Rough. Hold! as you are a gentleman. I have ta'en an oath I will not fight to-day. Bess. Th'ast took a blow already, and the lie: Will not both these enrage thee? Rough. No; would you give the bastinado, too, Bess. Oh! your name's Roughman: Rough. I? you are deceiv'd. I ne'er drew sword in anger, I protest, Unless it were upon some poor, weak fellow, That ne'er wore steel about him. Bess. Throw your sword. Rough. Here, sweet young sir; but, as you are a gentleman, Do not impair mine honour. Bess. Tie that shoe. Rough. I shall, sir. Bess. Untruss that point. Rough. Any thing, this day, to save mine oath. Bess. Enough! yet not enough. Lie down, Till I stride o'er thee. Rough. Sweet, sir, any thing. Bess. Rise, thou hast leave. Now, Roughman, thou art blest: This day thy life is sav'd; look to the rest. Take back thy sword. Rough. Oh! you are generous: honour me so much As let me know to whom I owe my life. Bess. I am Bess Bridges' brother. Rough. Still methought you were something like her. Bess. And I have heard You domineer and revel in her house, Control her servants, and abuse her guests, Thou art but a dead man. Rough. She never told me of a brother living: have power to sway me. But you Bess. But for I see you are a gentleman, I am content this once to let you pass; But if I find you fall into relapse, The second's far more dangerous. Rough. I shall fear it. Sir, will you take the wine? Bess. I am for London, And for these two terms cannot make return; But if you see my sister, you may say I was in health. Rough. Too well: the devil take you! Bess. Pray, use her well, and at my coming back I'll ask for your acquaintance. Now, farewell. [Exit. Rough. None saw't: he's gone for London; I am unhurt; Then who shall publish this disgrace abroad? One man's no slander, should he speak his worst. Enter two Sailors. [Exit. 1 Sa. Aboard, aboard! the wind stands fair for Eng land; The ships have all weighed anchor. 2 Sail. A stiff gale blows from the shore. Enter Captain Goodlack. Goodl. The sailors call aboard, and I am fore'd To leave my friend now at the point of death, Five hundred pounds a year. Here is good evidence. 1 Sailor. Sir, will you take the long boat and aboard? Enter a third Sailor. Goodl. With all my heart. 3 Sail. What! are you ready, mates? 1 Sail. We stayed for you. Thou canst not tell who's dead? The great bell rung out now. 3 Sail. They say 'twas for one Spencer, who this night Died of a mortal wound. Goodl. My worthy friend: Unhappy man, that cannot stay behind, To do him his last rites!—Was his name Spencer? Goodl. This is the end of all mortality. Enter Spencer and his Surgeon. Surg. Nay, fear not, sir: now you have scap'd this dressing, My life for yours. Spenc. I thank thee, honest friend. Surg. Sir, I can tell you news. Spenc. What is't, I prithee? Surg. There is a gentleman, one of your name, That died within this hour. D Spenc. My name! What was he? Of what sick ness died he? Surg. No sickness, but a slight hurt in the body, Which showed at first no danger, but, being searched, He died at the third dressing. Spenc. At my third search I am in hope of life. The heavens are merciful. Surg. Sir, doubt not your recovery. Spenc. That hundred pound I had prepar'd t' expend Upon mine own expected funeral, I for name-sake will now bestow on his. Surg. A noble resolution. Spenc. What ships are bound for England? I would gladly Venture to sea, though weak. Surg. All bound that way are under sail already. Spenc. Here's no security; For when the beaten Spaniards shall return, They'll spoil whom they can find. Surg. We have a ship, Of which I am surgeon, that belongs unto A London merchant, now bound for Mamorah, A town in Barbary; please you to use that, You shall commend free passage: ten months hence, We hope to visit England. Spenc. Friend, I thank thee. Surg. I'll bring you to the master, who I know Will entertain you gladly. Spenc. When I have seen the funeral rites perform'd To the dead body of my countryman And kinsman, I will take your courteous offer. On her behaviour I will build my fate, There raise my love, or thence erect my hate. ACTUS TERTIUS, Scena Prima. Enter Roughman and Forset. Rough. Oh! y' are well met. Just as I prophecied, So it fell out. Fors. As how, I pray? Rough. Had you but stay'd the crossing of one field, You had beheld a Hector, the boldest Trojan That ever Roughman met with. Fors. Pray, what was he? Rough. You talk of Little Davy, Cutting Dick, Rough. Indeed, I must confess he was no giant, Fors. Here's to the house: we'll enter, if you please. say That will give no attendance? Enter Clem. Clem. Anon, anon, sir: please you see a room. What! you here, again? Now we shall have such roaring! Rough. You, sirrah, call your mistress. Clem. Yes, sir, I know it is my duty to call her mistress. Rough. See and the slave will stir! Clem. Yes, I do stir. Rough. Shall we have humours, sauce-box? You have ears: I'll teach you prick-song. |