Fran.Let it not greeve thee, man; come ore to us;We will devise some game to make you winYour money backe againe, sweet Philip.Phil.And that shall be ere long, and if I live:10But tell me, Francis, what good horses have yee,To hunt this sommer?Fra.Two or three jades, or so.Phil.Be they but jades?Fran.No, faith; my wag string here15Did founder one the last time that he rid,The best gray nag that ever I laid my leg over.Boy.You meane the flea bitten?Fran.Good sir, the same.Boy.And was the same the best that ere you rid on?20Fran.I, was it, sir.Boy.I faith, it was not, sir.Fran.No! where had I one so good?Boy.One of my colour, and a better too.Fran.One of your colour! I nere remember him;25One of that colour!Boy.Or of that complexion.Fran.Whats that ye call complexion in a horse?Boy.The colour, sir.Fran.Set me a colour on your jest, or I will—30Boy.Nay, good sir, hold your hands!Fran.What, shal we have it?Boy.Why, sir, I cannot paint.Fran.Well, then, I can;[1645]And I shall find a pensill for ye, sir.35Boy.Then I must finde the table, if you do.Fran.A whoreson, barren, wicked urchen!Boy.Looke how you chafe! you would be angry more,If I should tell it you.Fran.Go to, Ile anger ye, and if you do not.40Boy.Why, sir, the horse that I do meaneHath a leg both straight and cleane,That hath nor spaven, splint, nor flawe,But is the best that ever ye saw;A pretie rising knee, O knee!45It is as round as round may be;The full flanke makes the buttock round:This palfray standeth on no groundWhen as my maister's on her backe,If that he once do say but, ticke;[1646]50And if he pricke her, you shall seeHer gallop amaine, she is so free;And if he give her but a nod,She thinkes it is a riding rod;And if hee'l have her softly go,55Then she trips it like a doe;She comes so easie with the raine,A twine thred turnes her backe againe;And truly I did nere see yetA horse play proudlier on the bit:60My maister with good managingBrought her first unto the ring;[1647]He likewise taught her to corvet,To runne, and suddainlie to set;Shee's cunning in the wilde goose race,65Nay, shee's apt to every pace;And to proove her colour good,A flea, enamourd of her blood,Digd for chanels in her neck,And there made many a crimson speck:70I thinke theres none that use to rideBut can her pleasant trot abide;She goes so even upon the way,She will not stumble in a day;And when my maister—75Fra.What do I?Boy.Nay, nothing, sir.Phil.O, fie, Franke, fie!Nay, nay, your reason hath no justice now,I must needs say; perswade him first to speake,80Then chide him for it!—Tell me, prettie wag,Where stands this prawncer, in what inne or stable?Or, hath thy maister put her out to runne,Then, in what field, what champion[1648]feeds this courser,This well paste, bonnie steed that thou so praisest?85Boy.Faith, sir, I thinke——Fran.Villaine, what do yee thinke?Bay.I thinke that you, sir, have bene askt by many,But yet I never heard that yee tolde any.Phil.Well, boy, then I will adde one more to many,90And aske thy maister where this jennet feeds.—Come, Franke, tell me, nay, prethie, tell me, Franke,My good horse-maister, tell me—by this light,I will not steale her from thee; if I do,Let me be held a felone to thy love.95Fran.No, Phillip, no.Phil.What, wilt thou we[a]re a point[1649]but with one tag?Well, Francis, well, I see you are a wag.
Fran.Let it not greeve thee, man; come ore to us;We will devise some game to make you winYour money backe againe, sweet Philip.
Fran.Let it not greeve thee, man; come ore to us;
We will devise some game to make you win
Your money backe againe, sweet Philip.
Phil.And that shall be ere long, and if I live:10But tell me, Francis, what good horses have yee,To hunt this sommer?
Phil.And that shall be ere long, and if I live:10
But tell me, Francis, what good horses have yee,
To hunt this sommer?
Fra.Two or three jades, or so.
Fra.Two or three jades, or so.
Phil.Be they but jades?
Phil.Be they but jades?
Fran.No, faith; my wag string here15Did founder one the last time that he rid,The best gray nag that ever I laid my leg over.
Fran.No, faith; my wag string here15
Did founder one the last time that he rid,
The best gray nag that ever I laid my leg over.
Boy.You meane the flea bitten?
Boy.You meane the flea bitten?
Fran.Good sir, the same.
Fran.Good sir, the same.
Boy.And was the same the best that ere you rid on?20
Boy.And was the same the best that ere you rid on?20
Fran.I, was it, sir.
Fran.I, was it, sir.
Boy.I faith, it was not, sir.
Boy.I faith, it was not, sir.
Fran.No! where had I one so good?
Fran.No! where had I one so good?
Boy.One of my colour, and a better too.
Boy.One of my colour, and a better too.
Fran.One of your colour! I nere remember him;25One of that colour!
Fran.One of your colour! I nere remember him;25
One of that colour!
Boy.Or of that complexion.
Boy.Or of that complexion.
Fran.Whats that ye call complexion in a horse?
Fran.Whats that ye call complexion in a horse?
Boy.The colour, sir.
Boy.The colour, sir.
Fran.Set me a colour on your jest, or I will—30
Fran.Set me a colour on your jest, or I will—30
Boy.Nay, good sir, hold your hands!
Boy.Nay, good sir, hold your hands!
Fran.What, shal we have it?
Fran.What, shal we have it?
Boy.Why, sir, I cannot paint.
Boy.Why, sir, I cannot paint.
Fran.Well, then, I can;[1645]And I shall find a pensill for ye, sir.35
Fran.Well, then, I can;[1645]
And I shall find a pensill for ye, sir.35
Boy.Then I must finde the table, if you do.
Boy.Then I must finde the table, if you do.
Fran.A whoreson, barren, wicked urchen!
Fran.A whoreson, barren, wicked urchen!
Boy.Looke how you chafe! you would be angry more,If I should tell it you.
Boy.Looke how you chafe! you would be angry more,
If I should tell it you.
Fran.Go to, Ile anger ye, and if you do not.40
Fran.Go to, Ile anger ye, and if you do not.40
Boy.Why, sir, the horse that I do meaneHath a leg both straight and cleane,That hath nor spaven, splint, nor flawe,But is the best that ever ye saw;A pretie rising knee, O knee!45It is as round as round may be;The full flanke makes the buttock round:This palfray standeth on no groundWhen as my maister's on her backe,If that he once do say but, ticke;[1646]50And if he pricke her, you shall seeHer gallop amaine, she is so free;And if he give her but a nod,She thinkes it is a riding rod;And if hee'l have her softly go,55Then she trips it like a doe;She comes so easie with the raine,A twine thred turnes her backe againe;And truly I did nere see yetA horse play proudlier on the bit:60My maister with good managingBrought her first unto the ring;[1647]He likewise taught her to corvet,To runne, and suddainlie to set;Shee's cunning in the wilde goose race,65Nay, shee's apt to every pace;And to proove her colour good,A flea, enamourd of her blood,Digd for chanels in her neck,And there made many a crimson speck:70I thinke theres none that use to rideBut can her pleasant trot abide;She goes so even upon the way,She will not stumble in a day;And when my maister—75
Boy.Why, sir, the horse that I do meane
Hath a leg both straight and cleane,
That hath nor spaven, splint, nor flawe,
But is the best that ever ye saw;
A pretie rising knee, O knee!45
It is as round as round may be;
The full flanke makes the buttock round:
This palfray standeth on no ground
When as my maister's on her backe,
If that he once do say but, ticke;[1646]50
And if he pricke her, you shall see
Her gallop amaine, she is so free;
And if he give her but a nod,
She thinkes it is a riding rod;
And if hee'l have her softly go,55
Then she trips it like a doe;
She comes so easie with the raine,
A twine thred turnes her backe againe;
And truly I did nere see yet
A horse play proudlier on the bit:60
My maister with good managing
Brought her first unto the ring;[1647]
He likewise taught her to corvet,
To runne, and suddainlie to set;
Shee's cunning in the wilde goose race,65
Nay, shee's apt to every pace;
And to proove her colour good,
A flea, enamourd of her blood,
Digd for chanels in her neck,
And there made many a crimson speck:70
I thinke theres none that use to ride
But can her pleasant trot abide;
She goes so even upon the way,
She will not stumble in a day;
And when my maister—75
Fra.What do I?
