 | Thomas À Becket |  |
SCENE IV.
A Walk in the Labyrinth.Enter a Physician blindfold, led by Gabel.
Physician.
Am I to go much farther in the dark?
Gabel.
Only one other round, and a quirk, Sir.
Physician.
Bless me I think I have gone as many as
an ass in a mill!—This muffling is worse than that of a
Moorish damsel, for she at least has the use of her eyes:
mine are no more use to me than if they were glazed with
green lead like a stuffed owl's.
Come on, doctor: don't hurt that post with your
head. What a pity!
Physician.
Pity! pity you didn't speak a little sooner!—
Pity forsooth?
Gabel.
Ay, pity on my life Sir, that such a learned head
as yours should have got such a crack!
Physician.
Take care it happen not again, or thy own
numbskull shall get a crack, and that about the nape of
the neck too!—'Tis hanging-matter to mistreat a man of
my importance, let me assure thee.
Gabel.
Lord, Sir, are you a man of importance? I never
could ha' guessed it!—Come on again—Stoop, Sir, like a
goose under a gate, stoop!
[Exeunt.
Scene changes to an Inner Court. Re-enter Physician and Gabel.
Gabel.
You are to stand here, Sir, awhile, by yourself,
please you Master man of importance!
Physician.
What, still in the dark!
Gabel.
Why yes, doctor; every dunce can stand in the
dark—'tis only shutting your eyes and looking straight
forward before you. It is my way, and a shrewd one,
trust me.
Physician.
I do believe thou art skilful in standing i' the
dark!—Get thee gone, for a perfect dunce! and send me
a leader who is not absolute knave as well.
Gabel.
If he is to be found, with all haste doctor!
[Exit.
Physician.
Pestiferous lout!—There is in simple-hood
Ofttimes a sleek-soft, sleepy cunningness
Which moves more bile than roguery direct.
But I 've that here perchance will bring ye begging
To Charity's bleak door, from this warm berth,
For swine's soup and black bread!—I can avenge
My sovereign-queen and self at the same time;
Though but a sparrow and a cock o' the woods.—
Mum! I hear ringing footsteps on the stones,
Heavy as hammers' clang; some horse curvets
Hither upon two legs—
Enter Fier-à-bras.
Fier-à-bras.
Physician, follow me.
Physician.
What! in these winkers,
Clamped on me, like a hoop about a hogshead?
Fier-à-bras.
Take this strong rein into thy hand: now follow!
Physician.
O Avicen! thy son playing bo-peep!—
Hold fast, good sir, or I shall fall on my sinciput.
[Exeunt.
| Thomas À Becket | |