 | The Gentleman Usher |  |
ACTVS TERTII
SCÆNA PRIMA.
Medice after the song, whispers alone with his seruant.Med.
Thou art my trusty seruant and thou knowst,
As still I will be: be thou thankfull then,
And doe me now a seruice of import.
Ser.
Any my Lord in compasse of my life.
Med.
To morrow then the Duke intends to hunt,
Where Strozza my despightfull enemie,
Will giue attendance busie in the chase,
Wherein (as if by chance, when others shoote
At the wilde Boare) do thou discharge at him,
And with an arrow, cleaue his canckerd heart.
Ser.
I will not faile my Lord.
Med.
Be secret then.
And thou to me shalt be the dear'st of men.
Exeunt.
Enter Vincentio, and Bassiolo.
Vin.
Now Vanitie and Policie inrich me
With some ridiculous fortune on this Vsher.
Wheres Master Vsher?
Bass.
Now I come my Lord.
Vin.
Besides, good sir, your shew did shew so well,
Bass.
Did it in deede my Lord?
Vin.
O sir, beleeue it;
Twas the best fashiond and well orderd thing
That euer eye beheld: and there withall,
The fit attendance by the seruants vsde,
The gentle guise in seruing euery guest,
In other entertainements; euery thing
About your house so sortfully disposde,
That euen as in a turne-spit calld a Iacke.
One vice assists another; the great wheeles
Turning but softly, make the lesse to whirre
About their businesse; euery different part
Concurring to one commendable end:
So, and in such conformance, with rare grace,
Were all things orderd in your good lordes house.
Bass.
The most fit simile that euer was.
Vin.
But shall I tell you plainely my conceit,
Touching the man that I thinke causde this order?
Bass.
I good my Lord.
Vin.
You note my simile.
Bass.
Drawne from the turne-spit.
Uin.
I see you haue me,
Euen as in that queint engine you haue seene,
A little man in shreds stand at the winder,
Lifting and pulling with a mightie stirre,
Yet addes no force to it, nor nothing does:
So, (though your Lord be a braue Gentleman)
And seemes to do this busines,
He does nothing;
Some man about him was the festiuall robe,
That made him shew so glorious and diuine.
Bass.
I cannot tell my Lord, yet I should know if any such there were.
Vin.
Should know quoth you;
I warrant you know: well, some there be
Shall haue the fortune to haue such rare men,
(Like braue beasts to their Armes) support their state,
When others of as high a worth and breede,
Are made the wastefull food of them they feede:
What state hath your Lord made you for your seruice?
Bass.
He haz beene my good Lord, for I can spend
Some fifteene hundred crownes in lands a yeare,
Which I haue gotten since I seru'd him first.
Vin.
No more then fifteene hundred crownes a yeare?
Bass.
It is so much as makes me liue my Lord,
Like a poore Gentleman.
Vin.
Nay, tis prettie well:
But certainely my nature does esteeme
Nothing enough for vertue; and had I
The Duke my fathers meanes, all should be spent,
To keepe braue men about me: but good sir,
Accept this simple iewell at my hands,
Till I can worke perswasion of my friendship,
With worthier arguments.
Bass.
No good my Lord,
I can by no meanes merite the free bounties
You haue bestowed besides.
Vin.
Nay, be not strange,
But doe your selfe right, and be all one man
In all your actions, doe not thinke but some
Haue extraordinarie spirits like your selfe,
And wil not stand in their societie,
With whom there is no nicenesse, nor respect
Of others common friendship; be he poore
Or basely borne, so he be rich in soule,
And noble in degrees of qualities,
He shall be my friend sooner then a King.
Bass.
Tis a most kingly iudgement in your lordship,
Vin.
Faith sir I know not, but tis my vaine humour.
Bass.
O, tis an honour in a Nobleman.
Vin.
Y'aue some lords now so politike and prowd,
They skorne to giue good lookes to worthy men.
Bass.
O fie vpon vm; by that light my lord,
I am but seruant to a Nobleman,
But if I would not skorne such puppet lords,
Would I weare breathlesse.
Vin.
You sir? so you may,
For they will cogge so when they wish to vse men,
With, pray be couerd sir, I beseech you sit,
Whoe's there? waite of Master Vsher to the doore.
O, these be godly gudgeons: where's the deedes?
The perfect Nobleman?
