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.