 | The Knight of the Burning Pestle |  |
Actus Secundus.
Scæna Prima.
Enter Merchant and Humphrey.Merch.
And how faith? how goes it now Son Humphrey?
Hum.
Right worshipful and my beloved friend
And Father dear, this matter's at an end.
Merch.
'Tis well, it should be so, I'm glad the Girl
Is found so tractable.
Hum.
Nay, she must whirl
From hence, and you must wink: for so I say,
The story tells to morrow before day.
Wife.
George, dost thou think in thy conscience now 'twill
be a match? tell me but what thou think'st sweet Rogue,
thou seest the poor Gentleman (dear heart) how it labours
and throbs I warrant you, to be at rest: I'll go move the
Father for't.
Cit.
No, no, I prethee sit still Honey-suckle, thou'lt
spoil all; if he deny him, I'll bring half a dozen good
fellows my self, and in the shutting of an evening knock't
up, and there's an end.
Wife.
I'll buss thee for that I'faith boy; well George, well
you have been a wag in your days I warrant you: but God
forgive you, and I do with all my heart.
Mer.
How was it Son? you told me that to morrow
Before day break, you must convey her hence.
Hum.
I must, I must, and thus it is agreed,
Your Daughter rides upon a brown-bay Steed,
I on a Sorrel, which I bought of Brian,
The honest Host of the red roaring Lion
In Waltham situate: then if you may,
Consent in seemly sort, lest by delay,
The fatal Sisters come, and do the office,
And then you'll sing another Song.
Merch.
Alas.
Why should you be thus full of grief to me,
That do as willing as your self agree
To any thing so it be good and fair?
Then steal her when you will, if such a pleasure
Content you both, I'll sleep and never see it,
To make your joys more full: but tell me why
You may not here perform your marriage?
Wife.
Gods blessing o'thy soul, old man, i' faith thou art
loth to part true hearts: I see a has her, George, and I'm as
glad on't; well, go thy ways Humphrey for fair a spoken man,
I believe thou hast not thy fellow within the walls of
London, and I should say the Suburbs too, I should not lie:
why dost not thou rejoyce with me George?
Cit.
If I could but see Ralph again, I were as merry as mine Host i'faith.
Cit.
The cause you seem to ask, I thus declare,
Help me oh Muses nine, your Daughter sware
A foolish oath, the more it was the pity:
Yet none but my self within this City
Shall dare to say so, but a bold defiance
Shall meet him, were he of the noble Science.
And yet she sware, and yet why did she swear?
Truly I cannot tell, unless it were
For her own ease: for sure sometimes an oath,
Being sworn thereafter, is like cordial broth.
And this it was, she swore never to marry,
But such a one whose mighty arm could carry
(As meaning me, for I am such a one)
Her bodily away through stick and stone,
Till both of us arrive at her request,
Some ten miles off in the wide Waltham Forrest.
Merch.
If this be all, you shall not need to fear
Any denial in your love, proceed,
I'll neither follow, nor repent the deed.
Hum.
Good night, twenty good nights, and twenty more,
And twenty more good nights, that makes threescore.
Exeunt.
Enter Mistriss Merry-thought, and her Son Michael.
Mist. Mer.
Come Michael, art thou not weary Boy?
Mich.
No forsooth Mother not I.
Mist. Mer.
Where be we now child?
Mich.
Indeed forsooth Mother I cannot tell, unless we be
at Mile-end, is not all the world Mile-end, Mother?
Mist. Mer.
No Michael, not all the world boy; but I can
assure thee Michael, Mile-end is a goodly matter, there
has been a pitcht field my child, between the naughty Spaniels,
and the Englishmen, and the Spaniels ran away Michael,
and the Englishmen followed: my neighbor Coxstone
was there boy, and kill'd them all with a birding-piece.
Mich.
Mother forsooth.
Mist. Mer.
What says my white boy?
Mich.
Shall not my Father go with us too?
Mist. Mer.
No Michael, let thy Father go snick up, he
shall never come between a pair of sheets with me again,
while he lives: let him stay at home and sing for his supper
boy; come child sit down, and I'll shew my boy fine
knacks indeed, look here Michael, here's a Ring, and
here's a Bruch, and here's a Bracelet, and here's two Rings
more, and here's Money, and Gold by th'eye my boy.
Mich.
Shall I have all this Mother?
Mist. Mer.
I Michael thou shalt have all Michael.
Cit.
How lik'st thou this wench?
