Luce. _Ever toward_
_Those that love, to love anew._
_Jasp._ Dissemble it no more, I see the God
Of heavy sleep, lay on his heavy Mace,
Upon your eye-lids.
_Luce._ I am very heavy.
_Jasp._ Sleep, sleep, and quiet rest crown thy sweet thoughts:
Keep from her fair blood distempers, startings,
Horrors and fearful shapes: let all her dreams
Be joys, and chaste delights, embraces, wishes,
And such new pleasures as the ravish'd soul
Gives to the sences. So my charms have took.
Keep her you powers divine, whilst I contemplate
Upon the wealth and beauty of her mind.
She is only fair, and constant: only kind,
And only to thee _Jasper_. Oh my joyes!
Whither will you transport me? let not fulness
Of my poor buried hopes come up together,
And over-charge my spirits; I am weak,
Some say (how ever ill) the Sea and Women
Are govern'd by the Moon, both ebb and flow,
Both full of changes: yet to them that know,
And truly judge, these but opinions are,
And heresies to bring on pleasing War
Between our tempers, that without these were
Both void of after-love, and present fear.
Which are the best of _Cupid_. O thou child!
Bred from despair, I dare not entertain thee,
Having a love without the faults of Women,
And greater in her perfect goods than men:
Which to make good, and please my self the stronger,
Though certainly I am certain of her love,
I'll try her, that the world and memory
May sing to after-times her constancy.
_Luce, Luce,_ awake.
_Luce._ Why do you fright me friend,
With those distempered looks? what makes your sword
Drawn in your hand? who hath offended you?
I prethee _Jasper_ sleep, thou art wild with watching.
_Jasp._ Come make your way to Heaven, and bid the world
(With all the villanies that stick upon it)
Farewell; you're for another life.
_Luce._ Oh _Jasper_.
How have my tender years committed evil,
(Especially against the man I love)
Thus to be cropt untimely?
_Jasp._ Foolish girl,
Canst thou imagine I could love his daughter
That flung me from my fortune into nothing?
Discharged me his service, shut the doors
Upon my poverty, and scorn'd my prayers,
Sending me, like a boat without a mast,
To sink or swim? Come, by this hand you dye,
I must have life and blood to satisfie
Your fathers wrongs.
_Wife._ Away _George_, away, raise the Watch at _Ludgate_, and
bring a _Mittimus_ from the Justice for this desperate Villain.
Now I charge you Gentlemen, see the Kings peace kept. O my
heart what a varlet's this, to offer Man-slaughter upon the
harmless Gentlewoman?
_Cit._ I warrant thee (sweet heart) we'll have him hampered.
_Luce._ Oh _Jasper_! be not cruel,
If thou wilt kill me, smile, and do it quickly,
And let not many deaths appear before me.
I am a woman made of fear and love
A weak, weak woman, kill not with thy eyes,
They shoot me through and through. Strike I am ready.
And dying still I love thee.
_Enter_ Merchant, Humphrey, _and his Men._
_Merch._ Where abouts?
_Jasp._ No more of this, now to my self again.
_Hum._ There, there he stands with Sword like martial Knight.
Drawn in his hand, therefore beware the fight
You that are wise: for were I good Sir _Bevis_,
I would not stay his coming, by your leaves.
_Merc._ Sirrah, restore my daughter.
_Jasp._ Sirrah, no.
_Merch._ Upon him then.
_Wife._ So, down with him, down with him, down with him: cut
him i'the leg boyes, cut him i'th' leg.
_Merc._ Come your ways Minion, I'll provide a Cage for you,
you're grown so tame. Horse her away.
_Hum._ Truly I'm glad your forces have the day.
[_Exeunt manet Jasper._
_Jasp._ They are gone, and I am hurt, my Love is lost,
Never to get again. Oh me unhappy!
Bleed, bleed, and dye, I cannot: Oh my folly!
Thou hast betray'd me, Hope where art thou fled?
Tell me if thou be'st any where remaining.
Shall I but see my love again? Oh no!
She will not dain to look upon her Butcher,
Nor is [it] fit she should; yet I must venter.
Oh chance, or fortune, or what ere thou art
That men adore for powerful, hear my cry,
And let me loving live; or loosing dye. [_Exit_]
_Wife._ Is a gone _George_?
_Cit._ I conny.
_Wife._ Marry and let him go (sweet heart) by the faith a
my body a has put me into such a fright, that I tremble (as
they say) as 'twere an Aspine leaf: look a my little finger
_George_, how it shakes: now in truth every member of my body
is the worse for't.
