_Franceschina's lodging._
_Enter_ FRANCESCHINA _melancholy_, COCLEDEMOY
_leading her_.
_Coc._ Come, catafugo, Frank o' Frank-hall! who, who
ho! Excellent! Ha, here's a plump-rump'd wench,
with a breast softer than a courtier's tongue, an old
lady's gums, or an old man's _mentula_. My fine
rogue----
_Fra._ Pah, you poltroon!
_Coc._ Goody fist,[85] flumpum pumpum; ah, my fine wag-tail,
thou art as false, as prostituted, and adulterate as
some translated manuscript. Buss, fair whore, buss!
_Fra._ God's sacrament, pox! 10
_Coc._ _Hadamoy key_, dost thou frown, _medianthon
teukey_? Nay, look here._ Numeron key_, silver _blithefor
cany, os cany_ goblet: _us key ne moy blegefoy oteeston pox_,
on you gosling!
_Fra._ By me fait, dis bin very fine langage; ick sall
bush ye now; ha, be garzon, vare had you dat plate?
_Coc._ _Hedemoy key_, get you gone, punk rampant, _key_,
common up-tail!
_Enter_ MARY FAUGH _in haste_.
_Mar._ O daughter, cousin, niece, servant, mistress!
_Coc._ Humpum, plumpum squat, I am gone. 20
[_Exit_ COCLEDEMOY.
_Mar._ There is one Master Malheureux at the door
desires to see you. He says he must not be denied,
for he hath sent this ring; and withal says 'tis done.
_Fra._ Vat sall me do now, God's sacrament! Tell him
two hours hence he sall be most affectionately velcome;
tell him (vat sall me do?), tel him ick am bin in my bate,
and ick sall perfume my feets, mak a mine body so delicate
for his arm, two hours hence.
_Mar._ I shall satisfy him: two hours hence, well. 29
[_Exit_ MARY.
_Fra._ Now ick sall revange; hay, begar, me sal tartar
de whole generation! Mine brain vork it. Freevill is
dead, Malheureux sall hang; and mine rival, Beatrice,
ick sall make run mad.
_Enter_ MARY FAUGH.
_Mar._ He's gone, forsooth, to eat a caudle of cock-stones,
and will return within this two hours.
_Fra._ Verie vel, give monies to some fellow to squire
me; ick sal go abroad.
_Mar._ There's a lusty bravo beneath, a stranger, but a
good stale[86] rascal. He swears valiantly, kicks a bawd
right virtuously, and protests with an empty pocket right
desperately. He'll squire you. 41
_Fra._ Very velcom; mine fan; ick sall retorn presantly.
Now sal me be revange; ten tousant devla! der sall be
no got in me but passion, no tought but rage, no mercy
but bloud, no spirit but divla in me. Dere sal noting
tought good for me, but dat is mischievous for others.
[_Exit._
[85] Ed. 2. "fiest."--See note, p. 42.
[Transcriber's Note: Footnote [46]]
[86] Quy. "tall"?