A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Xi Part 37

_Enter_ MAID, _like a footboy_.

MAID. Your staying, sir, is in vain, for my Lord Proudly, Just at his taking horse to meet you here, At Seldom's suit (the citizen) was arrested Upon an action of two hundred pounds.

I saw it, sir; 'tis true.

INGEN. O scurvy lord!

It had been a cleanlier s.h.i.+ft than this to have had It hinder'd by command, he being a lord.

But I will find him.

_Enter_ LORD PROUDLY.

PROUDLY. You see, valiant sir, I have got loose For all your stratagem. O rogue! are you there?

[PROUDLY _stabs his sister_.

INGEN. Most ign.o.ble lord!

[INGEN _stabs_ PROUDLY _in the left arm_.

PROUDLY. Coward! thou didst this, That I might be disabled for the fight, Or that thou mightst have some excuse to shun me, But 'tis my left arm thou hast lighted on.

I have no second: here are three of you.

If all do murder me, your consciences Will more than hang you, d.a.m.n you. Come, prepare!

INGEN. Brother, walk off, and take the boy away.

Is he hurt much?

BRO. Nothing, or very little. [PROUDLY _thrusts the boy out_.

INGEN. I'll bind your wound up first: your loss of blood May sooner make you faint.

PROUDLY. Ingen, thou art A worthy gentleman: for this courtesy, Go to, I'll save thy life. Come on, sir! [_A pa.s.s or two._ I'll cut your codpiece point, sir, with this thrust, And then down go your breeches.

INGEN. Your lords.h.i.+p's merry. [_Pa.s.s._ I had like to have spoil'd your cutwork band.

_Enter_ MAID, _like a footboy, running;_ BROTHER _after her;_ MAID _kneels betwixt them_.

MAID. O master, hold your hand! my lord, hold yours, Or let your swords meet in this wretched breast!

Yet you are both well; what blood you have lost, Give it as for the injury you did, And now be friends.

PROUDLY. 'Sheart! 'tis a loving rogue.

INGEN. Kind boy, stand up: 'tis for thy wound he bleeds; My wrong is yet unsatisfied.

PROUDLY. Hence! away! It is a sister's loss that whets my sword.

MAID. O, stay, my lord! behold your sister here.

[_Discovers herself._ Bleeding by your hand: servant, see your mistress Turn'd to thy servant, running by thy horse; Whose meaning 'twas[131] to have prevented this, But all in vain.

BRO. O n.o.ble lady!

INGEN. Most worthy pattern of all womenkind!

PROUDLY. Ingen, I am satisfied; put up your sword.

Sister, you must with me: I have a husband, The Lord Feesimple's father, old, but rich.

This gentleman is no match for you: kneel not.

That portion of yours I have consum'd!

Thus marrying, you shall never come to want.

MAID. O sweet my lord, my brother! do not force me To break my faith, or to a loathed bed.

INGEN. Force you he shall not: brother, bear her hence.

She is my wife, and thou shalt find my cause Ten times improv'd now.

PROUDLY. O, have at you, sir. [_Pa.s.s._

MAID. Hold, hold, for heaven's sake! was e'er wretched lady Put to this hazard? Sir, let me speak But one word with him, and I'll go with you, And undergo whatever you command.

PROUDLY. Do't quickly, for I love no whispering, 'Tis strange to see you, madam, with a sword!

You should have come hither in your lady's clothes.

MAID. Well, as you please, my lord: you are witness, Whatsoe'er before Hath pa.s.s'd betwixt us, thus I do undo.

Were not I mad to think thou couldst love me, That wouldst have slain my brother.

PROUDLY. Say'st true, sister?

INGEN. O, thou fair creature! wilt thou be as false As other ladies?

MAID. Thou art my example.

I'll kiss thee once: farewell for ever. Come, my lord, now Match me, with whom you please--a tumbler.

I must do this, else had they fought again.

PROUDLY. Mine own best sister! Farewell, Master Ingen.

[_Exeunt_ PROUDLY _and_ MAID.

BRO. O ancient truth! to be denied of no man: An eel by the tail's held surer than a woman. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[113] The second edit. reads, _as your a gentlewoman_, but Bold means that the Widow confessed to him when he was disguised as her gentlewoman. The first edit. warrants this interpretation.

[114] [He refers to the common proverb. See Hazlitt, p. 191-2; and Dodsley, x. 306.]

[115] "O opportunity, thy guilt is great," &c.

--Shakespeare's "Lucrece," [Dyce's edit, 1868, viii. 312.]

[116] [Old copy, _sensitive_.]

[117] [Mating.]

[118] [Old copy, _you and I_.]