The Merry Devil
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William Shakespeare >> The Merry Devil
LADY.
Husband, it was so; he lies not in that.
CLARE.
Hold thy chat, queane.
OLD MOUNTCHESNEY.
To which I hearkned willingly, and the rather,
Because I was persuaded it proceeded
From love thou bor'st to me and to my boy;
And gav'st him free access unto thy house,
Here he hath not behaved him to thy child,
But as befits a gentleman to do:
Nor is my poor distressed state so low,
That I'll shut up my doors, I warrant thee.
CLARE.
Let it suffice, Mountchensey, I mislike it;
Nor think thy son a match fit for my child.
MOUNTCHENSEY.
I tell thee, Clare, his blood is good and clear
As the best drop that panteth in thy veins:
But for this maid, thy fair and vertuous child,
She is no more disparaged by thy baseness
Then the most orient and the pretious jewell,
Which still retains his lustre and his beauty,
Although a slave were owner of the same.
CLARE.
She is the last is left me to bestow,
And her I mean to dedicate to God.
MOUNTCHENSEY.
You do, sir?
CLARE.
Sir, sir, I do, she is mine own.
MOUNTCHENSEY.
And pity she is so!
Damnation dog thee and thy wretched pelf!
[Aside.]
CLARE.
Not thou, Mountchensey, shalt bestow my child.
MOUNTCHENSEY.
Neither shouldst thou bestow her where thou mean'st.
CLARE.
What wilt thou do?
MOUNTCHENSEY.
No matter, let that be;
I will do that, perhaps, shall anger thee:
Thou hast wrongd my love, and, by God's blessed Angell,
Thou shalt well know it.
CLARE.
Tut, brave not me.
MOUNTCHENSEY.
Brave thee, base Churle! were't not for man-hood sake--
I say no more, but that there be some by
Whose blood is hotter then ours is,
Which being stird might make us both repent
This foolish meeting. But, Harry Clare,
Although thy father have abused my friendship,
Yet I love thee, I do, my noble boy,
I do, yfaith.
LADY.
Aye, do, do!
Fill the world with talk of us, man, man;
I never lookt for better at your hands.
FABELL.
I hop'd your great experience and your years
Would have proved patience rather to your soul,
Then with this frantique and untamed passion
To whet their skeens; and, but for that
I hope their friendships are too well confirmd,
And their minds temperd with more kindly heat,
Then for their froward parents soars
That they should break forth into publique brawles--
How ere the rough hand of th' untoward world
Hath moulded your proceedings in this matter,
Yet I am sure the first intent was love:
Then since the first spring was so sweet and warm,
Let it die gently; ne'er kill it with a scorn.
RAY.
O thou base world, how leprous is that soul
That is once lim'd in that polluted mud!
Oh, sir Arthur, you have startled his free active spirits
With a too sharp spur for his mind to bear.
Have patience, sir: the remedy to woe
Is to leave what of force we must forgo.
MILLISCENT.
And I must take a twelve months approbation,
That in mean time this sole and private life
At the years end may fashion me a wife:
But, sweet Mounchensey, ere this year be done,
Thou'st be a frier, if that I be a Nun.
And, father, ere young Jerningham's I'll be,
I will turn mad to spite both him and thee.
CLARE.
Wife, come, to horse, and huswife, make you ready;
For, if I live, I swear by this good light,
I'll see you lodged in Chesson house to night.
[Exeunt.]
MOUNTCHESNEY.
Raymond, away! Thou seest how matters fall.
Churle, hell consume thee, and thy pelf, and all!
FABELL.
Now, Master Clare, you see how matters fadge;
Your Milliscent must needs be made a Nune.
Well, sir, we are the men must ply this match:
Hold you your peace, and be a looker on,
And send her unto Chesson--where he will,
I'll send me fellows of a handful hie
Into the Cloysters where the Nuns frequent,
Shall make them skip like Does about the Dale,
And with the Lady prioress of the house
To play at leap-frog, naked in their smocks,
Until the merry wenches at their mass
Cry teehee weehee;
And tickling these mad lasses in their flanks,
They'll sprawl, and squeak, and pinch their fellow Nuns.
Be lively, boys, before the wench we lose,
I'll make the Abbas wear the Cannons hose.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. The same.
[Enter Harry Clare, Frank Jerningham, Peter Fabell, and
Milliscent.]
HARRY CLARE.
Spight now hath done her worst; sister, be patient.
JERNINGHAM.
Forewarned poor Raymonds company! O heaven!
