[She sits her down.]
[Enter Bremo looking about, hastily taketh hold of her.]
BREMO. A happy prey! now, Bremo, feed on flesh. Dainties, Bremo, dainties, thy hungry panch to fill! Now glut thy greedy guts with luke warm blood! Come, fight with me, I long to see thee dead.
AMADINE. How can she fight that weapons cannot wield?
BREMO. What, canst not fight? then lie thou down and die.
AMADINE. What, must I die?
BREMO. What needs these words? I thirst to suck thy blood.
AMADINE. Yet pity me and let me live a while.
BREMO. No pity I, I'll feed upon thy flesh, I'll tear thy body piecemeal joint from joint.
AMADINE. Ah, now I want my shepherd's company.
BREMO. I'll crush thy bones betwixt two oaken trees.
AMADINE. Haste, shepherd, haste, or else thou comst too late.
BREMO. I'll suck the sweetness from thy marie bones.
AMADINE. Ah spare, ah spare to shed my guiltless blood!
BREMO. With this my bat will I beat out thy brains. Down, down, I say, prostrate thy self upon the ground.
AMADINE. Then, Mucedorus, farewell; my hoped joys, farewell. Yea, farewell life, and welcome present death!
[She kneels.]
To thee, O God, I yield my dying ghost.
BREMO. Now, Bremo, play thy part.-- How now, what sudden chance is this? My limbs do tremble and my sinews shake, My unweakened arms have lost their former force: Ah Bremo, Bremo, what a foil hast thou, That yet at no time ever wast afraid To dare the greatest gods to fight with thee,
[He strikes.]
And now want strength for one down driving blow! Ah, how my courage fails when I should strike: Some new come spirit, abiding in my breast, Sayth, 'spare her, Bremo, spare her, do not kill.' Shall I spare her which never spared any? To it, Bremo, to it, say again.-- I cannot wield my weapons in my hand; Me thinks I should not strike so fair a one: I think her beauty hath bewitched my force Or else with in me altered nature's course. Aye, woman, wilt thou live in woods with me?
AMADINE. Fain would I live, yet loath to live in woods.
BREMO. Thou shalt not choose, it shall be as I say, & therefore, follow me.
[Exit.]
ACT III. SCENE IV. The same.
[Enter Mucedorus solus.]
MUCEDORUS. It was my will an hour ago and more, As was my promise, for to make return, But other business hindered my pretence. It is a world to see when man appoints, And purposely one certain thing decrees, How many things may hinder his intent. What one would wish, the same is farthest off: But yet th' appointed time cannot be past, Nor hath her presence yet prevented me. Well, here I'll stay, and expect her coming.
[They cry within, 'hold him, stay him, hold.']
Some one or other is pursued, no doubt; Perhaps some search for me: tis good To doubt the worst, therefore I'll begone.
[Exit.]
ACT III. SCENE V. The same.
[Cry within 'hold him, hold him.' Enter Mouse the Clown with a pot.]
MOUSE. Hold him, hold him, hold him! here's a stir indeed. Here came hue after the crier: and I was set close at mother Nips' house, and there I called for three pots of ale, as tis the manner of us courtiers. Now, sirra, I had taken the maiden head of two of them. Now, as I was lifting up the third to my mouth, there came: hold him, hold him! now I could not tell whom to catch hold on, but I am sure I caught one: perchance a may be in this pot. Well, I'll see: mas, I cannot see him yet; well, I'll look a little further. Mas, he is a little slave, if a be here. Why, here's no body. All this goes well yet: but if the old trot should come for her pot--aye, marry, there's the matter, but I care not; I'll face her out, and call her old rusty, dusty, musty, fusty, crusty firebrand, and worse than all that, and so face her out of her pot: but soft, here she comes.
[Enter the old woman.]
OLD WOMAN. Come on, you knave: where's my pot, you knave?
MOUSE. Go look your pot: come not to me for your pot twere good for you.
OLD WOMAN. Thou liest, thou knave; thou hast my pot.