[Enter left, Mattias, a gentleman]
[Enter right, Richard, a rude mechanical]
Matt. How now, my good and trusty fellow! The sun, with its fixed rays, has all but run its course though the scorpion, and I am once more desirous to have thee exa...mine my conveyance.
Dick. God and all good saints save your grace! T'will be done, right handily and well.
Matt. Glad I am to hear't! Lay on.
Dick. I go, with all speed! Prithee, sir, make yourself at ease and take refreshment, until I return.
[Exit Richiard]
Matt. A good soul, by my troth. Though he would have my whole purse in fee, were't possible.
[He reclines and eats. There are noises without]
[Enter Richard]
Dick. Sir, I make bold that I might speak a word in your ear.
Matt. Ha? Hast thou news of my conveyance?
Dick. Verily, sir, yea. And I fear it bodes ill!
Matt. How now? What sayst thou? I charge thee, sirrah, speak plain!
Dick. I shrink to think on't! My lips freeze on the telling!
Matt. Thou tardy wretch, have out with it!
Dick. Sir, your conveyance, his transmission is fowled, and will not be set right again. Not for less than two-thousand pound!
Matt. 'Swounds, man! How came this to pass?
Dick. Sir, ofttimes, when a body is tardy with the transmission fluid, t'will come to this. Alas!
Matt. In 'Alas' thou has't right, varlet! Have I not charged thee ofttimes before to tend and mend my conveyance, at rates, t'were possible, to make the moneylenders blush? Hast thou not discharged thy task with constancy and skill? Rogue, I charge thee on thy life, were't thou lax in thy duty
Dick. I daren't say more! Not for two-thousand pound!
Matt. Thou damn'd poxy mean-faced punk! Thou'lt have naught but two-thousand blows from me!
[Mattias strikes him]
Dick. Oh! Help! Murther!
[He falls]
Dick. I am wounded! Woe!
Matt. Here, is for thy pains, rogue! May it bring thee woe!
[Mattias throws money.]
[Exuant]
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5 comments:
Hahahahahahahaha! Is this a true story?
Yes, except for the beating part, it is basically true.
A "poxy mean-faced punk." Please tell me he actually used this awesome phrase. A fine tale which reemphasizes why I won't go to the dealers. Our family's long-time mechanic gets all my business: he's honest, explains what is going on and why, and mostly, because neither he nor any of his workers treats me like a stupid girl.
Please oh please, fair lady and gentleman, tell me I can share this with fellow English lovers.
A wonderful post about a very sad event.
If not physically, I am sure he beat the damn'd poxy mean-faced punk mentally, as well he should.
Clever boy, that Mattias. Forsooth he hath recovered his good nature.
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