When the composure of weak frailty meet
Upon this mart of durt, O, then weak love
Must in her own unhappiness be silent,
And winck on all deformities.
MILLISCENT.
Tis well:
Where's Raymond, brother? where's my dear Mounchensey?
Would we might weep together and then part;
Our sighing parle would much ease my heart.
FABELL.
Sweet beauty, fold your sorrows in the thought
Of future reconcilement: let your tears
Shew you a woman; but be no farther spent
Then from the eyes; for, sweet, experience says
That love is firm that's flattered with delays.
MILLISCENT.
Alas, sir, think you I shall ere be his?
FABELL.
As sure as parting smiles on future bliss.
Yond comes my friend: see, he hath doted
So long upon your beauty, that your want
Will with a pale retirement waste his blood;
For in true love Musicke doth sweetly dwell:
Severed, these less worlds bear within them hell.
[Enter Mounchensey.]
MOUNCHENSEY.
Harry and Francke, you are enjoined to wain
Your friendship from me; we must part: the breath
Of all advised corruption--pardon me!
Faith, I must say so;--you may think I love you;
I breath not, rougher spight do sever us;
We'll meet by stealth, sweet friend,--by stealth, you twain;
Kisses are sweetest got with struggling pain.
JERNINGHAM.
Our friendship dies not, Raymond.
MOUNCHENSEY.
Pardon me:
I am busied; I have lost my faculties,
And buried them in Milliscent's clear eyes.
MILLISCENT.
Alas, sweet Love, what shall become of me?
I must to Chesson to the Nunry,
I shall ne'er see thee more.
MOUNCHENSEY.
How, sweet?
I'll be thy votary, we'll often meet:
This kiss divides us, and breathes soft adieu,--
This be a double charm to keep both true.
FABELL.
Have done: your fathers may chance spy your parting.
Refuse not you by any means, good sweetness,
To go unto the Nunnery; far from hence
Must we beget your love's sweet happiness.
You shall not stay there long; your harder bed
Shall be more soft when Nun and maid are dead.
[Enter Bilbo.]
MOUNCHENSEY.
Now, sirra, what's the matter?
BILBO.
Marry, you must to horse presently; that villainous old
gouty churl, Sir Arthur Clare, longs till he be at the Nunry.
HARRY CLARE.
How, sir?
BILBO.
O, I cry you mercy, he is your father, sir, indeed; but I am
sure that there's less affinity betwixt your two natures then
there is between a broker and a cutpurse.
MOUNCHENSEY.
Bring my gelding, sirra.
BILBO.
Well, nothing grieves me, but for the poor wench; she must
now cry vale to Lobster pies, hartichokes, and all such meats
of mortality; poor gentlewoman, the sign must not be in virgo
any longer with her, and that me grieves full well.
Poor Milliscent
Must pray and repent:
O fatal wonder!
She'll now be no fatter,
Love must not come at her
Yet she shall be kept under.
[Exit.]
JERNINGHAM.
Farewell, dear Raymond.
HARRY CLARE.
Friend, adieu.
MILLISCENT.
Dear sweet,
No joy enjoys my heart till we next meet.
[Exeunt.]
FABELL.
Well, Raymond, now the tide of discontent
Beats in thy face; but, er't be long, the wind
Shall turn the flood. We must to Waltham abbey,
And as fair Milliscent in Cheston lives,
A most unwilling Nun, so thou shalt there
Become a beardless Novice; to what end,
Let time and future accidents declare:
Taste thou my sleights, thy love I'll only share.
MOUNCHENSEY.
Turn friar? Come, my good Counsellor, let's go,
Yet that disguise will hardly shroud my woe.
[Exeunt.]
ACT III.
SCENE I. Cheston Priory.
[Enter the Prioress of Cheston, with a Nun or two, Sir Arthur
Clare, Sir Raph Jerningham, Henry and Francke, the Lady, and
Bilbo, with Millisent.]
LADY CLARE.
Madam,
The love unto this holy sisterhood,
And our confirmd opinion of your zeal
Hath truly won us to bestow our Child
Rather on this then any neighbouring Cell.
PRIORESS.
Jesus daughter, Mary's child,
Holy matron, woman mild,
For thee a mass shall still be said,
Every sister drop a bead;
And those again succeeding them
For you shall sing a Requiem.
FRANK.
The wench is gone, harry; she is no more a woman of this
world: mark her well, she looks like a Nun already. What
thinkst on her?
HARRY.
By my faith, her face comes handsomely to 't. But peace,
let's hear the rest.
