The Lady's not for Burning [antikvár]

ACT ONEThe Scene (the house of hebble tyson, the Mayor of the little markét town of Cool Clary) and the appearance of the characters are as much fifteenth century as anything. richard, a young copying-clerk, stands working at a desk. thomas mendip, less young, in his late twenties perhaps, and less re-spectable, looks in through a great window from the garden.thomas. Soullrichard. and the plasterer, that's fifteen groats-thomas. Hey, soul!RICHARD.for stopping the draught in the privy-thomas.Body!You calculating piece of clay! richard.Damnation.thomas. Don't mention it. I've never seen a world So festering with damnation. I have left Rings of beer on every alehouse table From the salt sea-coast across half a dozen counties, But each time I thought I was on the way To a faintly festive hiccupThe sight of the damned world sobered me up again. Where is the Mayor ? I've business with His Worship.richard. Where have you come from? thomas.Straight from yourlocal.Damnation 's pretty active there this afternoon, Licking her lips over gossip of murder and witchcraft; There 's mischief brewing for someone. Where 's the Mayor ?