Fra.What do I?
Boy.Nay, nothing, sir.
Boy.Nay, nothing, sir.
Phil.O, fie, Franke, fie!Nay, nay, your reason hath no justice now,I must needs say; perswade him first to speake,80Then chide him for it!—Tell me, prettie wag,Where stands this prawncer, in what inne or stable?Or, hath thy maister put her out to runne,Then, in what field, what champion[1648]feeds this courser,This well paste, bonnie steed that thou so praisest?85
Phil.O, fie, Franke, fie!
Nay, nay, your reason hath no justice now,
I must needs say; perswade him first to speake,80
Then chide him for it!—Tell me, prettie wag,
Where stands this prawncer, in what inne or stable?
Or, hath thy maister put her out to runne,
Then, in what field, what champion[1648]feeds this courser,
This well paste, bonnie steed that thou so praisest?85
Boy.Faith, sir, I thinke——
Boy.Faith, sir, I thinke——
Fran.Villaine, what do yee thinke?
Fran.Villaine, what do yee thinke?
Bay.I thinke that you, sir, have bene askt by many,But yet I never heard that yee tolde any.
Bay.I thinke that you, sir, have bene askt by many,
But yet I never heard that yee tolde any.
Phil.Well, boy, then I will adde one more to many,90And aske thy maister where this jennet feeds.—Come, Franke, tell me, nay, prethie, tell me, Franke,My good horse-maister, tell me—by this light,I will not steale her from thee; if I do,Let me be held a felone to thy love.95
Phil.Well, boy, then I will adde one more to many,90
And aske thy maister where this jennet feeds.—
Come, Franke, tell me, nay, prethie, tell me, Franke,
My good horse-maister, tell me—by this light,
I will not steale her from thee; if I do,
Let me be held a felone to thy love.95
Fran.No, Phillip, no.
Fran.No, Phillip, no.
Phil.What, wilt thou we[a]re a point[1649]but with one tag?Well, Francis, well, I see you are a wag.
Phil.What, wilt thou we[a]re a point[1649]but with one tag?
Well, Francis, well, I see you are a wag.
EnterComes.
Com.Swounds, where be these timber turners, these trowle the bowles, these greene men, these—100
Fran.What, what, sir?
Comes.These bowlers, sir.
Fra.Well, sir, what say you to bowlers?
Coo.Why, I say they cannot be saved.
Fra.Your reason, sir?105
Coo.Because they throw away their soules at every marke.
Fra.Their soules! how meane ye?
Phi.Sirra, he meanes the soule[1650]of our bowle.
Fra.Lord, how his wit holdes bias like a bowle!
Coo.Well, which is the bias?110
Fra.This next to you.[1651]
Coo.Nay, turne it this way, then the bowle goes true.
Boy.Rub, rub!
Coo.Why rub?
Boy.Why, you overcast the marke, and misse the way.115
Coo.Nay, boy, I use to take the fairest of my play.
Phi.Dicke Coomes, me thinkes thou art[1652]very pleasant:When[1653]gotst thou this mirrie humor?
Phi.Dicke Coomes, me thinkes thou art[1652]very pleasant:When[1653]gotst thou this mirrie humor?
Phi.Dicke Coomes, me thinkes thou art[1652]very pleasant:
When[1653]gotst thou this mirrie humor?
Coo.In your fathers seller, the merriest place in th' house.
Phi.Then you have bene carowsing hard?120
Coo.Yes, faith, 'tis our custome when your fathers men and we meete.
Phi.Thou art very welcome thether, Dicke.
Coo.By God, I thanke ye, sir, I thanke ye, sir: by God, I have a quart of wine for ye, sir, in any place of the world. There shall not a servingman in Barkeshire fight better for ye then I will do, if you have any quarrell in hand: you shall have the maidenhead of my new sword; I paide a quarters wages for't, by Jesus.128
Phi.Oh, this meate failer Dicke!How well t'as made the apparell of his wit,130And brought it into fashion of an honor!—Prethe,[1654]Dicke Coomes, but tell me how thou doost?
Phi.Oh, this meate failer Dicke!How well t'as made the apparell of his wit,130And brought it into fashion of an honor!—Prethe,[1654]Dicke Coomes, but tell me how thou doost?
Phi.Oh, this meate failer Dicke!
How well t'as made the apparell of his wit,130
And brought it into fashion of an honor!—
Prethe,[1654]Dicke Coomes, but tell me how thou doost?
Coo.Faith, sir, like a poore man at service.
Phi.Or servingman.
Coo.Indeede, so called by the vulgar.135
Phi.Why, where the devill hadst thou that word?
Coo.Oh, sir, you have the most eloquenst ale in all the[1655]world; our blunt soyle affoordes none such.
Fra.Phillip, leave talking with this drunken foole.—Say, sirra, where's my father?140
Coo.'Marrie, I thanke ye for my verie good cheere.'—'O Lord, it is not so much worth.'—'You see I am bolde with ye.'—'Indeed, you are not so bolde as welcome; I pray yee, come oftner.'—'Truly, I shall trouble ye.'—All these ceremonies are dispatcht betweene them, and they are gone.145
Fra.Are they so?
Coo.I, before God, are they.
Fra.And wherefore came not you to call me, then?
Coo.Because I was loth to change my game.
Fra.What game?150
Coo.You were at one sort of bowles, as I was at another.
Phi.Sirra, he meanes the buttery bowles of beere.
Coo.By God, sir, we tickled it.
Fra.Why, what a swearing keepes this drunken asse!—Canst thou not say but sweare at every word?155
Fra.Why, what a swearing keepes this drunken asse!—Canst thou not say but sweare at every word?155
Fra.Why, what a swearing keepes this drunken asse!—
Canst thou not say but sweare at every word?155
Phi.Peace, do not marre his humour, prethie, Franke.
Coo.Let him alone; hee's a springall, he knowes not what belongs to an oath.
Fra.Sirra, be quiet, or I doe protest—
Coo.Come, come, what doe you protest?160
Fra.By heaven, to crack your crowne.
