Fiction > Harvard Classics > Thomas Dekker > The Shoemaker’s Holiday
Thomas Dekker (1570–1632).  The Shoemaker’s Holiday.
The Harvard Classics.  1909–14.
Scene II

  LINCOLN.  How now, good Dodger, what’s the news in France?
  DODGER.  My lord, upon the eighteenth day of May
The French and English were prepar’d to fight;
Each side with eager fury gave the sign        4
Of a most hot encounter. Five long hours
Both armies fought together; at the length
The lot of victory fell on our side.
Twelve thousand of the Frenchmen that day died,        8
Four thousand English, and no man of name
But Captain Hyam and young Ardington,
Two gallant gentlemen, I knew them well.
  LINCOLN.  But Dodger, prithee, tell me, in this fight        12
How did my cousin Lacy bear himself?
  DODGER.  My lord, your cousin Lacy was not there.
  LINCOLN.  Not there?
  DODGER.        No, my good lord.        16
  LINCOLN.        Sure, thou mistakest.
I saw him shipp’d, and a thousand eyes beside
Were witnesses of the farewells which he gave,
When I, with weeping eyes, bid him adieu.        20
Dodger, take heed.
  DODGER.        My lord, I am advis’d 2
That what I spake is true: to prove it so,
His cousin Askew, that supplied his place,        24
Sent me for him from France, that secretly
He might convey himself thither.
  LINCOLN.        Is’t even so?
Dares he so carelessly venture his life        28
Upon the indignation of a king?
Has he despis’d my love, and spurn’d those favours
Which I with prodigal hand pour’d on his head?
He shall repent his rashness with his soul;        32
Since of my love he makes no estimate,
I’ll make him wish he had not known my hate.
Thou hast no other news?
  DODGER.        None else, my lord.        36
  LINCOLN.  None worse I know thou hast.—Procure the king
To crown his giddy brows with ample honours,
Send him chief colonel, and all my hope
Thus to be dash’d! But ’tis in vain to grieve,        40
One evil cannot a worse relieve.
Upon my life, I have found out his plot;
That old dog, Love, that fawn’d upon him so,
Love to that puling girl, his fair-cheek’d Rose,        44
The lord mayor’s daughter, hath distracted him,
And in the fire of that love’s lunacy
Hath he burnt up himself, consum’d his credit,
Lost the king’s love, yea, and I fear, his life,        48
Only to get a wanton to his wife,
Dodger, it is so.
  DODGER.        I fear so, my good lord.
  LINCOLN.  It is so—nay, sure it cannot be!        52
I am at my wits’ end. Dodger!
  DODGER.        Yea, my lord.
  LINCOLN.  Thou art acquainted with my nephew’s haunts.
Spend this gold for thy pains; go seek him out;        56
Watch at my lord mayor’s—there if he live,
Dodger, thou shalt be sure to meet with him.
Prithee, be diligent.—Lacy, thy name
Liv’d once in honour, now ’tis dead in shame.—        60
Be circumspect.  Exit.
  DODGER.        I warrant you, my lord.  Exit.
Note 1. London: a room in Lincoln’s house. [back]
Note 2. Certainly informed. [back]


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