[Enter SIR RALPH SMITH.]
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.