Coo.To crack my crowne! I lay ye a crowne of that,Lay it downe, and ye dare;Nay, sbloud, ile venter a quarters wages of that.Crack my crowne, quotha![1656]165Fra.Will[1657]ye not yet be quiet? will ye urge me?Coo.Urge yee, with a pox! who urges ye?You might have said so much to a clowne,Or one that had not been ore the sea to see fashions:I have, I tell ye true; and I know what belongs to a man.170Crack my crowne, and ye can.Fra.And I can, ye rascall! [Offers to beat him.]Phi.Hold, haire braine, holde! dost thou not see hees drunke?Coo.Nay, let him come:Though he be my masters sonne, I am my masters man,175And a man is a man in any ground of England.Come, and he dares, a comes upon his death:I will not budge an inche, no, sbloud, will I[1658]not.Fran.Will ye not?Phi.Stay, prithie, Franke.—Coomes, dost thou heare?180Coo.Heare me no heares:Stand away, Ile trust none of you all.If I have my backe against a cart wheele,I would not care if the devill came.
Coo.To crack my crowne! I lay ye a crowne of that,Lay it downe, and ye dare;Nay, sbloud, ile venter a quarters wages of that.Crack my crowne, quotha![1656]165
Coo.To crack my crowne! I lay ye a crowne of that,
Lay it downe, and ye dare;
Nay, sbloud, ile venter a quarters wages of that.
Crack my crowne, quotha![1656]165
Fra.Will[1657]ye not yet be quiet? will ye urge me?
Fra.Will[1657]ye not yet be quiet? will ye urge me?
Coo.Urge yee, with a pox! who urges ye?You might have said so much to a clowne,Or one that had not been ore the sea to see fashions:I have, I tell ye true; and I know what belongs to a man.170Crack my crowne, and ye can.
Coo.Urge yee, with a pox! who urges ye?
You might have said so much to a clowne,
Or one that had not been ore the sea to see fashions:
I have, I tell ye true; and I know what belongs to a man.170
Crack my crowne, and ye can.
Fra.And I can, ye rascall! [Offers to beat him.]
Fra.And I can, ye rascall! [Offers to beat him.]
Phi.Hold, haire braine, holde! dost thou not see hees drunke?
Phi.Hold, haire braine, holde! dost thou not see hees drunke?
Coo.Nay, let him come:Though he be my masters sonne, I am my masters man,175And a man is a man in any ground of England.Come, and he dares, a comes upon his death:I will not budge an inche, no, sbloud, will I[1658]not.
Coo.Nay, let him come:
Though he be my masters sonne, I am my masters man,175
And a man is a man in any ground of England.
Come, and he dares, a comes upon his death:
I will not budge an inche, no, sbloud, will I[1658]not.
Fran.Will ye not?
Fran.Will ye not?
Phi.Stay, prithie, Franke.—Coomes, dost thou heare?180
Phi.Stay, prithie, Franke.—Coomes, dost thou heare?180
Coo.Heare me no heares:Stand away, Ile trust none of you all.If I have my backe against a cart wheele,I would not care if the devill came.
Coo.Heare me no heares:
Stand away, Ile trust none of you all.
If I have my backe against a cart wheele,
I would not care if the devill came.
Phi.Why, ye foole, I am your friend.185
Coo.Foole on your face! I have a wife.
Fra.Shees a whore, then.
Coo.Shees as honest as Nan Lawson.
Phi.What she?
Coo.One of his whores.190
Phi.Why, hath he so many?
Coo.I, as many as there be churches in London.
Phil.Why, thats a hundred and nine.
Boy.Faith, he lyes a hundred.
Phi.Then thou art a witnes to nine.195
Boy.No, by God, Ile be witnes to none.
Coo.Now doe I stand like the George[1659]at Colbrooke.
Boy.No, thou standst like the Bull[1659]at S. Albones.
Coo.Boy, ye lye the hornes.[1660]
Boy.The bul's bitten; see how he buts!200
Phil.Comes, Comes, put up,[1661]my friend and thou art friends.
Coo.Ile heare him say so first.
Phil.Franke, prethie doe; be friends, and tell him so.
Fra.Goe to, I am.
Boy.Put up, sir, and ye be a man, put up.205
Coom.I am easily perswaded, boye.
Phil.Ah, ye mad slave!
Coomes.Come, come, a couple of whore-masters I found yee, and so I leave yee.
Exit.
Phil.Loe, Franke, doost thou not see hees drunke,210That twits thee[1662]with thy disposition?Fra.What disposition?Phil.Nan Lawson, Nan Lawson.Fran.Nay, then—Phil.Goe to, ye wag, tis well:215If ever yee get a wife, i faith Ile tell.Sirra, at home we have a servingman;Hees[1663]not humord bluntly as Coomes is,Yet his condition[1664]makes me often merrie:Ile tell thee, sirra, hees a fine neate fellow,220A spruce slave; I warrant ye, heele[1665]haveHis cruell[1666]garters crosse about the knee,His woollen hose as white as the driven snowe,His shooes dry leather neat, and tyed with red ribbins,A nose-gay bound with laces in his hat,225Bridelaces, sir, in's hat—an all greene hat,[1667]Greene coverlet for such a grasse greene wit.'The goose that graseth on the greene,' quoth he,'May I eate on when you shall buried be!'All proverbes is his speech, hee's proverbs all.230Fra.Why speakes he proverbs?Phi.Because he would speake truth,And proverbes, youle confesse, are olde said sooth.Fra.I like this well, and one day Ile see him:But shall we part?235Phil.Not yet, Ile bring you somewhat on your way,And as we goe, betweene your boy and youIle know where that [brave][1668]praunser stands at levery.
Phil.Loe, Franke, doost thou not see hees drunke,210That twits thee[1662]with thy disposition?
Phil.Loe, Franke, doost thou not see hees drunke,210
That twits thee[1662]with thy disposition?
Fra.What disposition?
Fra.What disposition?
Phil.Nan Lawson, Nan Lawson.
Phil.Nan Lawson, Nan Lawson.
Fran.Nay, then—
Fran.Nay, then—
Phil.Goe to, ye wag, tis well:215If ever yee get a wife, i faith Ile tell.Sirra, at home we have a servingman;Hees[1663]not humord bluntly as Coomes is,Yet his condition[1664]makes me often merrie:Ile tell thee, sirra, hees a fine neate fellow,220A spruce slave; I warrant ye, heele[1665]haveHis cruell[1666]garters crosse about the knee,His woollen hose as white as the driven snowe,His shooes dry leather neat, and tyed with red ribbins,A nose-gay bound with laces in his hat,225Bridelaces, sir, in's hat—an all greene hat,[1667]Greene coverlet for such a grasse greene wit.'The goose that graseth on the greene,' quoth he,'May I eate on when you shall buried be!'All proverbes is his speech, hee's proverbs all.230
Phil.Goe to, ye wag, tis well:215
If ever yee get a wife, i faith Ile tell.