Wife.
I cannot tell, I would have Ralph, George; I'll see
no more else indeed: law, and I pray you let the youths
understand so much by word of mouth, for I will tell you
truly, I'm afraid o'my boy: come, come George, let's be
merry and wise, the child's a fatherless child, and say
they should put him into a strait pair of Gaskins, 'twere
worse than knot-grass, he would never grow after it.
Enter Ralph, Squire, and Dwarfe.
Cit.
Here's Ralph, here's Ralph
Wife.
How do you Ralph? you are welcome Ralph, as I
may say, it' a good boy, hold up thy head, and be not
afraid, we are thy friends. Ralph, the Gentlemen will praise
thee Ralph, if thou plai'st thy part with audacity, begin
Ralph a Gods name.
My trusty Squire unlace my Helme, give me my
hat, where are we, or what desart might this be?
Dw.
Mirror of Knigthood, this is, as I take it, the perilous
Waltham Down; in whose bottom stands the inchanted
Valley.
Mist. Mer.
Oh Michael, we are betraid, we are betraid,
here be Giants, flie boy, flie boy flie.
Exeunt Mother and Michael.
Ralph.
Lace on my Helme again: what noise is this?
A gentle Lady flying the embrace
Of some uncourteous Knight, I will relieve her.
Go Squire, and say, the Knight that wears this Pestle
In honor of all Ladies swears revenge
Upon that recreant Coward that pursues her,
Goe comfort her, and that same gentle Squire
That bears her company.
Squ.
I go brave Knight.
Ralph.
My trusty Dwarf and friend, reach me my shield,
And hold it while I swear, first by my Knighthood,
Then by the soul of Amadis de Gaule,
My famous Ancestor, then by my Sword,
The beauteous Brionella girt about me,
By this bright burning Pestle of mine honor,
The living Trophie, and by all respect
Due to distressed Damsels, here I vow
Never to end the quest of this fair Lady,
And that forsaken Squire, till by my valour
I gain their liberty.
Dw.
Heaven bless the Knight
That thus relieves poor errant Gentlewomen.
Exit.
Wife.
I marry Ralph, this has some savour in't, I would
see the proudest of them all offer to carry his Books after
him. But George, I will not have him go away so soon, I
shall be sick if he go away, that I shall; call Ralph again
George, call Ralph again, I prethee sweetheart let him come
fight before me, and let's ha some Drums, and Trumpets,
and let him kill all that comes near him, and thou lov'st
me George.
Cit.
Peace a little bird, he shall kill them all, and they
were twenty more on 'em then there are,
Enter Jasper.
Jasp.
Now fortune, if thou be'st not only ill,
Shew me thy better face, and bring about
Thy desperate wheel, that I may climb at length
And stand, this is our place of meeting,
If love have any constancy. Oh age!
Where only wealthy men are counted happy:
How shall I please thee? how deserve thy smiles?
When I am only rich in misery?
My fathers blessing, and this little coin
Is my inheritance, a strong revenue,
From earth thou art, and to earth I give thee,
There grow and multiply, whilst fresher air
Spies the Casket.
Breeds me a fresher fortune: how, illusion!
What hath the Devil coyn'd himself before me?
'Tis mettle good, it rings well, I am waking,
And taking too I hope, now Gods dear blessing
Upon his heart that left it here, 'tis mine,
These pearls, I take it, were not left for Swine.
Exit.
Wife.
I do not like that this unthrifty youth should embesil
away the money, the poor Gentlewoman his mother
will have a heavy heart for it, God knows.
Cit.
And reason good, sweet heart.
Wife.
But let him go, I'll tell Ralph a tale in's ear, shall
fetch him again with a wanion, I warrant him, if he be above
ground; and besides George, here be a number of sufficient
Gentlemen can witness, and my self, and your self, and
the Musicians, if we be call'd in question, but here comes
Ralph, George, thou shalt hear him speak, as he were an
Emperal.
Enter Ralph and Dwarfe.
Ralph.
Comes not Sir Squire again?
Dwarf.
Right courteous Knight,
Your Squire doth come, and with him comes the Lady.
Enter Mistriss Mer. and Michael, and Squire.
For and the Squire of Damsels as I take it.
Rafe.
Madam, if any service or devoir
Of a poor errant Knight may right your wrongs,
Command it, I am prest to give you succor,
For to that holy end I bear my Armour.
Mist. Mer.
Alas, Sir, I am a poor Gentlewoman, and I
have lost my money in this Forrest.
