PENDANT

Good morrow my thrice honoured & heroic Lord. I thank your Lordship. Foregod this Doublet sits in print my Lord. And the Hose excellent; the Pickadell rare. Your Honour says true; their Knavery will be dis cerned by daylight, But thou mayest watch at night with bill in hand, And no man dares find fault with it. Scarce seven my Lord. Why to all women, Like Diana among his Nymph's. A beauty of that pureness and delight, That none is worthy of her but my Lord, My Honourable Lord. By Heaven vnmatcheable, for none fit but Lords, And yet for no Lord fit, but my good Lord. Strange: No, not strange at all, By Cupid, there's no woman in the world But must needs love you, dote, go mad for you; If you vouchsafe reflection; 'Tis a thing That does it home: thus much reflection Catches em up by Dozens, Like wild foul. Nature her self having made you, fell sick In love with her own work, and can no more Make man so lovely, being diseased with love. You are the world's Minion, of a little man; I'll say no more, I would not be a woman, For all has been God by them. Heart, I should follow you Like a young rank whore, That runs proud for her love, pluck you by 'th sleeve, Who ere were with you, in the open street, With the impudence of a drunken Oyster-wise, Put on my fighting waistcoat, and the Ruff That fears no tearing, batter down the windows Wwhere I suspected you might lie all night, Scratch faces, Like a Wildcat of Pict-hatch. Narcissus by this hand, had far less cause. How do I know, I speak my Conscience. His beauty's were but shadows to my Lord, Why Boy his presence would enkindle sin, And longing thoughts in a devoted Nun: O foot, O Leg, o Hand, o body, face, By Jove it is a little man of wax. My Lord tells you true Captain, it would have saved meat. Have you not herd my Lord, or de'e not know. Then you know nothing that is worth the know king. There's a young Merchant, a late Suitor, that deals by wholesale, and Heir to Land, well descended, of wor thy education, beholding to Nature. And you may kill the Merchant with a look, I'de threaten him to death: my honoured Lord Shall be your friend, go too, I say he shall, You shall have his good word, shall he my Lord? Law, 'Tis the worthiest Lord in Christendom: O Captain, for some fourscore brave Spirits, once To follow such a Lord in some attempt. It is Sir Innocent Ninne, that's his Lady, And that M. Abraham their only son. So 'tis said Captain. One may see by her Nose, what Pottage she loves. Gods precious: Save you Mistress Wagtail. O, my Lord. I faith my Lord, such Venison as a Bear is. If you cross him, he'll blow you up with Gunpowder My Lord shall be your warrant. Look you my Lord; There's Lucida wears the Willow Garland, for you; and will so go to Church I hear: and look you Captain, that's the Merchant. Nay, Gods will, you are too blame indeed, if my Lord say so. Life my Lord, you had best marry em all three, Theyle never be content else. I know he is in love, by his Verse vain. Young Scudmore. I'll ask my Lord: What is the matter Sir. Pish, nothing else; set forward. My honoured Lord, Say but the word, I'll force him from the doors. And I will be your third. Will, Will. Within. Why Will I say, go, my Lord calls extremely, What's the matter. By me? why by me? a good jest i'faith. Pray do not swear, I do not urge you too't; Zoons, now I am undone; you walk somewhat round, Sweet-hart, has Nobody been tampering with you else, think ont, for by this light, I am not worth the estate of and Ap ple wife, I do live upon commending my Lord, the Lord of hosts knows it; and all the world beside, for me to marry thee, will undo thee more, and that thou mayest keep me, keep thee in fashion, Fell thee to English, French, to Scot, and all, Till I have brought thee to and Hospital: and there I leave you, would you not herd nor read, Of some base slave, that wagging his fair head, Does whistling at one end of his shop walk, While some Gay-man does vomit bawdy talk In his wives ears at the other; such a Rogue or worse shall I be: For look you Mistress Wagtail, I do live Like a Chameleon upon the air, and not Like a Moale upon the earth, Land I have none, I pray God send me a graven when I am dead. For my good ones, they are altogether unknown, because they have not yet been seen, nor ever will be, for they have no being, in plain terms, as God help me, I have none. By undoing Tailors, and then my Lord (Like a Snake) casts a suit every quarter, which I slip into; therefore, thou art worse then mad, if thou wilt cast away thy self upon me No by my troth: but tell me this, has not Sir A braham been familiar with you. Couldst be content to marry him. Nay, and there would been any jot of the thing, be side that, I'll warrant thee lay the child to him, stand stiff lie to it, leave the rest to me, By that Fool thou shalt save thy honesty. Exeunt And I must needs say as my Lord says. My Lords for you for that too: the only, Bowler in London, that is not a Church warden. Who my Lord? the only Fencer in Christendom, he'll hit you. Who my Lord; the only Drunkard i'th Woild, drinker I would say. I