 | The Diuell is an Asse |  |
Scene. IIJ.
Mere-craft. Fitz-dottrel: Everill. Pvg.[Mer.]
It is the easiest thing Sir, to be done.
As plaine, as fizzling: roule but wi' your eyes,
And foame at th'mouth. A little castle-soape
Will do't, to rub your lips: And then a nutshell,
With toe, and touch-wood in it to spit fire,
Did you ner'e read, Sir, little Darrels tricks,
With the boy o' Burton, and the 7. in Lancashire,
Sommers at Nottingham? All these do teach it.
161
They repaire their old plot
Eve.
And practised with those two, as Sorcerers.
Mer.
And ga' you potions, by which meanes you were
Not Compos mentis, when you made your feoffment.
There's no recouery o' your state, but this:
This, Sir, will sting.
Eve.
And moue in a Court of equity.
Mer.
For, it is more then manifest, that this was
A plot o' your wiues, to get your land.
Fit.
I thinke it.
Eve.
Sir it appeares.
Mer.
Nay, and my cossen has knowne
These gallants in these shapes.
Eve.
T'haue don strange things, Sir.
One as the Lady, the other as the Squire.
Mer.
How, a mans honesty may be fool'd! I thought him
A very Lady.
Fit.
So did I: renounce me else.
Mer.
But this way, Sir, you'll be reueng'd at height.
Eve.
Vpon 'hem all.
Mer.
Yes faith, and since your Wife
Has runne the way of woman thus, e'en giue her—
Fit.
Lost by this hand, to me; dead to all ioyes
Of her deare Dottrell, I shall neuer pitty her:
That could, pitty her selfe.
Mer.
Princely resolu'd Sir,
And like your selfe still, in Potentiâ.
| The Diuell is an Asse | |