Volume Vii Part 88 (1/2)

RED. You sp-sp-speak like an honest ge-ge-gentleman, re-re-rest you me-me-merry! co-co-come, my f-f-friends, I be-believe h-h-he r-ran by the g-g-garden w-wall toward the wa-water side.

[_Exeunt running_.

GLO. This fellow is of the humour I would choose my wife: Few words and many paces; a word and away; and so Must I. Sister, adieu; pray you for me; I'll do the like for you.

Robin, farewell; commend me to the Prince.

LADY F. Can ye not stay here safe?

GLO. No, I'll not trust the changing humours of old Fauconbridge.

Adieu, young earl; sister, let's kiss and part.

Tush, never mourn, I have a merry heart.

[_Exit_.

LADY F. Farewell all comfort.

ROB. What, weeping, lady?

Then I perceive you have forgot Blackheath!

LADY F. No, there I'll learn both of his life and death.

ROB. Till Monday, madam, I must take my leave.

LADY F. You will not miss then?

ROB. Nay, if Robin fail ye, Let him have never favour of fair lady!

LADY F. Meanwhile, I'll spend my time in prayers and tears, That Gloster may escape these threat'ned fears.

[_Exit_

SCENE THE SEVENTEENTH.

_Enter_ SKINK, _like_ PRINCE[495] JOHN.

SKINK. Thus jets my n.o.ble Skink along the streets, To whom each bonnet vails, and all knees bend; And yet my n.o.ble humour is too light By the six s.h.i.+llings. Here are two crack'd groats To helter-skelter at some vaulting-house[496].

But who comes yonder? ha! old Fauconbridge?

Hath a brave chain; were John and he good friends, That chain were mine, and should unto Blackheath.

I'll venture; it's but trial: luck may fall.

Good morrow, good Sir Richard Fauconbridge.

FAU. Good morrow, my sweet Prince, hearty good morrow; This greeting well becomes us, marry does it, Better, i'wis, than strife and jangling.

Now can I love ye; will ye to the sheriffs?

Your brother Richard hath been there this hour.

SKINK. Yes, I am plodding forward, as you do; What cost your chain? it's pa.s.sing strongly wrought, I would my goldsmith had a pattern of it.

FAU. 'Tis at your grace's service: show it him.

SKINK. Then dare ye trust me?

FAU. Who? the princely John!