have lost my money, and Sir Abraham too, yond der he sits at his Muse by heaven, drowned in the Ocean of his love, Lord how he labours, Like a hard bound Poet, whose brains had a frost in em, now it comes. Good: because she is hardhearted. He has died three times, and come again. You say true intro h Sir. Tie unto thee: well, if she do not pity both, 'tis pity she should live. In good faith I do not know, but Nobody that is wise, I am sure of that. It will be and excellent matter sung to the knacking of the tongues. But to my business, God save the right Worthy and Worshipful Sir Abraham: what musing and writing: o, this love will undo us all, and that made me prevent love, and undo my self: but what news of Mistress Lucida, would, will she not come off, not cannot you come on little Abraham. Laughs, why that's a sign she is pleased; do you not know when a woman laughs, she's pleased. Love has made you witty little Nab, but what a mad villain art thou, a striker, a fiftieth partly of Hercules, to get one Wench with Child, and go a wooing to anon there. Why Mistress Wagtail is with child, and will be deposed as yours, she is my Kinswoman, and I would be loath our house should suffer any disgrace in her, if there be law in England, which there should be, if we may judge by their Consciences, or if I have any friends, the Wench shall take no wrong, I cannot tell, I think my Lord will stick to me. Recant your words, or die. But will you fight in this quarrel. Heart, I have pulled and old house over my head; heeres Like to be a tall fray, I perceive a fool's valianter then a Knave at all times, would I were well riddle of him, I had as live meet Hector God knows, if he dare fight at all: they are all one to me, or to speak more modernly, with one of the Roaring Boys. Pray give me leave Sir, put up an't please you: are you sure my Cofsen Wagtail is a Whore? Well, it shall never be said Jack Peudant would venture his blood in a Whores quarrel: but Whore or no Whore, she is most desperately in Love with you, praises your head, your face, your nose, your eyes, your mouth; the fire of her commendations, makes the pot of your good parts run over; and to conclude, if the whore have you not, I think the Pond at Islington, will be her Bathing-tubbe, and give and end to mortal Misery, but if she belie you (pray put up Sir:) she is and arrant whore, and so let her go. Yes, yes, out of all question the whore does love you abominable. I, but hang her who over, dallying will get no Chil dren. Condouling her misfortune in the Gallery, Upon the rushes, sitting all alone, and for Sir Abrahams love venting her moan. One way it takes yet, 'tis a Fools condition, Whom none can love: out of his penury, To catch most greedily at any wench That gives way to his love, or feigns herowne, First unto him, and so Sir Abraham now I hope will buy the pool where I will Fish, Thus a quick Knave makes a fat fool his dish. Exit. They say every woman has a Sprindge to catch a Woodcock, remember my instructions, and let me see what a Paradise thou canst bring this fool into. 15. hun dered a year wench, will make us all merry, but a fool to boot; why we shall throw the ouse out at window; Let me see, there are two things in this foolish Transitory world, which should be altogether regarded, profit and pleasure, or pleasure and profit, I know not which to place first, for indeed, they are Twins, and were born toga there; for Profit, this Marriage (God speed it) marries you to it, and for pleasure, if I help you not to that as cheap as any man in England, call me Cut, and so remember my instructions, for I'll go fetch Sir Abraham. Exit. De'e hear Sir Abraham ? Mean Somebody else, you shall hear her name you by and by. Law you there. Very good, de'e mark that head Like wise? I'll now into her, Sir observe what follows, Now Turtle mourning still For the party, for whom are you working that purse? Let me see mine. Married not you the Earl? A notable little Rascal, Prettis Mistress Wagtail: why de'e walk so melancholy, I sent him hence a purpose; Come shals do? Why, do you think I am such and Ass to believe nobody has meddled with you, but I. Has he but kissed thee? Who my Lord, the only player at Primero i'th Court. What after you are dead? Very good, Scornfully, hang her, she's but a babble. Nay, you have stood to it already; but to call my Cozen whore, you have not a mind to have your throat cut: would you? Yes faith, I have acquainted the Knight withal, and thou mayest be ashamed to abuse a Gentleman to slaun derously, he swears he never lay with you. I but Sir Abram: is no dreaming knight: in short, he contemnes you, he scorns you at his heals. And has sent this halter, you may hang your self, or you may cut your throat, here's a knife too. Make as if thou wouldst kill thy self. Look, Sir Abram: in person comes to see you. Well spoken Brazen head, now or never Sir A braham. And that and old man cannot do I hope. I but she sees your Beard is very thin. O Newington conceit, and quieting el e. Now God send every wise knight such a Lady. Exeunt Hardly, byr'lady, hardly.