SIR ARTHUR.
Madam, for a twelvemonths approbation,
We mean to make this trial of our child.
Your care and our dear blessing in mean time
We pray may prosper this intended work.
PRIORESS.
May your happy soul be blithe,
That so truly pay your tithe:
He who many children gave,
Tis fit that he one child should have.
Then, fair virgin, hear my spell,
For I must your duty tell.
MILLISCENT.
--Good men and true, stand together, and hear your charge.
PRIORESS.
First, a mornings take your book,
The glass wherein your self must look;
Your young thoughts, so proud and jolly,
Must be turnd to motions holy;
For your busk, attires, and toys
Have your thoughts on heavenly joys;
And for all your follies past
You must do penance, pray, and fast.
BILBO.
--Let her take heed of fasting; and if ever she hurt her self
with praying, I'll ne'er trust beast.
MILLISCENT.
--This goes hard, berladye!
PRIORESS.
You shall ring the sacring bell,
Keep your hours, and tell your knell,
Rise at midnight at your matins,
Read your Psalter, sing your latins,
And when your blood shall kindle pleasure,
Scourge your self in plenteous measure.
MILLISCENT.
--Worse and worse, by Saint Mary.
FRANK.
--Sirra Hal, how does she hold her countenance? Well, go thy
ways, if ever thou prove a Nun, I'll build an Abbey.
HARRY.
--She may be a Nun; but if ever she prove an Anchoress, I'll
dig her grave with my nails.
FRANK.
--To her again, mother!
HARRY.
--Hold thine own, wench!
PRIORESS.
You must read the mornings mass,
You must creep unto the Cross,
Put cold ashes on your head,
Have a hair cloth for your bed.
BILBO.
--She had rather have a man in her bed.
PRIORESS.
Bid your beads, and tell your needs,
Your holy Avies, and you Creeds;
Holy maid, this must be done,
If you mean to live a Nun.
MILLISCENT.
--The holy maid will be no Nun.
SIR ARTHUR.
Madam, we have some business of import,
And must be gone.
Wilt please you take my wife into your closet,
Who further will acquaint you with my mind;
And so, good madam, for this time adieu.
[Exeunt women.]
SIR RALPH.
Well now, Francke Jerningham, how sayest thou?
To be brief,--
What wilt thou say for all this, if we two,
Her father and my self, can bring about,
That we convert this Nun to be a wife,
And thou the husband to this pretty Nun?
How, then, my lad? ha, Francke, it may be done.
HARRY.
--Aye, now it works.
FRANCKE.
O God, sir, you amaze me at your words;
Think with your self, sir, what a thing it were
To cause a recluse to remove her vow:
A maimed, contrite, and repentant soul,
Ever mortified with fasting and with prayer,
Whose thoughts, even as her eyes, are fixd on heaven,
To draw a virgin, thus devour'd with zeal,
Back to the world: O impious deed!
Nor by the Canon Law can it be done
Without a dispensation from the Church:
Besides, she is so prone unto this life,
As she'll even shriek to hear a husband named.
BILBO.
Aye, a poor innocent she! Well, here's no knavery; he flouts
the old fools to their teeth.
SIR RAPH.
Boy, I am glad to hear
Thou mak'st such scruple of that conscience;
And in a man so young as in your self,
I promise you tis very seldom seen.
But Franke, this is a trick, a mere devise,
A sleight plotted betwixt her father and my self,
To thrust Mounchensey's nose besides the cushion;
That, being thus behard of all access,
Time yet may work him from her thoughts,
And give thee ample scope to thy desires.
BILBO.
--A plague on you both for a couple of Jews!
HENRY.
--How now, Franke, what say you to that?
FRANCKE.
--Let me alone, I warrant thee.--
Sir, assured that this motion doth proceed
From your most kind and fatherly affection,
I do dispose my liking to your pleasure:
But for it is a matter of such moment
As holy marriage, I must crave thus much,
To have some conference iwth my ghostly father,
Friar Hildersham, here by, at Waltham Abbey,
To be absolude of things that it is fit
None only but my confessor should know.
SIR RAPH.
With all my heart: he is a reverend man;
And to morrorw morning we will meet all at the Abbey,
Where by th' opinion of that reverend man
We will proceed; I like it passing well.
Till then we part, boy; aye, think of it; farewell!
A parent's care no mortal tongue can tell.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE II. Before the Priory Gate.
[Enter Sir Arthur Clare, and Raymond Mounchensey, like a
Friar.]
