University of Virginia Library

Scene II.

To them.
Puppy. Da: Turfe.
Pup.
Oh, where's my Master? my Master? my Master?

D. Tur.
Thy Master? what would'st with thy Master, man?
There's thy Mr. Tur. What's the matter Puppy?

Pup.
Oh Master! oh Dame! oh Dame! oh Master!

D. Tur.
What sai'st thou to thy Master, or thy Dame?

Pup.
Oh Iohn Clay! Iohn Clay! Iohn Clay!

Tur.
What of Iohn Clay?

Med.
Luck grant he bring not newes he shall be hang'd.

Cle.
The world forfend, I hope, it is not so well.

Cla.
Oh Lord! oh me! what shall I doe? poore Iohn!

Pup.
Oh Iohn Clay! Iohn Clay! Iohn Clay!

Cla.
Alas,
That ever I was borne! I will not stay by't,
For all the Tiles in Kilburne.

D. Tur.
What of Clay?
Speake Puppy, what of him?

Pup.
He hath lost, he hath lost.

Tur.
For luck sake speake, Puppy, what hath he lost?

Pup.
Oh Awdrey, Awdrey, Awdrey!

D. Tur.
What of my daughter
Awdrey?

Pup.
I tell you Awdrey—doe you understand me?
Awdrey, sweet Master! Awdrey, my deare Dame—

Tur.
Where is she? what's become of her, I pray thee?

Pup.
Oh the serving-man! the serving-man! the serving-man!

Tur.
What talk'st thou of the serving-man? where's Awdrey?

Pup.
Gone with the serving-man, gone with the serving-man.

D. Tur.
Good Puppy, whither is she gone with him?

Pup.
I cannot tell, he bad me bring you word,
The Captaine lay at the Lion, and before
I came againe, Awdrey was gone with the serving-man;
I tell you, Awdrey's run away with the serving-man.

Tur.
'Od'socks! my woman, what shall we doe now?

D. Tur.
Now, so you helpe not, man, I know not, I.

Tur.
This was your pompe of Maids. I told you on't.
Sixe Maids to vollow you, and not leave one
To wait upo' your Daughter: I zaid, Pride
Would be paid one day, her old vi'pence, wife.

Med.
What of Iohn Clay, Ball Puppy?

Pup.
He hath lost—

Med.
His life for velonie?

Pup.
No, his wife by villanie.

Tur.
Now, villaines both! oh that same Huy and Cry!
Oh neighbours! oh that cursed serving-man!
Clay's first mist.
O maids! O wife! But Iohn Clay, where's he?
How! fled for veare, zay yee? will he slip us now?
Wee that are sureties, must require 'hun out.
How shall wee doe to find the serving-man?
Cocks bodikins! wee must not lose Iohn Clay:
Awdrey, my daughter Awdrey too! let us zend
To all the townes, and zeeke her; but alas,
The Huy and Cry, that must be look'd unto.