Whilst I have Sword and Launce, dry up your tears
Which ill befits the beauty of that face:
And tell the story, if I may request it,
Of your disastrous fortune.
Mist. Mer.
Out alas, I left a thousand pound, a thousand
pound, e'n all the money I had laid up for this youth, upon
the sight of your Mastership, you lookt so grim, and
as I may say it, saving your presence, more like a Giant
than a mortal man.
Ralph.
I am as you are, Lady, so are they
All mortal, but why weeps this gentle Squire?
Mist. Mer.
Has he not cause to weep do you think, when
he has lost his inheritance?
Ralph.
Young hope of valour, weep not, I am here
That will confound thy foe, and pay it dear
Upon his coward head, that dare denie,
Distressed Squires, and Ladies equity.
I have but one horse, on which shall ride
This Lady fair behind me, and before
This courteous Squire, fortune will give us more
Upon our next adventure; fairly speed
Beside us Squire aed Dwarfe to do us need.
Exeunt.
Cit,
Did not I tell you Nell what your man would do?
by the faith of my body wench, for clean action and good
delivery, they may all cast their caps at him.
Wife.
And so they may i'faith, for I dare speak it boldly,
the twelve Companies of London cannot match him,
timber for timber: well George, and he be not inveigled
by some of these paltery Players, I ha much marvel: but
George we ha done our parts, if the Boy have any grace to
be thankful.
Cit.
Yes, I warrant you duckling.
Enter Humphrey and Luce.
Hum.
Good Mistriss Luce, how ever I in fault am,
For your lame horse; you're welcome unto Waltham.
But which way now to go, or what to say
I know not truly till it be broad day.
Luce.
O fear not master Humphrey, I am guide
For this place good enough.
Hum.
Then up and ride,
Or if it please you, walk for your repose,
Or sit, or if you will, go pluck a Rose:
Either of which shall be indifferent,
To your good friend and Humphrey, whose consent
Is so intangled ever to your will,
As the poor harmless horse is to the ill.
Luce.
Faith and you say the word, we'll e'n sit down,
And take a nap.
Hum.
'Tis better in the Town,
Where we may nap together: for believe me,
To sleep without a snatch would mickle grieve me.
Luce.
You're merry master Humphrey.
Hum.
So I am,
And have been ever merry from my Dam.
Luce.
Your Nurse had the less labour.
Faith it may be,
Unless it were by chance I did beray me.
Enter Jasper.
Jasp.
Luce, dear friend Luce,
Luce.
Here Jasper.
Jasp.
You are mine.
Hum.
If it be so, my friend, you use me fine:
What do you think I am?
Jasp.
An arrant Noddy.
Hum.
A word of obloquie: now by gods body,
I'll tell thy Master, for I know thee well.
Jasp.
Nay, and you be so forward for to tell,
Take that, and that, and tell him, Sir, I gave it:
And say I paid you well.
Hum.
O Sir I have it,
And do confess the payment, pray be quiet.
Jasp.
Go, get you to your night-cap and the diet,
To cure your beaten bones.
Luce.
Alas, poor Humphrey,
Get thee some wholsome broth with Sage and Cumfrie:
A little oil of Roses and a Feather
To noint thy back withal.
Hum.
When I came hither,
Would I had gone to Paris with John Dorry.
Luce.
Farewel my pretty Nump, I am very sorry
I cannot bear thee company.
Hum.
Farewel,
The Devils Dam was ne'r so bang'd in Hell.
Exeunt.
Manet Humphrey.
Wife.
This young Jasper will prove me another Things,
a my conscience and he may be suffered; George, dost not
see George how a swaggers, and flies at the very heads a fokes
as he were a Dragon; well if I do not do his lesson for
wronging the poor Gentleman, I am no true Woman, his
friends that brought him up might have been better occupied,
I wis, then have taught him these fegaries: he's e'n
in the high-way to the Gallows, God bless him.
Cit.
You're too bitter, Connie, the young man may do
well enough for all this.
Wife.
Come hither master Humphrey, has he hurt you?
now beshrew his fingers for't, here Sweet-heart, here's some
Green Ginger for thee, now beshrew my heart, but a has
Pepper-nel in's head, as a big as a Pullets egg: alas, sweet
Lamb, how thy Temples beat; take the peace on him sweet
heart, take the peace on him.
Enter a Boy.
Cit.
