ÆäÀÌÁö À̹ÌÁö
PDF
ePub

Wil. Not a drop!

Win. Troth I bear thee a good will for thy honest, old, dead father's sake.

Wil. I do thankfully perceive it, sir. Your placing me in Sir Edward's family some nine months ago, when my poor father died, and left me friendless, will never out of my memory.

Win, Tut, boy! no merit of mine in assisting the friendless; 'tis our duty. I could never abide to see honest industry chop-fallen; I love to have folks merry about me, to my heart.

Wil. I would you could instil some mirth into our good master, Sir Edward. You are an old domestic, the only one he brought with him, two years back, from Kent; and might venture to give his spirits a jog. He seems devoured with spleen and melancholy.

Win. You are a prying boy-go to! I have told thee, a score of times, I would not have thee curious about our worthy master's humour.

Wil. I should cease to pray, sir, would you but once (as I think you have more than once seemed inclined,) gratify my much-raised curiosity.

Win. What, greenhorn! dost think to trap the old man? Go thy ways, boy! I have a head: old Adam Winterton can sift a subtle speech to the bottom.

Wil. Ah! good sir, you need not tell me that. Young as I am, I can admire that experience in another, which I want myself.

Win. [Aside.] There is something marvellously engaging in this young man. Sixty years ago, in Queen Elizabeth's time, I was just such another.-[Aloud.] Well, beware how you offend Sir Edward.

Wil. I would not, willingly, for the world. He has been the kindest master to me; but, whilst my fortunes ripen in the warmth of his goodness, the frozen gloom of his countenance chills me.

Win. Well, well, take heed how you prate on't. Out on these babbling boys! There is no keeping a secret with younkers in a family.

Wil. [Very eagerly.] What, then, there is a secret?

Win. Why, how now, hot-head? Mercy on me! an' this tinder-box boy do not make me shake with apprehension! Is it thus you take my frequent counsel?

Wil. Dear sir, 'tis your counsel which most I covet : give me but that, admit me to your confidence, steer me with your advice (which I ever held excellent), and, with such a pilot, I may sail prosperously through a current, which, otherwise, might wreck me.

Win. Well, well, I'll think on't, boy.

Wil. [Aside. The old answer; yet he softens apace. Could I but clench him now!-[Aloud.] Faith, sir, 'tis a raw morning, and I care not if I taste the Canary your kindness offered.

Win. Aha! lad, say'st thou so? Here's the key of the corner cupboard yonder; see you do not crack the bottle, you heedless goose, you! [Exit Wilford, L., and returns with bottle_and_glasses.] Ha! fill it up. Od! it sparkles curiously. Here's to-I prithee, tell me, now, Wilford, didst ever in thy life see a waiting-gentlewoman with a more inviting eye than the little Mrs. Blanch? Wil. [Drinking.] Here's Mrs. Blanch!

Blanch!

Win. Ah, wag! well, go thy ways! Well, when I was of thy age-'Tis all over, now! But here's little Mrs. [Drinks. Wil. 'Tis thought here, Sir Edward means to marry her lady, Madam Helen.

Win. Nay, I know not: she has long been enamoured of him, poor lady! when he was the gay, the gallant Sir Edward, in Kent. Ah, well! two years make a wondrous change!

Wil. Yes, 'tis a good tough love now-a-days that will hold out a couple of twelvemonths.

Win. Away! I mean not so, you giddy pate! He is ali honour; yet I wonder sometimes he can bear to look upon her.

Wil. Eh! why so? Did he not bring her, under his protection, to the forest, since, 'tis said, she lost her relations?

Win. Hush, boy!-On your life, do not name her uncle-I would say, her relations!

Wil. Her uncle !-Wherefore -Where's the harm in having an uncle, dead or alive?

Win. Peace, peace! In that uncle lies the secret. Wil. Indeed!-How, good Adam Winterton ?-I prithee, how? Let us drink Sir Edward's health.

Win. That I would, though 'twere a mile to the bottom. [Drinking.] Ha! 'tis cheering, i'faith! Wil. And this uncle, you say—

Win. Of Madam Helen ?--Ah, there lies the mischief! Wil. What mischief can be in him?-[Wilford invites Adam to drink again—they do so.] Why, he is dead.

Win. Come nearer: see you prate not, now, on your life! Our good master, Sir Edward, was arraigned on his account, in open court.

Wil. Arraigned!-How mean you?

Win. Alas! boy, tried-tried for nearer yet-his

murder!

Wil. Mu-mur-murder!

Win. Why, what! why, Wilford !-Out, alas! the boy's passion will betray all! What, Wilford, I say!

Wil. You have curdled my blood!

Win. What, varlet! thou darest not think ill of our worthy master?

