Grimalkin prate."-At noon I drink for thirst, at night Do I affect the favors of the court. for fellowship, but, above all, I love to usher in the I would be great, for greatness hath great power, bashful morning under the auspices of a freshening And that's the fruit I reach at— stoup of liquor. (Sings) “Ale in a Saxon rumkin then Great spirits ask great play-room. Who could sit, makes valor burgeon in tall men."-But, I crave With these prophetic swellings in my breast, pardon. I fear I keep that gentleman from serious That prick and goad me on, and never cease, thoughts. There be those that wait for me in the cellar. To the fortunes something tells me I was born to! Who, with such monitors within to stir him, Would sit him down, with lazy arms across, A unit, a thing without a name in the state, Who are they? WOODVIL. DRUNKEN MAN. Gentlemen, my good friends, Cleveland, Delaval, A something to be govern'd, not to govern, and Truby. I know by this time they are all clam- A fishing, hawking, hunting, country gentleman? orous for me. [Exit, singing. Now universal England getteth drunk With which she jingling goes through all her towns and villages. The baffled factions in their houses skulk: Nor yet to be seen whispering with some great one, SCENE II. Sherwood Forest. [Erit SIR WALTER WOODVIL. SIMON WOODVIL. (Disguised as Frenchmen.) SIR WALTER. How fares my boy, Simon, my youngest born? All hot, and young, court-seekers, like himself, I never thought but nobly of my brother, And mirth unpalatable, hours better employ'd SIR WALTER. I would not owe my life to a jealous court, SIR WALTER. I should have ta'en you else for other two, Well, my good cause, and my good conscience, boy, I came to seek in the forest. Shall be for sons to me, if John prove false. Of a noble death is not an every-day fortune: SIMON. Who are they? SIR WALTER. MARGARET. A gallant brace of Frenchmen, curled monsieurs, To an indifferent eye, both show alike. But all familiar objects in the scene, Which now ye miss, that constitute a difference [Smiling. Friends had ye, and much wealth, ye now have And take no note of all its slippery changes! Without the ills and falsehoods of the greater; SIMON. Only the dangerous errors, fond conceits As, namely, riches, honors, birth, place, courtesy, Soul-killing lies, and truths that work small good, (MARGARET enters in boy's apparel.) SIR WALTER. What pretty boy have we here? MARGARET. nothing; A little boon, and yet so great a grace, Bonjour, messieurs. Ye have handsome English faces. She fears to ask it. A scant petition, Margaret, but take it, [Addresses them both. Better the dead were gather'd to the dead, SIMON. Why, whither shall we go? SIR WALTER. You to the Court, where now your brother John MARGARET. In the name of the boy-god, who plays at hoodman-blind with the Muses, and cares not whom he catches; what is it you love? SIMON. Simply, all things that live, From the crook'd worm to man's imperial form, In the upper sky. The fish in th' other element, Yon tall and elegant stag, MARGARET. I myself love all these things, yet so as with a dif ference-for example, some animals better than others, some men rather than other men; the nightingale before the cuckoo, the swift and graceful palfrey before the slow and asinine mule. Your humor goes to confound all qualities. What sports do you use in the forest ?— SIMON. Not many; some few, as thus: To see the sun to bed, and to arise, Like some hot amourist with glowing eyes, Bursting the lazy bands of sleep that bound him, With all his fires and travelling glories round him. Sometimes the moon on soft night-clouds to rest, Like beauty nestling in a young man's breast, And all the winking stars, her handmaids, keep Admiring silence, while those lovers sleep. Sometimes outstretch'd, in very idleness, Nought doing, saying little, thinking less, To view the leaves, thin dancers upon air, Go eddying round; and small birds, how they fare, Where the world's fashion smiles on youth and beauty. When mother Autumn fills their beaks with corn, Luck to John! SIMON. A light-heel'd strumpet, when the sport is done. SIR WALTER. You to the sweet society of your equals, MARGARET. Filch'd from the careless Amalthea's horn; Where young men's flatteries cozen young maids' And how the woods berries and worms provide Without their pains, when earth has nought beside To view the graceful deer come tripping by, How fared my brother John, when you left Devon? To mark the structure of a plant or tree, For more devotion, to be sure.-(To a servant). Sirrah, fetch the gilt goblets. [The goblets are brought. They drink the king's health, kneeling. A shout of general approbation following the first appearance of the goblets. JOHN. We have here the unchecked virtues of the grape. How the vapors curl upwards! It were a life of gods to dwell in such an element: to see, and hear, and talk brave things. Now fie upon these casual potations. That a man's most exalted reason should depend upon the ignoble fermenting of a fruit which sparrows pluck at as well as we! GRAY (aside to Lovel). Observe how he is ravished. LOVEL. What be they? LOVEL The work of London artists, which our host has provided in honor of this day. SECOND GENTLEMAN. 'Sdeath, who would part with his wine for a rocket! LOVEL. Why truly, gentlemen, as our kind host has been at the pains to provide this spectacle, we can do no less than be present at it. It will not take up much time. Every man may return fresh and thirsting to his liquor. THIRD GENTLEMAN. There is reason in what he says. SECOND GENTLEMAN. Charge on then, bottle in hand. There's husbandry in that. [They go out, singing. Only Lovel remains, who observes Woodvil. JOHN (still talking to himself.) This Lovel here's of a tough honesty, Talks little, flatters less, and makes no promises; Vanity and gay thoughts of wine do meet in him, Why this is he, whom the dark-wisdom'd fate and engender madness. Might trust her counsels of predestination with, LOVEL [Seeing LOVEL To see the fire-works, where you will be expected to follow. But I perceive you are better engaged. JOHN. I have been meditating this half-hour May lawfully forswear himself for his friend; LOVEL. I think many men would die for their friends. JOHN. Death! why 't is nothing. We go to it for sport, venture on it, To cure the hot fits and cold shakings of jealousy. A friend, sir, must do more. LOVEL. Can he do more than die? JOHN. To serve a friend, this he may do. Pray mark me. |