SIR ARTHUR.
Holy young Novice, I have told you now
My full intent, and do refer the rest
To your professed secrecy and care:
And see,
Our serious speech hath stolen upon the way,
That we are come unto the Abbey gate.
Because I know Mountchensey is a fox,
That craftily doth overlook my doings,
I'll not be seen, not I. Tush, I have done:
I had a daughter, but she's now a Nun.
Farewell, dear son, farewell.
MOUNTCHENSEY.
Fare you well!--Aye, you have done!
Your daughter, sir, shall not be long a Nun.
O my rare Tutor! never mortal brain
Plotted out such a mass of policy;
And my dear bosom is so great with laughter,
Begot by his simplicity and error,
My soul is fallen in labour with her joy.
O my true friends, Franke Jerningham and Clare,
Did you now know but how this jest takes fire--
That good sir Arthur, thinking me a novice,
Hath even poured himself into my bosom,
O, you would vent your spleens with tickling mirth!
But, Raymond, peace, and have an eye about,
For fear perhaps some of the Nuns look out.
Peace and charity within,
Never touch't with deadly sin;
I cast my holy water pure
On this wall and on this door,
That from evil shall defend,
And keep you from the ugly fiend:
Evil spirit, by night nor day,
Shall approach or come this way;
Elf nor Fairy, by this grace,
Day nor night shall haunt this place.
Holy maidens!
[Knock.]
[Answer within.] Who's that which knocks? ha, who's there?
MOUNTCHENSEY.
Gentle Nun, here is a Friar.
[Enter Nun.]
NUN.
A Friar without, now Christ us save!
Holy man, what wouldst thou have?
MOUNTCHENSEY.
Holy maid, I hither come
From Friar and father Hildersome,
By the favour and the grace
Of the Prioress of this place,
Amongst you all to visit one
That's come for approbation;
Before she was as now you are,
The daughter of Sir Arthur Clare,
But since she now became a Nune,
Call'd Milliscnet of Edmunton.
NUN.
Holy man, repose you there;
This news I'll to our Abbess bear,
To tell her what a man is sent,
And your message and intent.
MOUNTCHENSEY.
Benedicite.
NUN.
Benedicite.
[Exit.]
MOUNTCHENSEY.
Do, my good plump wench; if all fall right,
I'll make your sister-hood one less by night.
Now happy fortune speed this merry drift,
I like a wench comes roundly to her shrift.
[Enter Lady, Milliscent.]
LADY.
Have Friars recourse then to the house of Nuns?
MILLISCENT.
Madam, it is the order of this place,
When any virgin comes for approbation,--
Lest that for fear or such sinister practise
She should be forced to undergo this veil,
Which should proceed from conscience and devotion,--
A visitor is sent from Waltham house,
To take the true confession of the maid.
LADY.
Is that the order? I commend it well:
You to your shrift, I'll back unto the cell.
[Exit.]
MOUNTCHENSEY.
Life of my soul! bright Angel!
MILLISCENT.
What means the Friar?
MOUNTCHENSEY.
O Milliscent, tis I.
MILLISCENT.
My heart misgives me; I should know that voice.
You? who are you? The holy virgin bless me!
Tell me your name: you shall, ere you confess me.
MOUNTCHENSEY.
Mountchensey, thy true friend.
MILLISCENT.
My Raymond, my dear heart!
Sweet life, give leave to my distracted soul,
To wake a little from this swoon of joy.
By what means camst thou to assume this shape?
MOUNTCHENSEY.
By means of Peter Fabell, my kind Tutor,
Who in the habit of Friar Hildersham,
Franke Jerningham's old friend and confessor,
Helped me to act the part of priestly novice,
Plotted by Franke, by Fabell and my self,
And so delivered to Sir Arthur Clare,
Who brought me here unto the Abbey gate,
To be his Nun-made daughter's visitor.
MILLISCENT.
You are all sweet traitors to my poor old father.
O my dear life! I was a dream't to night
That, as I was a praying in mine Psalter,
There came a spirit unto me as I kneeled,
And by his strong persuasions tempted me
To leave this Nunry; and me thought
He came in the most glorious Angel shape,
That mortal eye did ever look upon.
Ha, thou art sure that spirit, for there's no form
Is in mine eye so glorious as thine own.
MOUNTCHENSEY.
O thou Idolatress, that dost this worship
To him whose likeness is but praise of thee!
Thou bright unsetting star, which through this veil,
For very envy, mak'st the Sun look pale!