Sirra, at home we have a servingman;
Hees[1663]not humord bluntly as Coomes is,
Yet his condition[1664]makes me often merrie:
Ile tell thee, sirra, hees a fine neate fellow,220
A spruce slave; I warrant ye, heele[1665]have
His cruell[1666]garters crosse about the knee,
His woollen hose as white as the driven snowe,
His shooes dry leather neat, and tyed with red ribbins,
A nose-gay bound with laces in his hat,225
Bridelaces, sir, in's hat—an all greene hat,[1667]
Greene coverlet for such a grasse greene wit.
'The goose that graseth on the greene,' quoth he,
'May I eate on when you shall buried be!'
All proverbes is his speech, hee's proverbs all.230
Fra.Why speakes he proverbs?
Fra.Why speakes he proverbs?
Phi.Because he would speake truth,And proverbes, youle confesse, are olde said sooth.
Phi.Because he would speake truth,
And proverbes, youle confesse, are olde said sooth.
Fra.I like this well, and one day Ile see him:But shall we part?235
Fra.I like this well, and one day Ile see him:
But shall we part?235
Phil.Not yet, Ile bring you somewhat on your way,And as we goe, betweene your boy and youIle know where that [brave][1668]praunser stands at levery.
Phil.Not yet, Ile bring you somewhat on your way,
And as we goe, betweene your boy and you
Ile know where that [brave][1668]praunser stands at levery.
Fra.Come, come, you shall not.
Phil.I faith, I wil.240
Exeunt.
EnterMaster Barnesand hisWife.
M. Bar.Wife, in my minde to day you were too blame,Although my patience did not blame ye for it:Me thought the rules of love and neighbourhoodDid not direct your thoughts; all indirect[1670]Were your proceedings in the entertaine5Of them that I invited to my house.Nay, stay, I doe not chide, but counsell, wife,And in the mildest manner that I may:You neede not viewe me with a servants eye,Whose vassaile[1671]sences tremble at the looke10Of his displeased master. O my wife,You are my selfe! when selfe sees fault in selfe,Selfe is sinne obstinate, if selfe amend not:Indeede, I sawe a fault in thee my selfe,And it hath set a foyle upon thy fame,15Not as the foile doth grace the diamond.Mi. Bar.What fault, sir, did you see in me to day?M. Bar.O, doe not set the organ of thy voiceOn such a grunting key of discontent!Doe not deforme the beautie of thy tongue20With such mishapen answeres. Rough wrathfull wordsAre bastards got by rashnes in the thoughts:Faire demeanors are vertues nuptiall babes,The off-spring of the well instructed soule;O, let them call thee mother, then, my wife!25So seeme not barren of good courtesie.Mi. Bar.So; have ye done?M. Bar.I, and I had done well,If you would do what I advise for well.Mi. Bar.Whats that?30M. Bar.Which is, that you would be good friendesWith mistresse Goursey.[1672]Mi. Bar.With mistresse Goursey!M. Bar.I, sweet wife.Mis. Bar.Not so, sweet husband.35M. Bar.Could you but shew me any grounded cause.Mis. Bar.The grounded cause I ground because I wil not.M. Bar.Your will hath little reason, then, I thinke.Mi. Bar.Yes, sir, my[1673]reason equalleth my will.M. Bar.Lets heare your reason, for your will is great.40Mi. Bar.Why, for I will not.M. Bar.Is all your reason 'for I will not,' wife?Now, by my soule, I held yee for more wise,Discreete, and of more temperature in sence,Then in a sullen humour to affect[1674]45That womans[1675]will borne, common, scholler phrase:Oft have I heard a timely married girle,That newly left to call her mother mam,Her father dad, but yesterday come from'Thats my good girle, God send thee a good husband!'50And now being taught to speake the name of husband,Will, when she would be wanton in her will,If her husband aske her why, say 'for I will.'Have I chid men for[1676]unmanly choyse,That would not fit their yeares? have I seene thee55Pupell[1677]such greene yong things, and with thy counsellTutor their wits? and art thou now infectedWith this disease of imperfection?I blush for thee, ashamed at thy shame.Mi. Bar.A shame on her that makes thee rate me so!60M. Bar.O black mouth'd rage, thy breath is boysterous,And thou makst vertue shake at this high storme!Shees[1678]of good report; I know thou knowst it.Mi. Bar.She is not, nor I know not, but I knowThat thou dost love her, therefore thinkst her so;65Thou bearst with her, because she beares with thee.Thou mayst be ashamed to stand in her defence:She is a strumpet, and thou art no honest manTo stand in her defence against thy wife.If I catch her in my walke, now, by Cockes[1679]bones,70Ile scratch out both her eyes.M. Bar.O God!Mi. Bar.Nay, never say 'O God' for the matter:Thou art the cause; thou badst her to my house,Onely to bleare the eyes of Goursey, didst not?75But I wil send him word, I warrant thee,And ere I sleepe to[o]; trust upon it, sir.Exit.M. Bar.Me thinkes this is a mighty fault in her;I could be angry with her: O, if I be so,I shall but put a linke unto a torche,80And so give greater light to see her fault.Ile rather smother it in melancholly:Nay, wisedome bids me shunne that passion;Then I will studie for a remedy.I have a daughter,—now, heaven invocate,85She be not of like spirit as her mother!If so, sheel be a plague unto her husband,If that he be not patient and discreet,For that I hold the ease of all such trouble.Well, well, I would my daughter had a husband,90For I would see how she could demeane her selfeIn that estate; it may be, ill enough,—And, so God shall help me, well remembred now!Franke Goursey is his fathers sonne and heyre,A youth that in my heart I have good hope on;95My sences say a match, my soule applaudesThe motion: O, but his lands are great,Hee will looke high; why, I will straine my selfeTo make her dowry equall with his land.Good faith, and twere a match, twould be a meanes100To make their mothers friends. Ile call my daughter,To see how shees disposde to marriage.—Mall, where are yee?
M. Bar.Wife, in my minde to day you were too blame,Although my patience did not blame ye for it:Me thought the rules of love and neighbourhoodDid not direct your thoughts; all indirect[1670]Were your proceedings in the entertaine5Of them that I invited to my house.Nay, stay, I doe not chide, but counsell, wife,And in the mildest manner that I may:You neede not viewe me with a servants eye,Whose vassaile[1671]sences tremble at the looke10Of his displeased master. O my wife,You are my selfe! when selfe sees fault in selfe,Selfe is sinne obstinate, if selfe amend not:Indeede, I sawe a fault in thee my selfe,And it hath set a foyle upon thy fame,15Not as the foile doth grace the diamond.
M. Bar.Wife, in my minde to day you were too blame,
Although my patience did not blame ye for it:
Me thought the rules of love and neighbourhood
Did not direct your thoughts; all indirect[1670]
Were your proceedings in the entertaine5
Of them that I invited to my house.
Nay, stay, I doe not chide, but counsell, wife,
And in the mildest manner that I may:
You neede not viewe me with a servants eye,
Whose vassaile[1671]sences tremble at the looke10
Of his displeased master. O my wife,
You are my selfe! when selfe sees fault in selfe,
Selfe is sinne obstinate, if selfe amend not:
Indeede, I sawe a fault in thee my selfe,
And it hath set a foyle upon thy fame,15
Not as the foile doth grace the diamond.
Mi. Bar.What fault, sir, did you see in me to day?
Mi. Bar.What fault, sir, did you see in me to day?
