 | Loves Pilgrimage |  |
Scæna secunda.
Enter Diego Host, Philippo, and Theodosia.Phil.
Where will our Horses meet us?
Host Dieg.
Fear not you Sir,
Some half mile hence, my worships man will stay us,
How is it with my young bloods? come, be joviall,
Let's travell like a merry flock of wild geese,
Every tongue talking.
Phil.
We are very merry;
But do you know this way Sir?
Theo.
Is't not dangerous?
Methinks these woody thickets should harbour knaves.
Host Die.
I fear none but fair wenches: those are theeves.
May quickly rob me of my good conditions
If they cry stand once: but the best is Signiours
They cannot bind my hands; for any else,
They meet an equall knave, and there's my pasport:
I have seen fine sport in this place, had these trees tongues,
They would tell ye pretty matters: do not you fear though
They are not every days delights.
Phil.
What sport Sir?
Host.
Why to say true, the sport of all sports.
Phil.
What was't?
Host.
Such turning up of taffataes; and you know
To what rare whistling tunes they go, far beyond
A soft wind in the shrowds: such stand there,
9
And subdivisions for those toys their honours,
One, as ye are a gentleman in this bush,
And oh sweet Sir, what mean ye? ther's a bracelet,
And use me I beseech ye like a woman,
And her petition's heard: another scratches,
And crys she will die first, and then swones: but certain
She is brought to life again, and does well after.
Another save mine honour, oh mine honour,
My husband serves the Duke, Sir, in his kitchen;
I have a cold pie for ye; fy, fy, fy gentlemen,
Will nothing satisfie ye, where's my husband?
Another crys, do ye see Sir how they use me,
Is there no law for these things?
Theo.
And good mine Host,
Do you call these fine sports?
Host.
What should I call 'em,
They have been so call'd these thousand years & upwards.
Phil.
But what becomes o'th' men?
Host.
They are stript and bound,
Like so many Adams, with fig leafs afore 'em,
And there's their innocence.
Theo.
Would we had known this?
Before we reacht this place.
Phil.
Come, there's no danger,
These are but sometimes chances.
Enter Bayliffe.
Host.
Now we must through.
Theo.
Who's that?
Host.
Stand to it Signiors.
Phil.
No it needs not,
I know the face; 'tis honest.
Bayl.
What mine Host:
Mine everlasting honest Host.
Host.
Masse Bayly:
Now in the name of an ill reckoning
What make you walking this round?
Bayl.
A—of this round,
And of all businesse too, through woods, and rascalls,
They have rounded me away a dozen duckets,
Besides a fair round cloke: Some of 'em knew me,
Els they had cased me like a cony too,
As they have done the rest, and I think rosted me,
For they began to baste me soundly: my young Signiors,
You may thank heaven, and heartily, and hourly,
You set not out so early; ye had been smoak'd els
By this true hand ye had Sirs, finely smoakt,
Had ye been women, smockt too.
Theo.
Heaven defend us.
Bayl.
Nay, that had been no prayer, there were those
That run that prayer out of breath, yet fail'd too:
There was a Fryer, now ye talk of prayer,
With a huge bunch of beads, like a rope of onyons;
I am sure as big, that out of fear and prayer,
In half an houre wore 'em as small as bugles,
Yet he was flea'd too.
Phil.
At what houre was this?
Bayl.
Some two houres since.
Theo.
Do you think the passage sure now.
Bayl.
Yes, a rope take 'em, as it will, and blesse 'em,
They have done for this day sure.
Phil.
Are many riffled?
Bayl.
At the least a dozen,
And there left bound.
Theo.
How came you free?
Bayl.
A curtesie
They use out of their rogueships, to bequeath
To one, that when they give a signe from far
Which is from out of danger; he may presently
Release the rest, as I met you, I was going,
Having the signe from yonder hill to do it.
Theo.
Alas poor men.
Phil.
Mine Host, pray go untie 'em.
Host.
Let me alone for cancelling: where are they?
Bayl.
In every bush like black birds, you cannot misse 'em
Host.
I need not stalk unto 'em.
Exit.
Bayl.
No, they'l stand ye,
My busy life for yours Sir: you would wonder
To see the severall tricks, and strange behaviors
Of the poor rascals in their miseries,
One weeps, another laughs at him for weeping,
A third is monstrous angry he can laugh
And crys, go too, this is no time; he laughs still,
A fourth exhorts to patience: him a fift man
Curses for tamenesse; him a Fryer schools,
All hoot the Fryer: here one sings a Ballad,
And there a little Curat confutes him,
And in this linsey woolsey way, that would make a dog
Forget his dinner, or an old man fire
They rub out for their ransoms: Amongst the rest,
There is a little Boy rob'd, a fine child,
It seems a Page: I must confesse my pitty
(As 'tis a hard thing in a man of my place)
To shew compassion, stir'd at him; so finely
And without noyse he carrys his afflictions,
And looks as if he had but dreamt of loosing.
Enter Host and Leocadia, and others as rob'd.
This boy's the glory of this robbery,
The rest but shame the action: now ye may hear 'em.
Host.
Come lads, 'tis holy-day: hang clothes, 'tis hot,
And sweating agues are abroad.
1.
It seems so;
For we have met with rare Phisitians
To cure us of that mallady.
Host.
