_Host._ Thou couldst talk fast enough just now.
_Will._ Gurton! for this I will undo thee.
Newborn! thou didst just now water thine ale. Hezekiah!
thou dissemblest, which is more than thy wife used to do; for she feared thee not.
_Host._ I pity thee, and will say no more.
_1st Sold._ Here is a stool, let him mount thereon.
_Will._ These be ignorant knaves. I will practice on them. It may come to good. [_Mounts the stool._] The Lord leadeth his people through the wilderness to salvation, crinkeldom c.u.m crankeldom. [_Mutters to himself._]
_Soldiers._ Hum!
_Will._ Of all thirsts, there be none like that after righteousness.--[_Mutters to himself._]
_Soldiers._ Hum!
_Will._ [Aside.] For strong ale, which I think hath to do with the conversion of this Gurton. [_Mutters to himself._]
_1st Sold._ Lift thy voice higher, that we stumble not in the dark.
_Will._ [_Aside._] I would I could remember a text--anything will do--[_Aloud._] The General Cromwell hath, they say, a red nose, and doth never spit white, which I look upon as a great sign, as was the burning bush to Moses!
_2nd Sold._ Ha! Blasphemest thou?
_3rd Sold._ He scoffeth!
_4th Sold._ Down with him.
_Host._ O fool! There will be blood spilt!
[_They drag WILLIAM down (the HOST vainly endeavouring to interfere) and buffet him; as Sin-Despise draws his sword, the trumpets sound outside to saddle._]
[_Enter HARRISON, R.S.E._]
_Har._ Why dally ye? Away! Smite hip and thigh.
To horse, to horse! what ho! Zerubbabel!
Mount, mount, I say, for b.l.o.o.d.y Goring"s near-- To saddle, ho!
[_They immediately fall into line, and leave quickly, L. The trumpets are still heard sounding. Exeunt all but HOST and WILLIAM, who arranges his collar and adjusts himself._]
_Host._ [Breathless.] What thinkest thou of this?
_Will._ Think! what of? Thy late wife"s virtue?
I would she were here.
_Host._ These be now your civil wars: didst mark? he said all should have been paid. Now, with them that were here, there were some fourscore and ten quarts that might have been drunk, had they staid an hour or so; and now to ride off thirsty to be killed.
_Will._ Well, it might have been worse, for they might have drunk it, and departed in that military haste which precludes payment.
_Host._ Ay! ay! thou wilt have thy jest.
[_Exit into house._]
[_Enter ARTHUR WALTON, L._]
_Arth._ Where hast thou been so long?
[_To WILLIAM._]
_Will._ Truly at the burial of one Generosity!
_Arth._ And what manner of person was he?
_Will._ A fool in this world, but an angel of light in the next; if the word of G.o.d be true, which I remember to have heard in my childhood in the church there.
_Arth._ And how was he buried?
_Will._ About the setting of the sun, when he had no more to give. I saw none in the garb of mourning, though many wore long faces, because their gain was stopped.
_Arth._ And what wrote they on his tomb?
_Will._ Other names than his own. Extravagance, folly, imprudence, were the best terms there. One whom he had released from gaol, carved madness with a flint stone. There was but one would have painted his true name, but his tears defaced it--a humble dependent, who had been faithful to him, but whom he regarded not, being accustomed to his services.
_Arth._ Out! rogue! I have humoured thee too long, leave thy rascal allegory. Hast seen my brother?
_Will._ Ay, and thy cousin. She is a rare girl, and remembereth thee well. Thy brother is not attached to thee. He will give thee five hundred pounds if thou wilt swear to quit England for ever. He abuseth thee finely, saith thou art a debauched vagabond, which is an insult to me thy serving companion, whom he threatened with the stocks. Wilt thou not slay him?
_Arth._ O monstrous! Can it be? Fool that I have been. My father, thou wert right, indeed!
_Will._ Thy cousin would see thee. She is miserable about something, and will be here presently.
_Arth._ I will wither him with my reproaches.
_Will._ You have bad stuff to deal with. He will not become good suddenly, as in some stage-plays.
You shall not frown him into a virtuous act. Nevertheless, abuse him, an "twill do thee good. Look you, dear master, I will describe him. He hath a neat and cheerful aspect, and talketh very smoothly; nay, for a time he shall agree with everybody, that you shall think him the most good-natured fellow alive; he shall be as benevolent as a lawyer nursing his leg, whilst he listens to the tale of him whom his client oppresseth, and you shall win him just as easily.
Let the question of gain put him in action, and the devil inside shall jump out, like an ape stirred up to malice. He affects, too, a vulgar frankness, which is often the mask of selfishness, as a man who helps himself first at table with a "ha! ha!" in a facetious manner, a jocose greediness, which is most actual, real earnest within.
_Arth._ Alas! If this be true, what chance have I? for such a one as thou describest would call charity herself a cheat, and deem the emotion of an angel morbid generosity.
_Will._ Bless you, he hath reasons! he would refuse tenpence to a starving wretch, because he owed ten pounds to his shoemaker, though he had ten thousand in his coffers at home. Yet would he still owe the ten pounds.
_Arth._ Nay, cease! I love not to hear it.
_Will._ And yet so meanly would he adopt appearances in the world"s eye, that should he have to cross a muddy street where a beggar kept a pa.s.sage clear with his besom, lest the gallants should soil their bravery, he would time his crossing, till one driven, or on horseback, should be near, that he might pa.s.s hurriedly on without giving him a groat, as in fear of being o"erridden. Like Judas--
_Arth._ Cease! cease! I bid thee cease!
_Will._ Thy cousin is very beautiful and gentle.