Knight of the Burning — Act III (Part 10 of 12)

Mich . Ay, forsooth, mother.

Mist . Mer . Be merry, Mick; we are at home now; where, I warrant you, you shall find the house flung out of the windows. [Music within .] Hark! hey, dogs, hey! this is the old world, i’faith, with my husband. If I get in among them, I’ll play them such a lesson, that they shall have little list to come scraping hither again—
Why, Master Merrythought! husband! Charles Merrythought!

Mer . [Appearing above , and singing .]

If you will sing, and dance, and laugh,
  And hollow, and laugh again,
And then cry, “there, boys, there!” why, then,
  One, two, three, and four,
  We shall be merry within this hour.

Mist . Mer . Why, Charles, do you not know your own natural wife? I say, open the door, and turn me out those mangy companions; ’tis more than time that they were fellow and fellow-like with you. You are a gentleman, Charles, and an old man, and father of two children; and I myself, (though I say it) by my mother’s side niece to a worshipful gentleman and a conductor; he has been three times in his majesty’s service at Chester, and is now the fourth time, God bless him and his charge, upon his journey.

Mer . [Sings .]

Go from my window, love, go;
Go from my window, my dear!
  The wind and the rain
  Will drive you back again;
You cannot be lodged here. Hark you, Mistress Merrythought, you that walk upon adventures, and forsake your husband, because he sings with never a penny in his purse; what, shall I think myself the worse? Faith, no, I’ll be merry. You come not here; here’s none but lads of mettle, lives of a hundred years and upwards; care never drunk their bloods, nor want made them warble “Heigh-ho, my heart is heavy.”

Mist . Mer . Why, Master Merrythought, what am I, that you should laugh me to scorn thus abruptly? am I not your fellow-feeler, as we may say, in all our miseries? your comforter in health and sickness? have I not brought you children? are they not like you, Charles? look upon thine own image, hard-hearted man! and yet for all this—

Mer . [Sings .]

Begone, begone, my juggy, my puggy,
Begone, my love, my dear!
The weather is warm, ’Twill do thee no harm:
Thou canst not be lodged here.—
Be merry, boys! some light music, and more wine!

[Exit above .

[Wife . He’s not in earnest, I hope, George, is he?

Cit . What if he be, sweetheart?

Wife . Marry, if he be, George, I’ll make bold to tell him he’s an ingrant old man to use his bedfellow so scurvily.

Cit . What! how does he use her, honey?

Wife . Marry, come up, sir saucebox! I think you’ll take his part, will you not? Lord, how hot you have grown! you are a fine man, an’ you had a fine dog; it becomes you sweetly!

Cit . Nay, prithee, Nell, chide not; for, as I am an honest man and a true Christian grocer, I do not like his doings.