A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 07
General
A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 07
English drama
NICH. Good words cost nought: ill words corrupt good manners, Richard;
for a hasty man never wants woe. And I had thought you had been my
friend; but I see all is not gold that glitters; there's falsehood in
fellowship; _amicus certus in re certa cernitur_; time and truth tries
all; and 'tis an old proverb, and not so old as true, bought wit is the
best; I can see day at a little hole; I know your mind as well as though
I were within you; 'tis ill halting before a cripple: go to, you seek to
quarrel; but beware of had I wist[395]; so long goes the pot to the
water, at length it comes home broken; I know you are as good a man as
ever drew sword, or as was e'er girt in a girdle, or as e'er went on
neat's leather, or as one shall see upon a summer's day, or as e'er
look'd man in the face, or as e'er trod on God's earth, or as e'er broke
bread or drunk drink; but he is proper that hath proper conditions[396];
but be not you like the cow, that gives a good sop of milk, and casts it
down with her[397] heels; I speak plainly, for plain-dealing is a jewel,
and he that useth it shall die a beggar; well, that happens in an hour,
that happens not in seven years; a man is not so soon whole as hurt; and
you should kill a man, you would kiss his--well, I say little, but I
think the more. Yet I'll give him good words; 'tis good to hold a candle
before the devil; yet, by God's dine[398], I'll take no wrong, if he had
a head as big as Brass[399], or look'd as high as Paul's steeple.
[_Aside_.]
COOMES. Sirrah, thou grasshopper, that shalt skip from my sword as from a
scythe; I'll cut thee out in collops and eggs, in steaks, in slic'd beef,
and fry thee with the fire I shall strike from the pike of thy buckler.
NICH. Ay, Brag's a good dog; threat'ned folks live long.
COOMES. What say ye, sir?
NICH. Why, I say not so much as, How do ye?
COOMES. Do ye not so, sir?
NICH. No, indeed, whatsoe'er I think; and thought is free.
COOMES. You whoreson wafer-cake, by God's dines, I'll crush ye for this!
NICH. Give an inch, and you'll take an ell; I will not put my finger in
a hole, I warrant ye: what, man! ne'er crow so fast, for a blind man may
kill a hare; I have known when a plain fellow hath hurt a fencer, so I
have: what! a man may be as slow as a snail, but as fierce as a lion,
and he be moved; indeed, I am patient, I must needs say, for patience in
adversity brings a man to the Three Cranes in the Vintry.
COOMES. Do ye hear? set down your torch; draw, fight, I am for ye.
NICH. And I am for ye too, though it be from this midnight to the next
morn.
COOMES. Where be your tools?
NlCH. Within a mile of an oak, sir; he's a proud horse will not carry
his own provender, I warrant ye.
COOMES. Now am I in my quarrelling humour, and now can I say nothing but,
zounds, draw! but I'll untruss, and then have to it. [_Aside_.]
_Enter [severally]_ HODGE _and_ BOY.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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