CHAPTER XII.
MASTER HOLYDAY IN FEAR AND TREMBLING.
"If I know what to say to her now In the way of marriage, I'm no graduate." --_A Chaste Maid in Cheapside._
As Ravenshaw climbed the narrow stairs to his room in darkness,he heard the voice of his fellow lodger in loud and continueddenunciation. Wondering at this, for the scholar was wont to speaklittle and never vehemently, the captain hastened his upward steps,thinking to rescue Master Holyday from some quarrel with the landlordor other person. But when he burst into the chamber he found the poetalone, pacing the floor in the flickering light of an expiring candle,his hair tumbled, his eyes wild, one hand gesticulating, while theother held his new-written manuscript.
At sight of Ravenshaw the poet stopped short a moment, then finishedthe passage he had been spouting, dropped the manuscript on the table,and, coming back to the present with a kind of tired shiver, sankexhaustedly upon a joint stool.
"Excellent ranting," said the captain, "and most suitable to what Ihave to say." He threw his hat and sword-girdle on a bed in a cornerof the room, filled and lighted a pipe of tobacco, and took up hisstand before the chimney as one who had weighty matters to propound.
"How suitable?" queried Master Holyday, with a languor consequent uponhis long stretch of poetic fervour.
"As thus," replied the captain, with a puff. "Your play there concernsthe carrying away of a lady."
"Of Helen by Paris; yes. But that is only a little part--"
"'Tis a part that you have conducted properly and well, no doubt."
"Why, without boasting, I profess some slight skill in these matters."
"Well, now, look you. Your carrying away this lady in the spirit iswell; 'tis a fit preparation for your carrying away a lady in theflesh."
Master Holyday broke off in the middle of a yawn and stared.
"You shall carry away this goldsmith's daughter to-morrow night. Nowmark how all is to be done--"
"God's name, are you mad?" cried the scholar, roused from his lassitudeinto a great astonishment.
"No more mad than to have planned all this for the saving of that maidfrom dire calamities, and the making of your joy and fortune."
"My joy?"
"Ay, indeed; for to possess that maid--"
"Oh, the maid--hang all maids!" exclaimed Holyday, with a kind ofshudder, and falling into perturbation. "I'll none of 'em!"
"And as to your fortune, how often have you told me what welcome andcomfort wait you at your father's house the day you come to him with awife?"
"Wife!" echoed Master Holyday, and first paled with horror, and thengave forth a ghastly laugh.
"Ay," said the captain, "and such a wife, your father will bless theday that made her his daughter! E'en though she come without dowry, hecannot choose but take her to his heart. Her father will not hold outfor ever, perchance, when he finds her married to his old friend's son.But if he does, she hath an uncle who is like to make her his heir, Itake it. And so, man, there's an end to this beggary for you. And nowmark what is to be done--"
"No, no, no! I have not the stomach for it. I have not!"
"We must be stirring early in the morning," went on the captain, "forall must be arranged ere I leave London at noon. And first, how youare to call upon the goldsmith's family, and secretly get the girl'sconsent."
"Get her consent! Never, never! I'll do no wooing; not I!"
"By God, and you will that, and 'tis I that say so!"
The scholar looked wildly at the captain a moment, then rose and madefor the door, as if to escape a fearful doom. Ravenshaw quickly caughtup the manuscript of the puppet-play, and held it ready to tear itacross. The poet stopped, with a sharp cry of alarm, and came backholding out his hand for the freshly covered sheets of paper. But thecaptain pushed him to a seat, and retained the manuscript.
"I'll tear it into fifty pieces, and burn 'em before your face," saidRavenshaw, "if you listen not quietly to what you must do."
Poor Holyday, keeping his eyes anxiously upon the precious work, gave apiteous groan, and sat limp and helpless.
"At daybreak," began Ravenshaw, "we shall go together and bespeak theboat that shall carry you and the maid, and your attendants, downthe river in the evening. It shall be your business next to visitthe goldsmith as if you came newly to London from your father in thecountry. Tell Master Etheridge you intend to marry a lady in Kent, andthat you will be purchasing jewels and plate."
"But, God's sake!" objected the scholar, dismally, and as if he partlydoubted the captain's sanity, "have you not passed yourself off to himas me? And how, then, will he believe that I am I?"
"Troth, I have been discovered to him as my true self."
"Well, then, as he has been once imposed on, he will treat me as animpostor, too," urged Holyday, desperately ready to find impediments.
"No, for if he makes any question, you need but stand upon yourlikeness to your mother. And then you can mention a thousand thingsthat his memory must share with yours, where I could mention but thefew you told me. And there was a mistake I made, saying it was aterrier that bit him in the leg the last time he was at your house,whereas it was a water-spaniel, as you had told me. If you speak ofthe spaniel biting him, you will prove yourself the true Holyday, andconfirm it that I was a false one."
"Ne'ertheless," moaned the scholar, in despair at the whole matter,"'twill seem a dubious thing, two men appearing within three days'time, both calling themselves Francis Holyday's son."
