A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Vi Part 29

'Twas nothing, fellow, but for 'sample's sake.

PENULO.

Well, sir, I am content this once it to take.

But, sirrah, you must know that squall is the duke's son, That now by mischance is stroken stark dumb, In fetching home his sister, that ran away from hence.

LENTULO.

Is she then a runaway? O pa.s.sing wench!

I thought as much; now, good Lord, to see That she and I now akin should be.

O cuckally[108] luck! O heavy chance, O!

I runaway, she runaway: go together, go!

PENULO.

But all the court laments, and sore weeps for it.

LENTULO.

All the court? thou liest: the Court-gate weeps not a whit.

_Enter_ BOMELIO, _like a counterfeit Physician_.

BOMELIO.

_Bien[109] venu, chi diue ve mi nou intendite signeur, no_.

I have a piece of work in hand now, that all the world must not know.

LENTULO.

c.o.c.k's nowns, the devil! a-G.o.d's name, what's he?

PENULO.

Some Spaniard or foreign stranger he seems to be.

BOMELIO.

_Dio vou salvi, signore, e voutre gratio pavero mouchato_.

LENTULO.

I have no pleasure in thee: I pray thee, get thee gone.

PENULO.

What would you, sir?

BOMELIO.

_Monsieur, par ma foy_, am one have the grand knowledge in the skience of fiskick.

Can make dem hole have been all life sick; Can make to seco see, and te dumb speak; Can make te lame go, and be ne'er so weak.

PENULO.

Can you so, sir? what countryman are you, I pray?

BOMELIO.

E be Italian, Neapolitan: e come a Venice[110] a toder day.

LENTULO.

And you can speak any pedlar's French,[111] tell me what I say.

BOMELIO.

_Ne point entende, signior_.

LENTULO.

You are an a.s.s. I can spose him, I.

BOMELIO.

_Monsieur, parle pet.i.t_: e heard now hereby, Dere be a n.o.bel man dumb, dat made me stay: If me no help him, me carry no head away.

PENULO.

Will you venture your head to help him, indeed?

Well, sir, I'll tell the Duke with all possible speed.

Tarry me[112] here: I'll return by and by.

Excellent luck! it falls out happily.

[_Exit_.

LENTULO.

Will you venture your head, sirrah, blockhead you?

BOMELIO.

You be de a.s.s-head, me can tell dat's true.

LENTULO.

Swounds! O, but that I am in love, thou shouldst know What 'twere to move my vengeance so!

BOMELIO.

Come heter, sirrah; me speak with you: me can tell You are de runaway from your ma'ter; ah, very well.

LENTULO.

You G.o.ds and devils eke, what do you mean to do?

Shall I be known a runaway, for and to shame me too?

I a runaway, sirrah? go with your uplandish, go: I am no runaway, I would you should know.

BOMELIO.

You no runaway from your ma'ter in de wood, When he send you to market? Ah, no point good!

LENTULO.

O furies fell, and hags of h.e.l.l, with all that therein be!

What, do ye mean to shame me clean, and tell him then of me?

Hear you, sirrah: you are no devil; ma.s.s, and I wist you were, I would lamback[113] the devil out of you, for all your gear.

BOMELIO.

Diavolo? ah, fie! me no diavolo, me very fury.

Let-a me see your basket: what meat you buy?

LENTULO.

Look in my basket! O villain, rascal, tarry, stay!

Hath opened it? out alas! my love is quite flown away.