Van. Hort ye, daughter, hort ye, God's seker-kin? will ye no let me come tot you? ic bid you let me come tot you. Wat sal ic don? ic would neit vor un hundred pound Alvaro and Delion should see me op dit manner. Well, wat sal ic don? ic mout neit call, vor de wenshes will cut de rope and break my neck. Ic sal here bleiven til de morning, and dan ic sal call to Mester Pisaro, and make him shafe and shite his dauctors. O de skellum Frisco! O dese cruel hores!
Enter Pisaro.
Pis. I'll put the light out, lest I be espied;
For closely I have stolen me forth a-doors,
That I might know how my three sons have sped.
Now, afore God, my heart is passing light,
That I have overreach'd the Englishmen.
Ha, ha! Master Vandal, many such nights
Will 'suage your big-swoll'n bulk, and make it lank.
When I was young—yet though my hairs be grey,
I have a young man's spirit to the death,
And can as nimbly trip it with a girl
As those which fold the spring-tide in their beards.
Lord, how the very thought of former times
Supples these near-dried limbs with activeness!
Well, thoughts are shadows, sooner lost than seen.
Now to my daughters and their merry night.
I hope Alvaro and his company
Have read to them moral philosophy,
And they are full with it. Here I'll stay,
And tarry, till my gallant youths come forth.
Enter Harvey, Walgrave, and Heigham.
Heigh. You madman, wild-oats, madcap! where art thou?
Wal. Here afore.
Har. O, 'ware what love is! Ned hath found the scent;
And if the coney chance to miss her borough,
She's overborne, i' faith; she cannot stand it.
Pis. I know that voice, or I am much deceived.
Heigh. Come, why loiter we? this is the door.
But soft; here's one asleep.