_Cit._ Come, hug in mine arms sweet Mouse, he shall not fright
thee any more: alass mine own dear heart how it quivers.
_Enter_ Mistris Merry-thought, Rafe, Michael, Squire,
Dwar[f]e, Host, _and a_ Tapster.
_Wife._ O _Rafe_, how dost thou _Rafe_? how hast thou slept to
night? has the Knight us'd thee well?
_Cit._ Peace _Nell_, let _Rafe_ alone.
_Tapst._ Master, the reckoning is not paid.
_Rafe._ Right courteous Knight, who for the orders sake
Which thou hast tane, hang'st out the holy _Bell_,
As I this flaming Pestle bear about,
We render thanks to your puissant self,
Your beauteous Lady, and your gentle Squires,
For thus refreshing of our wearied limbs,
Stifned with hard atchievements in wild Desart.
_Tapst._ Sir, there is twelve shillings to pay.
_Rafe._ Thou merry Squire _Tapstero_, thanks to thee,
For comforting our souls with double Jug,
And if adventurous Fortune prick thee forth,
Thou jovial Squire, to follow feats of Arms,
Take heed thou tender every Ladies cause,
Every true Knight, and every Damsel fair
But spill the blood of treacherous _Sarazens_,
And false inchanters, that with Magick spels,
Have done to death full many a noble Knight.
_Host._ Thou valiant Knight of the _burning Pestle_, give ear
to me, there is twelve shillings to pay, and as I am a true
Knight, I will not bate a penny.
_Wife. George_, I prethee tell me, must _Rafe_ pay twelve
shillings now?
_Cit._ No, _Nel_, no, nothing but the old Knight is merry with
_Rafe_.
_Wife._ O is't nothing else? _Rafe_ will be as merry as he.
_Rafe._ Sir Knight, this mirth of yours becomes you well,
But to requite this liberal courtesie,
If any of your Squires will follow Arms,
He shall receive from my Heroick hand
A Knig[h]thood, by the virtue of this Pestle.
_Host._ Fair Knight, I thank you for your noble offer,
Therefore gentle Knight,
Twelve shillings you must pay, or I must cap you.
_Wife._ Look _George_, did not I tell thee as much, the Knight
of the _Bell_ is in earnest, _Rafe_ shall not be beholding to
him, give him his money _George_, and let him go snick up.
_Cit._ Cap _Rafe_? no, hold your hand sir Knight of the _Bell_,
there's your Money, have you any thing to say to _Rafe_ now?
cap _Rafe_?
_Wife._ I would you should know it, _Rafe_ has friends that
will not suffer him to be capt for ten times so much, and ten
times to the end of that, now take thy course _Rafe_.
_Mist. mer._ Come _Michael_, thou and I will go home to thy
father, he hath enough left to keep us a day or two, and we'll
set fellows abroad to cry our Purse and Casket: Shall we
_Michael_?
_Mich._ I, I pray mother, in truth my feet are full of
chilblains with travelling.
_Wife._ Faith and those chilblaines are a foul trouble, Mistris
_Merry-thought_ when your youth comes home, let him rub all
the soles of his feet, and his heels, and his ankles, with
a Mouseskin; or if none of your [people] can catch a Mouse,
when he goes to bed, let him rowl his feet in the warm embers,
and I warrant you he shall be well, and you may make him put
his fingers between his toes, and smell to them, it's very
soveraign for his head, if he be costive.
_Mist. mer._ Master Knight of the burning Pestle, my son
_Michael_, and I bid you farewell, I thank your Worship hartily
for your kindness.
_Rafe._ Fare-well fair Lady, and your tender Squire.
If pricking through these Desarts, I do hear
Of any traiterous Knight who through his guile,
Hath light upon your Casket and your Purse,
I will despoil him of them and restore them.
_Mist. mer._ I thank your Worship. [_Exit with Michael._
_Rafe._ Dwarf bear my shield, Squire elevate my lance,
And now farewell you Knight of holy _Bell_.
_Cit._ I, I _Rafe_, all is paid.
_Rafe._ But yet before I go, speak worthy Knight,
If [ought] you do of sad adventures know,
Where errant Knights may through his prowess win
Eternal fame, and free some gentle souls,
From endless [bonds] of steel and lingring pain.
_Host._ Sirrah go to _Nick_ the _Barber_, and bid him prepare
himself, as I told you before quickly.
