A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 9 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 508 pages of information about A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 9.

A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 9 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 508 pages of information about A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 9.

FORTUNATUS. 
And if you do, by this hand, I’ll play the conjuror. 
Blush, Fortunatus, at the base conceit! 
To stand aloof, like one that’s in a trance,
And with thine eyes behold that miscreant imp,
Whose tongue[’s] more venom[’s] than the serpent’s sting,
Before thy face thus taunt thy dearest friends—­
Ay, thine own father—­with reproachful terms! 
Thy sister Lelia, she is bought and sold,
And learned Sophos, thy thrice-vowed friend,
Is made a stale by this base cursed crew
And damned den of vagrant runagates: 
But here, in sight of sacred heav’ns, I swear
By all the sorrows of the Stygian souls,
By Mars his bloody blade, and fair Bellona’s bowers,
I vow, these eyes shall ne’er behold my father’s face,
These feet shall never pass these desert plains;
But pilgrim-like, I’ll wander in these woods,
Until I find out Sopho’s secret walks. 
And sound the depth of all their plotted drifts. 
Nor will I cease, until these hands revenge
Th’injurious wrong, that’s offer’d to my friend,
Upon the workers of this stratagem.
          
                              [Exit.

    Enter PEG sola.

I’ faith, i’ faith, I cannot tell what to do;
I love, and I love, and I cannot tell who: 
Out upon this love! for, wot you what? 
I have suitors come huddle, twos upon twos,
And threes upon threes:  and what think you
Troubles me?  I must chat and kiss with all comers,
Or else no bargain.

    Enter WILL CRICKET, and kisses her.

WILL CRICKET. 
A bargain, i’ faith:  ha, my sweet honey-sops! how dost thou?

PEG. 
Well, I thank you, William; now I see y’are a man of your word.

WILL CRICKET. 
A man o’ my word, quotha? why, I ne’er broke promise in my life that
I kept.

PEG. 
No, William, I know you did not; but I had forgotten me.

WILL CRICKET. 
Dost hear, Peg? if e’er I forget thee, I pray God, I may never remember
thee.

PEG. 
Peace! here comes my granam Midnight.

    Enter MOTHER MIDNIGHT.

MOTHER MIDNIGHT. 
What, Peg! what, ho! what, Peg, I say! what, Peg, my wench? where art
thou, trow?

PEG. 
Here, granam, at your elbow.

MOTHER MIDNIGHT. 
What mak’st thou here this twatter light?  I think thou’rt in a dream;
I think the fool haunts thee.

WILL CRICKET.  Zounds, fool in your face!  Fool?  O monstrous intitulation.  Fool?  O, disgrace to my person.  Zounds, fool not me, for I cannot brook such a cold rasher, I can tell you.  Give me but such another word, and I’ll be thy tooth-drawer—­even of thy butter-tooth, thou toothless trot, thou!

MOTHER MIDNIGHT.  Nay, William, pray ye, be not angry; you must bear with old folks, they be old and testy, hot and hasty.  Set not your wit against mine, William; for I thought you no harm, by my troth.

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 9 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.