University of Virginia Library

Enter Bellafront.
Bel.

Will you sit downe I pray, sir?

Mat.

I could teare (by'th Lord) his flesh, and eate his
midriffe in salt, as I eate this:—must I choake—my
Father Friscabaldo, I shall make a pittifull Hog-louse of you
Orlando, if you fall once into my fingers—Here's the sauorest

meat: I ha got a stomacke with chafing. What Rogue
should tell him of those two Pedlers? A plague choake him,
and gnaw him to the bare bones: come fill.

Bel.

Thou sweatest with very anger, good sweet, vex not,
'las. 'tis no fault of mine.

Mat.

Where didst buy this Mutton? I neuer felt better
ribbes.

Bel.

A neighbour sent it me.

Enter Orlando.
Mat.

Hah, neighbour? foh, my mouth stinkes, you whore,
doe you beg victuals for me? Is this Sattin doublet to bee
bumbasted with broken meat?

Takes vp the stoole.
Orl.

What will you doe, sir?

Mat.

Beat out the braines of a beggerly—

Exit Bellafront.
Orl.

Beat out an Asses head of your owne; away, Mistris.
Zownds, doe but touch one haire of her, and Ile so quilt
your cap with old Iron, that your coxcombe shall ake the
worse these seuen yeeres for't: Does she looke like a roasted
Rabbet, that you must haue the head for the braines?

Mat.

Ha, ha: Goe out of my doores, you Rogue, away,
foure markes trudge.

Orl.

Foure markes? no, sir, my twenty pound that you ha
made flie hie, and I am gone.

Mat.

Must I be fed with chippings? y'are best get a clapdish,
and say y'are Proctor to some Spittle-house. Where
hast thou beene, Pacheco? come hither my little Turky-cocke.

Orl.

I cannot abide, sir, to see a woman wrong'd, not I.

Mat.

Sirra, here was my Father-in-law to day.

Orl.

Pish, then y'are full of Crownes.

Mat.

Hang him, he would ha thrust crownes vpon me, to
haue falne in againe, but I scorne cast-cloathes, or any mans
gold.

Orl.

But mine: how did he brooke that (sir?)

Mat.

Oh: swore like a dozen of drunken Tinkers; at last
growing foule in words, he and foure of his men drew vpon
me, sir.

Orl.

In your house? wud I had bin by.

Mat.

I made no more adoe, but fell to my old locke, and
so thrashed my blue Coates, and old crabtree-face my father-in-law,
and then walkt like a Lion in my grate.

Orl.

Oh Noble Master!

Mat.

Sirra, he could tell me of the robbing the two
Pedlers, and that warrants are out for vs both.

Orl.

Good, sir, I like not those crackers.

Mat.

Crackhalter, wut set thy foot to mine?

Orl.

How, sir? at drinking.

Mat.

We'll pull that old Crow my Father: rob thy Master.
I know the house, thou the seruants: the purchase is
rich, the plot to get it easie, the Dog will not part from a
bone.

Orl.

Pluck't out of his throat then: Ile snarle for one, if
this can bite.

Mat.

Say no more, say no more, old cole, meet me anon at
the signe of the Shipwracke.

Orl.
Yes, sir.

Mat.
And dost heare, man?—the Shipwracke.

Exit.
Orl.
Th'art at the Shipwracke now, and like a swimmer
Bold (but vnexpert) with those waues doest play,
Whose dalliance (whorelike) is to cast thee away.