_Tap._ I am gone Sir. [_Exit Tapster._
_Host._ Sir Knight, this wilderness affordeth none
But the great venture, where full many a Knight
Hath tried his prowess, and come off with shame,
And where I would not have you loose your life,
Against no man, but furious fiend of Hell.
_Rafe._ Speak on Sir Knight, tell what he is, and where:
For here I vow upon my blazing badge,
Never to blaze a day in quietness;
But bread and water will I only eat,
And the green herb and rock shall be my couch
Till I have queld that man, or beast, or fiend,
That works such damage to all Errant Knights.
_Host._ Not far from hence, near [to] a craggy cliff
At the North end of this distressed Town,
There doth stand a lowly house
Ruggedly builded, and in it a Cave
In which an ugly Giant now doth won,
Ycleped _Barbaroso_: in his hand
He shakes a naked Lance of purest steel,
With sleeves turn'd up, and him before he wears,
A motly garment to preserve his clothes
From blood of those Knights which he massacres,
And Ladies Gentle: without his door doth hang
A copper bason, on a prickant Spear;
At which, no sooner gentle Knights can knock,
But the shrill sound, fierce _Barbaroso_ hears,
And rushing forth, brings in the Errant Knight,
And sets him down in an inchanted chair:
Then with an Engine, which he hath prepar'd
With forty teeth, he claws his courtly crown,
Next makes him wink, and underneath his chin,
He plants a brazen piece of mighty board,
And knocks his bullets round about his cheeks,
Whilst with his fingers, and an instrument
With which he snaps his hair off, he doth fill
The wretches ears with a most hideous noyse.
Thus every Knight Adventurer he doth trim,
And now no creature dares encounter him.
_Rafe._ In Gods name, I will fight with him, kind sir,
Go but before me to this dismal Cave
Where this huge Giant _Barbaroso_ dwells,
And by that virtue that brave _Rosicleere_,
That damn'd brood of ugly Giants slew,
And _Palmerin Frannarco_ overthrew:
I doubt not but to curb this Traytor foul,
And to the Devil send his guilty Soul.
_Host._ Brave sprighted Knight, thus far I will perform
This your request, I'll bring you within sight
Of this most loathsome place, inhabited
By a more lothsome man: but dare not stay,
For his main force swoops all he sees away.
_Rafe._ Saint _George_ set on before, march Squire and Page.
[_Exeunt._
_Wife. George_, dost think _Rafe_ will confound the Giant?
_Cit._ I hold my cap to a farthing he does: why _Nell_, I saw
him wrestle with the great Dutchman, and hurle him.
_Wife._ Faith and that Dutchman was a goodly man, if all things
were answerable to his bigness: and yet they say there was a
Scottishman higher than he, and that they two and a Knight
met, and saw one another for nothing: but of all the sights
that ever were in _London_, since I was married, methinks the
little child that was so fair grown about the members, was the
prettiest, that and the _Hermaphrodite_.
_Cit._ Nay, by your leave _Nil_, _Ninivie_ was better.
_Wife. Ninivie_, O that was the story of _Jone_ and the wall,
was it not _George_?
_Cit._ Yes lamb. [_Enter Mistris Merry-t[hou]ght._
_Wife._ Look _George_, here comes Mistris _Merry-though[t]_
[ag]ain, and I would have _Rafe_ come and fight with the Gyant,
I tell you true I long to see't.
_Cit._ Good Mistriss _Merri-thought_ be [g]one, I pray you for
my sake, I pray you forbear a little, you shall have audience
presently, I have a little business.
_Wife._ Mistris _Merri-thought_, if it please you to refrain
your passion a little, till _Rafe_ have dispatcht the Giant out
of the way, we shall think our selves much bound to thank you:
I thank you good Mistris _Merri-thought_.
[_Exit Mist. Merry-thought._
_Enter a Boy._
_Cit._ Boy, come hither, send away _Rafe_ and this whoreson
Giant quickly.
_Boy._ In good faith sir we cannot, you'l utterly spoil our
Play, and make it to be hist, and it cost money, you will not
suffer us to go on with our plots, I pray Gentlemen rule him.
_Cit._ Let him come now and dispatch this, and I'll trouble you
no more.
_Boy._ Will you give me your hand of that?
_Wife._ Give him thy hand _George_, do, and I'll kiss him, I
warrant thee the youth means plainly.
_Boy._ I'll send him to you presently. [_Exit Boy._
_Wife._ I thank you little youth, feth the child hath a sweet
breath _George_, but I think it be troubled with the Worms,
_Carduus Benedictus_ and Mares milk were the only thing in the
world for't. O _Rafe_'s here _George_; God send thee good luck
_Rafe_.
