 | The Hebrew |  |
SCENE II.
—A Gallery in Cedric's Castle: Cedric and Servants enter conducting the Prior, Brian, Saracens, &c.Cedric.
This way, my noble guests.
Prior.
We entertain
Your kindness as 'tis offer'd, frankly, freely.
Brian.
A moment, with your leave—Melek—a
trifle 'tis, yet proper to the moment.
Cedric.
Take your time.
Brian.
(aside to Melek)
There is a pilgrim in the Prior's train;
Melek.
Francis, my Lord.
(Wamba steals in.)
Brian.
Get me his pilgrim's garb,
And bring it to my chamber. (Exit, Melek.)
Our kind host!—
All go out except Wamba, who comes to the front.
Wamba.
What should he want now with a pilgrim's frock?
Some notable intrigue! your soldier, troth,
Is ever nibbling at the wenches, as
Your mouse at cheese, or fishes at the hook,
When as the wind blows southerly. Good faith,
Here is strange fellowship; Jew, Norman, Saxon;
Here's Noah's ark; your Saxon is a horse;
An ass the Jew, who bears his load for others;
A wolf, your Norman—Well an if a man
Should choose to prophecy, horse, ass, and wolf,
Will be by th' ears ere morning.
Gurth.
(stealing in)
Wamba!—Fool!
Wamba.
That's I; yet now I think on it again,
It is not I, for he 's a wise man who
Doth know himself; and if I know myself,
Why then, no fool.
Gurth.
There's mischief stirring.
True;
You're not abed.
Gurth.
Truce with thy mocks, good fool:
Are all at rest?
Wamba.
At rest?—I'll not say that;
But all are in their beds:—O, Gurth! Gurth! Gurth!
Your taper burning in the chimney nook
Shall see more merry sights, than e'er the sun
Can hope to look upon.
Gurth.
Hark!
Wamba.
Wherefore?
Gurth.
Hush!
Wamba.
Your pitcher, I; two goodly ears and a
wide mouth, but no tongue.
Gurth.
(striking him)
Wilt not be silent?
Wamba.
What's that for?
Gurth.
For thee.
Wamba.
Thank ye; but, good troth, you're
welcome to it again, an you'll take it at my
hands.
Gurth.
No anger, fool.
Wamba.
Fool, quotha! Better be a fool in word,
—as I am,—than a fool in deeds,—as thou art. I
never get drunk with ale,—as thou dost,—and that is
folly, for it makes the head ache: I am not married,
—as thou art,—and that is folly, for it makes the
heart ache—nay, and the head too beyond the cure of
physic—no getting rid of the horn of cuckoldom; it
grows, like your corn, the more you cut it.
Gurth.
Go to; my wife is faithful to me.
Wamba.
Neither am I valiant; for valour is
quarrelsome: quarrels bring blows, blows bring pain;
and he who is a voluntary to pain, shall have any
praise under Heaven but that of wisdom. Now I
think on't, I will tell thee a tale which thou shalt like
marvellously, for thou shalt not understand its least
syllable.
Cedric.
(without)
Wamba!
Wamba.
Nuncle cuts short my tale.
Thou'lt be the more like a man:—but,
Wamba, when Cedric is at rest, let me know—here—
or in my chamber.
Wamba.
Some petticoat business. Knave thou
hast been, knave thou art—may, can, will, and shall
be, through all moods and tenses—past, present, and
to come. An thou art not damned; the devil must
be horn-mad.
Wamba and Gurth go out on different sides.
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