Fine footing,
Light and deliver: now my boys: Master Fryer,
How do's your holinesse, bear up man; what
A cup of neat sack now and a toast: ha, Fryer,
A warm plaister to your belly Father,
There were a blessing now.
Fryer.
Ye say your mind Sir.
Host.
Where my fine Boy: my poynter.
Bayl.
Ther's the wonder.
Host.
A rank whore scratch their sides till the pox follow
For robbing thee, thou hast a thousand ways
To rob thy self boy, dyce, and a chamber devill.
Leoc.
Ye are deceiv'd Sir.
Host.
And thy Master too Boy.
Phil.
A sweet fac'd Boy indeed: what rogues were these?
What barbarous brutish slaves to strip this beauty?
Theo.
Come hither my boy: alas! he's cold, mine Host,
We must intreat your Cloak.
Host.
Can ye intreat it.
Phil.
We do presume so much, you have other garments.
Host.
Will you intreat those too?
Theo.
Your Mule must too,
To the next town, you say 'tis neer; in pity
You cannot see this poor Boy perish.
I know ye have a better soul, we'l satisfie ye.
Host.
'Tis a strange foolish trick I have, but I cannot help it,
I am ever cozen'd with mine own commendations;
It is determin'd then I shall be robb'd too.
To make up vantage to this dozen: here Sir,
10
To set ye off: pray keep in hansomer
Then you kept your own, and let me have it render'd,
Brush'd, and discreetly folded.
Leoc.
I thank ye Sir.
Host.
Who wants a doblet?
2.
I.
Host.
Where will you have it?
2.
From you Sir, if you please.
Host.
Oh, there's the poyt Sir.
Phil.
My honest friends, I am sorry for your fortunes,
But that's but poor relief; here are ten Duckets,
And to your distribution holy Sir,
I render 'em: and let it be your care
To se 'em, as your wants are, well divided.
Host.
Plain dealing now my friends: and Father Fryer,
Set me the sadle right; no wringing Fryer,
Nor tithing to the Church, these are no duties;
Scowre me your conscience, if the Devill tempt ye
Off with your cord, and swing him.
Fry.
Ye say well Sir.
all.
Heaven keep your goodnesse.
Theo.
Peace keep you, farewell friends
Host.
Farewell light-horse-men.
Exit the rob'd.
Phil.
Which way travell you Sir.
Bayl.
To the next town.
The.
Do you want any thing.
Bayl.
Only discretion to travell at good houres,
And some warm meat to moderate this matter,
For I am most outragious cruell hungry
Host.
I have a stomach too such as it is
Would pose a right good pasty, I thank heaven for't.
Bayl.
Chees that would break the teeth of a new handsaw,
I could endure now like an Eastrich, or salt beeffe
That Cesar left in pickell.
Phil.
Take no care,
Wee'l have meat for you and enough: I th'mean time
Keep you the horse way lest the fellow misse us,
We'l meet ye at the end o'th wood.
Host.
Make hast then.
Exit. Host. & Bayl.
Theo.
My pretty Sir, till your necessities
Be full supplied, so please you trust our friendships,
We must not part.
Leo.
Ye have pull'd a charge upon ye,
Yet such a one, as ever shall be thankfull.
Phil.
Ye have said enough: may I be bold to ask ye,
What Province you were bred in? and of what parents?
Leo.
Ye may Sir: I was born in Andoluzia,
My name Francisco, son to Don Henriques
De Cardinas.
Theo.
Our noble neighbour.
Phil.
Son to Don Henriques:
I know the gentleman: and by your leave Sir,
I know he has no son.
Leo.
None of his own Sir,
Which makes him put that right upon his brother
Don Zanchio's children: one of which I am,
And therefore do not much err.
Phil.
Still ye do Sir,
For neither has Don Zanchio any son;
A daughter, and a rare one is heire,
Which though I never was so blest to see,
Yet I have heard great good of.
Theo.
Urge no further,
He is ashamed, and blushes.
Phil.
Sir,
If it might import you to conceal your self,
I ask your mercy, I have been so curious:
Leo.
Alas! I must ask yours Sir: for these lies,
Yet they were usefull ones; for by the claiming
Such noble parents, I beleev'd your bounties
Would shew more gracious: The plain truth is gentlemen,
I am Don Sanchios stewards son, a wild boy,
That for the fruits of his unhappinesse,
Is faigne to seek the wars.
Theo.
This is a lie too.
If I have any ears.
Phil.
Why?
Theo.
Mark his language,
And ye shall find it of too sweet a relish
For one of such a breed: ile pawn my hand,
This is no boy.
Phil.
No boy? what would you have him?
Theo.
I know, no boy: I watcht how fearfully,
And yet how sodainly he cur'd his lies,
The right wit of a woman: Now I am sure.
Phil.
What are ye sure?
Theo.
That 'tis no boy: ile burn in't.
Phil.
Now I consider better, and take councell,
Methinks he shows more sweetnesse in that face,
Then his fears dare deliver.
Theo.
No more talk on't,
There hangs some great waight by it: soon at night
Ile tell ye more.
Phil.
Come Sir, what ere you are
With us, embrace your liberty, and our helps
In any need you have.
Leo.
All my poor service
Shall be at your command Sir, and my prayers.
Phil.
Let's walke a pace; hunger will cut their throats els.
Exeunt.
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