A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Vii Part 88

RED. You sp-sp-speak like an honest ge-ge-gentleman, re-re-rest you me-me-merry! co-co-come, my f-f-friends, I be-believe h-h-he r-ran by the g-g-garden w-wall toward the wa-water side.

[_Exeunt running_.

GLO. This fellow is of the humour I would choose my wife: Few words and many paces; a word and away; and so Must I. Sister, adieu; pray you for me; I'll do the like for you.

Robin, farewell; commend me to the Prince.

LADY F. Can ye not stay here safe?

GLO. No, I'll not trust the changing humours of old Fauconbridge.

Adieu, young earl; sister, let's kiss and part.

Tush, never mourn, I have a merry heart.

[_Exit_.

LADY F. Farewell all comfort.

ROB. What, weeping, lady?

Then I perceive you have forgot Blackheath!

LADY F. No, there I'll learn both of his life and death.

ROB. Till Monday, madam, I must take my leave.

LADY F. You will not miss then?

ROB. Nay, if Robin fail ye, Let him have never favour of fair lady!

LADY F. Meanwhile, I'll spend my time in prayers and tears, That Gloster may escape these threat'ned fears.

[_Exit_

SCENE THE SEVENTEENTH.

_Enter_ SKINK, _like_ PRINCE[495] JOHN.

SKINK. Thus jets my n.o.ble Skink along the streets, To whom each bonnet vails, and all knees bend; And yet my n.o.ble humour is too light By the six s.h.i.+llings. Here are two crack'd groats To helter-skelter at some vaulting-house[496].

But who comes yonder? ha! old Fauconbridge?

Hath a brave chain; were John and he good friends, That chain were mine, and should unto Blackheath.

I'll venture; it's but trial: luck may fall.

Good morrow, good Sir Richard Fauconbridge.

FAU. Good morrow, my sweet Prince, hearty good morrow; This greeting well becomes us, marry does it, Better, i'wis, than strife and jangling.

Now can I love ye; will ye to the sheriffs?

Your brother Richard hath been there this hour.

SKINK. Yes, I am plodding forward, as you do; What cost your chain? it's pa.s.sing strongly wrought, I would my goldsmith had a pattern of it.

FAU. 'Tis at your grace's service: show it him.

SKINK. Then dare ye trust me?

FAU. Who? the princely John!

My sovereign's son: why, what a question's that.

I'll leave you; ye may know I dare trust you.

SKINK. I'll bring it ye to the sheriff's, excuse my absence.

FAU. I will, my n.o.ble lord; adieu, sweet prince.

[_Exit_.

SKINK. Why so; this breakfast was well fed upon.

When Skink's devices on Blackheath do fail, This and such cheats would set me under sail, I'll to the water-side, would it were later [on]; For still I am afraid to meet Prince John.

SCENE THE EIGHTEENTH.

_Enter_ GLOSTER _like_ FAUCONBRIDGE.

[SKINK.] But what a mischief meant Fauconbridge To come again so soon? that way he went, And now comes peaking. Upon my life, The buzzard hath me in suspicion, But whatsoever chance, I'll filch a share.

GLO. Yonder's Prince John; I hope he cannot know me, There's nought but Gloster, Gloster in their mouths; I am half-strangled with the garlic-breath Of rascals that exclaim, as I pa.s.s by, Gloster is fled; once taken, he must die.

But I'll to John--how does my gracious lord?

What babbles rumour now? What news of Gloster?

SKINK. What news could I hear, since you left me last?

Were you not here even now? lent me your chain?

I think you dote.

GLO. Sweet prince, age aye[497] forgets.

My brother's chain? a pretty accident!

But I'll have't, and be in the spite of John. [_Aside_.

SKINK. There's more and more; I'll geld it, ere it go.

[_He breaks the chain_.

This same shall keep me in some tavern merry, Till night's black hand curtain this too clear sky.

GLO.[498] My sweet prince, I have some cause to use my chain; Another time (whene'er your lords.h.i.+p please) 'Tis at your service, O marry G.o.d, it is.

SKINK. Here, palsy, take your chain; stoop and be hang'd, [_Casts it down_.

Yet the fish nibbled, when she might not swallow: Go'ut[499] I have curtail'd, what I could not borrow.

[_Exit_.

GLO. He's gone away in frets; would he might meet My brother Fauconbridge in this mad mood, There would be rare ado. Why, this fits me; My brain flows with fresh wit and policy.

But, Gloster, look about, who have we yonder?

Another John, Prince Richard, and the sheriff?

Upon my life, the slave, that had the chain, Was Skink, escap'd the Fleet by some mad sleight.