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Scæne 6.
Enter Don John.Iohn.
Was ever man so paid for being curious?
Ever so bob'd for searching out adventures,
As I am? did the devill lead me? must I needs be peeping
Into mens houses where I had no businesse,
And make my selfe a mischiefe? 'Tis well carried;
I must take other mens occasions on me,
And be I know not whom: most finely handled:
What have I got by this now? what's the purchase?
A piece of evening Arras worke, a childe,
Indeed an Infidell: this comes of peeping:
A lumpe got out of lazinesse; good white bread
Let's have no bawling with yee: 'sdeath, have I
Knowne Wenches thus long, all the wayes of wenches,
Their snares and subtilties? have I read over
All their Schoole learnings, div'd into their quiddits,
And am I now bum-fidled with a Bastard?
Fetch'd over with a Carde of five, and in mine old dayes,
After the dire massacre of a million
Of Maiden-heads? caught the common way, ith' night too
Under anothers name, to make the matter
Carry more weight about it? well Don Iohn,
You will be wiser one day, when ye have purchas'd
A beavy of these Butter prints together,
With searching out conceal'd iniquities,
Without commission: why, it would never grieve me,
If I had got this Ginger-bread: never stirr'd me,
So I had had a stroak for't: 't had been Justice
Then to have kept it; but to raise a dayrie
For other mens adulteries, consume my 'selfe in candles,
And scowring works, in Nurses Bells and Babies,
Onely for charity, for meere I thank you,
A little troubles me: the least touch for it,
Had but my breeches got it, had contented me.
Whose e're it is, sure t'had a wealthy mother,
For 'tis well cloathed, and if I be not cozen'd,
Well lin'd within: to leave it here were barbarous,
And ten to one would kill it: a more sin
Then his that got it: well, I will dispose on't,
And keep it, as they keep deaths heads in rings,
To cry, memento to me; no more peeping.
Now all the danger is to qualifie
The good old gentlewoman, at whose house we live,
For she will fall upon me with a Catechisme
Of foure houres long: I must endure all;
For I will know this mother: Come good wonder,
Let you and I be jogging: your starv'd trebble
Will waken the rude watch else: All that bee
Curious night-walkers, may they finde my fee.
Exit.
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