 | The Blind Lady |  |
SCEN. 2.
Enter Peter, and Quinever.Pet.
Nay, you had best teach her to beat a drum,
Do you think to make her now an old blind Amazon.
We shall have the Sheriff to send warrants for us,
Thus to raise Forces, and not se defendo;
Quin.
Lord, how wise you are good Peter, at least
You would fain seem so, I can tell, I'me sure,
Where you have all your wisenesse.
Pet.
Where, good Quinever?
Quin.
All your law, out of the two old leaves
That lye behind the parlour-cupbord;
Pieces, they say, of an old Statute book,
Which has been rotting there these twenty years.
And for your other talk, 'tis taken out
Of your old Erra-pater; and you, forsooth,
Must seem to be more wise then all of us.
I'me sure, when you made love to me,
And once were out of these two trodden roades,
You could not speak a word, but just, How do you.
87
Of scurvy tones, nay.—
Pet.
Why, art thou mad, or dost thou think it fit,
My Lady, should defend all wandring strangers,
And enter into warres? I am resolved
To change my station, they are digging up earth
Before the Gates, I can't passe by,
But I must think of graves, men too brought in,
I think, to fill them.
Quin.
Hang your sheep's face, I see that now 'tis fear,
That your wise worship with your wonted ease,
Should not at leisure drink your morning draught,
And at the Alehouse for two pots
Hear your selfe praised,
And bribe a man to come to you for counsell
That never had need of any, you have worn your Gloves out
With biting your thumbs ends, to appear wise.
All this put together, got from my Lady's purse,
Thou hast been as chargeable as a Regiment.
Pet.
Why, Mrs. Quinever, sure you once had
Better opinions of me, though you now
Wash every day your best handkerchief
With yellow starch, and your lac'd quoiff,
Till it now hangs as if the devill
Had frighted you through quicksetts, not a post
But must be beaten for the rotten powder
To make your hair sit well, and all in hopes
That some of these should fall in love with you.
I was once thought worthy, then I was honest Peter.
88
Marry come up, what, love that transparent nose of thine.
That gives the Serenades when thou sleepest?
Or thy wide mouth like a dead Lobster's claws,
Or thy starcht ruff like a new Pigeon-house,
Your garters tied above your boots; as if you feard
Your leg so well provided would be gone.
Pet.
Why I thank you sweet Mistresse Quiniver go on
And be all mad whiles I lament you sober:
Nay you shall fight by your selves for Peter,
You'le make an excellent ammunition Girle
Get a bottle to carry hot water in, in time
You may arise to be a Sutler's wife.
Quin.
I'le have your wise head fitted for all this
And heer comes one shall do it.
Enter Pysander.
Pet.
O sweet Mistresse Quinever
Quin.
No fawning now you whelp.
Pys.
Mrs. Quinever well met, I was seeking you.
Quin.
I am happy I have found you.
Pys.
How go matters? we have got some 50. men.
Quin.
All goes well: but this wise Gentleman
(Whose wit lies in his breeches, for 'tis all
He has to know when he has need)
Is much displeased at our preparations,
And asks me if you mean to make
My Lady a blind drummer
Pys.
And cannot you convert him?
Quin.
No indeed.
89
Why thou ingratefull piece of wise formality,
How oft hast thou had warning to be wise?
I have threatned thee thou should'st never go
Without a rime pind at thy back
Which should be thy own grievous Chronicle.
I told thee too that I would have thee painted
Riding upon an Asse and reading Seneca,
I thought this might have tyed thy tongue.
Pet.
Good Sir:
Pys.
Nay hear and mark me, if thou dost er'e again
Seem to be wiser than thou art, and crosse
What now is done, pay if thou dos't not help
And put thy assisting hand to't, thou shalt ride
In a hot day upon a well lined sadle
With soap in thy new grogram-breeches, till it work
Like new tunnd beer, and every day
When thou first down to dinner one or other
Shall pull away thy stool, I'le spoil thy gravity,
Or noint thy feet with butter, whilst a dog
Shall lick and tickle thee, and if any comes
Here to oppose us thou shalt seem a stratagem:
For on the walls we'le set thee, like a thing
Stuft up with straw, onely to make them spend
Their shot upon thee, and in thy turn
Thou shalt do duty too, and every night,
Be sure to have alarmes. Speak what you'le do.
Pet.
I did but utter my opinion: I shall conform.
Pys.
It's well said, and I forgive you,
But take heed you erre no more.
Pet.
You need not doubt me.
90
Come wench, now we breathe in safety,
And thou proud Peter's conquerour.
[Exeunt.
Pet.
The Devill go with you; he has conjured me.
Did ever Turk think of so many torments,
And in what order too he marshal'd them?
I am not yet out of a chilling sweat;
Nor shall I get now of enchanted Quinever
One drop of good hot water, God deliver me
From this strange hurly-burly; and yet I dare not fancy
A good strong halter and a handsom beam
I'le go to sleep, for I am now
Afraid of all things.
[Exit.
| The Blind Lady | |