go to thy uncle, he'll give thee entertainment: tell him, upon the stony rock of his merciless heart my fortunes suffer shipwreck.

BUB. I will tell him he is an usuring rascal, and one that would do the commonwealth good if he were hanged.

STAINES. Which thou hast cause to wish for; thou art his heir, my affectionate Bubble.

BUB. But, master, wherefore should we be parted?

STAINES. Because my fortunes are desperate, thine are hopeful.