_Enter_ Rafe, Host, Squire, _and_ Dwarf.
_Host._ Puissant Knight yonder his Mansion is,
Lo, where the Spear and Copper Bason are,
Behold the string on which hangs many a tooth,
Drawn from the gentle jaw of wandring Knights,
I dare not stay to sound, he will appear. [_Exit Host._
_Rafe._ O faint not heart, _Susan_ my Lady dear:
The Coblers Maid in Milkstreet, for whose sake,
I take these Arms, O let the thought of thee,
Carry thy Knight through all adventurous deeds,
And in the honor of thy beauteous self,
May I destroy this monster _Barbaroso_,
Knock Squire upon the Bason till it break [_Enter Barba._
With the shrill strokes, or till the Giant spake.
_Wife._ O _George_, the Giant, the Giant, now _Rafe_ for thy
life.
_Bar._ What fond unknowing wight is this, that dares,
So rudely knock at _Barbarossa_'s Cell,
Where no man comes, but leaves his fleece behind?
_Rafe._ I, traiterous Caitiffe, who am sent by fate
To punish all the sad enormities
Thou hast committed against Ladies gentle,
And Errant Knights, Traytor to God and men:
Prepare thy self, this is the dismal hour
Appointed for thee to give strict account
Of all thy beastly treacherous villanies.
_Bar._ Fool-hardy Knight, full soon thou shalt aby
This fond reproach, thy body will I bang, [_He takes down his pole._
And loe upon that string thy teeth shall hang:
Prepare thy self, for dead soon shalt thou be.
_Rafe._ Saint _George_ for me. [_They fight._
_Barba. Gargantua_ for me.
_Wife._ To him _Rafe_, to him, hold up the Giant, set out thy
leg before _Rafe_.
_Cit._ Falsifie a blow _Rafe_, falsifie a blow, the Giant lies
open on the left side.
_Wife._ Bear't off, bear't off still; there boy, O _Rafe_'s
almost down, _Rafe_'s almost down.
_Rafe. Susan_ inspire me, now have up again.
_Wife._ Up, up, up, up, up, so _Rafe_, down with him, down with
him _Rafe_.
_Cit._ Fetch him over the hip boy.
_Wife._ There boy, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, _Rafe_.
_Cit._ No _Rafe_, get all out of him first.
_Rafe._ Presumptuous man, see to what desperate end
Thy treachery hath brought thee, the just Gods,
Who never prosper those that do despise them,
For all the villanies which thou hast done
To Knights and Ladies, now have paid thee home,
By my stiff arm, a Knight adventurous.
But say, vile wretch, before I send thy soul
To sad _Avernus_, whither it must go,
What captives holdst thou in thy sable cave?
_Barba._ Go in and free them all, thou hast the day.
_Rafe._ Go Squire and Dwarf, search in this dreadful cave,
And free the wretched prisoners from their bonds.
[_Exit Squire and Dwarf._
_Barb._ I crave for mercy as thou art a Knight,
And scornst to spill the blood of those that beg.
_Rafe._ Thou shewest no mercy, nor shalt thou have any,
Prepare thy self, for thou shalt surely dye.
_Enter Squire leading one winking, with a Bason under his chin._
_Squire._ Behold brave Knight here is one prisoner,
Whom this wild man hath used as you see.
_Wife._ This is the [first] wise word I hear[d] the Squire speak.
_Rafe._ Speak what thou art, and how thou hast been us'd,
That I may give him condign punishment.
_1. Kni._ I am a Knight that took my journey post
Northward from _London_, and in courteous wise,
This Gyant train'd me to his [loathsome] den,
Under pretence of killing of the itch,
And all my body with a powder strew'd,
That smarts and stings, and cut away my beard,
And my curl'd locks wherein were Ribands ty'de,
And with a water washt my tender eyes,
Whilst up and down about me still he skipt,
Whose virtue is, that till my eyes be wip't
With a dry cloth, for this my foul disgrace,
I shall not dare to look a dog i'th' face.
_Wife._ Alass poor Knight, relieve him _Rafe_, relieve poor
Knights whilst you live.
_Rafe._ My trusty Squire convey him to the Town,
Where he may find relief, adieu fair Knight. [_Exit Knight._
_Enter Dwarf leading one with a patch o'er his Nose._
_Dwar._ Puissant Knight of the _burning Pestle_ height,
See here another wretch, whom this foul beast
Hath scorcht and scor'd in this inhumane wise.
