 | The Warde |  |
scaena 4
enter as to the scoole, hearkning Mr Tingle, Blinko, the ward Thomaso singeth.Thomaso.
I see there's none heare yet; the master
is safe for this long houre; a mischiefe
upon our carters & the lying clocke!
tis alwaies 5 by that. & then we cannot
sleepe for the old mans arguments, & calvin
wel had I not a heart made of an oke
twould cracke, I thinke. heeres load upon load still
to make us Scollors; would I were the follower
of a blind harper, for my tounge is tuning
& harping alwaies in some song or other,
And now have at it; whilst I am alone.
the song.
(1)
I would I were a carter,or any other Swaine:
soe that I might live farther off,
& nere See Scoole againe.
(2)
I would I were a foot-boy& might trip o're the plaine:
57
& nere see scoole againe.
(3)
I would I were a Lords pageand did attend the heele;
then might I busse the chamber-maid,
& nere the birchtree feele.
(4)
I would I were a playeras now I seem to bee;
then might I jeere the light madonns
and be Kiss't for a fee.
(5)
I would I were a young Soldat& heard the trumpet sound:
then might I have full in my breast
not in my breech a Wound.
(6)
I would I were Narcissushard by a river side;
rather then thus be rated still
& cruelly thus chid.
(7)
I would I were just nothingethen such a thinge, as now:
my father makes mee; rather: oh!
would I might drive his plow!
Mr Tingle.
now cozen; what soe early chirping? who
taught you that pretty song?
Thomaso.
my nurse writ it,
& I did learne to sing it. truth mee thinks
tis very proper for my pitteous usage.
Blink.
morrow to my young master; what in rime
so young Sir; pray take heed, youl grow a poet
& that's a dangerous folly in these times.
and ground to disinherit you.
I would not for my hope of the copyhold,
your father should heare soe much.
1. Thomaso.
why democritus?
2. Blin.
wherefore dee call me soe?
58
Democritus was blind; & you are Blinko.
Ting.
you'r sharpe this frosty morning. o heres his
master!
enter Richardetto.
Ric.
bonum mane Mr Tingle
Ting.
et tu quoque. Sir I am come to get leave for my coz
to visit his sick father; who is now
upon departing.
Ric.
departing whither? any long Journey?
Blin.
yes faith, I think the Journeis long enough
for he is bound for heaven—
Ric.
I fancy thy expression, signieur Tingle
he is upon his death bed.—
Tin.
right Sir; therefore pray Sir
give my smal Kinseman heere, your leave to visit
his father fore he dies—
Ric.
the reasons you produce, are ponderous
& may praevaile; but I wish you too
resend my Juvenall, after the fates have shorne
the old mans thread in two.—
Ting.
Yes Sir, weel take care
he shall be long from you: for our owne ends.
Ric.
Adesdum, Thomaso: paucis te volo.
Tho.
quid vis praeceptor?
Ric.
qui mihi discipulus puer es, cupis atque doceri
huc adses.
Tho.
adsum.
R:
wel go your waies for once. but come
againe within this houre.—
Tho.
gratias.
T.
by your leave Sir.
Ric:
farewell
If Wary dies, I shall Know it by the bell.
| The Warde | |