 | Loves Pilgrimage |  |
Act. II
Scaena I.
Enter Alphonso and a Servant.Alph.
Knock at the door.
Ser.
'Tis open Sir.
Alph.
That's all one
Knock when I bid you.
Ser.
Will not your worship enter.
Alph.
Will not you learn more manners Sir, and do that
Your Master bids ye; knock ye knave, or ile knock
Such a round peal about your pate: I enter
Under his roofe, or come to say god save ye
To him, the Son of whose base dealings has undone me.
Knock lowder, lowder yet: ile starve, and rot first,
This open ayr is every mans.
2. Ser.
within.
Come in Sir.
Enter two Servants, Rowl: Ashton.
Alph.
No, no Sir, I am none of these come in Sirs
None of those visitants: bid your wise Master
Come out, I have to talk unto him: go Sir
2. Ser.
Your worship may be welcome.
Alph.
Sir, I will not,
I come not to be welcome: good my three duckets
My pickell'd sprat a day, and no oyl to't,
And once a year a cotten coat, leave prating
And tell your Master, I am here.
2. Ser.
I will Sir.
This is a strange old man.
Exit.
Alph.
I welcome to him!
Ile be first welcome to a Pesthouse; Sirhah
Lets have your valour now casde up, and quiet
When an occasion calls, 'tis wisdom in ye,
A Servingmans discretion: if you do draw
Enter Leonardo, and Don Zanchio (carried by two Servants in a chair.)
Draw but according to your entertainment;
Five nobles worth of fury.
Leo.
Signiour Alphonso.
I hope no discontent from my will given,
Has made ye shun my house: I ever lov'd ye.
An credit me amongst my fears 'tis greatest
To minister offences.
Alph.
O good Signiour
I know ye for Italian breed, fair tongu'd,
Spare your Appologies, I care not for'em,
As little for your love Sir; I can live
Without your knowledge; eat mine own, and sleep
Without dependances, or hopes upon ye.
I come to aske my daughter.
Leo.
Gentle Sir.
Alph.
I am not gentle Sir, nor gentle will be
Till I have justice, my poor child restor'd
Your caper-cutting boy has run away with
Yong Signior-smooth-face, he that takes up wenches
With smiles, and sweet behaviours, songs, and sonnets,
Your high fed Jennet, that no hedge can hold
They say you bred him for a Stallion.
Zanch.
Fie Signiour, there be times, and terms of honour
To argue these things in, descidements able
To speak ye noble gentlemen, ways punctuall
And to the life of credit, ye are too rugged.
Alph.
I am too tame Sir.
Leo.
Will ye hear but reason?
Alph.
No, I will hear no reason: I come not hither
To be popt off with reason; reason then.
Zanch.
Why Signior, in all things there must be method
Ye choak the child of honour els, discretion,
Do you conceive an injury?
Alph.
What then Sir?
Zanch.
Then follow it in fair terms, let your sword bite
When time calls, not your tongue.
Alph.
I know Sir
Both when and what to do without directions,
And where, and how, I come not to be tutur'd,
My cause is no mans but mine own: you Signior
Will ye restore my daughter?
Leo.
Who detains her?
Alph.
No more of these sleight shifts
Leo.
Ye urge me Signior
With strange unjustice: because my Son has err'd
Zanch.
Mark him.
Leo.
Out of the heat of youth: do'st follow
I must be father of his crimes.
Alph.
I say still
Leave off your rhetorick, and restore my daughter.
And sodainly: bring in your rebell too,
Mountdragon, he that mounts without commission
That I may see him punished, and severely,
Or by that holy heaven, ile fire your house,
And ther's my way of honour.
Zanch.
Pray give me leave
Was not man made the noblest creature
Alph.
Well Sir.
Zanch.
Should not his mind then answer to his making,
And to his mind his actions, if this ought to be,
Why do we run a blind way from our worths,
And cancell our discretions, doing those things
To cure offences, are the most offences?
We have rules of justice in us; to those rules
Let us apply our angers: you can consider
8
And how unfurnish'd they appear.
Alph.
Hang others,
And where the wrongs are open, hang respects,
I come not to consider.
Leo.
Noble Sir,
Let us argue cooly, and consider like men.
Alph.
Like men!
Leo.
Ye are too sodain still.
Alph.
Like men Sir?
Zanch.
It is fair language, and ally'd to honour.
Alph.
Why, what strange beast would your grave reverence
Make me appear? like men!
Zanch.
Taste but that point Sir,
And ye recover all.
Alph.
I tell thy wisdome
I am as much a man, and as good a man.
Leo.
All this is granted Sir.
Alph.
As wise a man.
Zanch.
Ye are not tainted that way.
Alph.
And a man
Dares make thee no man; or at best, a base man.
Zanch.
Fy, Fy, here wants much carriage.
Alph.
Hang much carriage.
Leo.
Give me good language sirrah Signiour.
Alph.
Give me my daughter.
Leo.
I am as gentle as your self, as free born.
Zanch.