Bass.
O good my Lord.
Vin.
Away, away, ere I would flatter so,
I would eate rushes like lord Medici.
Bass.
Well, wel my Lord, would there were more such Princes.
Vin.
Alas, twere pitty sir, they would be gulld
Out of their very skinnes.
Bass.
Why how are you my lord?
Uin.
Who I, I care not:
If I be gulld where I professe plaine loue,
T'will be their faults you know.
Bass.
O t'were their shames.
Vin.
Well, take my iewell, you shall not be strange,
I loue not manie words.
Bass.
My lord, I thanke you, I am of few words too.
Vin.
Tis friendlie said,
You proue your selfe a friend, and I would haue you
Aduance your thoughts, and lay about for state,
Of some great King or Duke: theres Medici,
The Minion of my Father: O the Father!
What difference is there? but I cannot flatter
A word to wise men.
Bass.
I perceiue your Lordship.
Vin.
Your Lordship? talke you now like a friend?
Is this plaine kindnesse?
Bass.
Is it not my Lord?
Vin.
A palpable flattring figure for men common:
A my word I should thinke, if twere another,
He meant to gull mee.
Bass.
Why tis but your due.
Vin.
Tis but my due: if youle be still a stranger:
But as I wish to choose you for my friend,
As I intend when God shall call my father,
To doe I can tell what: but let that passe,
Thus tis not fit; let my friend be familiar,
Vse not me Lordship, nor yet call me Lord,
Nor my whole name Vincentio; but vince,
As they call Iacke or Will, tis now in vse,
Twixt men of no equallity or kindnesse.
Bass.
I shall be quickely bold enough my Lord.
Vin.
Nay, see how still you vse that coy terme, Lord
What argues this, but that you shunne my friendship?
Bass.
Nay pray say not so.
Vin.
Who should not say so?
Will you afford me now no name at all?
Bass.
What should I call you?
Vin.
Nay, then tis no matter.
But I told you Vince.
Bass.
Why then my sweete Vince.
Vin.
Whie so then; and yet still there is a fault,
In vsing these kind words, without kinde deedes:
Pray thee imbrace me too.
Bass.
Why then sweete Vince.
Vin.
Why now I thank you, sblood shall friends be strange?
Where there is plainenesse, there is euer truth:
And I will still be plaine since I am true:
Come let vs lie a little, I am wearie.
And so am I, I sweare since yesterday.
Vin.
You may sir by my faith; and sirra, hark thee,
What lordship wouldst thou wish to haue ifaith,
When my old father dies?
Bass.
Who I? alas.
Vin.
O not you, well sir, you shall haue none,
You are as coy a peece as your Lords daughter.
Bass.
Who, my mistris?
Vin.
Indeede, is she your Mistris?
Bass.
I faith sweet Vince, since she was three yeare old.
Vin.
And are not wee too friends?
Bass.
Who doubts of that?
Vin.
And are not two friends one?
Basis.
Euen man and wife.
Vin.
Then what to you she is, to me she should be.
Bass.
Why Vince, thou wouldst not haue her?
Vin.
O not I: I doe not fancie any thing like you.
Bass.
Nay but I pray thee tell me.
Vi.
You do not meane to marry her your self?
Bass.
Not I by heauen.
Vin.
Take heede now, do not gull me.
Bass.
No by that candle.
Vin.
Then will I be plaine.
Thinke you she dotes not too much on my father?
Bass.
O yes, no doubt on't.
Van.
Nay, I pray you speake.
Bass.
You seely man you, she cannot abide him.
Vin.
Why sweete friend pardon me, alas I knew not.
Bass.
But I doe note you are in some things simple,
And wrong your selfe too much.
Vin.
Thanke you good friend,
For your playne dealing, I doe meane so well.
Bass.
But who saw euer summer mixt with winter?
There must be equall yeares where firme loue is.
Could we two loue so well so soddainely
Were we not some thing equaller in yeares.
Than he and shee are?
Vi.
I cry ye mercy sir, I know we could not, but yet be not too bitter,
I haue a letter t'intreate her kindnesse
Which if you would conuay.
Bass.
I, if I would sir?
Vin.
Why fayth, deare friend, I would not die requitelesse.
Bass.
Would you not so sir?
By heauen a little thing would make me boxe you,
Which if you would convaie? why not I pray?
