SCENE IX.

_Enter_ BRISTLE _and_ HEATH.

BRIS. What, did she melt easily? Was she pliable?

HEATH. O, like cobbler's wax; she stuck to my fingers: I could

hardly get her off, and had much ado to persuade her not to

undo herself quite. She would have had me gone home and took

all; nay, would have robbed her aunt too, but that I should

cheat her sufficiently. This will be the best day's work I have

done this many a year.

BRIS. And yet all my rhetoric could scarce persuade you to be

wise.

HEATH. I am thy scholar, and thou shalt find I'll prove an apt

one. If I am not as perfect at the art as thyself in a short

time, may I never be made free, but always steal for others,

and be hanged myself.

BRIS. Yet still thou owest thy learning unto me; if I had not

been thy master, thou might'st have sat at home now with a cup

of cold water and thy precious jewel, a contented mind, wishing

thou hadst but money enough to pay a forfeit for being drunk,

though thy empty pockets forced thee to be sober.

HEATH. Come, prythee, leave; I myself do now laugh at my former

ignorance. Thou hast infused a new soul into me; thou hast

played hocus-pocus with me, I think, and juggled Gusmond or

country Tom's legerdemain into me. There's not such a change in

all the Metamorphosis.

BRIS. And now thou hast[246] bargained with thy whey-faced

wench, what hast thou gained by the project? nothing but wit.

HEATH. Yes, a silver bodkin and thimble, and as many curds as

would serve the court ladies for a twelvemonth, besides the box

laden with all the plate and household stuff that her pitchy

fingers could stick to in six years' service, with which I

believe she now waits for me at the appointed place. What we

can't turn into money we will into ale, and drink it out. Mine

host Welcome has a cup of blessed lull.[247]

BRIS. Away, make haste, we'll empty his cellar to-night, and

draw his barrels out into our hogshead.

HEATH. I'll outfly the swift. [_Exit_ HEATH.

BRIS. But scarce outgo an owl. This fellow will I so tutor,

that he shall rob Mercury himself, surpass Prometheus, and

steal the sun from heaven! Filch away Venus's box of beauty,

and pawn it to ladies, not to be redeemed but by the golden

apple that Paris gave her! Jupiter's thunder, too, and sell it

to besieged towns for granadoes!

_Enter_ JENNITING _with a bundle_.

O, here comes my precious Hanna, never so lovely as now, when

she brings a bundle along with her! That beauty-spot makes her

look fair. Come, my sweeting; every minute was an age till thou

camest. But why so wrinkled? Those looks do not become a bride.

JEN. Is there no danger of drowning? I am ready to sink every

time I think of the water. I cannot choose but quake ever since

I was in the ducking-stool.

BRIS. Never fear it. Thou shalt be Queen o' th' Thames, and

command the waves; be crowned with water-cresses, and enrobed

in watered grogerum. The Nymphs shall curl thy hair, and Syrens

sing thy nuptials. The sea shall drink thy health, till it

spews and purges again, and swell with pride, that it can carry

thee.

JEN. These lines are strong enough to hold an anchor.

BRIS. Dolphins shall bring musicians on their backs, and spout

out cans of beer beyond the conduits on the Mayor's-day.

JEN. We'll have a fish-dinner, too, and the Lady o' th' Lobster

shall be Mistress o' th' Feast.

BRIS. Yes, yes; and Triton's trumpet shall echo up each mess,

while we sound the bottom of our ocean cups, and drown god

Neptune in a sea of wine! But let not your sister Nancy hear of

it for your ears. She'll raise a tempest will ship-wreck all

our hopes; she'll storm louder than the winds. Meet me here two

hours hence with all your tacklings. I'll see this bundle shall

be safe. The ruddy sky promises a fair gale; if the winds fail

us and blow enviously, we'll blast Æolus. [_Exeunt._

A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 12 · 第 9 / 16 章