M. Bar.O, doe not set the organ of thy voiceOn such a grunting key of discontent!Doe not deforme the beautie of thy tongue20With such mishapen answeres. Rough wrathfull wordsAre bastards got by rashnes in the thoughts:Faire demeanors are vertues nuptiall babes,The off-spring of the well instructed soule;O, let them call thee mother, then, my wife!25So seeme not barren of good courtesie.
M. Bar.O, doe not set the organ of thy voice
On such a grunting key of discontent!
Doe not deforme the beautie of thy tongue20
With such mishapen answeres. Rough wrathfull words
Are bastards got by rashnes in the thoughts:
Faire demeanors are vertues nuptiall babes,
The off-spring of the well instructed soule;
O, let them call thee mother, then, my wife!25
So seeme not barren of good courtesie.
Mi. Bar.So; have ye done?
Mi. Bar.So; have ye done?
M. Bar.I, and I had done well,If you would do what I advise for well.
M. Bar.I, and I had done well,
If you would do what I advise for well.
Mi. Bar.Whats that?30
Mi. Bar.Whats that?30
M. Bar.Which is, that you would be good friendesWith mistresse Goursey.[1672]
M. Bar.Which is, that you would be good friendes
With mistresse Goursey.[1672]
Mi. Bar.With mistresse Goursey!
Mi. Bar.With mistresse Goursey!
M. Bar.I, sweet wife.
M. Bar.I, sweet wife.
Mis. Bar.Not so, sweet husband.35
Mis. Bar.Not so, sweet husband.35
M. Bar.Could you but shew me any grounded cause.
M. Bar.Could you but shew me any grounded cause.
Mis. Bar.The grounded cause I ground because I wil not.
Mis. Bar.The grounded cause I ground because I wil not.
M. Bar.Your will hath little reason, then, I thinke.
M. Bar.Your will hath little reason, then, I thinke.
Mi. Bar.Yes, sir, my[1673]reason equalleth my will.
Mi. Bar.Yes, sir, my[1673]reason equalleth my will.
M. Bar.Lets heare your reason, for your will is great.40
M. Bar.Lets heare your reason, for your will is great.40
Mi. Bar.Why, for I will not.
Mi. Bar.Why, for I will not.
M. Bar.Is all your reason 'for I will not,' wife?Now, by my soule, I held yee for more wise,Discreete, and of more temperature in sence,Then in a sullen humour to affect[1674]45That womans[1675]will borne, common, scholler phrase:Oft have I heard a timely married girle,That newly left to call her mother mam,Her father dad, but yesterday come from'Thats my good girle, God send thee a good husband!'50And now being taught to speake the name of husband,Will, when she would be wanton in her will,If her husband aske her why, say 'for I will.'Have I chid men for[1676]unmanly choyse,That would not fit their yeares? have I seene thee55Pupell[1677]such greene yong things, and with thy counsellTutor their wits? and art thou now infectedWith this disease of imperfection?I blush for thee, ashamed at thy shame.
M. Bar.Is all your reason 'for I will not,' wife?
Now, by my soule, I held yee for more wise,
Discreete, and of more temperature in sence,
Then in a sullen humour to affect[1674]45
That womans[1675]will borne, common, scholler phrase:
Oft have I heard a timely married girle,
That newly left to call her mother mam,
Her father dad, but yesterday come from
'Thats my good girle, God send thee a good husband!'50
And now being taught to speake the name of husband,
Will, when she would be wanton in her will,
If her husband aske her why, say 'for I will.'
Have I chid men for[1676]unmanly choyse,
That would not fit their yeares? have I seene thee55
Pupell[1677]such greene yong things, and with thy counsell
Tutor their wits? and art thou now infected
With this disease of imperfection?
I blush for thee, ashamed at thy shame.
Mi. Bar.A shame on her that makes thee rate me so!60
Mi. Bar.A shame on her that makes thee rate me so!60
M. Bar.O black mouth'd rage, thy breath is boysterous,And thou makst vertue shake at this high storme!Shees[1678]of good report; I know thou knowst it.
M. Bar.O black mouth'd rage, thy breath is boysterous,
And thou makst vertue shake at this high storme!
Shees[1678]of good report; I know thou knowst it.
Mi. Bar.She is not, nor I know not, but I knowThat thou dost love her, therefore thinkst her so;65Thou bearst with her, because she beares with thee.Thou mayst be ashamed to stand in her defence:She is a strumpet, and thou art no honest manTo stand in her defence against thy wife.If I catch her in my walke, now, by Cockes[1679]bones,70Ile scratch out both her eyes.
Mi. Bar.She is not, nor I know not, but I know
That thou dost love her, therefore thinkst her so;65
Thou bearst with her, because she beares with thee.
Thou mayst be ashamed to stand in her defence:
She is a strumpet, and thou art no honest man
To stand in her defence against thy wife.
If I catch her in my walke, now, by Cockes[1679]bones,70
Ile scratch out both her eyes.
M. Bar.O God!
M. Bar.O God!
Mi. Bar.Nay, never say 'O God' for the matter:Thou art the cause; thou badst her to my house,Onely to bleare the eyes of Goursey, didst not?75But I wil send him word, I warrant thee,And ere I sleepe to[o]; trust upon it, sir.Exit.
Mi. Bar.Nay, never say 'O God' for the matter:
Thou art the cause; thou badst her to my house,
Onely to bleare the eyes of Goursey, didst not?75
But I wil send him word, I warrant thee,
And ere I sleepe to[o]; trust upon it, sir.
Exit.
M. Bar.Me thinkes this is a mighty fault in her;I could be angry with her: O, if I be so,I shall but put a linke unto a torche,80And so give greater light to see her fault.Ile rather smother it in melancholly:Nay, wisedome bids me shunne that passion;Then I will studie for a remedy.I have a daughter,—now, heaven invocate,85She be not of like spirit as her mother!If so, sheel be a plague unto her husband,If that he be not patient and discreet,For that I hold the ease of all such trouble.Well, well, I would my daughter had a husband,90For I would see how she could demeane her selfeIn that estate; it may be, ill enough,—And, so God shall help me, well remembred now!Franke Goursey is his fathers sonne and heyre,A youth that in my heart I have good hope on;95My sences say a match, my soule applaudesThe motion: O, but his lands are great,Hee will looke high; why, I will straine my selfeTo make her dowry equall with his land.Good faith, and twere a match, twould be a meanes100To make their mothers friends. Ile call my daughter,To see how shees disposde to marriage.—Mall, where are yee?
M. Bar.Me thinkes this is a mighty fault in her;
I could be angry with her: O, if I be so,
I shall but put a linke unto a torche,80
And so give greater light to see her fault.
Ile rather smother it in melancholly:
Nay, wisedome bids me shunne that passion;
Then I will studie for a remedy.
I have a daughter,—now, heaven invocate,85
She be not of like spirit as her mother!
If so, sheel be a plague unto her husband,
If that he be not patient and discreet,
For that I hold the ease of all such trouble.
Well, well, I would my daughter had a husband,90
For I would see how she could demeane her selfe
In that estate; it may be, ill enough,—
And, so God shall help me, well remembred now!
