 | The Soddered Citizen |  |
Scæna [nona] octaua
Enter Miniona & maide., Min: comes wt h. state towards Brain:, They salute wt h. seremony, & ffewt: Kisses the Maide,ffew:
Vppon the Levell I accost you Ducklinge,
Maide.
Thankes prettie Parrakeete,
Minio:
Tis not your person, which is tollerable,
Your singinge, & your other partes, that take,
The fortunes you were borne to, wc h are faire,
Your present beinge, wc h some pittie moves,
That makes mee Sr. thus kinde,
Brain:
What the Diu'll ist then?
Minio:
Soe full of Method, & soe bountifull,
You are in raylinge, at [old Vndermyne], base Cittizens
[And that base Mountaine, wc h haue ruin'd mee,]
Soe fairely, freely, smartly, & soe patt,
Your Ierks fall on them, that you ravish mee,
Brain:
I had rather haue your consent Ladie,
Minio:
Att distance Sr, I pray thee rayle a little,
And lett ould Vndermyne & that rogue Mountaine,
And lettthe Citty Bee, thy [most] spatious Theame—say—
Brain:
Lett mee see,
Th'are formall, as the waynscott Imag'ry,
But want the better parte, the noble spiritt,
Minio:
Call you this raylinge?
Brain:
The[ir] fleshe of a Cittizen is as rancke, & as vnwholesome,
As a tame Coney, that feeds on playsters,
Minio.
Soe, soe,
ffew:
They are as eager, at the sporte you wott of,
As a younge Bullocke, wt h a gamesome Heifer,
67
Minio:
Better and better, tis a very good Boy,
Brain:
They scarcely gett the Children that they ffather,
Minio:
I like that best, my nature soe excells,
I hope the loathsome Vndermyne, nere gott mee,
Brain:
Was yor Mother faire?
Minio:
As I my selfe, and of a lustie Kynn?
Brain:
And a Cittizens wife? [i]t'is a cleare Case.,
[Ile humour her, to whatsoere shee saies,]
[Although it carrie neither truth, nor sence,]
[To growe in favour with her,]
Minio:
[Yett mee thinks] Ther's one thinge makes mee doubt [still it] still; tis a tenent [they create]
That they, whoe mingle wt h anothers wife,
Thinke alwaies on the Cockoule, th'are a makeinge.,
ffor feare hee comes, that their thus troubled thought,
Intends not, as it should, the thinge they doe,
[weake]
Soe nature comes imperfect, heer's the Cause,
Some of our Cittie ffrye, haue such weake braines,
But I am too wise, I thinke,
68
You are indeed, what come the while, quoth you?
Were there noe Sturbridge, nor noe Bristall faires,
Ere you were borne,? did not your ffather vse,
Those in his first begin[gs]ings.?
Minio:
That hee did,
Brain:
Rest confident, yo'are right,
Minio:
I'me highly pleas'd.,
Brain:
Pray walke, or I growe dull.,
Sacke, wt h your faire applause, will raise mee high,
As our fam'd Poetts, to eternitie;
exeunt
| The Soddered Citizen | |