Collected Works (Vol. III)

THE SIRE DE MALETROIT’S DOOR 71 FLORIMOND. O this miserable sot ! [Crouches again, DENYS sees him. DENYS. O thank God! Here's another poor devil, a gentleman by his clothes, and a thief by his manner, and I daresay a good fellow. [Goes to FLORIMOND and slaps him on the back.] Sir, do you know this cursed Paris? My inn, which I have lost, is the Sign of the Green Grass—I should say the Field o’ Spring--and ’tis hard by the Church of St. Anselm, that is hard by,the river, and the hardest of all is that neither church, inn, nor river can I find this devil ofa night. [Catches FLORIMOND and shakes him by the shoulder. FLORIMOND. Know you are speaking to a captain in the army of Duke Charles! Moderate thy drunkenness, man, or I will call the watch. DENYs., Know me for a captain in the army of His Majesty King Charles of France, whom God preserve ! FLORIMOND. What, traitor ? DENYS. Traitor in thy teeth! I have a safe-con- duct from your pinchbeck duke. Oh, the devil! ‘twill serve me but ill these Paris nights—a fool am I! Well, sir, I ask your pardon, and throw myself on your kindness. FLORIMOND, Ha! St. Gris! Then I have you, my fine cock. Watch, ho! A traitor! I will pay you your insolence. (Calls. DENYS. Oh then, to shut your mouth. [ Draws. [FLORIMOND @¢rtes to draw, gets the fat of DENYS’ sword on his shoulder, and runs away. Exit DENYS pursuing and FLORIMOND calling out. Distant shouts. Re-enter Denys, ZL. DENYS. Oh, my inn! myinn! What a foolam I! Where can I hide? The air is full of noises. I would change my safe-conduct for a pair of wings. I must steal back the way I came, and St. Denys lend me prudence the next fool I meet. Whata night! O my God! Enter WATCH, &., running and shoutine. Well, for France, then! My back to the door, and my sword to the foeman’s breast ! [Puts his back to the door.| My father’s son could never have died otherwise! [£z/er WatTcH.] St. Denys for Beaulieu! The door’s open. May the luck turn yet! [Sdides backwards gently through door. WATCH cross stage stumbling, curs- ing, and crying, ‘*A trattor, a trattor |” [Stage being clearfora little, suddenly the door bangs violently. DENYS. [/istde.] What the devil was that? door! The Re-enter FLORIMOND, 2. FLORIMOND. At last! [Goes to door and pushes it.] The devil take all women! After all, the door is shut. Laugh, thou light little fool, laugh now. One day thou shalt moan upon the stones, and Florimond de Champdivers shall shut his door tothee. Damn and damn and damn! What served love shall serve hate: ‘tis a poor game that only works one Way. [Curtacn.