Some Countrey sport, upon my life, Sir.
Well, Sir, goe forward, we will edifie. Ladies, sit downe, wee'l stay it.
Thou, doughtie Duke, all haile: all haile, sweet Ladies.
This is a cold beginning.
If you but favour, our Country pastime made is. We are a few of those collected here, That ruder Tongues distinguish villager; And to say veritie, and not to fable, We are a merry rout, or else a rable, Or company, or, by a figure, Choris, That fore thy dignitie will dance a Morris. And I, that am the rectifier of all, By title Pedagogus, that let fall The Birch upon the breeches of the small ones, And humble with a Ferula the tall ones, Doe here present this Machine, or this frame: And daintie Duke, whose doughtie dismall fame From Dis to Dedalus, from post to pillar, Is blowne abroad, helpe me thy poore well willer, And with thy twinckling eyes looke right and straight Vpon this mighty MORR--of mickle waight; IS now comes in, which being glewd together, Makes MORRIS, and the cause that we came hether. The body of our sport, of no small study, I first appeare, though rude, and raw, and muddy, To speake before thy noble grace this tenner: At whose great feete I offer up my penner. The next the Lord of May and Lady bright, The Chambermaid and Servingman by night That seeke out silent hanging: Then mine Host And his fat Spowse, that welcomes to their cost The gauled Traveller, and with a beckning Informes the Tapster to inflame the reckning: Then the beast eating Clowne, and next the foole, The Bavian, with long tayle and eke long toole, Cum multis alijs that make a dance: Say 'I,' and all shall presently advance.
I, I, by any meanes, deere Domine.
Intrate, filij; Come forth, and foot it.--
[Musicke, Dance. Knocke for Schoole.]
[Enter the Dance.]
Ladies, if we have beene merry, And have pleasd yee with a derry, And a derry, and a downe, Say the Schoolemaster's no Clowne: Duke, if we have pleasd thee too, And have done as good Boyes should doe, Give us but a tree or twaine For a Maypole, and againe, Ere another yeare run out, Wee'l make thee laugh and all this rout.
Take 20., Domine; how does my sweet heart?
Never so pleasd, Sir.
Twas an excellent dance, and for a preface I never heard a better.
Schoolemaster, I thanke you.--One see'em all rewarded.
And heer's something to paint your Pole withall.
Now to our sports againe.
May the Stag thou huntst stand long, And thy dogs be swift and strong: May they kill him without lets, And the Ladies eate his dowsets! Come, we are all made. [Winde Hornes.] Dij Deoeq(ue) omnes, ye have danc'd rarely, wenches. [Exeunt.]
Scaena 6. (Same as Scene III.)
[Enter Palamon from the Bush.]
About this houre my Cosen gave his faith To visit me againe, and with him bring Two Swords, and two good Armors; if he faile, He's neither man nor Souldier. When he left me, I did not thinke a weeke could have restord My lost strength to me, I was growne so low, And Crest-falne with my wants: I thanke thee, Arcite, Thou art yet a faire Foe; and I feele my selfe With this refreshing, able once againe To out dure danger: To delay it longer Would make the world think, when it comes to hearing, That I lay fatting like a Swine to fight, And not a Souldier: Therefore, this blest morning Shall be the last; and that Sword he refuses, If it but hold, I kill him with; tis Iustice: So love, and Fortune for me!--O, good morrow.
[Enter Arcite with Armors and Swords.]
Good morrow, noble kinesman.
I have put you to too much paines, Sir.
That too much, faire Cosen, Is but a debt to honour, and my duty.
Would you were so in all, Sir; I could wish ye As kinde a kinsman, as you force me finde A beneficiall foe, that my embraces Might thanke ye, not my blowes.