MILLISCENT.
Well, visitor, lest that perhaps my mother
Should think the Friar too strickt in his decrees,
I this confess to my sweet ghostly father:
If chast pure love be sin, I must confess,
I have offended three years now with thee.
MOUNTCHENSEY.
But do you yet repent you of the same?
MILLISCENT.
Yfaith, I cannot.
MOUNTCHENSEY.
Nor will I absolve thee
Of that sweet sin, though it be venial;
Yet have the penance of a thousand kisses,
And I enjoin you to this pilgrimage:
That in the evening you bestow your self
Here in the walk near to the willow ground,
Where I'll be ready both with men and horse
To wait your coming, and convey you hence
Unto a lodge I have in Enfield chase.
No more reply, if that you yield consent--
I see more eyes upon our stay are bent.
MILLISCENT.
Sweet life, farewell! Tis done: let that suffice;
What my tongue fails, I send thee by mine eyes.
[Exit]
[Enter Fabell, Clare, and Jerningham.]
JERNINGHAM.
Now, Visitor, how does this new made Nun?
CLARE.
Come, come, how does she, noble Capouchin?
MOUNTCHENSEY.
She may be poor in spirit, but for the flesh,
Tis fat and plump, boys. Ah, rogues, there is
A company of girls would turn you all Friars.
FABELL.
But how, Mountchensey? how, lad, for the wench?
MOUNTCHENSEY.
Sound, lads, yfaith; I thank my holy habit,
I have confest her, and the Lady Prioress
Hath given me ghostly counsel with her blessing.
And how say ye, boys,
If I be chose the weekly visitor?
CLARE.
Z'blood, she'll have nere a Nun unbagd to sing mass then.
JERNINGHAM.
The Abbot of Waltham will have as many Children to put to
nurse as he has calves in the Marsh.
MOUNTCHENSEY.
Well, to be brief, the Nun will soon at night turn tippit;
if I can but devise to quit her cleanly of the Nunry, she
is mine own.
FABELL.
But, Sirra Raymond,
What news of Peter Fabell at the house?
MOUNTCHENSEY.
Tush, he's the only man;
A Necromancer and a Conjurer
That works for young Mountchensey altogether;
And if it be not for Friar Benedick,
That he can cross him by his learned skill,
The Wench is gone;
Fabell will fetch her out by very magick.
FABELL.
Stands the wind there, boy? keep them in that key.
The wench is ours before to-morrow day.
Well, Hal and Frank, as ye are gentlemen,
Stick to us close this once! You know your fathers
Have men and horse lie ready still at Chesson,
To watch the coast be clear, to scout about,
And have an eye unto Mountchensey's walks:
Therefore you two may hover thereabouts,
And no man will uspect you for the matter;
Be ready but to take her at our hands,
Leave us to scamble for her getting out.
JERNINGHAM.
Z'blood, if all Herford-shire were at our heels,
We'll carry her away in spite of them.
CLARE.
But whither, Raymond?
MOUNTCHENSEY.
To Brian's upper lodge in Enfield Chase;
He is mine honest Friend and a tall keeper;
I'll send my man unto him presently
T' acquaint him with your coming and intent.
FABELL.
Be brief and secret.
MOUNTCHENSEY.
Soon at night remember
You bring your horses to the willow ground.
JERNINGHAM.
Tis done; no more!
CLARE.
We will not fail the hour.
My life and fortune now lies in your power.
FABELL.
About our business! Raymond, let's away!
Think of your hour; it draws well of the day.
[Exit.]
ACT IV.
SCENE I. Enfield Chase.
[Enter Blague, Smug, and Sir John.]
BLAGUE.
Come, ye Hungarian pilchers, we are once more come under the
zona torrida of the forest. Let's be resolute, let's fly to
and again; and if the devil come, we'll put him to his
Interrogatories, and not budge a foot. What? s'foot, I'll
put fire into you, ye shall all three serve the good Duke of
Norfolk.
SMUG.
Mine host, my bully, my pretious consull, my noble Holofernes,
I have been drunk i' thy house twenty times and ten, all's for
that: I was last night in the third heavens, my brain was
poor, it had yest in 't; but now I am a man of action; is
't not so, lad?
BANKS.
Why, now thou hast two of the liberall sciences about thee,
wit and reason, thou maist serve the Duke of Europe.
SMUG.
I will serve the Duke of Christendom, and do him more credit
in his celler then all the plate in his buttery; is 't not
so, lad?
SIR JOHN.