Which (friend) thou shalt conuaie.
Vin.
Which friend, you shall then.
Bass.
Well friend, and I will then.
Vin.
And vse some kinde perswasiue wordes for me?
Bass.
The best I sweare that my poore toung can forge.
Vin.
I, wel said, poore toung: O tis rich in meekenesse;
You are not knowne to speake well? You haue wonne
Direction of the Earle and all his house,
The fauour of his daughter, and all Dames
That euer I sawe, come within your sight,
With a poore tongue? A plague a your sweete lippes.
Bass.
Well, we will doe our best: And faith my Uince,
She shall haue an vnweldie and dull soule,
If she be nothing moou'd with my poore tongue,
Call it no better; Be it what it will.
Vin.
Well said ifaith; Now if I doe not thinke
Tis possible, besides her bare receipt
Of that my Letter, with thy friendly tongue,
To get an answere of it, neuer trust me.
Bass.
An answer man? Sbloud make no doubt of that.
Vin.
By heauen I thinke so; now a plague of Nature,
That she giues all to some, and none to others.
Bass.
How I endeare him to me! Come Vince, rise,
Next time I see her, I will giue her this:
Which when she sees, sheele thinke it wondrous strange
Loue should goe by descent, and make the sonne
Follow the father in his amorous steppes.
Vin.
Shee needes must thinke it strange, that neuer yet saw
I durst speake to her, or had scarce hir sight.
Bass.
Well Vince, I sweare thou shalt both see and kisse her.
Sweares my deere friend? by what?
Bass.
Euen by our friendship.
Vin.
O sacred oath! which, how long will you keepe?
Bass.
While there be bees in Hybla, or white swannes
In bright Meander; while the banks of Po
Shall beare braue lillies; or Italian dames
Be called the Bone robes of the world.
Vin.
'Tis elegantly said: and when I faile,
Ler there be found in Hybla hiues no bees;
Let no swannes swimme in bright Meander streame,
Nor lillies spring vpon the banks of Po,
Nor let one fat Italian dame be found,
But leane and brawn-falne; I, and scarsly sound.
Bass.
It is enough, but lets imbrace with all.
Vin.
With all my hart.
Bass.
So, now farewell sweet Vince.
Exit.
Vin.
Farewell my worthie friend, I thinke I haue him.
Enter Bassiolo.
Bass.
I had forgot the parting phrase he taught me,
I commend me t'ee sir.
Exit instant.
Vin.
At your wisht seruice sir:
O fine friend, he had forgot the phrase:
How serious apish soules are in vaine forme:
Well, he is mine, and he being trusted most
With my deare ioue, may often worke our meeting,
And being thus ingagde, dare not reueale.
Enter Pogio in haste, Strozza following.
Po.
Horse, horse, horse, my lord, horse, your father is going a hunting.
Vit.
My Lord horse? you asse you, d'ee call my Lord horse?
Stro.
Nay, he speakes buddles still, lets slit his tongue.
Po.
Nay good vnkle now, sbloud, what captious marchants
you be; so the Duke tooke me vp euen now: my lord vnckle
heere, and my old lord Lasso, by heauen y'are all too witty for
me, I am the veriest foole on you all, Ile be sworne.
Vin.
Therein thou art worth vs all, for thou knowst thy selfe.
Str.
But your wisedom was in a pretty taking last night; was
it not I pray?
Pog.
O, for taking my drink a little? ifaith my Lord, for that
you shall haue the best sport presently with Madam Corteza,
but kisse my Lord Medice.
See shee comes riding the Duke, shees passing well mounted,
beleeue it.
Enter Alphonso, Corteza, Cynanche, Bassiolo first, two women attendants, and hunts-men, Lasso.
Alp.
Good wench forbeare.
Cort.
My Lord, you must put forth your selfe among Ladies,
I warrant you haue much in you, if you would shew it; see,
a cheeke a twentie; the bodie of a George, a good legge still;
still a good calfe, and not slabby, nor hanging I warrant you;
a brawne of a thumb here, and t'were a pulld partridge; Neece
Meg, thou shalt haue the sweetest bedfellow on him, that euer
call'd Ladie husband; trie him you shamefac'd bable you, trie
him.
Mar.
Good Madame be rulde.
Cort.
