University of Virginia Library

Scen. 4.

Scrocca, Cancrone.
Scr.

Saile home by land quotha? well, I'le haue that saddle
boate hung vp for a monument in the temple of Odoxcom,
hard by the euerlasting shooes, and now to see the ill lucke on't
neuer more neede of fish, a bounsing feast toward, vmber of
guests, not a whiting, not a haddock, not a cod-mop in the
house: and in stead of catching fish, wee must goe fish for our
nets, Cancrone, come along, along, along: the Orke's dead and
buried, the Orke's dead and buried.

Can.

I but does not his ghost walke thereabout?
within. Neptune
On afore, I'le follow hintly fintly, by the hobnailes of
horse-shooes—

Scr.

Nay if you sweare, we shall catch no fish, what Cancrone,
sneake you still? whoop, we shall fish fairely if your fearmore
be off:

Enter Cancrone butning his coate.
How now, what all in white?

Can.

Seest not I am busified? doest thou thinke a man can button
his coate and talke all at once?

Scr.

My prettie sea-cob, why I prethee why in thy white?

Con.

I no triumph I Ino triumph! tell thee this is my
triumphing sute, did not wee vanquish the Orke?

Scr.

I hope so: too but all our fellow fishers say t'was Atyches.

Can.

Thus Atyches kild him aliue, and wee kild him dead.

Scr.

I prethee on with thy gaberdine againe.

Can.

My old scaly slimie gaberdine? why, if I should fish in
that, euery finne would smell mee.

Scr.

Well, our nets are not aboue ground, what shall wee doe?

Con.

Why then Sir, you must goe seeke them vnder ground.

Scr.

Well Sir, you'l follow.

Exit.
Can.

Muddie Scrocca, canst thou not perceiue Cancrones inside
by his new out-side? my old Orke apparell, my pitch patch
poledauies had no good perfume for a sweete louer, as I now
must be: but why a louer? because I meane to kill the next Orke
hand to hand; for my masters sisters sweetheart Ataches,
because a louer, therefore an Orkekiller.

Enter Conchylio.
Con.

What? old crab tortoise? has the Orke made you cast your
shell?

Can.

Fish mee no fishing: I'me all for flesh.

Con.

Thy lob hath learnt that fishers keepe no lent.

Can.

Therfore thou blue-beard Neptune, and thou trumphing
Triton, and thou watchet iacket Glaucus, Daucus, Maucus,
and all the rest of the salt fish gods, I denounce you all, and for
your formable farewell, I doe here reach forth to your dropping
driueling deities my loue warme hand to kisse.

So, haue you done? Fie flapmouth.
[Conchylio spits ins hand.
Triton, thou beslauerest mee.

Con.

O doutie loues! heres more game for my mistresses net,
or rather for mine.

Can.

Nothing but Uenus smocke or Cupids wing shall wipe it
dry; surmount thy wagging wanton wing to mee, god Cupid.

Con.

Are you there? I Orkt you once, and now Ile fit you for
a Cupid.

Exit. Conchyl.

Can.

Mee thinks I am growne very eloquent alreadie; thanks
sweete loue; O now for my master Perindus, he has a fine
crosse cut with's armes, and yet that Orke-catcher Ataches
has a pesslence carriage on's pate: the Nymphs beleare him
partly: so, so, so.

Enter Scrocca. with his nets.
Scr.

What? deuout Cancrone knocking at Cupids doore?

Can.

Ah Scrocca, thou hast corrupted the goodest verse! I was
making my supplantation to Trustie Triton for good lucke, and
see if he haue not heard mee: our nets are returnd.

Scr.

He might well heare thee for this once: for thou doest not
trouble him often. But if I had not lookt to them better then
he had, wee might haue gone whistle for them: come Cancrone,
will you goe?

Can.

Yes I warrant you, I'le peraduenture my person in a
Cocke-boate.

Scr.

Why then wee'l take the gallie foist.

Can.

