Scene Ninth. The Cunny Greene

Enter Mall.

Mal. Heere is the place where Phillip bid me stay
Till Francis came; but wherefore did my brother
Appoint it heere? why in the cunny borough?
He had some meaning in't, I warrant ye.
Well, heere Ile set me downe under this tree,
And thinke upon the matter all alone.
Good Lord, what pritty things these cunnies are!
How finely they do feed till they be fat,
And then what a sweet meate a cunny is!
And what smooth skins they have, both black and gray!
They say they run more in the night then day:
What is the reason? marke; why, in the light
They see more passengers then in the night;
For harmfull men many a haye do set,
And laugh to see them tumble in the net;
And they put ferrets in the holes,—fie, fie!—
And they go up and downe where conniees lye;
And they lye still, they have so little wit:
I marvell the warriner will suffer it;
Nay, nay, they are so bad, that they themselves
Do give consent to catch these prettie elfes.
How if the warriner should spie me here?
He would take me for a conny I dare sweare.
But when that Francis comes, what will he say?
'Looke, boy, there lyes a conney in my way!'
But, soft, a light! whose that? soule, my mother!
Nay, then, all hid: i faith, she shall not see me;
Ile play bo peepe with her behind this tree.

[Enter Mistresse Barnes, with a torch.]

Mis. Ba. I marvell where this wench doth hide her selfe
So closely; I have searcht in many a bush.

Mal. Belike my mother tooke me for a thrush. [Aside.]—

Mis. Bar. Shees hid in this same warren, Ile lay money.

Mal. Close as a rabbet sucker from an olde conney. [Aside.]

Mi. Bar. O God, I would to God that I could find her!
I would keepe her from her loves toyes yet.

Mal. I, so you might, if your daughter had no wit. [Aside.]

Mi. Ba. What a vilde girle tis, that would hav't so young!

Mal. A murren take that desembling tongue!
Ere your calves teeth were out, you thought it long. [Aside.]

Mi. Bar. But, minion, yet Ile keepe you from the man.

Mall. To save a lye, mother, say, if you can. [Aside.]

Mi. Bar. Well, now to looke for her.

Mal. I, theres the spight:
What trick shall I now have to scape her light? [Aside.]

Mi. Bar. Whose there? what, minion, is it you?—
Beshrew her heart, what a fright she put me to!
But I am glad I found her, though I was afraide. [Aside.]
Come on your wayes; you are a handsome maide!
Why [steal] you foorth a doores so late at night?
Why, whether go ye? come, stand still, I say.

Mal. No, indeed, mother; this is my best way.

M. Ba. Tis not the best way; stand by me, I tell yee.

Mall. No; you would catch me, mother,—O, I smell ye!

Mi. Bar. Will ye not stand still?

Mal. No, by ladie, no.

Mis. Bar. But I will make ye.

Mal. Nay, then, trip and goe.

Mi. Bar. Mistresse, Ile make ye wearie ere I have done.

Mal. Faith, mother, then, Ile trie how you can runne.

Mis. Bar. Will ye?

Mal. Yes, faith.

Exeunt.

Enter [Franke and Boy.]

Fran. Mal, sweet heart, Mall! what, not a word?

Boy. A little further; call againe.

Fran. Why, Mal! I prethie, speake; why, Mal, I say!
I know thou art not farre, if thou wilt not speake;
Why, Mal!—
But now I see shees in her merry vaine,
To make me call, and put me to more paine.
Well, I must beare with her; sheel beare with me:
But I will call, least that it be not so.—
What, Mal! what, Mall, I say!—Boy, are we right?
Have we not mist the way this same darke night?

Boy. Masse, it may be so: as I am true man,
I have not seen a cunny since I came;
Yet at the cunny-borow we should meete.
But, harke! I heare the trampling of some feete.

Fran. It may be so, then; therefore lets lye close.

[Enter Mistresse Goursey and Coomes.]

Mis. Gou. Where art thou, Dicke?

Coo. Where am I, quoth a! mary, I may be where any body will say I am; eyther in France, or at Rome, or at Jerusalem, they may say I am, for I am not able to disprove them, because I cannot tell where I am.

Mi. Gou. O, what a blindfold walke have we had, Dicke,
To seeke my sonne! and yet I cannot finde him.

Coo. Why, then, mistresse, lets goe home.

Mi. Gou. Why, tis so darke we shall not finde the way.

Fran. I pray God, ye may not, mother, till it be day! [Aside.]

Coo. Sbloud, take heed, mistris, heres a tree.

Mis. Go. Lead thou the way, and let me hold by thee.

Bo. Dick Coome, what difference is there between a blind man and he that cannot see?

Fra. Peace, a poxe on thee!

Coo. Swounds, some body spake.

Mi. Gou. Dicke, looke about;
It may be here we may finde them out.

Coo. I see the glimpse of some body heere.—
And ye be a sprite, Ile fraie the bug beare.—
There a goes, mistresse.

Mi. Gour. O sir, have I spide you?

Fr. A plague on the boy! twas he that descried me.

Exeunt.