Observe his way.
Leo.
As much respect ow'd to me.
Zanch.
This hangs together nobly.
Leo.
And for Civill
A great deal more it seems: go look your daughter.
Zanch.
There ye went well off Signiour.
Leo.
That rough tongue
You understand at first: you never think Sir
Out of your mightinesse, of my losse: here I stand
A patient anvill, to your burning angers
Made subject to your dangers; yet my losse equall:
Who shall bring home my son?
Alph.
A whipping Beadle.
Leo.
Why, is your daughter whorish?
Alph.
Ha, thou dar'st not,
By heaven I know thou dar'st not.
Leo.
I dare more Sir
If you dare be uncivill.
Alph.
Laugh too, Pidgeon.
Zanch.
A fitter time for fames sake: two weak Nurses
Would laugh at this; are there no more days coming,
No ground but this to argue on? no swords left
Nor friends to carry this, but your own furies?
Alas! it shows too weakly.
Alph.
Let it show;
I come not here for shews: laugh at me sirrah?
Ile give ye cause to laugh.
Leo.
Ye are as like Sir
As any man in Spaine.
Alph.
By heaven I will,
I will brave Leonardo.
Leo.
Brave Alphonso,
I will expect it then.
Zanch.
Hold ye there both,
These terms are noble.
Alph.
Ye shall hear shortly from me.
Leo.
Now discreetly.
Alph.
Assure your self ye shall: do ye see this sword Sir?
He has not caft his teeth yet.
Zanch.
Rarely carried.
Alph.
He bites deep: most times mortall: Signiour
Ile hound him at the fair and home.
Zanch.
Still nobly.
Alph.
And at all those that dare maintain ye.
Zanch.
Excellent.
Leo.
How you shall please Sir, so it be fair, though certain,
I had rather give you reason.
Zanch.
Fairly urg'd too.
Alph.
This is no age for reason, prick your reason
Upon your swords point.
Zanch.
Admirably follow'd.
Alph.
And there ile hear it: so till I please, live Sir.
Exit
Leo.
And so farewell, you'r welcome.
Zanch.
The end crowns all things
Signiour, some little businesse past, this cause ile argue
And be a peace between ye, ift so please ye,
And by the square of honour to the utmost:
I feel the old man's master'd by much passion,
And too high rackt, which makes him overshoot all.
His valour should direct at, and hurt those
That stand but by as blenchers: this he must know too,
As necessary to his judgement, doting women
Are neither safe nor wise adventures: conceive me,
If once their wills have wander'd; nor is't then
A time to use our rages: for why should I
Bite at the stone, when he that throws it wrongs me?
Do not we know that women are most wooers
Though closest in their carriage? Do not all men know,
Scarce all the compasse of the globe can hold 'em
If their affections be afoot? shall I then covet
The follys of a she-fool, that by nature
Must seek her like, by reason be a woman,
Sink a tal ship because the sales defie me?
No, I disdain that folly; he that ventures
Whilst they are fit to put him on, has found out
The everlasting motion in his scabbard.
I doubt not to make peace: and so for this time
My best love, and remembrance.
Leo.
Your poor Servant.
Exeunt.
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.
Scæna Tertia.
Enter Rodorigo, Markantonio, and a Ship-master, two Chairs set out.Rod.
Call up the Master.
Mast.
Here Sir.
within.
Rod.
Honest Master,
Give order all the Gallys with this tyde
Fall round, and neer upon us; that the next wind
We may waigh off together, and recover
The Port of Barcelona, without parting.
Mast.
Your pleasures done Sir.
within.
Rod.
Signior Markantonio,
Till meat be ready, let's sit here and prepare
Our stomachs with discourses.
Marc.
What you please Sir.
Rod.
Pray ye answer me to this doubt.
Marc.
If I can Sir.
Rod.
Why should such plants as you are, pleasures children
That ow their blushing years to gentle objects,
Tenderly bred, and brought up in all fulnesse,
Desire the stubborn wars?
Marc.
In those 'tis wonder,
That make their ease their god, and not their honour:
But noble Generall, my end is other,
Desire of knowledge Sir, and hope of tying
Discretion to my time, which only shews me,
And not my years, a man, and makes that more.
Which we call handsome, the rest is but boys beauty,
And with the boy consum'd.
Rod.
Ye argue well Sir.
11
Nor do I wear my youth, as they were breches
For object, but for use: my strength for danger,
Which is the liberal part of man, not dalliance,
The wars must be my Mistress Sir.
Rod.
O Signiour,
You'l find her a rough wench.
Mar.
When she is won once,
She'l show the sweeter Sir.
Rod.
You can be pleas'd, though
Sometimes to take a tamer?
Mar.
'Tis a truth Sir,
So she be handsom, and not ill condition'd.
Rod.
A Soldier should not be so curious.
Mar.
I can make shift with any for a heat Sir.
Rod.