What a nice thing it is, my Lord, you must set foorth
this gere, and kisse her; yfaith you must; get you togither and
be naughts awhile, get you together.
Alp.
Now what a merrie harmlesse dame it is!
Cort.
My Lord Medice, you are a right noble man, & wil do
a woman right in a wrong matter and neede be; pray do you
giue the duke ensample vpon me; you come a wooing to me
now; I accept it.
Lass.
What meane you sister?
Cort.
Pray my Lord away; consider me as I am, a woman.
Pog.
Lord, how I haue whirtld her?
Cort.
You come a wooing to me now; pray thee Duke
marke my Lord Medice; and do you marke me virgin; Stand
you aside, my Lord, all, and you; giue place; now my Lord Medice,
put case I be strange a little, yet you like a man put me to
it. Come kisse me my Lord, be not ashamde.
Med.
Not I Madame, I come not a wooing to you.
Cort.
Tis no marter my Lord, make as though you did and
come kisse me; I won't be strange a whit.
Lass.
Fie sister, y'are too blame; pray will you goe to your chamber.
Cort.
Why, harke you brother.
Lass.
Whats the matter?
Cort.
Dee thinke I am drunke?
I thinke so truly.
Cort.
But are you sure I am drunke?
Lass.
Else I would not thinke so.
Cort.
But, I would be glad to be sure on't.
Lass.
I assure you then.
Cort.
Why then say nothing; & Ile begone God bwy lord, duke
Ile come againe anone.
Exit.
Lass.
I hope your Grace will pardon her my liege,
For tis most strange; shees as discreete a dame
As any in these countries, and as sober,
But for this onely humour of the cup
Alp.
Tis good my Lord sometimes:
Come, to our hunting; now tis time I thinke.
Omn.
The verie best time of the day, my Lord.
Alp.
Then my Lord, I will take my leaue till night,
Reseruing thanks for all my entertainment,
Till I returne; in meane time, louely dame,
Remember the high state you last presented,
Vin. & St. haue al this while talked togither a prettie way.
And thinke it was not a mere festiuall shew,
But an essentiall type of that you are
In full consent of all my faculties,
And harke you good my Lord.
Vin.
See now, they whisper
Some priuate order, (I dare lay my life)
For a forc'd marriage t'wixt my loue and father,
I therefore must make sure: and noble friends,
Ile leaue you all, when I haue brought you forth,
And seene you in the chase; meane-while obserue
In all the time this solemne hunting lasts,
My father and his minion Medice,
And note, if you can gather any signe,
That they haue mist me, and suspect my being,
If which fall out, send home my Page before.
Stro.
I will not faile my Lord.
Medice whispers with I. Huntsman all this while.
Med.
Now take thy time.
Hunt.
I warrant you my Lord, he shall not scape me.
Alp.
Now my deere Mistresse, till our sports intended
end with my absence, I will take my leaue.
Bassiolo, attend you on my daughter.
Exeunt
Bass.
I will my Lord.
Vin.
Now will the sport beginne; I think my loue
Will handle him, as well as I haue doone.
Exit.
Cyn.
Madam, I take my leaue, and humblie thanke you.
Mar.
Welcome good madam; mayds wait on my Lady.
Exit
Bass.
So mistris, this is fit.
Mar.
Fit sir, why so?
Bass.
Why so? I haue most fortunate newes for you.
Mar.
For me sir? I beseech you what are they?
Bass.
Merit and Fortune, for you both agree;
Merit what you haue, and haue what you merit.
Mar.
Lord with what Rhetorike you prepare your newes!
Bass.
I need not; for the plaine contents they beare
Vttred in any words, deserue their welcome,
And yet I hope the words will serue the turne.
Mar.
What, in a letter?
Bass.
Why not?
Mar.
Whence is it?
Bass.
From one that will not shame it with his name.
And that is Lord Vincentio.
Mar.
King of heauen!
Is the man madde?
Bass.
Mad Madam, why?
Mar.
O heauen, I muse a man of your importance,
Will offer to bring me a letter thus?
Bass.
Why, why good Mistresse, are you hurt in that?
Your answer may be what you will your selfe.
Mar.
I, but you should not doe it: Gods my life,
You shall answer it.
Bass.
Nay, you must answer it.
Mar.
I answer it! are you the man I trusted?
And will betray me to a stranger thus?
Bass.
Thats nothing, dame, all friends were strangers first.
