University of Virginia Library

Scæna Prima.

Enter Petillius, Junius, Decius, Demetrius singing.
Petill.
Smooth was his cheek,

Dec.
And his chin it was sleek,

Jun.
With whoop, he has done wooing.

Dem.
Junius was this Captains name,
A lad for a lasses viewing,

Pet.
Ful black his eye, & plump his thigh.

Dec.
Made up for loues pursuing:

Dem.
Smooth was his cheek,

Petill.
And his chin it was sleek.

Jun.
With whoop, he has done Wooing.

Petill.
O my vex'd thief, art thou come home again?
are thy brains perfect?

Jun.
Sound as bels.

Petill.
Thy back-worm
quiet, and cast his sting, boy?

Jun.
Dead, Petillius,
dead to all folly, and now my anger only.

Pet.
Why, that's wel said: hang Cupid and his quiver,
a drunken brawling Boy; thy honour'd saint
be thy ten shillings, Junius; there's the money,
and there's the ware; square dealing: this but sweats thee
like a nesh nag, and makes thee look pin buttock'd;
the other runs thee whining up and down
like a pig in a storm, fils thy brains full of ballads,
and shews thee like a long Lent, thy brave body
turn'd to a tail of green-fish without butter.

Dec.
When thou lov'st next, love a good cup of wine,
a Mistris for a King, she leaps to kisse thee,
her red and white's her own; she makes good blood,
takes none away; what shee heats sleep can help,
without a groping Surgeon.

Jun.
I am counsell'd,
and henceforth, when I doat again,—

Dem.
Take heed,
ye had almost paid for't.

Petil.
Love no more great Ladies,
thou canst not step amisse then; there's no delight in 'em;
all's in the whistling of their snatcht up silks;
they're onely made for handsome view, not handling;
their bodies of so weak and wash a temper,
a rough-parc'd bed will shake 'em all to pieces;
a tough hen puls their teeth out, tyres their souls;
plena rimarum sunt, they are full of rynnet,
and take the skin off where they are tasted; shun 'em,
they live in cullisses like rotten cocks
stew'd to a tendernesse, that holds no tack:
Give me a thing I may crush.

Jun.
Thou speak'st truly:
the Warres shall be my Mistris now.

Petil.
Well chosen,
for she's a bownsing lasse, she'll kisse thee at night, boy,
and break thy pate i'th' morning.

Jun.
Yesterday
I found those favours infinite.

Dem.
Wench good enough,
but that she talks too loud.

Pet.
She talks to th'purpose,
which never woman did yet: shee'll hold grapling,
and he that layes on best, is her best servant:
all other loves are meer catching of dotrels,
stretching of legs out onely, and trim lazinesse.
Enter Swet. Curius & Macer.
Here comes the Generall.

Swet.
I am glad I have found ye:
Are those come in yet that pursu'd bold Caratach?

Pet.
Not yet Sir, for I think they mean to lodge him;
take him I know they dare not, 'twill be dangerous.

Swet.
Then haste Petillius, haste to Penyus,
I fear the strong conceit of what disgrace
h'as pull'd upon himself, will be his ruine:
I fear his souldiers fury too; haste presently,
I would not lose him for all Britain. Give him, Petillius,

Petil.
That that shall choak him.

Swet.
all the noble counsell,
his fault forgiven too, his place, his honour,

Petill.
For me, I think, as handsome.

Swet.
all the comfort;
and tell the Souldier, 'twas on our command
hee drew not to the Battell.

Petil.
I conceive Sir,
and will doe that shall cure all.

Swet.
Bring him with ye
before the Queens Fort, and his Forces with him,
there you shall find us following of our Conquest:
Make haste.

Petil.
The best I may.

Exit.
Swet.
And noble Gentlemen,
Up to your Companies: wee'll presently
upon the Queens pursuit: There's nothing done
till she be seiz'd; without her nothing won.

Exeunt.
Short Flourish.