Wil. I-I am his secretary; often alone with him, at dead midnight, in his library; the candles in the sockets; and a man glaring upon me who has committed murUgh! [Crosses to R. Win. Committed!-Thou art a base, lying knave to say it! Well, well; hear me, pettish boy, hear me.Why, look now, thou dost not attend.

Wil. I-I mark-I mark.

Win. I tell thee, then, our good Sir Edward was beloved in Kent, where he had returned, a year before, from his travels. Madam Helen's uncle was hated by all the neighbourhood, rich and poor-a mere brute. Dost mark me?

Wil. Like enough; but when brutes walk upon two legs, the law of the land, thank Heaven! will not suffer us to butcher them.

Win. Go to, you firebrand! Our good master laboured all he could, for many a month, to sooth his turbulence, but in vain. He picked a quarrel with Sir Edward in the public county assembly; nay, the strong ruffian struck him down, and trampled on him. Think on that, Wilford; on our good master, Sir Edward, whose great soul was nigh to burst with the indignity!

Wil. Well, but the end on't?

Raw. Under the furze, behind the hovel. Come night again, we will draw him in, boy. I have been watched.

Sam. Watched!-Oh, the pestilence!-Our trade will be spoiled if the groom-keepers be after us; the law will persecute us, father.

Raw. Dost know Mortimer?

[ocr errors]

Sam. What, Sir Edward Mortimer? Ay, sure; he is head-keeper of the forest. 'Tis he who has shut himself up in melancholy; sees no rich, and does so much good to the poor.

Raw. He has done me naught but evil. A gun cannot be carried on the border here, but he has scent on't at a league's distance. He is a thorn to me: his scouts this night were after me, all on the watch. I'll be revenged— I'll-So, the brandy.

Re-enter BARBARA, with the liquor, L. U. E.

Raw. [After drinking.] 'Tis right, i'faith!

Sam. (R.) That 'tis, I'll be sworn; for I smuggled it myself. We do not live so near the coast for nothing. Raw. Sir Edward Mortimer, look to it!

Bar. (L.) Sir Edward Mortimer! Oh, dear father, what of him?

Raw. Ay, now thou art all agog! Thou wouldst hear somewhat of that smooth-tongued fellow, his secretaryhis clerk, Wilford, whom thou so often meet'st in the forest. I have news on't. Look how you walk thither again! What, thou wouldst betray me to him, I warrant -conspire against your father!

Sam. Ay, conspire against your father, and your tender loving brother, you viper, you!

Bar. Beshrew me, father, I meant no harm; and, indeed, indeed, Wilford is as handsome a—I mean, as good a youth as ever breathed. If I thought he meant ill by you, I should hate him.

Raw. When didst see him last?-Speak!

Bar. You terrify me so, father, I am scarce able to speak. Yesternoon, by the copse: 'twas but to read with him the book of sonnets he gave me.

Sam. That's the way your sly, grave rogues, work into the hearts of the females. I never knew any good come of a girl's reading sonnets with a learned clerk in a copse.

Raw. Let me hear no more of your meeting. I am content to think you would not plot my undoing.

Bar. I ?-Oh, father!

Raw. But he may plot yours. Mark me: fortune has thrust me forth to prowl, like the wolf; but the wolf is anxious for its young. I am an outcast, whom hunger has hardened; I violate the law, but feeling is not dead within me; and callous villain as I am accounted, I would tear that greater villain piecemeal, who would violate my child, and rob an old man of the little remains of comfort wretchedness has left him! [A knocking at the door, R. F. A voice. [Without.] Hilliho! ho!

Raw. How now ?

Sam. There, an they be not after us already! I'll We have talked, too, till 'tis broad daylight.

Wilford. [Without, R. D. F.] Open, good Master Rawbold; I would speak to you suddenly.

Bar. Oh, Heaven! 'tis the voice of Wilford himself! Raw. Wilford!-I'm glad on't! Now he shall-I'm glad on't! Open the door-quickly, I say! He shall smart for it!

Sam. Are you mad, father? 'Tis we shall smart for it. Let in the keeper's head man! The buck you have just shot, you know, is hard at hand.

Raw. Open, I say!

Sam. Oh, lord! I defy any secretary's nose not to smell stolen venison now, the moment 'tis thrust near our hovel! [Opens the door, R. F.

Enter WILFORD, R. D. F.

Wil. (R. C.) Save you, good people. You are Gilbert Rawbold, as I take it.

Raw. (c.) I am. Your message here, young man, bodes me no good; but I am Gilbert Rawbold, and here's my daughter: dost know her?

Wil. Ah, Barbara! good wench, how fares it with you? Raw. Look on her well, then consult your own conscience: 'tis difficult, haply, for a secretary to find one. You are a villain!

Wil. You lie! Hold! I crave pardon. You are her father; she is innocent, and you are unhappy. I respect virtue and misfortune too much to shock the one, or insult the other,

« ÀÌÀü°è¼Ó »