Mar.
Now was there euer woman ouerseene so,
In a wise mans discretion?
Bass.
Your braine is shallow, come, receiue this letter.
Mar.
How dare you say so? when you know so well
How much I am engaged to the duke?
The duke? a proper match: a graue olde gentman:
Haz beard at will; and would, in my conceyt,
Make a most excellent patterne, for a potter
To haue his picture stampt on a Iugge.
To keepe ale-knights in memorie of sobrietie.
Heere gentle madam, take it.
Mar.
Take it sir?
Am I common taker of love letters?
Bass.
Common? why when receiu'd you one before?
Mar.
Come, tis no matter; I had thought your care
Of my bestowing, would not tempt me thus
To one I know not; but it is because
You know I dote so much on your direction.
Bass.
On my direction?
Mar.
No sir, Not on yours.
Bass.
Well mistris, if you will take my aduice
At any time, then take this letter now.
Mar.
Tis strange, I woonder the coy gentleman,
That seeing mee so oft, would neuer speake,
Is on the sodaine so far wrapt to write.
Bass.
It shewd his iudgement, that he would not speake
Knowing with what a strict and iealous eie
He should be noted; holde, if you loue your selfe;
Now will you take this letter? pray be rulde.
Mar.
Come, you haue such another plaguie toung,
And yet yfayth I will not.
Bass.
Lord of heauen,
What, did it burne your hands? holde, hold, I pray,
And let the words within it fire your heart.
Mar.
I woonder how the deuill, he found you out
To be his spokesman,—O the duke would thanke you,
If he knew how you vrgde me for his sonne.
Bass.
The duke? I haue fretted her,
Euen to the liuer, and had much adoe
To make her take it, but I knew t'was sure;
For he that cannot turne and winde a woman
Like silke about his finger, is no man,
Ile make her answer't too.
O here's good stuffe.
Hold, pray take it for your paines to bring it.
Bass.
Ladie you erre in my reward a little,
Which must be a kind answere to this letter.
Mar.
Nay then yfaith, t'were best you brought a Priest;
And then your client; and then keepe the doore.
Gods me I neuer knew so rude a man.
Bass.
Wel, you shall answer; Ile fetch pen and paper.
Exit.
Mar.
Poore Vsher, how wert thou wrought to this brake?
Men worke on one another for we women,
Nay each man on himselfe; and all in one
Say; No man is content that lies alone.
Here comes our gulled Squire.
Bass.
Here Mistresse, write.
Mar.
What should I write?
Bass.
An answer to this letter.
Mar.
Why sir, I see no cause of answer in it,
But if you needs will shew how much you rule me,
Sit downe; and answer it, as you please your selfe,
Here is your paper, lay it faire afore you.
Bass.
Lady, content, Ile be your Secretorie.
Mar.
I fit him in this taske; he thinkes his penne
The Shaft of Cupid, in an amorous letter.
Bass.
Is heere no great worth of your answer say you?
Beleeue it, tis exceedingly well writ.
Mar.
So much the more vnfit for me to answere,
And therefore let your Stile and it contend.
Bassi.
Well, you shall see I will not be farre short,
Although (indeede) I cannot write so well
When one is by, as when I am alone.
Mar.
O, a good Scribe must write, though twenty talke,
and he talke to them too.
Bass.
Well, you shall see.
Mar.
A proper peece of Scribeship theres no doubt;
Some words, pickt out of Proclamations,
Or great mens Speeches; or well-selling Pamphlets:
See how he rubbes his temples: I beleeue
His Muse lies in the backe-part of his braine,
What? is it loath to come?
Bass.
No, not a whit:
Pray hold your peace a little.
Mar.
He sweates, with bringing on his heauie stile,
Ile plie him still, till he sweate all his wit out,
What man, not yet?
Bass.
Swoons, yowle not extort it from a man,
How do you like the worde Endeare?
Mar.
O fie vpon't.
Bass.
Nay, then I see your iudgement: what say you to condole?
Mar.
Worse and worse.
Bass.
O braue! I should make a sweete answer, if I should
vse no words but of your admittance.
Mar.
Well sir, write what you please.
Bass.
Is modell a good word with you?
Mar.
Put them togither I pray.
Bass.
So I will I warrant you.
Mar.
See, see, see, now it comes powring downe.
