 | The Bastard |  |
Scena secunda.
Enter Hebes Solus.
Oh! my decaied panch! is't not a miserable case that a mans belly
should ne're see a piece of roast beef, nor ones guts feel one
drop of double drink in two years? There's one Mr. Want, a lean
Gentleman of our Parish, hath so debarred me from sustenance, that
I scarce weigh threescore on each side, besides feet, head, leggs,
and offall. There's an old shaver they call Don Præpontio, that lives
hereabouts, that maintains his men every day in holyday bellies,
and their chaps strut, as if they were created for nothing but to
blow bagpipes: now, if I could scrue into his service, my spiny Carcass
would begin to whine as a dog after flesh, when his chaps run
over. But soft, sure this is he.
Enter Præpontio & Rubio.
Heb.
I'll make as if I knew him not, and praise him to's very face,
and then I'll warrant you.
Præ.
Thus perambulating all alone, I ruminate on the multiplicity
of those joyes, that my Varina might afford me.
Heb.
Save thee honest friend.
Præ.
Why? what art thou?
Heb.
What am I? Thou seest I am neither horse nor mare,
bull nor cow, hog nor pig, dog nor rat, mouse nor cat, fish nor
flesh, nor good red herring: but as I may say, a meere
man.
My Mistriss will be well taken, Rubio, to hear this fellow
talk; but say, art a meer man, canst thou keep thy money, and not
grease the ale-wifes fingers with it?
Heb.
How? grease the ale-wifes fingers with it; nay I should prove
a very fool then: for she might then grease my face with her talons,
for not paying my reck'ning.
Præ.
Well spoken of a fool.
Heb.
I, by my faith, Master, was it.
Præ.
I mean, canst thou keep thy money from spending?
Heb.
I, Master, if I had it.
Præ.
Wilt thou live with me?
Heb.
I, Sir, an't please you, I'm dissolved on that point already.
Præ.
Go, stand at the Curtains, and seal your lips.
Didst thou invite her, Rubio? you must wait very attentively at her
elbow, and if perchance a drop fall from her mouth, you must be sure
to catch it, I'll have it put in a reliquary: but does not my great ruff
become me admirably? will she not like me, thinkst thou, in this suit?
I will coyne words shall make her in love with me.
Rub.
You will bewitch her with your very looks, ne're doubt it;
you look now more compleatly then the great Mogull, or the Arch-Duke.
Præ.
I have a Lions Countenance.
Rub.
Nay, a Bears rather, or a Baboons, you look so smug on't,
Master.
Præ.
But didst thou see what an admirable piece of Poetry I consarcinated
in my bed; nay, in my sleep, Rubio?
Rub.
Some drowsie Poem.
Præ.
Ovid de Arte Amandi was never like it: Hold my Cloke Rubio,
doe you see?
Rub.
I see your back-side, Sir.
Præ.
But mark my Verses, how melodiously they run upon their
feet.
Rub.
They gallop.
Præ.
See, list while I her praise out-thunder:
Her head a Cedar over-growes,
Her rosie Cheeks, and radiant Nose,
Her hands Lillies, for eyes behold
Amber or Barbary Gold:
From her middle to her knees,
Guesse what monstrous rarities
Lye hid: the Tropick Zone cannot
Burn, or cast forth flames so hot,
As does my heart, 'tis she must heale me,
Or Death will with his paw's bemeale me.
Rub.
Horribly, beyond expression.
Præ.
I wil write a whole volume of such Elegies, and put down Lope
de vega, or Gacilasso's, Poems.
Rub.
You must get tunes to them, they will passe for excellent new
Ballads.
Enter Alvarado.
Præ.
O! my Uncle!
Alv.
O! my wise kinsman, what sayes your Mistress?
Præ.
O Uncle! she is the noblest, wittiest woman that ever I encountred
with since I gallopt ore the Alps; she surpasses me in ingeniosity
for all my travels.
Rub.
And my Master, God blesse his worships Coxcomb, told her,
you would give her Holland Cheese, Parmasane, and Calves-head to
breakfast if she would have him.
Præ.
Nay, Uncle, she askt me if you would give her your land at
Granada.
Alv.
And what didst thou answer?
Præ.
Peace, sirrah, Uncle, aspect my judgement in being responsible:
I sayd, I, that he will, if I thought the old dotard would not, I would
dash out his brains.
Alv.
Thank you Nephew! How then?
Præ.
For, quoth I, although he were hang'd, or drownd, or dead any
way, though the Divel should carry him away in a Harricæne, I
should have his land, being as I am, eldest son to his eldest sister; is't
not so Uncle? I know my Pedigree.
Rub.
Master, you need no Herald to blaze your worth, you can doe
it sufficiently your selfe.
Præ.
True! very true; but Uncle, shall I dance with my Mistress
anon, I long to meet her in a measure, I can so caper it.
Enter Alonzo, Varina, and Servant.
Alv.
Here comes your Mistress, and her Uncle.
Præ.
Pray let me accost them.
Alv.
Welcome noble friends.
Præ.
For your part, Sir, à posteriore
I salute you thus; and you Sir,
thus, with this Italian Frisco: But as for you, my superabundant Mistress,
accept the fœtus of my Minerva for your congratulatory welcome.
Var.
'Tis pitie, servant, you are not pictur'd with a Laurell wreath
in your forehead.
Rub.
Or rather with a Coxcombs Crest, Mistress.
(Aside.
Præ.
But my most inestimable Mistress, I must dictate to you, That
you vilifie my brains secundity, in not applauding my ingenious conceptions,
since sure you love me.
Rub.
Better then she loves Plum-porredge, or Minc't-pyes, I dare
protest.
Præ.
Tell me then, thou Master-piece of Nature.
Rub.
Mistress-piece, Sir, she is a woman.
Præ.
Does not the superficies of my countenance demonstrate as
Spaniard? am not I kin to the Family of the Guzmans, think you?
Rub.
Alias, Goosman; alias, Goodman Goose.
(aside.)
Præ.
And am I not the most acute, compleat, polite Itinerator that
ever caper'd over the Alps, and the Pyrenæan mountains, and the most
sublime and ingenious Poet that ever drank of the Heliconian, Castalian,
and Pierian Fountains: Have not I sixteen languages exactly, perfectly,
and perspicuously.
Rub.
Sixscore, Master.
Præ.
Come, my supereminent Mistress, let us expatiate to refresh
our palats with our delicious banquets, the minc't pies, and the Plum-pudding
which my English Cook made me, will be cold else. Come,
sirrah, follow.
Exeunt.
Heb.
Now my sweet guts and garbege, my Fathers old Boots were
never so liquor'd and greas'd as you shall be.
Exit.
| The Bastard | |