Franke Goursey is his fathers sonne and heyre,
A youth that in my heart I have good hope on;95
My sences say a match, my soule applaudes
The motion: O, but his lands are great,
Hee will looke high; why, I will straine my selfe
To make her dowry equall with his land.
Good faith, and twere a match, twould be a meanes100
To make their mothers friends. Ile call my daughter,
To see how shees disposde to marriage.—
Mall, where are yee?
EnterMall.
Mall.Father, heere I am.M. Bar.Where is your mother?105Mal.I saw her not, forsooth, since you and sheWent walking both together to the garden.M. Ba.Dost thou heare me, girle? I must dispute with thee.Mal.Father, the question, then, must not be hard,For I am very weake in argument.110M. Bar.Well, this it is; I say tis good to marry.Mal.And this say I, tis not good to marry.M. Bar.Were it not good, then all men would not marry;But now they doe.Mal.Marry, not all; but it is good to marry.115M. Bar.Is it both good and bad? how can this be?Mal.Why, it is good to them that marry well;To them that marry ill, no greater hell.M. Bar.If thou mightst marry well, wouldst thou agree?Mall.I cannot tell; heaven must appoint for me.120M. Bar.Wench, I am studying for thy good, indeed.Mall.My hopes and dutie wish your thoughts good speed.M. Bar.But tell me, wench, hast thou a minde to marry?Mall.This question is too hard for bashfulnes;And, father, now ye pose my modestie.125I am a maide, and when ye aske me thus,I like a maide must blush, looke pale and wan,And then looke pale[1680]againe; for we change colourAs our thoughts change. With true fac'd passionOf modest maidenhead I could adorne me,130And to your question make a sober cursieAnd with close clipt civilitie be silent;Or els say 'no, forsooth,' or 'I, forsooth.'If I said 'no, forsooth,' I lyed, forsooth:To lye upon my selfe were deadly sinne,135Therefore I will speake truth, and shame the divell.Father, when first I heard you name a husband,At that same very name my spirits quickned.Dispaire before had kild them, they were dead:Because it was my hap so long to tarry,140I was perswaded I should never marry;And, sitting sowing, thus upon the groundI fell in traunce of meditation;But comming to my selfe, 'O Lord,' said I,'Shall it be so? must I unmarryed dye?'145And being angry, father, farther said,'Now, by saint Anne, I will not dye a maide!'Good faith, before I came to this ripe groath,I did accuse the labouring time of sloath:Me thought the yeere did run but slow about,150For I thought each yeare ten I was without.Being foureteene and toward the other[1681]yeare,Good Lord, thought I, fifteene will nere be heere!For I have heard my mother say that thenPrittie maides were fit for handsome men:155Fifteene past, sixeteene, and seventeene too,What, thought I, will not this husband do?Will no man marry me? have men forsworneSuch beauty and such youth? shall youth be worne,As rich mens gownes, more with age then use?160Why, then I let restrained[1682]fansie loose,And bad it gaze for pleasure; then love swore meTo doe what ere my mother did before me;Yet, in good faith, I was[1683]very loath,But now it lyes in you to save my oath:165If I shall have a husband, get him quickly,For maides that weares corke[1684]shooes may step awry.M. Bar.Beleeve me, wench, I doe not repprehend[1685]thee,But for this pleasant answere do commend thee.I must confesse, love doth thee mighty wrong,170But I will see thee have thy right ere long;I know a young man, whom I holde most fitTo have thee both for living and for wit:I will goe write about it presentle.Mall.Good father, do.[ExitBarnes.]O God, me thinkes I should175Wife it as fine as any woman could!I could carry a porte to be obayde,Carry a maistering eye upon my maide,With 'Minion, do your businesse, or Ile make yee,'And to all house authoritie be take me.180O God, would I were married! be my troth,But if I be not, I sweare Ile keepe my oath.
Mall.Father, heere I am.
Mall.Father, heere I am.
M. Bar.Where is your mother?105
M. Bar.Where is your mother?105
Mal.I saw her not, forsooth, since you and sheWent walking both together to the garden.
Mal.I saw her not, forsooth, since you and she
Went walking both together to the garden.
M. Ba.Dost thou heare me, girle? I must dispute with thee.
M. Ba.Dost thou heare me, girle? I must dispute with thee.
Mal.Father, the question, then, must not be hard,For I am very weake in argument.110
Mal.Father, the question, then, must not be hard,
For I am very weake in argument.110
M. Bar.Well, this it is; I say tis good to marry.
M. Bar.Well, this it is; I say tis good to marry.
Mal.And this say I, tis not good to marry.
Mal.And this say I, tis not good to marry.
M. Bar.Were it not good, then all men would not marry;But now they doe.
M. Bar.Were it not good, then all men would not marry;
But now they doe.
Mal.Marry, not all; but it is good to marry.115
Mal.Marry, not all; but it is good to marry.115
M. Bar.Is it both good and bad? how can this be?
M. Bar.Is it both good and bad? how can this be?
Mal.Why, it is good to them that marry well;To them that marry ill, no greater hell.
Mal.Why, it is good to them that marry well;
To them that marry ill, no greater hell.
M. Bar.If thou mightst marry well, wouldst thou agree?
M. Bar.If thou mightst marry well, wouldst thou agree?
Mall.I cannot tell; heaven must appoint for me.120
Mall.I cannot tell; heaven must appoint for me.120
M. Bar.Wench, I am studying for thy good, indeed.
M. Bar.Wench, I am studying for thy good, indeed.
Mall.My hopes and dutie wish your thoughts good speed.
Mall.My hopes and dutie wish your thoughts good speed.
M. Bar.But tell me, wench, hast thou a minde to marry?
M. Bar.But tell me, wench, hast thou a minde to marry?
Mall.This question is too hard for bashfulnes;And, father, now ye pose my modestie.125I am a maide, and when ye aske me thus,I like a maide must blush, looke pale and wan,And then looke pale[1680]againe; for we change colourAs our thoughts change. With true fac'd passionOf modest maidenhead I could adorne me,130And to your question make a sober cursieAnd with close clipt civilitie be silent;Or els say 'no, forsooth,' or 'I, forsooth.'If I said 'no, forsooth,' I lyed, forsooth:To lye upon my selfe were deadly sinne,135Therefore I will speake truth, and shame the divell.Father, when first I heard you name a husband,At that same very name my spirits quickned.Dispaire before had kild them, they were dead:Because it was my hap so long to tarry,140I was perswaded I should never marry;And, sitting sowing, thus upon the groundI fell in traunce of meditation;But comming to my selfe, 'O Lord,' said I,'Shall it be so? must I unmarryed dye?'145And being angry, father, farther said,'Now, by saint Anne, I will not dye a maide!'Good faith, before I came to this ripe groath,I did accuse the labouring time of sloath:Me thought the yeere did run but slow about,150For I thought each yeare ten I was without.Being foureteene and toward the other[1681]yeare,Good Lord, thought I, fifteene will nere be heere!For I have heard my mother say that thenPrittie maides were fit for handsome men:155Fifteene past, sixeteene, and seventeene too,What, thought I, will not this husband do?Will no man marry me? have men forsworneSuch beauty and such youth? shall youth be worne,As rich mens gownes, more with age then use?160Why, then I let restrained[1682]fansie loose,And bad it gaze for pleasure; then love swore meTo doe what ere my mother did before me;Yet, in good faith, I was[1683]very loath,But now it lyes in you to save my oath:165If I shall have a husband, get him quickly,For maides that weares corke[1684]shooes may step awry.
Mall.This question is too hard for bashfulnes;
And, father, now ye pose my modestie.125
I am a maide, and when ye aske me thus,
I like a maide must blush, looke pale and wan,
And then looke pale[1680]againe; for we change colour
As our thoughts change. With true fac'd passion
Of modest maidenhead I could adorne me,130
And to your question make a sober cursie
And with close clipt civilitie be silent;
Or els say 'no, forsooth,' or 'I, forsooth.'
If I said 'no, forsooth,' I lyed, forsooth:
To lye upon my selfe were deadly sinne,135
Therefore I will speake truth, and shame the divell.
Father, when first I heard you name a husband,
At that same very name my spirits quickned.
Dispaire before had kild them, they were dead:
Because it was my hap so long to tarry,140
I was perswaded I should never marry;
And, sitting sowing, thus upon the ground
I fell in traunce of meditation;
But comming to my selfe, 'O Lord,' said I,
'Shall it be so? must I unmarryed dye?'145
And being angry, father, farther said,
'Now, by saint Anne, I will not dye a maide!'
Good faith, before I came to this ripe groath,
I did accuse the labouring time of sloath:
Me thought the yeere did run but slow about,150
For I thought each yeare ten I was without.
Being foureteene and toward the other[1681]yeare,
Good Lord, thought I, fifteene will nere be heere!
For I have heard my mother say that then
Prittie maides were fit for handsome men:155
Fifteene past, sixeteene, and seventeene too,
What, thought I, will not this husband do?
Will no man marry me? have men forsworne
Such beauty and such youth? shall youth be worne,
As rich mens gownes, more with age then use?160
Why, then I let restrained[1682]fansie loose,
And bad it gaze for pleasure; then love swore me
To doe what ere my mother did before me;
Yet, in good faith, I was[1683]very loath,
But now it lyes in you to save my oath:165
If I shall have a husband, get him quickly,
For maides that weares corke[1684]shooes may step awry.
M. Bar.Beleeve me, wench, I doe not repprehend[1685]thee,But for this pleasant answere do commend thee.I must confesse, love doth thee mighty wrong,170But I will see thee have thy right ere long;I know a young man, whom I holde most fitTo have thee both for living and for wit:I will goe write about it presentle.
M. Bar.Beleeve me, wench, I doe not repprehend[1685]thee,
But for this pleasant answere do commend thee.
I must confesse, love doth thee mighty wrong,170
But I will see thee have thy right ere long;
I know a young man, whom I holde most fit
To have thee both for living and for wit:
I will goe write about it presentle.
Mall.Good father, do.[ExitBarnes.]O God, me thinkes I should175Wife it as fine as any woman could!I could carry a porte to be obayde,Carry a maistering eye upon my maide,With 'Minion, do your businesse, or Ile make yee,'And to all house authoritie be take me.180O God, would I were married! be my troth,But if I be not, I sweare Ile keepe my oath.
Mall.Good father, do.
[ExitBarnes.]
O God, me thinkes I should175
Wife it as fine as any woman could!
I could carry a porte to be obayde,
Carry a maistering eye upon my maide,
With 'Minion, do your businesse, or Ile make yee,'
And to all house authoritie be take me.180
O God, would I were married! be my troth,
But if I be not, I sweare Ile keepe my oath.
Ent.Mi. Ba.
[Mi. Ba.] How now, minion, wher have you bin gadding?
Mall.Forsooth, my father called me forth to him.
Mi. Bar.Your father! and what said he too ye, I pray?185
Mall.Nothing, forsooth.
Mi. Bar.Nothing! that cannot be; something he said.
Mall.I, somthing that as good as nothing was.
Mi. Bar.Come, let me heare that somthing nothing, then.
Mal.Nothing but of a husband for me, mother.190
Mi. Bar.A husband! that was something: but what husband?
Mall.Nay, faith, I know not, mother: would I did!
Mis. Bar.I, 'would ye did'! i faith, are ye so hasty?
Mall.Hasty, mother! why, how olde am I?
Mis. Ba.To yong to marry.
Mal.Nay, by the masse, ye lie.195Mother, how olde were you when you did marry?Mis. Ba.How olde so ere I was, yet you shall tarry.Mall.Then the worse for me. Hark, mother, harke!The priest forgets that ere he was a clarke:When you were at my yeeres, Ile holde my life,200Your minde was to change maidenhead for wife.Pardon me, mother, I am of your minde,And, by my troth, I take it but by kinde.[1686]Mis. Bar.Do ye heare, daughter? you shal stay my leasure.Mall.Do you heare, mother? would you stay fro pleasure205When ye have minde to it? Go to, there's no wrongLike this, to let maides lye alone so long:Lying alone they muse but in their bedsHow they might loose their long kept maiden heads.This is the cause there is so many scapes,210For women that are wise will not lead apesIn hell:[1687]I tel yee, mother, I say true;—Therefore, come, husband, maiden head, adew!Exit.Mis. Bar.Well, lustie guts, I meane to make ye stay,And set some rubbes in your mindes smothest way.[1688]215
Mal.Nay, by the masse, ye lie.195Mother, how olde were you when you did marry?
Mal.Nay, by the masse, ye lie.195
Nay, by the masse, ye lie.
Mother, how olde were you when you did marry?
Mis. Ba.How olde so ere I was, yet you shall tarry.
Mis. Ba.How olde so ere I was, yet you shall tarry.
Mall.Then the worse for me. Hark, mother, harke!The priest forgets that ere he was a clarke:When you were at my yeeres, Ile holde my life,200Your minde was to change maidenhead for wife.Pardon me, mother, I am of your minde,And, by my troth, I take it but by kinde.[1686]
Mall.Then the worse for me. Hark, mother, harke!
The priest forgets that ere he was a clarke:
When you were at my yeeres, Ile holde my life,200
Your minde was to change maidenhead for wife.
Pardon me, mother, I am of your minde,
And, by my troth, I take it but by kinde.[1686]
Mis. Bar.Do ye heare, daughter? you shal stay my leasure.
Mis. Bar.Do ye heare, daughter? you shal stay my leasure.
Mall.Do you heare, mother? would you stay fro pleasure205When ye have minde to it? Go to, there's no wrongLike this, to let maides lye alone so long:Lying alone they muse but in their bedsHow they might loose their long kept maiden heads.This is the cause there is so many scapes,210For women that are wise will not lead apesIn hell:[1687]I tel yee, mother, I say true;—Therefore, come, husband, maiden head, adew!Exit.
Mall.Do you heare, mother? would you stay fro pleasure205
When ye have minde to it? Go to, there's no wrong
Like this, to let maides lye alone so long:
Lying alone they muse but in their beds
How they might loose their long kept maiden heads.
This is the cause there is so many scapes,210
For women that are wise will not lead apes
In hell:[1687]I tel yee, mother, I say true;—
Therefore, come, husband, maiden head, adew!
Exit.
Mis. Bar.Well, lustie guts, I meane to make ye stay,And set some rubbes in your mindes smothest way.[1688]215
Mis. Bar.Well, lustie guts, I meane to make ye stay,
And set some rubbes in your mindes smothest way.[1688]215
EnterPhilip.
Phi.Mother—
Mi. Ba.How now, sirra, where have ye bin walking?
Phil.Over the meades, halfe way to Milton,[1689]mother,To beare my friend Franke Goursey company.Mi. Ba.Wher's your blew coat,[1690]your sword and buckler, sir?Get you such like habite for a servingman,221If you will waight upon the brat of Goursey.Phil.Mother, that you are moov'd, this maks me wonder,When I departed I did leave yee friends:What undigested jarre hath since betided?225Mi. Bar.Such as almost doth choake thy mother, boy,And stifles her with the conceit of it;I am abusde, my sonne, by Gourseys wife.Phil.By mistresse Goursey?Mi. Bar.Mistresse flurt, yon[1691]foule strumpet,230Light a love, short heeles! Mistresse GourseyCall her againe, and thou wert better no.Phil.O my deare mother,[1692]have some patience!Mis. Bar.I, sir, have patience, and see your fatherTo rifle up the treasure of my love,235And play the spend-thrift upon such an harlot!This same will make me have patience, will it not?Phili.This same is womens most impatience:Yet, mother, I have often heard ye sayThat you have found my father temperate,240And ever free from such affections.Mi. Bar.I, till[1693]my too much love did glut his thoughts,And make him seek for change.Phi.O, change your minde!My father beares more cordiall love to you.245Mi. B.Thou liest, thou liest, for he loves Gourseys wife,Not me.Phil.Now, I sweare, mother, you are much too blame;I durst be sworne he loves you as his soule.Mi. Bar.Wilt thou be pampered by affection?250Will nature teach thee such vilde[1694]perjurie?Wilt thou be sworne, I, forsworne,[1695]carelesse boy?And if thou swearst, I say he loves me not.Phil.He loves ye but too well, I sweare,Unlesse ye knew much better how to use him.255Mi. Bar.Doth he so, sir? thou unnaturall boy!'Too well,' sayest thou? that word shall cost thee[1696]somwhat:O monstrous! have I brought thee up to this?'Too well'! O unkinde, wicked, and degenerate,Hast thou the heart to say so of thy mother?260Well, God will plague thee fort, I warrant thee:Out on thee, villaine, fie upon thee, wretch!Out of my sight, out of my sight, I say!Phil.This ayre is pleasant, and doth please me well,And here I will stay.265Mi. Bar.Wilt thou, stubborne villaine?
Phil.Over the meades, halfe way to Milton,[1689]mother,To beare my friend Franke Goursey company.
Phil.Over the meades, halfe way to Milton,[1689]mother,
To beare my friend Franke Goursey company.
Mi. Ba.Wher's your blew coat,[1690]your sword and buckler, sir?Get you such like habite for a servingman,221If you will waight upon the brat of Goursey.
Mi. Ba.Wher's your blew coat,[1690]your sword and buckler, sir?
Get you such like habite for a servingman,221
If you will waight upon the brat of Goursey.
Phil.Mother, that you are moov'd, this maks me wonder,When I departed I did leave yee friends:What undigested jarre hath since betided?225
Phil.Mother, that you are moov'd, this maks me wonder,
When I departed I did leave yee friends:
What undigested jarre hath since betided?225
Mi. Bar.Such as almost doth choake thy mother, boy,And stifles her with the conceit of it;I am abusde, my sonne, by Gourseys wife.
Mi. Bar.Such as almost doth choake thy mother, boy,
And stifles her with the conceit of it;
I am abusde, my sonne, by Gourseys wife.
Phil.By mistresse Goursey?
Phil.By mistresse Goursey?
Mi. Bar.Mistresse flurt, yon[1691]foule strumpet,230Light a love, short heeles! Mistresse GourseyCall her againe, and thou wert better no.
Mi. Bar.Mistresse flurt, yon[1691]foule strumpet,230
Light a love, short heeles! Mistresse Goursey
Call her againe, and thou wert better no.
Phil.O my deare mother,[1692]have some patience!
Phil.O my deare mother,[1692]have some patience!
Mis. Bar.I, sir, have patience, and see your fatherTo rifle up the treasure of my love,235And play the spend-thrift upon such an harlot!This same will make me have patience, will it not?
Mis. Bar.I, sir, have patience, and see your father
To rifle up the treasure of my love,235
And play the spend-thrift upon such an harlot!
This same will make me have patience, will it not?
Phili.This same is womens most impatience:Yet, mother, I have often heard ye sayThat you have found my father temperate,240And ever free from such affections.
Phili.This same is womens most impatience:
Yet, mother, I have often heard ye say
That you have found my father temperate,240
And ever free from such affections.
Mi. Bar.I, till[1693]my too much love did glut his thoughts,And make him seek for change.
Mi. Bar.I, till[1693]my too much love did glut his thoughts,
And make him seek for change.
Phi.O, change your minde!My father beares more cordiall love to you.245
Phi.O, change your minde!
My father beares more cordiall love to you.245
Mi. B.Thou liest, thou liest, for he loves Gourseys wife,Not me.
Mi. B.Thou liest, thou liest, for he loves Gourseys wife,
Not me.
Phil.Now, I sweare, mother, you are much too blame;I durst be sworne he loves you as his soule.
Phil.Now, I sweare, mother, you are much too blame;
I durst be sworne he loves you as his soule.
Mi. Bar.Wilt thou be pampered by affection?250Will nature teach thee such vilde[1694]perjurie?Wilt thou be sworne, I, forsworne,[1695]carelesse boy?And if thou swearst, I say he loves me not.
Mi. Bar.Wilt thou be pampered by affection?250
Will nature teach thee such vilde[1694]perjurie?
Wilt thou be sworne, I, forsworne,[1695]carelesse boy?
And if thou swearst, I say he loves me not.
Phil.He loves ye but too well, I sweare,Unlesse ye knew much better how to use him.255
Phil.He loves ye but too well, I sweare,
Unlesse ye knew much better how to use him.255
Mi. Bar.Doth he so, sir? thou unnaturall boy!'Too well,' sayest thou? that word shall cost thee[1696]somwhat:O monstrous! have I brought thee up to this?'Too well'! O unkinde, wicked, and degenerate,Hast thou the heart to say so of thy mother?260Well, God will plague thee fort, I warrant thee:Out on thee, villaine, fie upon thee, wretch!Out of my sight, out of my sight, I say!
Mi. Bar.Doth he so, sir? thou unnaturall boy!
'Too well,' sayest thou? that word shall cost thee[1696]somwhat:
O monstrous! have I brought thee up to this?
'Too well'! O unkinde, wicked, and degenerate,
Hast thou the heart to say so of thy mother?260
Well, God will plague thee fort, I warrant thee:
Out on thee, villaine, fie upon thee, wretch!
Out of my sight, out of my sight, I say!
Phil.This ayre is pleasant, and doth please me well,And here I will stay.265
Phil.This ayre is pleasant, and doth please me well,
And here I will stay.265
Mi. Bar.Wilt thou, stubborne villaine?
Mi. Bar.Wilt thou, stubborne villaine?
EnterM. Bar.