Wid. No, you are too young, and I am much too old;
Ay, and unworthy, and the world will say,
We married not for love. Good morrow, servant.
[Exit Widow.
Bold. Why so: these women are the errantest jugglers in the world: the wry-legged fellow is an ass to 'em. Well, I must have this widow, what-e'er come on't. Faith, she has turned me out of her service very barely. Hark, what's here? music?
Enter Subtle with a paper, and his Boy with a cloak.
Sub. [Reads.] "Rise, lady mistress, rise,
The night hath tedious been;
No sleep hath fallen into my eyes,
Nor slumbers made me sin.
Is not she a saint, then say,
Thought of whom keeps sin away?
"Rise, madam, rise and give me light,
Whom darkness still will cover,
And ignorance, darker than night,
Till thou smile on thy lover.
All want day, till thy beauty rise,
For the grey morn breaks from thine eyes!"[119]
Now sing it, sirrah.
[The song sung by the Boy.
Sub. 'Sfoot, who's this? young Master Bold!
God save you; you are an early stirrer.
Bold. You say true, Master Subtle, I have been early up,
But, as God help me, I was never the near.[120]
Sub. Where have you been, sir?