SCENE V.

[1st Cut.] [3rd Grooves.]

A Room in GURTON’S Alehouse.  Night.

Enter WILLIAM, with a letter in his hand, S.E.R.

Will. So now, a letter from my Master to his cousin, and then, of course, an answer to that.  I had need go get myself fitted like Mercury, with wings at his heels.  To be the lacquey of a man that hath quarrelled with his mistress!  And to know the final issue all the time, that it is sure to be made up between them.  And to hear him mutter “the last,” between his teeth, while sealing it.  He was to have journeyed this evening, too, but the General Cromwell, with a face very red and perturbed, and a nose as it were of lava; his wart being ignited like the pimple of a salamander, hath been desiring to see him instantly.  There is something going to happen among them.  Well, in these confused days, Since I’m of those that have got nought to lose, Perchance I may step in some richer shoes!

[Exit, L.]

Enter the HOST, partly undressed, in his sleep, with a candle in his hand.  He walks carefully about the Room, and then exit, U.E.R.  On the other side, as he goes out, enter WYCKOFF and BASIL, S.E.L.

Basil. I thought I heard a noise.

Wyck. ’Tis an old house, and probably there is a Parliament of grey rats busy.  I mind well aboard ship, as I did once visit the hold, where we had store of ingots and bales of wealthy goods, I saw them sitting.  I ordered the long boat to be cast loose and got ready, but said nothing, except to a few; for I knew something would happen; and sure enough in three days was a leak—­whew!  I hear the bubbling of the water now in my head—­here I am, you see——­

Basil. And the rest?—­

Wyck. Are there! [Points downwards.] In the long-boat we found a very old rat; a tough morsel; but we ate him, and drank sea-water.  We were forced to throw the gold overboard! [Looks around.] Is there nothing we can get to swig now?—­

Basil. They are all abed.

Wyck. I hate the sound of snoring, when I am about at night.  It puts one in mind of groans.  Shall I rouse the host?—­

Basil. No! no! to business—­first to hide these papers.

Wyck. Ay! and about thy brother.

Basil. You see these letters addressed to me in his name by Sir Marmaduke Langdale, touching the rising in the North, I will place them under yon plank in the floor.  ’Tis already loosened.  Then, when he is accused to Cromwell, who hath strong doubts of him—­I have seen to that; besides, I know him, he doth fear for the king, and will incense them all—­I will have them found, and then—­

Wyck. Why thou art Satan’s trump-card!  Mind I have been thy faithful tool, thy messenger, and love thee—­thou mayest as well sign me the paper thou didst speak of—­five hundred a year—­I will then eschew dice and go live virtuously with a woman and repent my youthful misdeeds.  I am not like thee, to sin when I have plenty.