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Scena quarta.
Enter Philipo, and second Host.Host.
Let 'em have meat enough woman, half a hen;
There be old rotten pilchers, put 'em off too,
'Tis but a little new anoynting of 'em,
And a strong onyon, that confounds the stink.
Hostess.
They call for more Sir.
Host.
Knock a dozen eggs down,
But then beware your wenches.
Hostess.
More then this too?
Host.
Worts, worts, and make 'em porridg: pop 'em up
But they shall pay for Cullyses.
Hostess.
All this is nothing;
They call for kid and partridg.
Host.
Well remembred,
Where's the half Falconers dog he left?
Hostess.
It stinks Sir,
Past all hope that way.
Host.
Run it o're with garlick,
And make a Roman dish on't.
Hostess.
Pray ye be patient,
And get provision in; these are fine Gentlemen,
And liberal Gentlemen; they have unde quare
No mangey Muleters, nor pinching Posts
That feed upon the parings of musk-millions
And radishes, as big and tough as rafters:
Will ye be stirring in this business? here's your brother
Mine old Host of Ossuva, as wise as you are,
That is, as knavish; if ye put a trick,
Take heed he do not find it.
Host.
Ile be wagging.
Hostess.
'Tis for your own commodity: why wenches.
Anon forsooth.
within.
Hostess.
Who makes a fire there? and who gets in water?
Let Oliver go to the Justice, and beseech his worship
We may have two spits going; and do you here Druce,
Let him invite his worship, and his wives worship,
To the left meat to morrow.
Enter Bayliff.
Bayl.
Where's the Kitchen?
Hostess.
Even at the next door Signior: what old Don?
We meet but seldom.
Bayl.
Prethee be patient Hostess,
And tell me where the meat is.
Hostess.
Faith Master Bayly,
How have ye done? and how man?
Bayl.
Good sweet Hostess,
What shall we have to dinner?
Hostess.
How do's your woman,
And a fine woman she is and a good woman,
Lord, how you bear your years?
Bayl.
Is't veal, or mutton,
Beef, bacon, pork, kid, pheasant, or all these,
And are they ready all?
Hostess.
The hours that have been
Between us two, the merry hours. Lord!
Bayl.
Hostess,
Dear Hostess do but hear; I am hungry.
Hostess.
Ye are merrily dispos'd Sir.
Bayl.
Monstrous hungry,
And hungry after much meat, I have brought hither
Right worshipful to pay the reckoning,
Money enough too with 'em, desire enough
To have the best meat, and of that enough too:
Come to the point sweet wench, and so I kiss thee.
Hostess.
Ye shall have any thing, and instantly
Ere you can lick your ears, Sir.
Bayl.
Portly meat,
Bearing substantial stuff, and fit for hunger:
I do beseech ye Hostess first, then some light garnish,
Two pheasants in a dish, if ye have leverits,
Rather for way of ornament, then appetite
They may be look'd upon, or larks: for fish,
As there is no great need, so I would not wish ye
To serve above four dishes, but those full ones;
Ye have no cheese of Parma?
Hostess.
Very old Sir.
Bayl.
The less will serve us, some ten pound,
Hostess.
Alas Sir,
We have not half these dainties.
Bayl.
Peace good Hostess,
And make us hope ye have.
Hostess.
Ye shall have all Sir,
Bayl.
That may be got for money.
Enter Diego the Host, and a Boy.
1. Host. Diego.
Where's your Master?
Bring me your Master boy: I must have liquor
Fit for the Mermedons; no dashing now child,
No conjurings by candle light, I know all;
Strike me the oldest Sack, a piece that carries
Point blank to this place boy, and batters; Hostess,
I kiss thy hands through which many a round reckoning
And things of moment have had motion.
Hostess.
Still mind old Brother.
1. Host Dei.
Set thy Seller open,
For I must enter, and advance my colours
I have brought the Dons indeed wench, Dons with duckets,
And those Dons must have dainty wine, pure Bacchus
That bleeds the life blood: what is your cure ended?
Bayl.
We shall have meat man.
1. Host Die.
Then we shall have wine man,
And wine upon wine, cut and drawn with wine.
Hostess.
Ye shall have all, and more then all.
Bayl.
All, well then.
1. Host Die.
Away, about your business, you with her
For old acquaintance sake, to stay your stomach
Exit Hostesse and Bayliffe.
And Boy, be you my guide ad inferos,
For I will make a full descent in equipage.
Boy.
Ile shew you rare wine.
1. Host Die.
Stinging geer.
Boy.
Divine Sir.
1. Host Die.
O divine boy, march, march my child, rare wine boy.
Boy.
As in Spain Sir.
1. Host Die.
Old, and strong too,
O my fine Boy, clear too?
Boy.
As christal Sir, and strong as truth.
1. Host Die.
Away boy,
I am enamour'd, and I long for Dalligance,
Stay no where child, not for thy fathers blessing,
I charge thee not to save thy sisters honour,
Nor to close thy dams eys were she a dying,
Till we arrive; and for thy recompence
I will remember thee in my Will.
Boy.
Ye have said Sir.
Exeunt.
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