Nay, there you wrong your youth too: and however
You are pleas'd to appear to me, which shews wel Signior,
A tougher soul then your few years can testifie;
Yet my yong Sir, out of mine own experience
When my spring was, I am able to confute ye,
And say, y'had rather come to th'shock of eys,
And boldly march up to your Mistriss mouth,
Then to the Cannons.
Mar.
That's as their lading is Sir.
Rod.
There be Trenches
Fitter, and warmer for your years, and safer
Then where the bullet plays.
Mar.
Ther's it I doubt Sir.
Rod.
You'l easily find that faith: But come, be liberal,
What kind of woman could you make best wars with?
Mar.
They are all but heavy marches.
Rod.
Fy Marckantonio,
Beauty in no more reverence?
Mar.
In the Sex Sir,
I honor it, and next to honor, love it,
For there is only beauty; and that sweetness
That was first meant for modesty: sever it
And put it in one woman, it appears not.
'Tis of too rare a nature, she too gross
To mingle with it.
Rod.
This is a meer heresie.
Marc.
Which makes 'em ever mending; for that gloss
That cosens us for beauty, is but bravery,
An outward shew of things well set, no more,
For heavenly beauty, is as heaven it self Sir,
Too excellent for object, and what is seen
Is but the vail then, airy clouds; grant this
It may be seen, 'tis but like stars in twinklings.
Rod.
'Twas no small study in their Libraries
Brought you to this experience: But what think ye
Of that fair red and white, which we call beauty?
Mar.
Why? 'tis our creature Sir, we give it 'em,
Because we like those colours, else 'tis certain
A blew face with a motley nose would do it,
And be as great a beauty, so we lov'd it,
That we cannot give, which is only beauty,
Is a fair Mind.
Rod.
By this rule, all our choices
Are to no ends.
Marc.
Except the dull end, Doing.
Rod.
Then all to you seem equal?
Marc.
Very true Sir,
And that makes equal dealing: I love any
That's worth love.
Rod.
How long love ye Signiour?
Marc.
Till I have other business.
Rod.
Do you never
Love steadfastly one woman?
Mar.
'Tis a toyl Sir
Like riding in one rode perpetually,
It offers no variety.
Rod.
Right youth,
He must needs make a Soldier; nor do you think
One woman, can love one man.
Mar.
Yes that may be,
Though it appear not often; they are things ignorant,
And therefore apted to that superstition
Of doting fondness; yet of late years Signior,
That worlds well mended with 'em, fewer are found now
That love at length, and to the right mark, all
Stir now as the time stirs; fame and fashion
Are ends they aim at now, and to make that love
That wiser ages held ambition;
They that cannot reach this, may love by Index;
By every days surveying who best promises,
Who has done best, who may do, and who mended
May come to do again; who appears neatest
Either in new stampt cloths, or curtesies,
Done but from hand to mouth neither; nor love they these things
Longer then new are making, nor that succession
Beyond the next fair feather: Take the City,
There they go to't by gold waight, no gain from 'em
All they can work by fire and water to 'em,
Profit is all they point at: if there be love
'Tis shew'd ye by so dark a light, to bear out
The bracks, and old stains in it, that ye may purchase
French velvet better cheap: all loves are endless.
Rod.
Faith, if ye have a Mistress, would she heard you.
Mar.
'Twere but the ventring of my place, or swearing
I meant it but for argument, as Schoolmen
Dispute high questions.
Rod.
What a world is this
When young men dare determine what those are?
Age and the best experience ne'r could aim at.
Marc.
They were thick ey'd then Sir; now the print is bigger,
And they may read their fortunes without spectacles.
Rod.
Did you ne'r love?
Mar.
Faith yes, once after supper,
And the fit held till midnight.
Rod.
Hot, or shaking.
Mar.
To say true, both.
Rod.
How did ye rid it?
Mar.
Thus Sir,
I laid my hand upon my heart, and blest me,
And then said over certain charms I had learn'd
Against mad dogs, for love, and they are all one;
Last thought upon a windmill, and so slept,
And was well ever after.
Rod.
A rare Physitian,
What would your practise gain ye?
Mar.
The wars ended,
I mean to use my heart, and have these fools
Cut in the head like Cats, to save the Kingdom,
Another Inquisition.
Rod.
So old a Soldier.
Out of the wars, I never knew yet practised.
Mar.
I shall mend every day; But noble General,
Believe this, but as this you nam'd discourses.
Rod.
O ye are a cunning Gamster.
Mar.
Mirths and toys
To cosen time withall, for O my troth Sir,
I can love; I think, well too; well enough
And think as wel of women as they are,
Pretty fantastick things, some more regardful,
And some few worth a service: I am so honest,
12
'Twill be to get in there with their great farthingalls.
Rod.
Well Marckantonio, I would not loose thy company
For the best Galley I command.
Marc.
Faith Generall,
If these discourses please ye, I shall fit ye
Once every day.
knock within.
Rod.
Thou canst not please me better: hark, they call
Below to Didner: ye are my Cabbin guest,
My bosom's, so you please Sir.
Marc.
Your poor Servant.
Exeunt.
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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