Bartholmew fayre : a comedie, acted in the yeare, 1614 by the Lady Elizabeths seruants, and then dedicated to King Iames, of most blessed memorie ; The diuell is an asse : a comedie acted in the yeare, 1616, by His Maiesties seruants ; The staple of newes : a comedie acted in the yeare, 1625, by His Maiesties seruants by the author, Beniamin Iohnson.

ACT. IIJ. SCENE. VI.

MERE-CRAFT. PITFALL. PVG. TRAINES.

COme, I must busse—

PIT.

Away.

MER.

I'll set thee vp again.

Offers to kisse.

Neuer feare that: canst thou get ne'r a bird? No Thrushes hungry? Stay, till cold weather come, I'll help thee to an Onsell, or, a Field-fare.

She runs in, in haste: he followes.

Who's within, with Madame?

PIT.

I'll tell you straight.

MER.

Please you stay here, a while Sir, I'le goe in.

PVG.

I doe so long to haue a little venery, While I am in this body! I would tast

Pug leaps at Pitfall's comming in.

Of euery sinne, a little, if it might be After the māner of man! Sweet-heart!

PIT.

What would you, S^r?

PVG.

Nothing but fall in, to you, be your Black-bird, My pretty pit (as the Gentleman said) your Throstle: Lye tame, and taken with you; here'is gold! To buy you so much new stuffes, from the shop,

Traine's in his false cloak, brings a false mes∣sage, and gets the ring. Mere-craft followes pre∣sently, and askes for it. Ent. Train's as himselfe againe.

As I may take the old vp —

TRA.

You must send, Sir. The Gentleman the ring.

PVG.

There 'tis. Nay looke, Will you be foolish, Pit,

PIT.

This is strange rudenesse.

PVG.

Deare Pit.

PIT.

I'll call, I sweare.

MER.

Where are you, S^r? Is your ring ready? Goe with me.

PVG.

I sent it you.

MER.

Me? When? by whom?

PVG.

A fellow here, e'en now, Came for it i'your name.

MER.

I sent none, sure. My meaning euer was, you should deliuer it, Your selfe: So was your Masters charge, you know. What fellow was it, doe you know him?

PVG.

Here, But now, he had it.

MER.

Saw you any? Traines?

TRA.

Not I.

PVG.

The Gentleman saw him.

MER.

Enquire.

PVG.

I was so earnest vpon her, I mark'd not! * 1.1 My diuellish Chiefe has put mee here in flesh, To shame mee! This dull body I am in, I perceiue nothing with! I offer at nothing, That will succeed!

TRA.

Sir, she saw none, she saies.

PVG.

Satan himselfe, has tane a shape t'abuse me. It could not be else!

MER.

This is aboue strange! * 1.2 That you should be so retchlesse. What'll you do, Sir? How will you answer this, when you are question'd?

PVG.

Run from my flesh, if I could▪ put off mankind! This's such a scorne! and will be a new exercise, For my Arch-Duke! Woe to the seuerall cudgells, Must suffer, on this backe! Can you no succours? Sir?

MER.

Alas! the vse of it is so present,

PVG

I aske, * 1.3 Sir, credit for another, but till to morrow?

MER.

There is not so much time, Sir. But how euer, The Lady is a noble Lady, and will (To saue a Gentleman from check) be intreated To say, she ha's receiu'd it.

PVG.

Do you thinke so? * 1.4 Will shee be won?

MER.

No doubt, to such an office, It will be a Lady's brauery, and her pride.

PVG.

And not be knowne on't after, vnto him?

MER.

That were a treachery! Vpon my word, Be confident. Returne vnto your master, My Lady President sits this after-noone, Ha'stan•• the ring, commends her seruices ••nto your Lady-Dutchesse. You may say She's a ciuill Lady, and do's giue her All her respects, already: Bad you, tell her She liues, but to receiue her wish'd commandements, And haue the honor here to kisse her hands: For which shee'll stay this houre yet. Hasten you Your Prince, away.

PVG.

And Sir, * 1.5 you will take care Th'excuse be perfect?

MER.

You confesse your feares. Too much.

PVG.

The shame is more, I'll quit you of either.

Notes

• * 1.1

  The Diuell confess••th himselfe c••o∣zen'd.
• * 1.2

  Mere-craft accuseth him of negli∣gence.
• * 1.3

  He asketh ayde.
• * 1.4

  Mere-craft promiseth faintly, yet comforts him.
• * 1.5

  The Diuel is doubtfull.