No, no, you talk like a foolish woman, I'll ha Ralph
fight with him, and swinge him up well-favour'dly: sirrah
boy come hither, let Ralph come in and sight with Jasper,
Wife.
I and beat him well, he's an unhappy boy.
Boy.
Sir, you must pardon us, the plot of our Play lies
contrary, and 'twill hazard the spoiling of our Play.
Cit.
Plot me no plots, I'll ha Ralph come out, I'll make
your house too hot for you else.
Boy.
Why Sir, he shall, but if any thing fall out of order,
the Gentlemen must pardon us.
Cit.
Go your ways good-man boy, I'll hold him a penny
he shall have his belly full of fighting now, ho here comes
Ralph, no more.
Enter Ralph, Mist. Merry, Michael, Squire, and Dwarf.
Ralph.
What Knight is that, Squire, ask him if he keep
The passage bound by love of Lady fair,
Or else but prickant.
Hum.
Sir, I am no Knight,
But a poor Gentleman, that this same night,
Had stoln from me on yonder Green,
My lovely Wife, and suffered to be seen
Yet extant on my shoulderr such a greeting,
That whilst I live, I shall think of that meeting.
Wife.
I Ralph, he beat him unmercifully, Ralph, and thou
spar'st him Ralph, I would thou wert hang'd,
Cit.
No more, wife, no more.
Ralph.
Where is the Caitiff wretch hath done this deed,
Lady, your pardon, that I may proceed
Upon the quest of this injurious Knight.
And thou fair Squire repute me not the worse,
In leaving the great venture of the purse,
Enter Jasper and Luce.
And the rich Casket till some better leisure.
Hum.
Here comes the Broker hath purloin'd my treasure.
Ralph.
Go, Squire, and tell him I am here,
An Errant Knight at Arms, to crave delivery
Of that fair Lady to her own Knights arms.
If he deny, bid him take choice of ground,
And so defie him.
Squire.
From the Knight that bears
The Golden Pestle, I defie thee Knight.
Unless thou make fair restitution
Of that bright Lady.
Jasp.
Tell the Knight that sent thee
He is an ass, and I will keep the wench,
And knock his Head-piece.
Ralph.
Thou art but dead,
If thou recall not thy uncourteous terms:
Wife.
Break's pate Ralph, break's pate Ralph, soundly.
Jasp.
Come Knight, I am ready for you, now your Pestle.
Snatches away his Pestle.
Shall try what temper, Sir, your Mortar's of:
With that he stood upright in his stirrops,
And gave the Knight of the Calve-skin such a knock,
That he forsook his horse, and down he fell,
And then he leaped upon him, and plucking off his Helmet.
Hum.
Nay, and my noble Knight be down so soon,
Though I can scarcely go, I needs must run.
Exit Humphrey and Ralph
Wife.
Run Ralph, run Ralph, run for thy life boy, Jasper
comes, Jasper comes.
Jasp.
Come Luce, we must have other Arms for you,
Humphrey and Golden Pestle both adieu.
Exeunt.
Wife.
Sure the Devil, God bless us, is in this Springald,
why George, didst ever see such a fire-drake, I am afraid
my boy's miscarried; if he be, though he were Master
Merry thoughts Son a thousand times, if there be any Law in
England, I'll make some of them smart for't.
Cit.
No, no, I have found out the matter sweet-heart,
Jasper is enchanted as sure as we are here, he is enchanted,
he could no more have stood in Ralph's hands, than I
can stand in my Lord Mayor's: I'll have a Ring to discover
all enchantments, and Ralph shall beat him yet: be no more
vext, for it shall be so.
Enter Ralph, Squire, Dwarfe, Mistriss Merry-thought, and Michael.
Wife.
Oh Husband, here's Ralph again, stay Ralph, let
me speak with thee, how dost thou Ralph? art thou not
shrewdly hurt? the foul great Lungies laid unmercifully on
thee, there's some Sugar-candy for thee, proceed, thou
shalt have another bout with him.
Cit.
If Ralph had him at the Fencing-School, if he did
not make a puppy of him, and drive him up and down
the School, he should ne'r come in my shop more.
Mist. Mer.
Truly master Knight of the Burning Pestle, I
am weary.
Mich.
Indeed-law Mother, and I am very hungry.
Ralph.
Take comfort gentle Dame, and your fair Squire.
For in this Desart there must needs be plac'd
Many strong Castles, held by courteous Knights,
And till I bring you safe to one of those
I swear by this my Order ne'r to leave you.
