 | Beggars Bush |  |
Scæna Prima.
Enter Bertha, and a Boore.Ber.
Lead, if thou thinkst we are right: why dost thou make
These often stands? thou saidst thou knewst the way
Boor.
Fear nothing, I doe know it: would twere homeward.
Ber.
Wrought from me, by a Beggar? at the time
That most should tye him? 'Tis some other Love
That hath a more command on his affections,
And he that fetcht him, a disguised Agent,
Not what he personated; for his fashion
Was more familiar with him, and more powerfull
Then one that ask'd an almes: I must finde out
One, if not both: kind darknesse be my shrowd
And cover loves too curious search in me,
For yet, suspition, I would not name thee.
Boor.
Mistris, it grows some-what pretty and dark.
Ber.
What then?
Boor.
Nay, nothing; do not thinke I am afraid,
Although perhaps you are.
Ber.
I am not, forward.
Boo.
Sure but you are: give me your hand, fear nothing.
There's one leg in the wood, do not pull backward:
What a sweate one on's are in, you or I?
Pray God it do not prove the plague; yet sure
It has infected me; for I sweat too,
It runs out at my knees, feele, feele, I pray you.
Ber.
What ailes the fellow?
Boor.
Hark, hark I besech you,
Doe you heare nothing?
Ber.
No.
Boor.
Lyst: a wilde hog,
He grunts: now 'tis a beare: this wood is full of 'em,
And now, a wolfe Mistris, a wolfe a wolfe,
It is the howling of a wolfe.
Ber.
The braying of an asse, is it not.
Boor.
Oh, now one has me;
Oh, my left ham, farewell.
Ber.
Looke to your shankes,
Your breech is safe enough, the wolfe's a Fern-brake.
Boo.
But see, see, see. There is a serpent in it,
It has eyes as broad as platters; it spits fire;
Now it creeps towards us, help me to say my prayers:
It hath swallowed me almost, my breath is stopt,
I cannot speake; do I speake Mistris? tell me.
Ber.
Why, thou timerous Sot, canst thou perceive
Any thing i'the bush, but a poore glo-worme?
Boo.
It may be tis but a glo-worm now, but 'twill
Grow to a fire-drake presently.
Ber.
Come thou from it:
I have a pretious guide of you; and a courteous
That gives me leave to lead my selfe the way thus.
Boor.
It thunders, you heare that now.
Ber.
I heare one hollow.
Boo.
'Tis thunder, thunder:
See, a flash of Lightning:
Are you not blasted Mistris? pull your maske off,
It has plaid the barber with me here: I have lost
My beard, my beard, pray God you be not shaven,
'Twill spoile your marriage Mistris.
Ber.
What strange wonders,
Feare fancies in a Coward?
Boor.
Now, the earth opens.
Ber.
Prethee hold thy peace.
Boor.
Will you on then?
Ber.
Both love and jealousie have made me bold,
Where my fate leads me, I must goe.
Exit.
Boor.
God be with you then.
Enter Woolfort, Hemskirke, and Attendants.
Hem.
It was the fellow sure, he that should guide me,
The hunts-man that did hollow us.
Woolf.
Best make a stand
And listen to his next: ha?
Hem.
Who goes there?
Boor.
Mistris, I am taken.
Hem.
Mistris? look forth souldiers.
Woolf.
What are you sirha?
Boo.
Truly all is left
Of a poore Boore, by day-light, by night no body,
You might have spar'd your drum, and guns, & pikes too
For I am none that will stand out Sir, I.
You may take me in with a walking sticke
Euen when you please, and hold me with a pack-threed.
Hem.
What woman was't you call'd to.
Boor.
VVoman? none Sir.
Woolf.
None? did you not name Mistris?
Boor.
Yes, but shee's
No woman yet! she should have been this night,
But that a Beggar stole away her Bridegroome,
VVhom we were going to make hue and cry after;
93
And was the Bride, and all; but in came Clause,
The old lame Beggar, and whips up Mr Goswin;
Under his arme; away with him as a Kite,
Or an old Fox, would swoope a way a gosling.
Hems.
'Tis she, 'tis she, 'tis she, Niece?
Ber.
Ha?
Hem.
She Sir,
This was a noble entrance to your fortune,
That being on the point thus to be married:
Upon her venture here: you should surprise her.
