A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Vii Part 57

I did not think, good faith, I could have set So sour a face upon it, and to her, My bed-embracer, my right bosom friend.

I would not that she should have seen the letter-- As poor a man as I am--by my troth, For twenty pound: well, I am glad I have it. [_Aside_.]

Ha, here's ado about a thing of nothing!

What, stomach, ha! 'tis happy you're come down.

[_Exit_.

MRS GOUR. Well, crafty[297] fox, I'll hunt ye, by my troth, Deal ye so closely! Well, I see his drift: He would not let me see the letter, lest That I should cross the match; and I will cross it.

d.i.c.k Coomes!

_Enter_ COOMES.

COOMES. Forsooth.

MRS GOUR. Come hither, d.i.c.k; thou art a man I love, And one whom I have much in my regard.

COOMES. I thank ye for it, mistress, I thank ye for it.

MRS GOUR. Nay, here's my hand, I will do very much For thee, if e'er thou stand'st in need of me; Thou shalt not lack, whilst thou hast a day to live, Money, apparel--

COOMES. And sword and bucklers?

MRS GOUR. And sword and bucklers too, my gallant d.i.c.k, So thou wilt use but this in my defence.

[_Pointing to his sword_.]

COOMES. This! no, faith, I have no mind to this; break my head, if this break not, if we come to any tough play. Nay, mistress, I had a sword, ay, the flower of Smithfield for a sword, a right fox,[298] i'faith; with that, and a man had come over with a smooth and a sharp stroke, it would have cried tw.a.n.g, and then, when I had doubled my point, trac'd my ground, and had carried my buckler before me like a garden-b.u.t.t, and then come in with a cross blow, and over the pick[299] of his buckler two ells long, it would have cried tw.a.n.g, tw.a.n.g, metal, metal: but a dog hath his day; 'tis gone, and there are few good ones made now. I see by this dearth of good swords, that[300] dearth of sword-and-buckler fight begins to grow out:[301] I am sorry for it; I shall never see good manhood again, if it be once gone; this poking fight of rapier and dagger will come up then; then a man, a tall[302] man, and a good sword-and-buckler man, will be spitted like a cat or a coney; then a boy will be as good as a man, unless the Lord show mercy unto us; well, I had as lief be hang'd as live to see that day. Well, mistress, what shall I do? what shall I do?

MRS GOUR. Why, this, brave d.i.c.k. Thou knowest that Barnes's wife And I am foes: now, man me to her house; And though it be dark, d.i.c.k, yet we'll have no light.

Lest that thy master should prevent our journey By seeing our depart. Then, when we come, And if that she and I do fall to words, Set in thy foot and quarrel with her men, Draw, fight, strike, hurt, but do not kill the slaves, And make as though thou strookest[303] at a man, And hit her, and thou canst,--a plague upon her!-- She hath misus'd me, d.i.c.k: wilt thou do this?

COOMES. Yes, mistress, I will strike her men; but G.o.d forbid that e'er d.i.c.k Coomes should be seen to strike a woman!

MRS GOUR. Why, she is mankind;[304] therefore thou mayest strike her.

COOMES. Mankind! nay, and she have any part of a man, I'll strike her, I warrant.

MRS GOUR. That's my good d.i.c.k, that's my sweet d.i.c.k!

COOMES. 'Swouns, who would not be a man of valour to have such words of a gentlewoman! one of their words are more to me than twenty of these russet-coats, cheese-cakes, and b.u.t.ter-makers. Well, I thank G.o.d, I am none of these cowards; well, and a man have any virtue in him, I see he shall be regarded. [_Aside_.]

MRS GOUR. Art thou resolved, d.i.c.k? wilt thou do this for me?

And if thou wilt, here is an earnest-penny Of that rich guerdon I do mean to give thee.

[_Gives money_.]

COOMES. An angel,[305] mistress! let me see. Stand you on my left hand, and let the angel lie on my buckler on my right hand, for fear of losing.

Now, here stand I to be tempted. They say, every man hath two spirits attending on him, either good or bad; now, I say, a man hath no other spirits but either his wealth or his wife: now, which is the better of them? Why, that is as they are used; for use neither of them well, and they are both nought. But this is a miracle to me, that gold that is heavy hath the upper, and a woman that is light doth soonest fall, considering that light things aspire, and heavy things soonest go down: but leave these considerations to Sir John;[306] they become a black-coat better than a blue.[307] Well, mistress, I had no mind to-day to quarrel; but a woman is made to be a man's seducer; you say, quarrel?

MRS GOUR. Ay.

COOMES. There speaks an angel: is it good?

MRS GOUR. Ay.

COOMES. Then, I cannot do amiss; the good angel goes with me.

[_Exeunt.

Enter_ SIR RALPH SMITH, _his_ LADY, WILL, [_and_ ATTENDANTS].

SIR RALPH. Come on, my hearts: i'faith, it is ill-luck, To hunt all day, and not kill anything.

What sayest thou, lady? art thou weary yet?

LADY. I must not say so, sir.

SIR RALPH. Although thou art!

WILL. And can you blame her, to be forth so long, And see no better sport?

SIR RALPH. Good faith, 'twas very hard.

LADY. No, 'twas not ill, Because, you know, it is not good to kill.

SIR RALPH. Yes, venison, lady.

LADY. No, indeed, nor them; Life is as dear in deer as 'tis in men.

SIR RALPH. But they are kill'd for sport.

LADY. But that's bad play, When they are made to sport their lives away.

SIR RALPH. 'Tis fine to see them run.

LADY. What, out of breath?

They run but ill that run themselves to death.

SIR RALPH. They might make, then, less haste, and keep their wind.

LADY. Why, then, they see the hounds brings death behind.

SIR RALPH. Then, 'twere as good for them at first to stay, As to run long, and run their lives away.

LADY. Ay, but the stoutest of you all that's here Would run from death and nimbly scud for fear.

Now, by my troth, I pity these poor elves.[308]

SIR RALPH. Well, they have made us but bad sport to-day.

LADY. Yes, 'twas my sport to see them 'scape away.

WILL. I wish that I had been at one buck's fall.

LADY. Out, thou wood-tyrant! thou art worst of all.