You lazy feasters at another's cost, Being indeed but foul excrescences, I marvel all this while where the old gentleman has found means to secrete himself. It seems no Who act up to the height your master's vices, man has heard of him since the day of the King's But cannot read his virtues in your bond: return. Can any tell why our young master, being Which of you, as I enter'd, spake of betraying? favored by the court, should not have interest to pro-Was it you, or you, or, thin-face, was it you? cure his father's pardon? DANIEL. Marry, I think 't is the obstinacy of the old Knight, that will not be beholden to the court for his safety. MARTIN. Now that is wilful. FRANCIS. MARTIN. SANDFORD. No prating, loon, but tell me who he was, You miserable men, But can any tell me the place of his concealment? With minds more slavish than your slave's estate, PETER. That cannot I; but I have my conjectures. DANIEL. Have you that noble bounty so forgot, Which took you from the looms, and from the plows Two hundred pounds, as I hear, to the man that And entertain'd ye in a worthy service, shall apprehend him. I hope there is none in this company would be And quickly too: ye had better, for I see mean enough to betray him. Young mistress Margaret coming this way. [Exeunt all but SANDFORD. O Lord! surely not. ALL. [They drink to SIR WALTER's safety. Enter MARGARET, as in a fright, pursued by a Gentleman, who, seeing SANDFORD, retires muttering a Good morrow to my fair mistress. "T was a chance On chiding hence these graceless serving-men, "T is thought he is no great friend to the present Without debauch and mistimed riotings. happy establishment. All things seem changed, I think. I had a friend Some are too tame, that were too splenetic once. SANDFORD. "T were best he should be told of these affronts. I am the daughter of his father's friend, I am not his servant-maid, that I should wait I am somewhat proud: and Woodvil taught me pride. None once so pleasant in his eyes as Margaret: His flatteries taught me first this self-esteem, And ladies envied me the love of Woodvil. SANDFORD. He doth affect the courtier's life too much, Whose art is to forget, Portray without its terrors, painting lies MARGARET. I have thought on every possible event, The dangers and discouragements you speak of, SANDFORD. Now God forbid; think twice of this, dear lady. MARGARET. I pray you spare me, Mr. Sandford, SANDFORD. But what course have you thought on? MARGARET. To seek Sir Walter in the forest of Sherwood. Of their concealment, place, and manner of life, All which I have perused with so attent One meaning in two words, Sherwood and Liberty "Tis you that must provide now The means of my departure, which for safety SANDFORD. Since you will have it so, (My careful age trembles at all may happen), I will engage to furnish you: And that has wrought this seeming change in him, I have the keys of the wardrobe, and can fit you That was by nature noble. "T is these court-plagues, that swarm about our house, MARGARET. I know not how it is; A cold protector is John grown to me. The mistress, and presumptive wife, of Woodvil A man, her equal, to redress those wrongs, To leave this house this night, and lukewarm John, With garments to your size. I know a suit Of lively Lincoln green, that shall much grace you MARGARET. That once this day and night were fairly past! ACT II. SCENE I. [Exeunt divers ways. An apartment in Woodvil Hall. JOHN WOODVIL-alone. "WHEN Love grows cold, and indifference has usurp ed upon old esteem, it is no marvel if the world begin to account that dependence, which hitherto has been esteemed honorable shelter. The course I have taken (in leaving this house, not easily wrought thereunto), seemed to me best for the once-for-all releasing of yourself (who in times past have deserved well of me) from the now daily, and not-to-be-endured, tribute of forced love, and ill-dissembled reluctance of affection. "MARGARET." Gone! gone! my girl? so hasty, Margaret! Where he hath ventures? does not rather muffle To suit the melancholy dull "farewell," But 't is the common error of your sex, Which into maxims pass, and apophthegms I know them all. They are jealous, when our larger hearts receive To him enters LOVEL LOVEL. Bless us, Woodvil! what is the matter? I protest, man, I thought you had been weeping. WOODVIL. Nothing is the matter, only the wench has forced some water into my eyes, which will quickly disband. WOODVIL. To say the truth, my love for her has of late stopt short on this side idolatry. LOVEL. As all good Christians' should, I think. WOODVIL. I am sure, I could have loved her still within the limits of warrantable love. .LOVEL. A kind of brotherly affection, I take it. WOODVIL. We should have made excellent man and wife in time. LOVEL. A good old couple, when the snows fell, to crowd about a sea-coal fire, and talk over old matters. WOODVIL. While each should feel, what neither cared to acknowledge, that stories oft repeated may, at last, come to lose some of their grace by the repetition. LOVEL. Which both of you may yet live long enough to discover. For, take my word for it, Margaret is a bird that will come back to you without a lure. WOODVIL. Never, never, Lovel. Spite of my levity, with tears I confess it, she was a lady of most confirmed honor, of an unmatchable spirit, and determinable in all virtuous resolutions; not hasty to anticipate an affront, nor slow to feel, where just provocation was given. LOVEL. What made you neglect her, then? WOODVIL. Mere levity and youthfulness of blood, a malady incident to young men: physicians call it caprice. Nothing else. He, that slighted her, knew her value. and 't is odds, but, for thy sake, Margaret, John will yet go to his grave a bachelor. [A noise heard, as of one drunk and singing. LOVEL. Here comes one, that will quickly dissipate these humors. (Enter one drunk.) DRUNKEN MAN. Good-morrow to you, gentlemen. Mr. Lovel, I am your humble servant. Honest Jack Woodvil, I will get drunk with you to-morrow. WOODVIL. And why to-morrow, honest Mr. Freeman? DRUNKEN MAN. LAMB'S POETICAL WORKS. 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 makes valor burgeon in tall men."-But, I crave pardon. I fear I keep that gentleman from serious thoughts. There be those that wait for me in the cellar. Who are they? WOODVIL. DRUNKEN MAN. Great spirits ask great play-room. Who could sit, Gentlemen, my good friends, Cleveland, Delaval, and Truby. I know by this time they are all clam- A fishing, hawking, hunting, country gentleman? [Exit, singing. orous for me. WOODVIL. This keeping of open house acquaints a man with strange companions. (Enter, at another door, Three calling for HARRY FREEMAN.) Harry Freeman, Harry Freeman. He is not here. Let us go look for him. Where is Harry? Did [Exeunt the Three, calling for FREEMAN. WOODVIL. you ever see such gentry? (laughing.) These are they that fatten on ale and tobacco in a morning, drink burnt brandy at noon to promote digestion, and piously conclude with quart bumpers after supper, to prove their loyalty. LOVEL. Come, shall we adjourn to the Tennis Court? JOHN WOODVIL (alone). Now universal England getteth drunk With which she jingling goes through all her towns and villages. The baffled factions in their houses skulk: Some shallow mouths cry out, that I am smit Nor yet to be seen whispering with some great one, SCENE II. Sherwood Forest. SIR WALTER WOODVIL. SIMON WOODVIL (Disguised as Frenchmen.) SIR WALTER. [Erit How fares my boy, Simon, my youngest born? All hot, and young, court-seekers, like himself, Whose shallow policy I know |