Woolf.
I begin Hemskirck, to believe my fate,
Works to my ends.
Hem.
Yes Sir, and this adds trust,
Unto the fellow our guide, who assur'd me Floris,
Liv'd in some Merchants shop, as Gerrard did:
In the old beggars, and that he would use
Him for the traine, to call the other forth,
All which we finde is done—That's he againe—
Holla againe
Woolf.
Good we sent out to meet him.
Hems.
Heer's the Oke.
Ber.
O I am miserably lost, thus falne
Into my vncles hands from all my hopes,
Can I not thinke away my selfe and dye?
O I am miserably lost; thus fallen
Into my Uncles hands, from all my hopes:
No matter now, where thou be false or no,
Goswin, whether thou love an other better;
Or me alone; or where thou keep thy vow,
And word, or that thou come, or stay: for I
To thee from henceforth, must be ever absent,
And thou to me: no more shall we come neere,
To tell our selves, how bright each other eyes were,
How soft our language, and how sweet our kisses,
Whil'st we made one our food, th'other our feast,
Not mix our soules by sight, or by a letter
Hereafter, but as small relation have,
As two new gon to in habiting a grave:
Can I not thinke away my selfe and dye?
Enter Hubert. Higgen. Prig. Ferret. Snap. Gincks. like Boores.
Hub.
I like your habits well: they are safe, stand close
Hig.
But what's the action we are for now? ha?
Robbing a Ripper of his fish?
Prig.
Or taking,
A poultrer prisoner, without ransome, Bullyes?
Hig.
Or cutting off a convoy of butter?
Fer.
Or surprising a Boores ken, for granting cheates?
Prig.
Or cackling cheates?
Hig.
Or mergery-praters, Rogers,
And Tibs o'th the Buttry?
Prig.
O' I could drive a Regiment
Of geese afore me, such a night as this
Ten leagues with my hatt, and staff, and not a hisse
Heard, or a wing of my troopes disordered.
Hig.
Tell us,
If it be milling of a lag of duds,
The fetching of a back of clothes or so;
We are horribly out of linnen.
Hub.
No such matter.
Hig.
Let me alone for any Farmers dog,
If you have a minde to the cheese-loft: 'tis but thus:
And he is a silenc'd Mastiff, during pleasure.
Hub.
Would it would please you to be silent.
Hig.
Mum.
Woolf.
Who's there?
Hub.
A friend, the Huntsman.
Hems.
O 'tis he.
Hub.
I have kept touch Sir, which is the Earle of these?
Will ye know a man now?
Hems.
This my Lord's the friend,
Hath undertooke the service.
Hub.
If't be worth
His Lordships thanks anon, when 'tis done
Lording, I'le looke for't, a rude woodman,
I know how to pitch my toyles, drive in my game:
And I have don't. both Floriz and his Father
Old Gerrard, with Lord Arnold of Bentbuisen,
Cozen, and Jaqueline, young Floris Sister;
I haue 'em all.
Wool.
Thou speak'st too much, too happy,
To carry faith with it.
Hub.
I can bring you
Where you shall see, and finde 'em.
Wool.
We will double,
What ever Hemskirck then hath promis'd thee.
Hub.
And I'le deserve it treble; what horse ha you?
Woolf.
A hundred.
Hub.
That's well: ready to take
Upon surprise of 'em?
Hems.
Yes.
Hub.
Devide then,
Your force into five Squadrons; for there are
So many out lets, wayes, thorough the wood,
That issue from the place: where they are lodg'd;
Five severall wayes, of all which passages
We must posses our selves, to round 'em in,
For by one starting hole, they'll all escape else;
I and 4. Boores here, to me will be guides,
The Squadron, where you are, my selfe will lead:
And that they may be more secure, I'le use
My wonted whoopes, and hollowes, as I were
A hunting for 'em; which will make them rest,
Careles of any noyse, and be a direction
To the other guides, how we approch 'em still.
Wool.
'Tis orderd well, and relisheth the Souldier,
Make the division Hemskirck, you are my charge
Faire one, I'le looke to you.
Boo.
Shall no body need
To looke to me? I'le looke unto my selfe.
Hub.
'Tis but this, remember.
Hig.
Say 'tis don boy.
Exeunt.
| Beggars Bush | |