_Rafe._ Speak me thy name, and eke thy place of birth,
And what hath been thy usage in this Cave.
_2. Knight._ I am a Knight, Sir _Pock-hole_ is my name,
And by my birth I am a _Londoner_,
Free by my Copy, but my Ancestors
Were _Frenchmen_ all, and riding hard this way,
Upon a trotting horse my bones did ake,
And I faint Knight to ease my weary limbes,
Light at this Cave, when straight this furious fiend,
With sharpest instrument of purest steel,
Did cut the gristle of my Nose away,
And in the place this velvet plaster stands,
Relieve me gentle Knight out of his hands.
_Wife._ Good _Rafe_ relieve Sir _Pockhole_, and send him away,
for in truth his breath stinks.
_Rafe._ Convey him straight after the other Knight:
Sir _Pockhole_ fare you well.
_[2]. Knight._ Kind Sir goodnight. [_Exit._
[_Cryes within._
_Man._ Deliver us.
_Woman._ Deliver us.
_Wife._ Harke _George_, what a woful cry there is, I think some
woman lyes in there.
_Man._ Deliver us.
_Woman._ Deliver us.
_Rafe._ What gastly noise is this? speak _Barbaroso_
Or by this blazing steel thy head goes off.
_Barb._ Prisoners of mine, whom I in diet keep,
Send lower down into the Cave,
And in a Tub that's heated smoaking hot,
There may they find them and deliver them.
_Rafe._ Run Squire and Dwarf, deliver them with speed.
_Exeunt Squire and Dwarf._
_Wife._ But will not _Raf[e]_ kill this Giant, surely I am
afraid if he let him go he will do as much hurt, as ever he did.
_Citizen._ Not so Mouse neither, if he could convert him.
_Wife._ I _George_, if he could convert him; but a Gyant is
not so soon converted as one of us ordinary people. There's a
pretty tale of a Witch, that had the Divels mark about her,
God bless us, that had a Gyant to her son, that was call'd
_Lob-lie-by-the-fire_, didst never hear it _George_.
_Enter Squire leading a man with a glass of Lotion in his hand,_
_and the Dwarf leading a woman, with Dyet-bread and Drink._
_Cit._ Peace _Nell_, here comes the prisoners.
_Dwar._ Here be these pined wretches, manfull Knight,
That for this six weeks have not seen a wight.
_Raph._ Deliver what you are, and how you came
To this sad Cave, and what your usage was?
_Man._ I am an errant Knight that followed Arms,
With spear and shield, and in my tender years
I strucken was with _Cupids_ fiery shaft,
And fell in love with this my Lady dear,
And stole her from her friends in Turne-ball street,
And bore her up and down from Town to Town,
Where we did eat and drink and Musick he[a]re;
Till at the length at this unhappy Town
We did arrive, and coming to this Cave,
This beast us caught, and put us in a Tub,
Where we this two months sweat, and should have done
Another Month if you had not relieved us.
_Wom._ This bread and water hath our dyet been,
Together with a rib cut from a neck
Of burned Mutton, hard hath been our fare,
Release us from this ugly Gyants snare.
_Man._ This hath been [all] the food we have receiv'd,
But only twice a day for novelty,
He gave a spoonful of his hearty broth [_Pulls out a siringe._
To each of us, through this same [sl]ender quill.
_Raph._ From this infernall Monster you shall go,
That useth Knights and gentle Ladies so.
Convey them hence. [_Exeunt man and woman._
_Cit._ Cunny, I can tell thee the Gentlem[e]n like _Rafe_.
_Wife._ I _George_, I see it well enough. Gentlemen I thank you
all heartily for gracing my man _Raph_, and I promise you, you
shall see him oftner.
_Bar._ Mercy great Knight, I do recant my ill,
And henceforth never gentle blood will spill.
_Raph._ I give thee mercy, but yet thou shalt swear
Upon my burning Pestle to perform
Thy promise utter'd.
_Bar._ I swear and kiss.
_Raph._ Depart then and amend.
Come Sq[u]ire and Dwarf, the Sun grows towards his set,
And we have many more adventures yet. [_Exeunt._
_Cit._ Now _Raph_ is in this humor, I know he would ha beaten
all the boys in the house, if they had been set on him.