"'Tis easily made clear. Say that, travelling to London three daysago, you fell in with that rascal, Ravenshaw, but knew not what aknave he was. Say that he won upon your confidence, you being freeof mistrust, so that you told him many things of yourself, and yourintended marriage, and your purpose in coming to London, and of MasterEtheridge. And say that you both took lodgings for the night at an innin Southwark; when you woke in the morning you found yourself ill, andtwo nights and a day had passed while you slept, so that Ravenshawmust have given you a draught in your wine, and gone to counterfeityou in the goldsmith's house, thinking to make some use of his freedomtherein. Oh, they will swallow that without a sniff! And, look you,call me a thousand ill names, and say 'tis your dearest wish to killthe scurvy rogue that cozened you so."
Holyday uttered a deep sigh, and shook his head lugubriously.
"And note this," pursued Ravenshaw, "no word to any but the maid thatshe is the lady you came to marry. They are hot upon tying her to anold withered ass, a knight of Berkshire. That she may escape him, Ihave planned this good fortune for you; but all must be done to-morrow,for he is already in town for the wedding, and there is another dangerthreatens her, too, if she tarries in London. So, when you have beenadmitted to the family, you must find, or contrive, some time alonewith Mistress Millicent, and speedily open the matter to her."
Holyday visibly trembled, and was the picture of woe. "Good God!" heexclaimed; "how I shall find voice to speak to her, and words to say,I know not!"
"One thing will make all easy in a trice. Her Uncle Bartlemy, whom youknow, would serve her an he saw the way; and even to the last she haslooked for some secret help from him. You shall therefore begin bysaying you come from her Uncle Bartlemy, who bids her accept you as ahusband. Say that his description of her beauty, and of her unhappyplight, hath so wrought upon your mind that you were deep in loveere you e'en saw her. And then say the reality so far outshines thedescription, your love is a thousand times confirmed and multiplied.She cannot but believe you are from her uncle, knowing you live inhis part of the country. After that, if you have time for a few lovespeeches of a poetical nature, such as, no doubt, this work is full of"(he held up the manuscript)--
"Troth," said the poet, "'twere easier for me to write whole folios oflove than speak a line of it to a real maid!"
"Oh, heart up, man!" said Ravenshaw. "'Twill be smooth sailing, once astart is made. But you will not have to say much. Your youth and figurewill speak for you when she contrasts them wit
h Sir Peregrine. In herpresent mind, any man were a sweet refuge from that old kex. I remembershe said she would prefer a good swordman; tell her you are a goodswordman, therefore. And then bid her meet you at her garden gate inFriday Street at dusk, ready for a journey. Not earlier, look you, forthe men who will attend you may not be in waiting at the White Horsetill sunset, and 'twere dangerous to miss them."
The scholar breathed fast and hard, as if a burden were being forcedupon him, under which he must surely faint, and his eyes roved about asif seeking a way of evasion.
"Now all this must be agreed upon betwixt you and the maid a full hourbefore noon," proceeded Ravenshaw, "so that you may come to me with thenews ere I set out from London. I wish to go to my new affairs with aneasy mind. The place I go to is not far from that to which you and themaid shall go, and I will meet you in proper time. But take note of onething. She is not to know that I have the least hand in this business;if she did, she would not stir a step in it, for she abhors the veryname of Ravenshaw. Therefore, when you are with her, if my name comesup, be sure you vilify me roundly."
"I could vilify you now, for pushing me into this business!"
"Very like; and think not to get out of it till it's done; for, markwell, I shall not be far from you while you are in the goldsmith'shouse. I shall bring you in sight of the house, and shall wait insight of it till you come out; and if you come not out by eleveno'clock, and with word that all is planned, then, by these two hands, Iknow not what will happen!"
The poor scholar shrank at the captain's fierce manner.
"And now, for your flight and marriage," resumed Ravenshaw, afteran impressive pause; and he set forth particulars as to their beingjoined by Cutting Tom and his men, their taking boat, their trip downthe river with the vantage of tide and moonlight, their landing atwhatever point Holyday, in his knowledge of the country, should deembest. "You will then find your way as fast as may be," he continued,"to the house of your friend Sir Nicholas, the parson. Prevail upon himto keep you hid there till he can marry you by license, which can bequickly had of the bishop's commissary of Rochester. Being so much yourfriend, Sir Nicholas will wink at little shortcomings,--such as theconsent of the girl's parents being omitted, and that of her friendssufficing. The maid can swear she is not precontracted; there is trulyno consanguinity, and for names to a bond, the parson can scrape upanother besides your own. And so, safely tied, you shall bear her toyour father's house, and defy the world."
Master Holyday looked as if he fancied himself bound to the seat of agalley for life.
"The parson must lodge your attendants till the next day," addedRavenshaw, "when I will come and dismiss them. Stable room will do.Belike I will see you when I come; but she must not set eyes on me.When all's done, you may tell her what you will. Her uncle will standyour friend, I think. And so, a rascal's blessing on you both!"
The poet was silent and miserable. But after a time he looked up, and,stretching forth his hand, said, in a supplicating way:
"Give me back my puppet-play, then. 'Tis my masterwork, I think."
"You shall have it back when you are married," replied Ravenshaw,placing it carefully inside his doublet.
Master Holyday groaned, as one who gives himself up for lost.