[Enter 4. Country people, & one with a garlond before them.]
1. COUNTREYMAN
My Masters, ile be there, that’s certaine
2. COUNTREYMAN
And Ile be there.
3. COUNTREYMAN
And I.
4. COUNTREYMAN
Why, then, have with ye, Boyes; Tis but a chiding.
Let the plough play to day, ile tick’lt out
Of the Iades tailes to morrow.
1. COUNTREYMAN
I am sure
To have my wife as jealous as a Turkey:
But that’s all one; ile goe through, let her mumble.
2. COUNTREYMAN
Clap her aboard to morrow night, and stoa her,
And all’s made up againe.
3. COUNTREYMAN
I, doe but put a feskue in her fist, and you shall see her
Take a new lesson out, and be a good wench.
Doe we all hold against the Maying?
4. COUNTREYMAN
Hold? what should aile us?
3. COUNTREYMAN
Arcas will be there.
2. COUNTREYMAN
And Sennois.
And Rycas, and 3. better lads nev’r dancd
Under green Tree. And yee know what wenches: ha?
But will the dainty Domine, the Schoolemaster,
Keep touch, doe you thinke? for he do’s all, ye know.
3. COUNTREYMAN
Hee’l eate a hornebooke ere he faile: goe too, the matter’s too farre driven betweene him and the Tanners daughter, to let slip now, and she must see the Duke, and she must daunce too.
4. COUNTREYMAN
Shall we be lusty?
2. COUNTREYMAN
All the Boyes in Athens blow wind i’th breech on’s, and heere ile be and there ile be, for our Towne, and here againe, and there againe: ha, Boyes, heigh for the weavers.
1. COUNTREYMAN
This must be done i’th woods.
4. COUNTREYMAN
O, pardon me.
2. COUNTREYMAN
By any meanes, our thing of learning saies so:
Where he himselfe will edifie the Duke
Most parlously in our behalfes: hees excellent i’th woods;
Bring him to’th plaines, his learning makes no cry.
3. COUNTREYMAN
Weele see the sports, then; every man to’s Tackle:
And, Sweete Companions, lets rehearse by any meanes,
Before the Ladies see us, and doe sweetly,
And God knows what May come on’t.
4. COUNTREYMAN
Content; the sports once ended, wee’l performe.
Away, Boyes and hold.
ARCITE.
By your leaves, honest friends: pray you, whither goe you?
4. COUNTREYMAN
Whither? why, what a question’s that?
ARCITE.
Yes, tis a question, to me that know not.
3. COUNTREYMAN
To the Games, my Friend.
2. COUNTREYMAN
Where were you bred, you know it not?
ARCITE.
Not farre, Sir,
Are there such Games to day?
1. COUNTREYMAN
Yes, marry, are there:
And such as you neuer saw; The Duke himselfe
Will be in person there.
ARCITE.
What pastimes are they?
2. COUNTREYMAN
Wrastling, and Running.—Tis a pretty Fellow.
3. COUNTREYMAN
Thou wilt not goe along?
ARCITE.
Not yet, Sir.
4. COUNTREYMAN
Well, Sir,
Take your owne time: come, Boyes.
1. COUNTREYMAN
My minde misgives me;
This fellow has a veng’ance tricke o’th hip:
Marke how his Bodi’s made for’t
2. COUNTREYMAN
Ile be hangd, though,
If he dare venture; hang him, plumb porredge,
He wrastle? he rost eggs! Come, lets be gon, Lads. [Exeunt.]
ARCITE.
This is an offerd oportunity
I durst not wish for. Well I could have wrestled,
The best men calld it excellent, and run—
Swifter the winde upon a feild of Corne
(Curling the wealthy eares) never flew: Ile venture,
And in some poore disguize be there; who knowes
Whether my browes may not be girt with garlands?
And happines preferre me to a place,
Where I may ever dwell in sight of her. [Exit Arcite.]
Scaena 4. (Athens. A room in the prison.)
[Enter Iailors Daughter alone.]
DAUGHTER.
Why should I love this Gentleman? Tis odds
He never will affect me; I am base,
My Father the meane Keeper of his Prison,
And he a prince: To marry him is hopelesse;
To be his whore is witles. Out upon’t,
What pushes are we wenches driven to,
When fifteene once has found us! First, I saw him;
I (seeing) thought he was a goodly man;
He has as much to please a woman in him,
(If he please to bestow it so) as ever
These eyes yet lookt on. Next, I pittied him,
And so would any young wench, o’ my Conscience,
That ever dream’d, or vow’d her Maydenhead
To a yong hansom Man; Then I lov’d him,
Extreamely lov’d him, infinitely lov’d him;
And yet he had a Cosen, faire as he too.
But in my heart was Palamon, and there,
Lord, what a coyle he keepes! To heare him
Sing in an evening, what a heaven it is!
And yet his Songs are sad ones. Fairer spoken