University of Virginia Library

Scen. 10.

Anteros, Merda, two Rusticall Servants, 2. Ancillæ, Fidlers.
2 Rust.

But strike it out, we burne day-light.

Merd.

Ah the Lord! but where's our Ieoffrey?

1 Anc.

Cuds me! I doubt the great clowne's run away.

2 Anc.

Whoo! hee's got up into the tree there.

1 Rust.

Where? where? oh cuds wowkers & swowkers, I haue
him by the leg: Robin, helpe here Robin.

Ant.

What a murren
ayles you? can't you let one alone?

2 Rust.

Come, come, you
must needs daunce, we want one.

Ant.

Can't daunce.

2 Anc.

Can't you daunce, my little shamefac'd one?
Can you kisse a pretty wench in a corner?

Ant.

Let one alone, I can't I tell you, I won't daunce.

1 Rust.

I but you shall sirrah, in spite of your teeth.

Ant.

Pish, 'won't daunce.

1 Anc.

Come Merda, you must
entreat him, hee'l daunce with you I know.

Mer.

Prithee now
Ieoffrey doe, prithee now good Ieoffrey doe, wu'd I might ne're
stir law, if I don't make you a bisning posset, with a great lumpe
of hony in't, when my father and mother bee gone to bed, if you
will.

Ant.

Pish I can't daunce.

1 Rust.

Come let the great foole alone, wee'l dance our selues.

Mer.

Prithee now Ieoffrey.

Ant.

What shall I say? you'l laugh at one.

Mer.

Wu'd I was whipt if I doe.

1 Anc.

Besworne I won't.

2 Anc.

Nor I on my mayden-head.

Ant.

Come on then, since there is no remedy.

they daunce
2 Rust.

Hi, now every one kisse his marrow.

Ant.

I ne're was miserable 'till now

Merda wipes her mouth, and expects
Mer.

Ieoffrey, Ieoffrey.

2 Anc.

Why don't you kisse your marrow?

Ant.

I won't, I can't kisse.

1 Rust.

No can't? wee'l trie that: Robin, hold his tother
arme fast: so, so, now Merda, now, well sayd, againe, againe;
why so then.

They all laugh.
Ant.

They liue in Paradise that thrash.

1 Anc.

Tihy.

2 Anc.

Tihy, Robin, come hither.

Ante.

Those happy Paracelsians are in heauen,
That trade by night i'th mineralls of the citie.

2 Anc.

What doe you meane to fight Merda?

Merd.

Ay-me—I forgot the rod.

They laugh.
1 Anc.

Fie, why doe you blush so Merda?

Shee throws it away.
Merd.

I don't blush, you are a lyer.

1 Rust.

Fie upon you Merda, a great mayden, and blush.

Merd.

Aw, but you lye though, I did not blush, I won't
daunce no more with you.

2 Rust.

O by any meanes doe not forsake us yet, one daunce
more; who was it that said shee blush'd? shee did not blush, I
know she scornes to blush; come take your Ieoffrey by the hand
againe.

Ant.

I'm weary, I can't daunce no more.

1 Rust.

Weary? faith I'de squiffe it; weary? about with it
I say.

They daunce againe.