University of Virginia Library

Scena. 7.

Grimball, Dalia, eyther of them a Basket.
Gri.
Softe Dalia, a woorde with you, I praye.

Da.
What friend, Grimbal, welcome as I maye saye:

Gri.
Sayst thou me so, then kysse me for acquaintaunce.

Da.
If I lyke your manhoode, I may do so perchaunce.

She faynes to looke in his basket.
Gri.
Bate me an ase, quoth Boulton, Tush, your minde I know:
Ah syr, you would, be like, let my Cocke Sparrowes goe.

Da.
I warrant thee Grimball.

She takes out a vvhite pudding:
Gri.
Laye off handes Dalia.
You powte me, if that you got, my Pudding awaye:

Da.
Nay good sweete, honny Grimball, this Pudding giue mee.

Gri.
Iche were as good geete hir, for she wyll hate, I see.
Well, my nown good harte roote, I freelie giue thee this,
Upon condition, that thou giue me a kys.

Da.
Nay, but first wash your lippes, with sweete water you shall,

Gri.
Why ych was ryte now, for my Pudding, hony sweet Grimbal:
Well Dalia, you will floute so long, tyll (though I saye)
With kindnesse you wyll cast a proper handsome man away,
UUherfore soote Conny, euen a lyttle spurte:

Da.
Laye off handes Sir:

Gri
Good do not byte, for ych meane thee no hurte:
Come off Pyggesnie, prefarre me not a iote,

Da.
UUhat woulde the good foole haue,

Gri.
UUhy, you woot whote.
Hearke in your eare:

Da.
You shall commaunde, so proper a man ye are.
That for your sake, I wyll not sticke to ware:
A blew Cassocke, during my lyfe forsoothe,
Mary for my sake, I woulde be verie lothe:
So goodlie a handsome man, should lose his head.

Gri.
Nay, for my head, care not a Tinkers torde,
For so God iudge me, and at one bare worde:
Yle lose my death, yea, and my great browne Cowe,
I loue you so filthilie: law ye nowe.

Da.
Thou sayest valiantlie, nowe sing, aswell too:
And thou shalt quicklie knowe, what I meane to doo.

Gri:
Yes by Gogs foote, to pleasure thee, ych shall,
Both syng, spring, fight and playe, the dewl and all.

Da.
O lustilie:

The Song.
Gri.
Come smack me, come smack me, I long for a smouch,

Da.
Go pack thee, go pack thee, thou filthie fine slouch.

Gri.
Leard howe I loue thee,

Da.
This can not moue mee:

Gri.
Why pretie Pygsney, my harte, and my honny?

Da.
Because goodman Hogsface, you woe without mony.

Gri.
I lacke mony, chy graunt,

Da.
Then Grimball auaunt.

Gri.
Cham yong sweete hart, and feate, come kysse me for loue,

Da.
Crokeshanke, your Iowle is to great, such lyking to moue.

Gri.
What meane you by this?

Da.
To leaue thee by gys.

Gri.
First smack me, first smack, I dye for a smouch,

Da.
Go pack thee, go pack thee, thou filthy fine slouch.

Exit.
Gri.
Dalia, arte thou gone? what wolt serue me soe?
O God, cham readie to raye my selfe for woe:
Be valiaunt Grimball, kyll thy selfe man?
Nay, bum Ladie, I will not by Saint Anne.
Ich haue hearde my great Grandsier saye:
Maide will saye naye, and take it: and so she maye,
And therfore chyll, to Mistresse Lamia,
With these Puddings, and Cock Sparowes, by and by:
And in the darke, againe, ych wyll hir trye.

Exit: