The knight of the burning pestle

Actus secundi

Scoena prima.

Enter Merchant and Humphrey.

March.

And how faith? how goes it now son Humphrey?

Humph.

Right worshipfull, and my beloued friend And father deere, this matters at an end.

March.

'Tis well, it should be so, Im'e glad the girle Is found so tractable.

Humph.

Nay she must whirle From hence, and you must winke: for so I say, The storietels, to morrow before day.

Wife.

George, do'st thou thinke in thy conscience now'twil be a match? tell me but what thou thinkst sweet rogue, thou seest the poore Gentleman (deere heart) how it labours and throbs I warrant you, to be at rest: Il'e goe moue the father fort.

Cit.

No, no, I pre'thee sit still hony-suckle, thoul't spoile all, if he deny him, Il'e bring halfe a dozē good fellows my selfe, & in the shutting of an euening knock't vp, & ther's an end.

Wife.

Il'e busse thee for that i'faith boy; well George, well, you haue beene a wag in your daies I warrant you: but God forgiue you, and I do with all my heart.

March.

How was it sonne? you told me that to morrow Before day breake, you must conuey her hence.

Humph.

I must, I must, and thus it is agreed, Your daughter rides vpon a browne-bay steed, I on a sorrell, which I bought of Brian, The honest Host of the red roaring Lion In Waltham situate: then if you may Consent in seemely sort, lest by delay, The fatall sisters come and do the office, And then you'l sing another song.

March.

Alasse Why should you be thus full of griefe to me? That do as willing as your selfe agree

To any thing so it be good and faire, Then steale her when you will, if such a pleasure Content you both, I'le sleepe and neuer see it, To make your ioyes more full, but tell me why You may not here performe your marriage?

Wife.

Gods blessing a thy soule old man, i'faith thou art loath to part true hearts, I see, a has her Georg, & I'me as glad on't, well, go thy waies Humphrey, for a faire spoken man, I beleeue thou hast not thy fellow within the wals of London, & I should say the Suburbes too, I should not lie, why dost not reioyce with me George?

Cit.

If I could but see Raph againe, I were as merry as mine Host i'faith.

Hum.

The cause you seeme to aske, I thus declare, Helpe me ô Muses nine, your daughter sweare A foolish oath, the more it was the pitty, Yet none but my selfe within this Citty, Shall dare to say so, but a bold defiance Shall meete him, were he of the noble Science. And yet she sweare, and yet why did she sweare? Truely I cannot tell, vnlesse it were For her owne ease, for sure sometimes an oath, Being sworne thereafter is like cordiall broth. And this it was shee swore, neuer to marry, But such a one, whose mighty arme could carry (As meaning me, for I am such a one) Her bodily away through sticke and stone, Till both of vs arriue, at her request, Some ten miles off, in the wilde Waltham Forrest.

March.

If this be all, you shall not need to feare Any deniall in your loue, proceed, I'le neither follow, nor repent the deed.

Hum.

Good-night, twenty good-nights, & twenty more. And 20 more good-nights, that makes three-score.

Exeūt.

Enter mistresse Mery-thought, and her son Michael.

Mist. mer.

Come Michael, art thou not weary boy?

Mich.

No for-sooth mother not I.

Mist. mer.

Where be we now child?

Mich.

Indeed for-sooth mother I cannot tell, vnlesse we be at Mile-end, is not all the world Mile-end, Mother?

Mist. mer.

No Michael, not al the world boy, but I can assure thee Michael, Mile-end is a goodly matter, there has bene a pitch-field my child betweene the naughty Spaniels and the English-men, and the Spaniels ran away Michael, and the Eng∣lish-men followed, my neighbour Coxstone was there boy, and kil'd them all with a birding peece.

Mich.

Mother forsooth.

Mist. mer.

What saies my white boy?

Mich.

Shall not my father go with vs too?

Mist. mer.

No Michael, let thy father go snicke-vp, he shall neuer come between a paire of sheets with me againe, while he liues, let him stay at home & sing for his supper boy, come child sit downe, and I'le shew my boy fine knacks indeed, look here Michael, here's a Ring, and here's Bruch, & here's a Bracelet, and here's two Rings more, and here's mony and gold bi'th eie my boy.

Mich.

Shall I haue all this mother?

Mist. mer.

I Michael thou shalt haue all Michael.

Cit.

How lik'st thou this wench?

Wife.

I cannot tell, I would haue Raph, George; I'le see no more elseindeed-law, & I pray you let the youths vnderstand so much by word of mouth, for I tell you truely, I'me afraid a my boy, come, come George, let's be merry and wise, the child's a father-lesse child, and say they should put him into a streight paire of Gaskins, 'twere worse then knot-grasse, he would neuer grow after it.

Enter Raph, Squire, and Dwarfe.

Cit:

Here's Raph, here's Raph.

Wife.

How do you Raph? you are welcome Raph, as I may say, it's a good boy, hold vp thy head, and be not afraid, we are thy friends Raph, the Gentlemen will praise thee Raph, if thou plaist thy part with audacity, begin Raph a Gods name.

Raph.

My trusty Squire vnlace my Helme, giue mee my hat, where are we, or what Desart may this be?

Dwarfe.

Mirrour of Knight-hood, this is, as I take it, the perrilous Waltham downe, In whose bottome stands the inchanted Valley.

Mist. mer.

O Michael, we are betrai'd, we are betraid here

be Gyants, flie boy, flie boy, flie.

Exeūt mother & Michael.

Rafe.

Lace on my helme againe: what noise is this? A gentle Ladie flying? the imbrace Of some vncurteous knight, I will releiue her. Go squire, and say, the Knight that weares this pestle, In honour of all Ladies, sweares reuenge Vpon that recreant coward that pursues her. Go comfort her, and that same gentle squire That beares her companie.

Squire.

I go braue Knight.

Rafe.

My trustie Dwarfe and friend, reach me my shield, And hold it while I sweare: First by my knight-hood, Then by the soule of Amadis de Gaule, My famous Ancestor, then by my sword, The beauteous Brionella girt about me, By this bright burning pestle of mine honour, The liuing Trophie, and by all respect Due to distressed Damsels, here I vow Neuer to end the quest of this faire Lady, And that forsaken squire, till by my valour I gaine their liberty.

Dwarf.

Heauen blesse the Knight That thus relieues poore errant Gentlewomen.

Exit.

Wife.

I marrie Rafe, this has some sauour in't, I would see the proudest of them all offer to carrie his bookes after him. But George, I will not haue him go away so soone, I shall bee sicke if he go away, that I shall; Call Rafe againe George, call Rafe againe, I pre'thee sweet heart let him come fight before me, and let's ha some drums, and some trumpets, and let him kill all that comes neere him, and thou lou'st me George.

Cit.

Peace a little bird, hee shall kill them all and they were twentie more on 'em then there are.

Enter Iasper.

Iasp.

Now Fortune, if thou bee'st not onely ill, Shew me thy better face, and bring about Thy desperate wheele, that I may clime at length And stand, this is our place of meeting, If loue haue any constancie. Oh age! Where onely wealthy men are counted happie: How shall I please thee? how deserue thy smiles?

When I am onely rich in misery? My fathers blessing, and this little coine Is my inheritance, a strong reuenew, From earth thou art, and to the earth I giue thee, There grow and multiply, whilst fresher aire,

spies the casket.

Breeds me a fresher fortune, how, illusion! What hath the Diuell coin'd himselfe before me? 'Tis mettle good, it rings well, I am waking, And taking too I hope, now Gods deere blessing Vpon his heart that left it here, 'tis mine, These pearles, I take it, were not left for swine.

Exit.

VVife.

I do not like that this vnthrifty youth should em∣becill away the money; the poore Gentlewoman his mother will haue a heauy heart for it God knowes.

Cittiz.

And reason good, sweet heart.

VVife.

But let him go, I'le tell Raph a tale in's eare shall fetch him againe with a Wanion I warrant him, if hee bee aboue ground, and besides George, heere are a number of sufficient Gentlemen can witnesse, and my selfe, and your selfe, and the Musitians, if we be cal'd in question, but here comes Raph, George, thou shalt here him speake, an he were an Emperall.

Enter Rafe and Dwarfe.

Raph.

Comes not sir Squire againe?

Dwar.

Right courteous Knight, Your Squire doth come and with him comes the Lady,

Enter mistresse Merr: and Michael, and Squire.

For and the Squire of Damsels as I take it.

Rafe.

Madam if any seruice or deuoire Of a poore errant Knight may right your wrongs, Command it, I am prest to giue you succour, For to that holy end I beare my Armour,

Mist. mer.

Alas sir, I am a poore Gentlewoman, and I haue lost my monie in this forrest.

Rafe.

Desart, you would say Lady, and not lost Whilst I haue sword and launce, dry vp your teares Which ill befits the beauty of that face:

And tell the storie, if I may request it, Of your disasterous fortune.

Mist. mer.

Out alas, I left a thousand pound, a thousand pound, e'ne all the monie I had laid vp for this youth, vpon the sight of your Maistership, you lookt so grim, and as I may say it, sauing your presence, more like a Giant then a mortall man.

Rafe.

I am as you are Ladie, so are they All mortall, but why weepes this gentle Squire.

Mist. mer.

Has hee not cause to weepe doe you thinke, when he hath lost his inheritance?

Rafe.

Yong hope of valour, weepe not, I am here That will confound thy foe and paie it deere Vpon his coward head, that dares denie, Distressed Squires and Ladies equitie. I haue but one horse, on which shall ride This Ladie faire behind me, and before This courteous Squire, fortune will giue vs more Vpon our next aduenture; fairelie speed Beside vs Squire and Dwarfe to do vs need.

Exeunt.

Cit.

Did not I tell you Nel what your man would doe? by the saith of my bodie wench, for cleane action and good deliuerie they may all cast their caps at him.

Wife.

And so they may i'faith, for I dare speake it boldly, the twelue Companies of London cannot match him, timber for timber, well George, and hee be not inueigled by some of these paltrie Plaiers, I ha much maruell, but George wee ha done our parts if the boy haue any grace to be thankefull.

Cittiz.

Yes I warrant thee duckling.

Enter Humphrey and Luce.

Hum.

Good Mistresse Luce how euer I in fault am For your lame horse; you're welcome vnto VValtham. But which way now to go or what to saie I know not truely till it be broad daie.

Luce.

O feare not Maister Humphrey, I am guide For this place good enough.

Hum.

Then vp and ride, Or if it please you walke for your repose,

Or sit, or if you will go plucke a rose: Either of which shall be indifferent, To your good friend and Humphrey, whose consent Is so entangled euer to your will, As the poore harmelesse horse is to the Mill.

Luce.

Faith and you say the word we'le e'ne sit downe And take a nap.

Hum.

'Tis better in the Towne, Where we may nap together, for beleeue me To sleepe without a snatch would mickle grieue me.

Luce.

You're merrie Maister Humphrey.

Hum,

So I am, And haue bene euer merrie from my Dam.

Luce.

Your nurce had the lesse labour.

Hum.

Faith it may bee, Vnlesse it were by chance I did beray mee.

Enter Iasper.

Iasp.

Luce deere friend Luce.

Luce.

Heere Iasper.

Iasp.

You are mine.

Hum.

If it be so, my friend, you vse me fine, What do you thinke I am?

Iasp.

An arrant noddie

Hum.

A word of obloquie, now by Gods bodie, I'le tell thy maister for I know thee well.

Iasp.

Nay, and you be so forward for to tell, Take that, and that, and tell him sir I gaue it, And saie I paid you well.

Hum.

O sir I haue it, And do confesse the paiement, praie be quiet.

Iasp.

Go, get to your night-cap and the diet, To cure your beaten bones.

Luce.

Alas poore Humphrie Get thee some wholsome broth with sage and comfrie: A little oile of Roses and a feather, To noint thy backe withall.

Hum.

When I came hether, Would I had gone to Paris with Iohn Dorrie.

Luce.

Fare-well my prettie Nump, I am verie sorrie I cannot beare thee companie.

Hum.

Fare-well, The Diuels Dam was ne're so bang'd in hell.

Exeunt.

manet Humphrey.

VVife.

This yong Iasper will proue me another Things, a my conscience and he may be suffered; George, dost not see George how a swaggers, and flies at the very heads a fokes as

he were a Dragō; well if I do not do his lesson for wronging the poore Gentleman, I am no true woman, his friends that brought him vp might haue bene better occupied, I wis, then ha taught him these fegaries, hee's e'ne in the high-way to the gallows, God blesse him.

Cit.

You're too bitter, conny, the yong man may do wel enough for all this.

VVife.

Come hither Maister Humfrey, has hee hurt you? now beshrew his fingers for't, here sweet heart, here's some greene ginger for thee, now beshrew my heart but a has pep∣per-nel in's head, as big as a pullets egge, alas sweete lamb, how thy Tempels beate; take the peace on him sweete heart, take the peace on him.

Enter a boy.

Cit.

No, no, you talke like a foolish woman, I'le ha Raph fight with him, and swing him vp welfauourdlie, sirrah boie come hither, let Raph come in and fight with Iasper.

VVife.

I, and beate him well, he's an vnhappy boy.

Boy.

Sir you must pardon vs, the plot of our Plaie lies contrarie, and 'twill hazard the spoiling of our Plaie.

Cit.

Plot mee no plots, I'le ha Raph come out, I'le make your house too hot for you else.

Boy.

Why sir he shall, but if anie thing fall out of order, the Gentlemen must pardon vs.

Cit.

Go your waies good-man boie, I'le hold him a pen∣nie hee shall haue his bellie-full of fighting now, ho heere comes Raph, no more.

Enter Raph, mistresse Merri: Michael, Squire, and Dwarfe.

Raph.

What Knight is that Squire, aske him if he keep The passage, bound by loue of Ladie faire, Or else but prickant.

Hum.

Sir I am no Knight, But a poore Gentleman, that this same night, Had stolne from me on yonder Greene, My louelie wife, and suffered to be seene Yet extant on my shoulders such a greeting, That whilst I liue, I shall thinke of that meeting.

VVife.

I Raph hee beate him vnmercifully, Raph, and thou spar'st him Raph I would thou wert hang'd.

Cit.

No more, wife no more.

Rafe.

Where is the caitife wretch hath done this deed. Lady your pardon, that I may proceed Vpon the quest of this iniurious Knight. And thou faire Squire repute me not the worse, In leauing the great venture of the purse, And the rich casket till some better leasure,

Enter Iasper and Luce.

Hum.

Here comes the Broker hath purloin'd my treasure.

Raph.

Go, Squire, and tell him I am here, An Errant Knight at Armes, to craue deliuery Of that faire Lady to her owne Knights armes. If he deny, bid him take choice of ground, And so defye him.

Squire.

From the Knight that beares The golden Pestle, I defie thee Knight. Vnlesse thou make faire restitution. Of that bright Lady.

Iasp.

Tell the Knight that sent thee Hee is an Asse, and I will keepe the wench And knocke his Head-peece.

Raph.

Knight, thou art but dead, If thou thou recall not thy vncurteous tearmes.

VVife.

Breake's pate Raph, breake's pate Raph, soundly.

Iasper.

Come Knight, I am ready for you, now your Pestel

Snatches away his Pestle.

Shall try what temper, sir, your Morters off With that he stood vpright in his stirrops, And gaue the Knight of the Calue-skinne such a knocke, That he forsooke his horse and downe he fell, And then he leaped vpon him and plucking of his Helmet.

Hum.

Nay, and my noble Knight be downe so soone, Though I can scarely go I needs must runne.

Exit Humphery and Raph.

VVife.

Runne Raph, runne Raph, runne for thy life boy, Iasper comes, Iasper comes.

Iasper.

Come Luce, we must haue other Armes for you, Humphery and Golden Pestle both adiew.

Exeunt.

VVife.

Sure the diuell, God blesse vs, is in this Springald,

why George, didst euer see such a fire-drake, I am afraid my boie's miscaried, if he be, though hee were Maister Mery-thoughts sonne a thousand times, if there bee any Law in England I'le make some of them smart for't.

Cit.

No, no, I haue found out the matter sweete-heart, Iasper is inchanted, as sure as we are heere, he is inchanted, he could no more haue stood in Raph's hands, then I can stand in my Lord Maiors, I'le haue a ring to discouer all inchant∣ments, and Raph shall beate him yet: be no more vext for it shall be so.

Enter Raph, Squire, Dwarfe, mistresse Mery-thought and Michaell.

Wife.

O husband heere's Raph againe, stay Raph let mee speake with thee, how dost thou Raph? art thou not shrod∣ly hurt? the soule great Lungeis laid vnmercifully on thee, there's some suger-candy for thee, proceed, thou shalt haue another bout with him.

Cit.

If Raph had him at the Fencing-schoole, if hee did not make a puppy of him, and driue him vp and downe the schoole he should nere come in my shop more.

Mist. mer.

Truely Maister Knight of the Burning Pestle I am weary.

Mich.

Indeed law mother and I am very hungry.

Raph.

Take comfort gentle Dame, and you faire Squire, For in this Desart there must needs be plac't, Many strong Castles, held by curteous Knights, And till I bring you safe to one of those, Is weare by this my Order nere to leaue you.

Wife.

Well said Raph, George, Raph was euer comforta∣ble, was he not?

Cit.

Yes Ducke.

Wife.

I shall nere forget him, when wee had lost our child, you know, it was straid almost, alone, to Puddle-wharfe and the Criers were abroad for it, and there it had drown'd it selfe but for a Sculler, Raph was the most comfortablest to me: peace Mistresse, saies he, let it go, I'le get you another as good, did he not George? did he not say so?

Cit.

Yes indeed did he mouse.

Dwarfe.

I would we had a messe of Pottage, and a pot of drinke, Squire, and were going to bed.

Squire.

Why we are at Waltham Townes end, and that's the Bell Inne.

Dwarfe.

Take courage valiant Knight, Damsel, & Squire I haue discouered, not a stones cast off, An ancient Castle held by the old Knight Of the most holy order of the Bell, Who giues to all Knights errant entertaine: There plenty is of food, and all prepar'd, By the white hands of his owne Lady deere. He hath three Squires that welcome all his Guests. The first high Chamberlino, who will see Our beds prepar'd, and bring vs snowy sheetes, Where neuer foote-man stretch'd his butter'd Hams. The second hight Tastero, who will see Our pots full filled and no froth therein. The third a gentle Squire Ostlero hight, Who will our Palfries slicke with wisps of straw, And in the Maunger put them Oates enough, And neuer grease their teeth with candle snuffe.

VVife.

That same Dwarfe's a pretty boy, but the Squire's a grout-nole.

Raph.

Knocke at the Gates my Squire with stately launce.

Enter Tapster.

Tap.

Who's there, you're welcome Gentlemen, will you see a roome?

Dwarfe.

Right curteous and valiant Knight of the burning Pestle, This is the Squire Tapstero.

Raph.

Faire Squire Tapstero, I a wandring Knight, Hight of the burning Pestle, in the quest Of this faire Ladies Casket, and wrought purse, Loosing my selfe in this vast Wildernesse Am to this Castle well by fortune brought, Where hearing of the goodly entertaine Your Knight of holy Order of the Bell Giues to all Damsels, and all errant Knights,

I thought to knocke, and now am bold to enter.

Tapster.

An't please you see a chamber, you are very welcome.

Exeunt.

VVife.

George I would haue something done, and I can∣not tell what it is.

Cit.

What is it Nel?

Wife.

Why George, shall Raph beate no body againe? pre∣thee sweete-heart let him.

Cit.

So he shall Nel, and if I ioyne with him, wee'le knocke them all.

Enter Humphery and Merchant.

Wife.

O George here's maister Humphery againe now, that lost Mistresse Luce, and Mistresse Lucies father, Maister Hum∣phery will do some-bodies errant I warrant him.

Humf.

Father, it's true, in armes I nere shall claspe her, For shee is stolne away by your man Iasper.

VVife.

I thought he would tell him.

March.

Vnhappy that I am to loose my child, Now I beginne to thinke on Iaspers words, Who oft hath vrg'd to me thy foolishnesse, Why didst thou let her go? thou loust her not, That wouldst bring home thy life, and not bring her.

Hum.

Father forgiue me, shall I tell you true, Looke on my shoulders they are blacke and blew. Whilst too and fro faire Luce and I were winding, Hee came and basted me with a hedge binding.

March.

Get men and horses straight, we will be there Within this houre, you know the place againe.

Hum.

I know the place, where he my loines did swaddle, I'le get six horses, and to each a saddle.

Mar.

Meane time I'le go talke with Iaspers father.

Exeunt.

VVife.

George, what wilt thou laye with mee now, that Maister Humphery has not Mistresse Luce yet, speake George, what wilt thou laie with me?

Cit.

No Nel, I warrant thee Iasper is at Puckeridge with her, by this.

VVife.

Nay George, you must consider Mistresse Lucies

feete are tender, and, besides, 'tis darke, and I promise you tuely, I doe not see how hee should get out of Wa••••••im forrest with her yet.

Cit.

Nay Cunny, what wilt thou laie with me that Raph has her not yet.

VVife.

I will not lay against Raph hunny, because I haue not spoken with him, but looke George, peace, heere comes the merry old Gentleman againe.

Enter old Merrie-thought.

Old mer.

When it was growne to darke midnight, And all were fast asleepe, In came Margarets grimely Ghost, And stood at VVilliams feete.

I haue mony, and meate and drinke before hand, till to morrow at noone, why should I be sad? mee thinkes I haue halfe a dozen Iouiall spirits within mee, I am three merry men, and three merry men, To what end should any man be sad in this world? giue me a man that when hee goes to han∣ging cries, troule the blacke bowle to mee: and a woeman that will sing a cath in her Trauell. I haue seene a man come by my dore, with a serious face, in a blacke cloake, without a hat-band, carrying his head as if hee lookt for pinnes in the streete, I haue lookt out of my window halfe a yeare after, and haue spide that mans head vpon London-bridge: 'tis vile, neuer trust a Tailor that does not sing at his worke, his mind is of nothing but filching.

VVife.

Marke this George, tis worth noting: Godfrry my Tailor, you know, neuer sings, and hee had foureteene yards to make this Gowne, and I'le be sworne Mistresse Pen∣nistone the Drapers wife had one made with twelue.

Old mer:

'Tis mirth that fils the veines with bloud, More then wine, or sleepe, or food. Let each man keepe his heart at ease, No man dies of that disease. He that would his body keepe From diseases, must not weepe, But who euer laughes and sings,

Neuer he his body brings Into feuers, gouts, or rhumes, Or lingringly his longs consumes: Or meets with aches in the bone, Or Catharhes, or griping stone: But contented liues for aye, The more he laughes, the more he may.

Wife.

Looke George, how saist thou by this George? is't not a fine old man? Now Gods blessing a'thy sweet lips. When wilt thou be so merry George? Faith thou art the frowningst little thing when thou art angry, in a Countrey.

Enter Merchant.

Cit.

Peace Coney, thou shalt see him taken downe too I warrant thee; here's Luces father come now.

Old mer.

As you came from Walsingham, frō that holy land, there met you not with my tru-loue by the way as you came

March.

Oh Maister Merri-thought! my daughter's gone. This mirth becomes you not, my daughters gone.

Old merri.

Why an if she be, what care I? Or let her come or go, or tarry.

March.

Mocke not my misery, it is your sonne, Whom I haue made my owne, when all forsooke him, Has stolne my onely ioy, my childe away.

Old mer.

He set her on a milk-white steed, & himselfe vpō a gray, He neuer turn'd his face againe, but he bore her quite away.

March.

Vnworthy of the kindnesse I haue shewn To thee, and thine: too late I well perceiue Thou art consenting to my daughters losse.

Old mer.

Your daughter, what a stur's here wee yer daugh∣ter? Let her goe, thinke no more on her, but sing lowd. If both my sons were on the gallows, I would sing, downe, down, downe: they fall downe, and arise they neuer shall.

March.

Oh might I behold her once againe, And she once more embrace her aged sire.

Old merri.

Fie, how scuruily this goes: and she once more imbrace her aged sire? you'l make a dogge on her, will yee? she cares much for her aged sire I warrant you.

She cares cares not for her daddy, nor shee cares not for her mammie, For she is, she is, she is, she is my Lord of Low-gaues Lassie.

March.

For this thy scorne, I will pursue That sonne of thine to death.

Old merri.

Do, and when you ha kild him, Giue him flowers i'now Palmer: giue him flowers i'now, Giue him red, and white, and blew, greene, and yellow.

March.

Il'e fetch my daughter.

Old merri.

Il'e heare no more a your daughter, it spoyles my mirth.

March.

I say Il'e fetch my daughter.

Old merri.

Was neuer man for Ladies sake, downe, downe, Tormented as I poore sir Guy? de derry downe, For Lucies sake, that Lady bright, downe, downe, As euer men beheld with eye? de derry downe.

March.

Il'e be reueng'd by heauen.

Exeunt.

Musicke. Finis Actus secundi.

Wife.

How do'st thou like this George?

Cit.

Why this is well coney: but if Raph were hot once, thou shouldst see more.

Wife.

The Fidlers go againe husband.

Cit.

I Nell, but this is scuruy musicke: I gaue the whore∣son gallowes money, and I thinke hee has not got mee the waits of South-warke, if I heare him not anan, Il'e twinge him by the eares. You Musicians, play Baloo.

Wife.

No good George, lets ha Lachrimae.

Cit.

Why this is it cony.

Wife.

It's all the better George: now sweet lambe, what story is that painted vpon the cloth? the confutation of Saint Paul?

Cit.

No lambe, that's Raph and Lucrece.

Wife.

Raph and Lucrece? which Raph? our Raph?

Cit.

No mouse, that was a Tartarian.

Wife.

A Tartarian? well, I'wood the fidlers had done, that wee might see our Raph againe.