Bass.
I hope youle take no exceptions to beleeue it.
Mar.
Out vpon't, that phrase is so runne out of breath in
trifles, that we shall haue no beleefe at all in earnest shortly.
Beleeue it tis a prettie feather; beleeue it a daintie Rush;
beleeue it an excellent Cocks-combe.
Bass.
So, so, so, your exceptions sort very collaterally.
Mar.
Collaterally? theres a fine word now; wrest in that if
you can by any meanes.
Bass.
I thought she would like the very worst of them all,
how thinke you? do not I write, and heare, and talke too now?
Mar.
By my soule, if you can tell what you write now, you
write verie readily.
Bass.
That you shall see straight.
Mar.
But do you not write that you speake now?
Bass.
O yes, doe you not see how I write it? I can not write
when any bodie is by me, I.
Mar.
Gods my life, stay man; youle make it too long.
Bass.
Nay, if I can not tell what belongs to the length of a
Ladies deuice yfaith.
But I will not haue it so long.
Bass.
If I cannot fit you?
Mar.
O me; how it comes vpon him? pre thee be short.
Bass.
Wel, now I haue done, & now I wil reade it; your Lordships
motiue accōmodating my thoughts, with the very model
of my hearts mature consideration: it shall not be out of my
Element to negotiate with you in this amorous duello; wherein
I will condole with you, that our proiect cannot be so collaterally
made, as our endeared hearts may verie well seeme to
insinuate.
Mar.
No more: no more; fie vpon this.
Bass.
Fie vpon this? hees accurst that haz to doe with these
vnsound women, of iudgement: if this be not good yfaith.
Mar.
But tis so good, t'will not be thought to come from a womans braine.
Bass.
Thats another matter
Mar.
Come, I will write my selfe.
Bass.
A Gods name Lady: and yet I will not loose this I
warrant you; I know for what Ladie this will serue as fit; now
we shall haue a sweete peece of inditement.
Mar.
How spell you foolish?
Bass.
F,oo,l,i.sh; she will presume t'endite that cannot spel:
Mar.
How spell you Vsher?
Bas.
Sblood, you put not in those words togither, do you?
Mar.
No, not togither.
Bas.
What is betwixt I pray?
Mar.
Asse the.
Bas.
Asse the? betwixt foolish, and Vsher,
Gods my life, foolish Asse the Vsher?
Mar.
Nay then you are so iealous of your wit: now reade all
I haue written I pray.
Bas.
I am not so foolish as the Vsher would make me:
O so foolish as the Vsher would make me? Wherein would I
make you foolish?
Mar.
Why sir, in willing me to beleeue he lou'd me so wel,
being so meere a stranger.
Bass.
O, is't so? you may say so indeed.
Mar.
Cry mercie sir, and I will write so too, & yet my hand is so vile,
Pray thee sit thee downe and write as I bid thee.
With all my heart Lady, what shall I write now?
Mar.
You shall write this sir, I am not so foolish to thinke
you loue me, being so meere a stranger.
Bass.
So meere a stranger!
Mar.
And yet I know, loue works strangely.
Bass.
Loue workes strangely.
Mar.
And therefore take heed, by whom you speake for loue.
Bass.
Speake for loue.
Mar.
For he may speake for himselfe.
Bass.
May speake for himselfe.
Mar.
Not that I desire it,
Bass.
Desire it.
Mar.
But if he do; you may speede, I confesse.
Basse.
Speede I confesse.
Mar.
But let that passe, I do not loue to discourage any bodie.
Bass.
Discourage my bodie.
Mar.
Do you or he picke out what you can, & so farewell.
Bass.
And so fare well. Is this all?
Mar.
I, and he may thanke your Syrens tongue that it is so much.
Bass.
A proper Letter if you marke it.
Mar.
Well sir, though it be not so proper as the writer; yet
tis as proper as the inditer; Euerie woman cannot be a gentleman
Vsher; they that cannot go before, must come behind.
Bass.
Well Ladie, this I will carrie instantly, I commend me
tee Ladie.
Exit.
Mar.
Pittifull Vsher, what a prettie sleight,
Goes to the working vp of euerie thing?
What sweet varietie serues a womans wit?
We make men sue to vs for that we wish.
Poore men; hold out a while; and do not sue,
And spite of Custome we will sue to you.
Exit.
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