Goe foist if you will, the burnt child dreads the water,
and good men are scantie, make much of one, Cancrone.

Scr.
Well, if you come, you shall haue vs at the red roche.

Can.
Yes, I'le fish on land for mermaids.
Exit.
This dog-fish had almost put mee out of my loue-lesson.
Now to thee againe, courteous Cupid.

Enter Conchylio in Cupids habitt.
Con.

All haile, Cancrone, according to thy wish I here am present
great King of hearts, Duke of desires, Lord of loue, whom
mortals gentle Cupid doe ycleape.

Can.

Beest thou Cupid? thou art vile like our Conchylio.

Con.

True, Cancrone, and lest the beames of my bright deitie
should with their lustre wound those infant eyes, I haue vouchsaf't
in this for me to appeare, lo, thy Conchylio and thy Cupid
here, what wouldst thou with mee?

Can.

I haue a suite to your godship.

Con.

So it be not your Orke-suite I embrace it: say on, my
darling.

Can.

I am in loue as they say, but I cannot tell whom to be
in loue withall.

Con.

Here are Nymphs enow, Vrina, Olinda, Lilla, Glaucilla,
Bobadilla,

Can.

Mee thinks that Boberdil sounds like a fine play-fellow
for mee.

Con.

No, I'le tell thee one, her name shall make thy mouth
water.

Can.

Make water in my mouth? thats Vrina, I'le none of
her, shee's too high colourd.

Con.

No, tis Cosma, the fishers flame, the shepheards hope,
whose beautie Pas admires.

Can.

I, but will you throw forth a good word for mee?

Con.

I tell thee I'le make her all to beloue thee, shee shall not
rest till thee meete thee here; but first I must arme thee with
some magicke charmes.

Can.

What be they? my chops would faine be champing them.

Con.

First you must anagramatize her name, then sympathize
your owne.

Can.

Tize, zize, thize. I shall ne're hit that.

Con.

For an anagram I'le fit you: Cosma a smocke.

Can.

Prettie.

Con.

For the sympathie of your owne name but thus, your
name Cancrone bids you counterfeite the counter-creeping
crab; and goe backward to her.

Can.

Doe I looke like a crab? I had rather goe forward to a
Nymph.

Con.

Thirdly, because euery fisher is borne vnder Pisces, therefore
the signe is in the foote with you: you must come therefore
with one foote bare.

Con.

I but shall I not catch cold and cough and spoile my part?

Can.

It must be the right foote: and then seest thou this mirtle
tree? all my arrowes are made of the wood of it, thou must
in her sight get vp and gather the highest bough of it.

Con.

I but what shall I doe with the bough?

Con.

O the bough? why, setting thus a prettie while, you must
wrappe a cockle garland about it, and then when the poore
lasse melts and consumes with thy loue—

Can.

Then I'le throw it at her, & come downe to her, shall I not?

Con.

Excellent well, I see thou art inspir'd.

Can.

Nay I can take it, if you put it to mee.

Con.

But the iust nicke when thou must throw it is, when she
says I die, I cry, I lie.

Can.

I die, I cry, I lye. I would haue her lie, but not die, but
will you make her come indeede?

Con.

I and in her best clothes too.

Can.

Nay 'tis no such matter for clothes, but what must I
say? I had almost forgot it.

Con.

Nothing but a short charme, which I'le teach you as we
goe on afore, I'le follow you.

Can.

Let me see: backward?

Con.

Blockhead.

Can.

Barelegge?

Con.

Beetlepate.

Can.

Cockleshell?

Con.

Coxecombe.

Can.

Boughs?

Con.

Bussard.

Can.

The towne's ours. I no triumph, I no triumph.

Con.

I'le coole my hot louer, he shall sit on a perch for a stale,
now must I be vncupidate, & shortly appeare here Cosmafied,
it shall be hard but with the same limetwig I'le catch a bigger
bird then this.

First I will serue my selfe, my mistris after;
My baite is seeming loue, my prey true laughter.