A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Vii Part 59

MAL. But are ye cunning in the carman's lash?

And can ye whistle well?

FRAN. Yes, I can well direct the coach of love.

MAL. Ah, cruel carter! would you whip a dove?

PHIL. Hark ye, sister--

MAL. Nay, but hark ye, brother; Whose white boy[324] is that same? know ye his mother?

PHIL. He is a gentleman of a good house.

MAL. Why, is his house of gold?

Is it not made of lime and stone like this?

PHIL. I mean he's well-descended.

MAL. G.o.d be thanked!

Did he descend some steeple or some ladder?

PHIL. Well, you will still be cross; I tell ye, sister-- This gentleman, by all your friends' consent Must be your husband.

MAL. Nay, not all, some sing another note; My mother will say no, I hold a groat.

But I thought 'twas somewhat, he would be a carter; He hath been whipping lately some blind bear, And now he would ferk the blind boy here with us.

PHIL. Well, do you hear, you, sister, mistress [that] would have-- You that do long for somewhat, I know what-- My father told me--go to, I'll tell all, If ye be cross--do you hear me? I have labour'd A year's work in this afternoon for ye: Come from your cloister, votary, chaste nun, Come down and kiss Frank Goursey's mother's son.

MAL. Kiss him, I pray?

PHIL. Go to, stale maidenhead! come down, I say, You seventeen and upward, come, come down; You'll stay till twenty else for your wedding gown.

MAL. Nun, votary, stale maidenhead, seventeen and upward!

Here be names! what, nothing else?

FRAN. Yes, or a fair-built steeple without bells.

MAL. Steeple! good people, nay, another cast.

FRAN. Ay, or a well-made s.h.i.+p without a mast.

MAL. Fie, not so big, sir, by one part of four.

FRAN. Why, then, ye are a boat without an oar.

MAL. O well row'd wit! but what's your fare, I pray?

FRAN. Your fair self must be my fairest pay.

MAL. Nay, and you be so dear, I'll choose another.

FRAN. Why, take your first man, wench, and go no further. [_Aside_.]

PHIL. Peace, Francis. Hark ye, sister, this I say: You know my mind; or answer ay or nay.

[Your] wit and judgment hath resolv'd his mind, And he foresees what after he shall find: If such discretion, then, shall govern you, Vow love to him, he'll do the like to you.

MAL. Vow love! who would not love such a comely feature, Nor high nor low, but of the middle stature?

A middle man, that's the best size indeed; I like him well: love grant us well to speed!

FRAN. And let me see a woman of that tallness, So slender and of such a middle smallness, So old enough, and in each part so fit, So fair, so kind, endued with so much wit, Of so much wit as it is held a wonder, 'Twere pity to keep love and her asunder; Therefore go up, my joy, call down my bliss; Bid her come seal the bargain with a kiss.

MAL. Frank, Frank, I come through dangers, death, and harms, To make love's patent[325] with my[326] seal of arms.

PHIL. But, sister, softly, lest my mother hear.

MAL. Hush, then; mum, mouse in cheese[327], cat is near.

[_Exit_ MAL.

FRAN. Now, in good faith, Philip, this makes me smile, That I have wooed and won in so small while.

PHIL. Francis, indeed my sister, I dare say.

Was not determined to say thee nay; For this same tother thing, call'd maiden-head, Hangs by so small a hair or spider's thread, And worn so too[328] with time, it must needs fall, And, like a well-lur'd hawk, she knows her call.

[_Enter_ MALL.]

MAL. Whist, brother, whist! my mother heard me tread, And ask'd, Who's there? I would not answer her; She call'd, A light! and up she's gone to seek me: There when she finds me not, she'll hither come; Therefore dispatch, let it be quickly done.

Francis, my love's lease I do let to thee, Date of my life and thine: what sayest thou to me?

The ent'ring, fine, or income thou must pay, Are kisses and embraces every day; And quarterly I must receive my rent; You know my mind.

FRAN. I guess at thy intent: Thou shalt not miss a minute of thy time.

MAL. Why, then, sweet Francis, I am only thine.-- Brother, bear witness.

PHIL. Do ye deliver this as your deed?

MAL. I do, I do.

PHIL. G.o.d send ye both good speed!

G.o.d's Lord, my mother! Stand aside, And closely too, lest that you be espied.

[_Enter_ MISTRESS BARNES.]

MRS BAR. Who's there?

PHIL. Mother, 'tis I.

MRS BAR. You disobedient ruffian, careless wretch, That said your father lov'd me but too well?

I'll think on't, when thou think'st I have forgot it: Who's with thee else?--How now, minion? you!

With whom? with him!--Why, what make you here, sir,