Mine host and Smug, stand there; Banks, you and your horse
keep together; but lie close, shew no tricks, for fear of
the keeper. If we be scared, we'll meet in the Church-porch
at Enfield.
SMUG.
Content, sir John.
BANKS.
Smug, dost not thou remember the tree thou felst out of last
Night?
SMUG.
Tush, and 't had been as high as the Abbey, I should nere
have hurt my self; I have fallen into the river, coming home
from Waltham, and scapt drowning.
SIR JOHN.
Come, sever, fear no sprits! We'll have a Buck presently;
we have watched later then this for a Doe, mine Host.
HOST.
Thou speakst as true as velvet.
SIR JOHN.
Why then, come! Grass and hay, etc.
[Exeunt.]
[Enter Clare, Jerningham, and Milliscent.]
CLARE.
Franke Jerningham!
JERNINGHAM.
Speak softly, rogue; how now?
CLARE.
S'foot, we shall lose our way, it's so dark; whereabouts
are we?
JERNINGHAM.
Why, man, at Potters gate; the way lies right: hark! the
clock strikes at Enfield; what's the hour?
CLARE.
Ten, the bell says.
JERNINGHAM.
A lies in's throat, it was but eight when we set out of
Chesson. Sir John and his Sexton are at ale to night, the
clock runs at random.
CLARE.
Nay, as sure as thou liv'st, the villanous vicar is abroad
in the chase this dark night: the stone Priest steals more
venison then half the country.
JERNINGHAM.
Milliscent, how dost thou?
MILLISCENT.
Sir, very well.
I would to God we were at Brians lodge.
CLARE.
We shall anon; z'ounds, hark! What means this noise?
JERNINGHAM.
Stay, I hear horsemen.
CLARE.
I hear footmen too.
JERNINGHAM.
Nay, then I have it: we have been discovered,
And we are followed by our fathers men.
MILLISCENT.
Brother and friend, alas, what shall we do?
CLARE.
Sister, speak softly, or we are descried.
They are hard upon us, what so ere they be,
Shadow your self behind this brake of fern,
We'll get into the wood, and let them pass.
[Enter Sir John, Blague, Smug, and Banks, one after another.]
SIR JOHN.
Grass and hay! we are all mortall; the keepers abroad, and
there's an end.
BANKS.
Sir John!
SIR JOHN.
Neighbour Banks, what news?
BANKS.
Z'wounds, Sir John, the keepers are abroad; I was hard by 'am.
SIR JOHN.
Grass and hay! where's mine host Blague?
BLAGUE.
Here, Metrapolitane. The philistines are upon us, be silent;
let us serve the good Duke of Norfolk. But where is Smug?
SMUG.
Here; a pox on ye all, dogs; I have kild the greatest Buck
in Brians walk. Shift for your selves, all the keepers are
up: let's meet in Enfield church porch; away, we are all
taken else.
[Exeunt.]
[Enter Brian, with his man, and his hound.]
BRIAN.
Raph, hearst thou any stirring?
RAPH.
I heard one speak here hard by, in the bottom. Peace, Maister,
speak low; zownes, if I did not hear a bow go off, and the
Buck bray, I never heard deer in my life.
BRIAN.
When went your fellows out into their walks?
RAPH.
An hour ago.
BRIAN.
S'life, is there stealers abroad, and they cannot hear
Of them: where the devil are my men to night?
Sirra, go up the wind towards Buckleyes lodge.
I'll cast about the bottom with my hound,
And I will meet thee under Cony ocke.
RAPH.
I will, Sir.
BRIAN.
How now? by the mass, my hound stays upon something; hark,
hark, Bowman, hark, hark, there!
MILLISCENT.
Brother, Frank Jerningham, brother Clare!
BRIAN.
Peace; that's a woman's voice! Stand! who's there? Stand,
or I'll shoot.
MILLISCENT.
O Lord! hold your hands, I mean no harm, sir.
BRIAN.
Speak, who are you?
MILLISCENT.
I am a maid, sir; who? Master Brian?
BRIAN.
The very same; sure, I should know her voice;
Mistris Milliscent?
MILLISCENT.
Aye, it is I, sir.
BRIAN.
God for his passion! what make you here alone?
I lookd for you at my lodge an hour ago.
What means your company to leave you thus?
Who brought you hither?
MILLISCENT.
My brother, Sir, and Master Jerningham,
Who, hearing folks about us in the Chase,
Feard it had been sir Ralph and my father,
Who had pursude us, thus dispearsed our selves,
Till they were past us.