Mucedorus

SCENE IV. Outskirts of the Forest

Enter Segasto solus.

SEGASTO.
When heaps of harms do hover over head,
’Tis time as then, some say, to look about,
And of ensuing harms to choose the least.
But hard, yea hapless, is that wretch’s chance,
Luckless his lot, and caytiff-like accurst.
At whose proceedings fortune ever frowns.
Myself, I mean, most subject unto thrall;
For I, the more I seek to shun the worst,
The more by proof I find myself accurs’d.
Erewhiles assaulted with an ugly bear,
With Amadine in company all alone,
Forthwith by flight I thought to save myself,
Leaving my Amadine unto her shifts;
For death it was for to resist the bear,
And death no less of Amadine’s harms to hear.
Accursed I, in ling’ring life thus long!
In living thus, each minute of an hour
Doth pierce my heart with darts of thousand deaths.
If she by flight her fury do escape,
What will she think?
Will she not say, yea, flatly to my face,
Accusing me of mere disloyalty:
A trusty friend is tried in time of need.
But I, when she in danger was of death,
And needed me, and cried, Segasto, help!
I turn’d my back, and quickly ran away,
Unworthy I to bear this vital breath!
But what, what needs these plaints?
If Amadine do live, then happy I:
She will in time forgive and so forget.
Amadine is merciful, not Juno-like,
In harmful heart to harbour hatred long.

Enter Mouse the Clown, running, crying, Clubs!

MOUSE.
Clubs, prongs, pitchforks, bills! O help! A bear, a bear, a bear, a bear!

SEGASTO.
Still bears, and nothing else but bears? Tell me, sirrah, where she is.

MOUSE.
O sir, she is run down the woods, I see her white head and her white belly.

SEGASTO.
Thou talkest of wonders, to tell me of white bears; but, sirrah, didst thou ever see any such?

MOUSE.
No, faith, I never saw any such; but I remember my father’s words, he bade me take heed I was not caught with a white bear.

SEGASTO.
A lamentable tale, no doubt.

MOUSE.
I tell you what, sir; as I was going a-field to serve my father’s great horse, and carried a bottle of hay upon my head—now, do you see, sir, I, fast hoodwinked, that I could see nothing, perceiving the bear coming, I threw my hay into the hedge and ran away.

SEGASTO.
What, from nothing?

MOUSE.
I warrant you, yes, I saw something; for there was two load of thorns besides my bottle of hay, and that made three.

SEGASTO.
But tell me, sirrah, the bear that thou didst see,
Did she not bear a bucket on her arm?

MOUSE.
Ha, ha, ha! I never saw bear go a-milking in my life. But hark you, sir, I did not look so high as her arm, I saw nothing but her white head and her white belly.

SEGASTO.
But tell me, sirrah, where dost thou dwell?

MOUSE.
Why, do you not know me?

SEGASTO.
Why, no; how should I know thee?

MOUSE.
Why, then you know nobody, an you know not me. I tell you, sir, I am goodman Rat’s son, of the next parish over the hill.

SEGASTO.
Goodman Rat’s son; why, what’s thy name?

MOUSE.
Why, I am very near kin unto him.

SEGASTO.
I think so; but what’s thy name?

MOUSE.
My name? I have a very pretty name; I’ll tell you what my name is, my name is Mouse.

SEGASTO.
What, plain Mouse?

MOUSE.
Ay, plain Mouse without either welt or guard. But do you hear, sir, I am but a very young Mouse, for my tail is scarce grown out yet; look you here else.

SEGASTO.
But, I pray thee, who gave thee that name?

MOUSE.
Faith, sir, I know not that, but if you would fain know, ask my father’s great horse, for he hath been half a year longer with my father than I have.

SEGASTO.
[Aside.] This seems to be a merry fellow;
I care not if I take him home with me.
Mirth is a comfort to a troubled mind,
A merry man a merry master makes.
[To Mouse.] How say’st thou, sirrah, wilt thou dwell with me?

MOUSE.
Nay, soft, sir; two words to a bargain; pray you, what occupation are you?

SEGASTO.
No occupation, I live upon my lands.

MOUSE.
Your lands? Away, you are no master for me. Why, do you think that I am so mad to go seek my living in the lands amongst the stones, briars, and bushes, and tear my holiday-apparel? Not I, by your leave.

SEGASTO.
Why, I do not mean thou shalt.

MOUSE.
How then?

SEGASTO.
Why, thou shalt be my man, and wait upon me at the court.

MOUSE.
What’s that?

SEGASTO.
Where the king lies.

MOUSE.
What’s that same king, a man or woman?

SEGASTO.
A man as thou art.

MOUSE.
As I am? Hark you, sir, pray you, what kin is he to goodman King of our parish, the churchwarden?

SEGASTO.
No kin to him; he is the king of the whole land.

MOUSE.
King of the land? I never saw him.

SEGASTO.
If thou wilt dwell with me, thou shalt see him every day.

MOUSE.
Shall I go home again to be torn in pieces with bears? No, not I, I will go home and put on a clean shirt, and then go drown myself.

SEGASTO.
Thou shalt not need, if thou wilt dwell with me, thou shalt want nothing.

MOUSE.
Shall I not? Then here’s my hand, I’ll dwell with you. And hark you, sir! now you have entertained me, I will tell you what I can do. I can keep my tongue from picking and stealing, and my hands from lying and slandering, I warrant you, as well as ever you had man in all your life.

SEGASTO.
Now will I to court with sorrowful heart, rounded with doubts.
If Amadine do live, then happy I:
Yea happy I, if Amadine do live.

[Exeunt.]