Act. 5. Scaen. 10.
I like this Person well, h' has made short work on't, he had appointed sure some meetting at an Ale-house. Welcome wife, welcome home now. But I ha' two brethren which you must know.
Marry, Heav'ns for•sheild, Sir.
Brethren in God sweet-heart, no o∣therwise. Come hither Guiny brother; what say you?
This Gentleman, Brother, has stay'd for you here; pray use him kindly, he's a Traveller: where did you say you travell'd Sir?
O yes! How do you, brother?
I your brother? what d'ye mean?
Why, are not you my brother Blade that was taken captive by the Tartars? Ha!
You're merrily dispos'd, Sir: I your brother! I taken captive by the Tartars! Ha, ha, ha! I understand not your meaning, Sir.
What an impudent slave's this! Sir∣rah monster, didst not thou come with thy man Iohn?
I, my man Iohn? here's no such fellow here, you see: how you're mistaken, Sir! you mean some other man. This is the strangest humour.
Sirrah, dost thou see this fist? dost thou see this foot? I'll wear these out upon thee—
Hold, pray Sir, hold. I remember now indeed that I was Blade the Merchant; but I had quite forgot it. You must pardon me; my memory's very weak.
I like the humour. But I must know, Sir, who you are, now you ha' left being my brother.
Who, I? don't you know me? I'm Dogrel the Poet, and Puny was my man Iohn. Lord that you should not know▪ me all this while! not know Poet Dogrel!
O thank you, M. Dogrel; Can you dance upon the ropes, and tumble? Truely I never knew it before, not I.
Where's that fool, Puny? Is he slipt away?
(He was wise enough to do so, I'll warrant you.)
I will beat him so, that he shall not finde a similitude for himself. As for you, Dogrel, because you came off pretty hand∣somely, with the best at the last, like an Epi∣gram, I may chance to pardon you; but up∣on this condition, that you make no Epitha∣lamiums upon my marriage.
Well said, Will; bravely done,
How's this? I plainly see I'm an Ass then: 'twas this damn'd Puny's fearful∣ness spoil'd all.
(A pox o' this coward Dogrel: I thought they were not the right ones.)
I see my Players had more wit then my Poet. Here's something for you to drink. Go in now: this is your Cue of Exit; and see all things there in a readiness.
Nay, let the Master go first. Follow me, Iohn.
What, husband? Ha' you giv'n 'um any thing? Indeed, Love, you're too la∣vish.
'Twas very wittily put off o' me, howsoever.