Well said Ralph, George, Ralph was ever comfortable,
was he not?
Cit.
Yes Duck.
Wife.
I shall ne'r forget him: when we had lost our
child, you know it was straid almost alone, to Puddle-wharfe,
and the Cryers were abroad for it, and there it had drown'd
it self but for a Sculler, Ralph was the most comfortablest
to me: peace Mistriss, saies he, let it go, I'll get you another
as good, did he not George? did he not say so?
Cit.
Yes indeed did he Mouse.
Dwarfe.
I would we had a mess of Pottage, and a pot of
Drink, Squire, and were going to bed.
Squire.
Why we are at Waltham Towns end, and that's
the Bell Inne.
Dwarfe.
Take courage valiant Knight, and Damsel, and Squire,
I have discovered, not a stones cast off,
An antient Castle held by the old Knight
Of the most holy Order of the Bell,
Who gives to all Knights Errant entertain:
There plenty is of food, and all prepar'd,
By the white hands of his own Lady dear.
He hath three Squires that welcome all his Guests:
The first, High Chamberlain, who will see
Our beds prepar'd, and bring us snowy sheets,
Where never Footman stretch'd his butter'd Hams.
The second height Tapstro, who will see
Our pots full filled, and no froth therein;
The third, a gentle Squire Ostlero height,
Who will our Palfries slick with wisps of straw,
And in the Maunger put them Oats enough,
And never grease their teeth with Candle-snuffe.
Wife.
That same Dwarfe's a pretty boy, but the Squire's
a grout-nold.
Ralph.
Knock at the Gates my Squire, with stately Lance.
Enter Tapster.
Tap.
Who's there, you're welcome Gentlemen, will you
see a room?
Dwarfe.
Right courteous and valiant Knight of the Burning
Pestle, This is the Squire Tapstro.
Ralph.
Fair Squire Tapstro, I a wandring Knight,
Height of the Burning Pestle in the quest
Of this fair Ladies Casket, and wrought purse,
Losing my self in this vast wilderness,
And to this Castle well by fortune brought,
Where hearing of the goodly entertain
Your Knight of holy Order of the Bell,
Gives to all Damsels, and all Errant Knights,
I thought to knock, and now am bold to enter.
Tapst.
An't please you see a chamber, you are very welcome.
Exeunt.
Wife.
George, I would have something done, and I cannot
tell what it is.
Cit.
What is it Nell?
Wife.
Why George, shall Ralph beat no body again? prethee
sweet-heart let him.
Cit.
So he shall Nell, and if I joyn with him, we'll knock
them all.
Enter Humphrey and Merchant.
Wife.
O George, here's master Humphrey again now, that
lost Mistriss Luce, and Mistriss Luce's Father, master Humphrey
will do some bodies arrant I warrant him.
Hum.
Father, it's true in arms I ne'r shall clasp her,
For she is stoln away by your man Jasper.
Wife.
I thought he would tell him.
Mer.
Unhappy that I am to lose my child:
Now I begin to think on Jasper's words,
Who oft hath urg'd to me thy foolishness,
Why didst thou let her go, thou lov'st her not,
That wouldst bring home thy life, and not bring her.
Hum.
Father forgive me, I shall tell you true,
Look on my shoulders they are black and blue,
Whilst too and fro fair Luce and I were winding,
He came and basted me with a hedge binding.
Mer.
Get men and horses straight, we will be there
Within this hour; you know the place again?
Hum.
I know the place where he my loins did swaddle,
I'll get six horses, and to each a saddle.
Mer.
Mean time I'll go talk with Jaspers Father.
Exeunt.
Wife.
George, What wilt thou lay with me now, that Master
Humphrey has not Mistriss Luce yet, speak George what
wilt thou lay with me?
Cit.
No Nell, I warrant thee, Jasper is at Puckeridge with
her by this.
Wife.
Nay George, you must consider Mistriss Lucies feet
are tender, and besides, 'tis dark, and I promise you truly,
I do not see how he should get out of Waltham Forrest
with her yet.
Cit.
Nay Cunny, what wilt thou lay with me that Ralph
has her not yet.
Wife.
I will not lay against Ralph, Honny, because I have
not spoken with him: but look George, peace, here comes
the merry old Gentleman again.
Enter old Merry-thought.
Old Mer.
When it was grown to dark midnight,
And all were fast asleep,
In came Margarets grimly Ghost,
And stood at William's feet.