_Wife._ I _George_, but it is well as it is: I warrant you the
gentlemen do consider what it is to overthrow a Gyant: but look
_George_, here comes Mistriss _Merri-thought_, and her son
_Michael_, now you are welcome Mistris _Merri-thought_, now
_Raph_ has done you may go on.
_Enter_ Mistriss Merry-thought _and_ Michael.
_Mist. mer. Micke_ My Boy?
_Mich._ I forsooth Mother.
_Mist. mer._ Be merry _Micke_, we are at home now: where I
warrant you, yo[u] shall find the house flung out of the
windows: Hark: hey dogs, hey, this is the old world y'faith
with my Husband: [if I] get in amo[n]g them, I'll play them
such [a] les[s]on, that they shall have little list to come
scraping hither again. Why Master _Merry-thought_, Husband,
_Charles Merry-thought_.
_Old Mer. within._ If you will sing, and dance, and laugh, and
hollow, and laugh again: and then cry there boys there: why
then,
One, two, three, and four,
We shall be merry within this hour.
_Mist. Mer._ Why _Charles_ do you not know your own natural
wife? I say open the door, and turn me out those mangy
companions; 'tis more than time that they were fellow like with
you: you are a Gentleman _Charles_, and an old man, and father
of two children; and I my self, (though I say it) by my mothers
side, Niece to a Worshipful Gentleman, and a Conductor, he has
been three times in his Majesties service at _Chester_, and is
now the fourth time, God bless him, and his charge upon his
journey.
Old Mer. _Go from my window, love go:_
_Go from my window my dear,_
_The wind and the rain will drive you back again,_
_You cannot be lodged here._
Hark you Mistriss _Merri-thought_, you that walk upon
Adventures, and forsake your Husband, because he sings with
never a penny in his purse; what shall I think my self the
worse? Faith no, I'll be merry.
You come not here, here's none but Lads of mettle, lives of a
hundred years, and upwards, care never drunk their bloods, nor
want made them warble.
Hey-ho, my heart is heavy.
_Mist. Mer._ Why M. _Merri-thought_, what am I that you should
laugh me to scorn thus abruptly? am I not your fellow-feeler,
(as we may say) in all our miseries? your comforter in health
and sickness? have I not brought you Children? are they not
like you _Charles_? look upon thine own Image, hardhearted man;
and yet for all this--
_Old Mer. within._ Begon, begon my juggy, my puggy, begon my
love my dear.
The weather is warm, 'twill do thee no harm, thou canst not be
lodged here.
Be merry boys, some light musick, and more wine.
_Wife._ He's not in earnest, I hope _George_, is he?
_Cit._ What if he be, sweet heart?
_Wife._ Marry if he be _George_, I'll make bold to tell him
he's an ingrant old man, to use his bed-fellow so scurvily.
_Cit._ What how does he use her Honey?
_Wife._ Marry come up sir sauce-box, I think you'll take his
part, will you not? Lord how hot are you grown: you are a fine
man an you had a fine Dog, it becomes you sweetly.
_Cit._ Nay, prethee _Nell_ chide not: for as I am an honest
man, and a true Christian Grocer, I do not like his doings.
_Wife._ I cry you mercy then _George_, you know we are
all frail, and full of infirmities. Dee hear Master
_Merri-thought_, may I crave a word with you?
_Old Mer. within._ Strike up lively lads.
_Wife._ I had not thought in truth, Master _Merri-thought_,
that a man of your age and discretion (as I may say) being
a Gentleman, and therefore known by your gentle conditions,
could have used so little respect to the weakness of his wife:
for your wife is your own flesh, the staff of your age, your
yoke-fellow, with whose help you draw through the myre of this
transitory world: Nay, she's your own rib. And again--
_Old Mer._ I come not hither for thee to teach,
I have no pulpit for thee to preach,
I would thou hadst kist me under the breech,
As thou art a Lady gay.
_Wife._ Marry with a vengeance, I am heartily sorry for the
poor Gentlewoman: but if I were thy wife, i'faith gray-beard,
i'faith--
_Cit._ I prethee sweet Hony-suckle, be content.
_Wife._ Give me such words that am a Gentlewoman born, hang him
hoary Rascal. Get me some drink _George_, I am almost molten
with fretting: now beshrew his Knaves heart for it.
_Old mer._ Play me a light _Lavalto_: come, be frollick, fill
the good fellows wine.
_Mist. mer._ Why Master _Merri-thought_, are you disposed to
make me wait here: you'll open I hope, i'll fetch them that
shall open else.
_Old mer._ Good woman, if you will sing, I'll give you
something, if not--