SIR RALPH. O, when will this same year of night have end? Long-look'd for day's sun, when wilt thou ascend? Let not this thieve[414] friend, misty veil of night, Encroach on day, and shadow thy fair light, Whilst thou com'st tardy from thy Thetis' bed, Blushing forth golden hair and glorious red; O, stay not long, bright lanthorn of the day, To light my miss'd-way feet to my right way!
MAL. It is a man, his big voice tells me so, Much am I not acquainted with it, tho'; And yet mine ear, sound's true distinguisher, Boys[415] that I have been more familiar With it than now I am: well, I do judge, It is no envious fellow, out[416] of grudge; Therefore I'll plead acquaintance, hire his guiding, And buy of him some place of close abiding, Till that my mother's malice be expir'd, And we may joy in that is long desired [_Aside_] --Who's there?
SIR RALPH. Are ye a maid? No question, this is she My man doth miss: faith, since she lights on me, I do not mean till day to let her go; For whe'er[417] she is my man's love, I will know [_Aside_ Hark ye, maid, if [a] maid, are ye so light, That you can see to wander in the night?
MAL. Hark ye, true man, if true, I tell ye, no; I cannot see at all which way I go.
SIR RALPH. Fair maid, is't so? say, had ye ne'er a fall?
MAL. Fair man, not so; no, I had none at all.
SIR RALPH. Could you not stumble on one man, I pray?
MAL. No, no such block till now came in my way.
SIR RALPH. Am I that block, sweet tripe; then, fall and try.
MAL. The ground's too hard a feather-bed; not I.
SIR RALPH. Why, how, and you had met with such a stump?
MAL. Why, if he had been your height, I meant to jump.
MAL. No, sir: it fits not maids to fight with men.
SIR RALPH. I wonder, wench, how I thy name might know.
MAL. Why, you may find it, sir, in th'Christcross row[419].
SIR RALPH. Be my schoolmistress, teach me how to spell it.
MAL. No, faith, I care not greatly, if I tell it; My name is Mary Barnes.
SIR RALPH. Why, Sir Ralph Smith doth wonder, wench, at this; Why, what's the cause thou art abroad so late?
MAL. What, Sir Ralph Smith! nay, then, I will disclose All the whole cause to him, in him repose My hopes, my love: God him, I hope, did send Our loves and both our mothers' hates to end. [_Aside_.] --Gentle Sir Ralph, if you my blush might see, You then would say I am ashamed to be Found, like a wand'ring stray, by such a knight, So far from home at such a time of night: But my excuse is good; love first by fate Is cross'd, controll'd, and sundered by fell hate. Frank Goursey is my love, and he loves me; But both our mothers hate and disagree; Our fathers like the match and wish it done; And so it had, had not our mothers come; To Oxford we concluded both to go; Going to meet, they came; we parted so; My mother followed me, but I ran fast, Thinking who went from hate had need make haste; Take me she cannot, though she still pursue: But now, sweet knight, I do repose on you; Be you my orator and plead my right, And get me one good day for this bad night.