I have money, and meat, and drink before hand, till to
morrow at noon, why should I be sad? methinks I have
halfe a dozen jovial spirits within me, I am three merry
men, and three merry men: To what end should any man
be sad in this world? give me a man that when he goes to
hanging cries troul the black boul to me: and a Woman
that will sing a catch in her Travel. I have seen a
man come by my door, with a serious face, in a black cloak,
without a Hatband, carrying his head as if he lookt for
pins in the street. I have lookt out of my window halfe a
year after, and have spied that mans head upon London
Bridge: 'tis vile, never trust a Tailor that does not sing at
his work, his mind is of nothing but filching.
Wife.
Mark this George, 'tis worth noting: Godfrey my
Tailor, you know never sings, and he had fourteen yards
to make this Gown; and I'll be sworn, Mistriss Penistone
the Drapers Wife had one made with twelve.
Old Mer.
'Tis mirth that fills the veins with blood,
More than Wine, or Sleep, or Food,
Let each man keep his heart at ease
No man dies of that disease,
He that would his body keep
From diseases, must not weep,
But whoever laughs and sings,
Never his body brings
Into Feavers, Gouts, or Rhumes,
Or lingringly his Lungs consumes:
Or meets with aches in the bone,
Or Catarrhs, or griping Stone:
But contented lives for aye,
The more he laughs, the more he may.
Wife.
Look George, how sayst thou by this George? is't
not a fine old man? Now Gods blessing a thy sweet lips.
When wilt thou be so merry George? Faith thou art the
frowningst little thing, when thou art angry, in a Countrey.
Enter Merchant.
Cit.
Peace Conny, Thou shalt see him took down too I
warrant thee: here's Luce's Father come now.
Old Mer.
As you came from Walsingam, from the Holy
Land, there met you not with my true love by the way as
you came.
Mer.
Oh Master Merry-thought! my Daughters gone,
Old Mer.
Why an if she be, what care I?
Or let her come, or go, or tarry.
Merch.
Mock not my misery, it is your Son,
Whom I have made my own, when all forsook him,
Has stoln my only joy, my child away.
Old Mer.
He set her on a milk white Steed, and himself upon a gray,
He never turn'd his face again, but he bore her quite away.
Merch.
Unworthy of the kindness I have shewn
To thee, and thine: too late, I well perceive
Thou art consenting to my Daughters loss.
Old Mer.
Your Daughter, what a-stirs here wi' y'r daughter?
Let her go, think no more on her, but sing loud. If both my
sons were on the gallows, I would sing down, down, down:
they fall down, and arise they never shall.
Merch.
Oh might I behold her once again.
And she once more embrace her aged sire.
Old Mer.
Fie, how scurvily this goes: and she once more
embrace her aged sire? you'll make a dog on her, will ye,
she cares much for her aged sire, I warrant you.
For she is, she is, she is my Lord of Low-gaves Lassie.
Merch.
For this thy scorn I will pursue
That son of thine to death.
Old Mer.
Do, and when you ha kill'd him,
Give him slowers i'now Palmer, give him flowers i'now,
Give him red and white, and blue, green, and yellow.
Merch.
I'll fetch my Daughter.
Old Mer.
I'll hear no more o' your Daughter, it spoils my
mirth.
Merch.
I say I'll fetch my Daughter.
Old Mer.
Was never man for Ladies sake, down, down,
Tormented as I Sir Guy? de derry down,
For Lucies sake, that Lady bright, down, down,
As ever men beheld with eye? de derry down.
Merch.
I'll be reveng'd by heaven.
Exeunt.
Musick.
How dost thou like this George?
Cit.
Why this is well Cunnie: but if Ralph were hot once:
thou shouldst see more.
Wife.
The Fidlers go again Husband.
Cit.
I Nell, but this is scurvy Musick: I gave the whoreson
gallows money, and I think he has not got me the Waits
of Southwark, if I hear him not anan, I'll twinge him
by the ears.
Wife.
No good George, let's ha Lachrymæ.
Cit.
Why this is it Cunny.
Wife.
It's all the better George: now sweet Lamb, what
story is that painted upon the cloth? the confutation of
Saint Paul?
Cit.
No Lamb, that's Ralph and Lucrece.
Wife.
Ralph and Lucrece? which Ralph? our Ralph?
Cit.
No Mouse, that was a Tartarian.
Wife.
A Tartarian? well, I wo'd the Fidlers had done,
that we might see our Ralph again.
| The Knight of the Burning Pestle | |