WAGTAIL

Sweet M. Pendant. Puls his by the sleeve. What a stir is here made about lying with a Gen tlewoman, I have been lain with, a hundred and hun dreaded times, and nothing has come on't, but haulke, hum, haulke, hum, o, o. Thus have I done for this month or two, haulke, hum. Hawk, hawk, hawk, bitter, bitter, pray God I hurt not the Babe: Well, let me see, I'll begin with Knights, Inprimis, Sir John Doot-well, and Sir William Burnit. For old Sir Innocent Ninny, my Master, if I speak my Conscience look ye, I cannot directly accuse him, much has he been about, but done nothing; marry for S. Abraham, I will not altogether quit him, let me see, theres four Knights, now for Gentlemen. Master Lovall, Master Liueby't, and M. Pendant, huke, him, up, him, up. What say you Jack Sauce? Why Sir, out of Town, I hope 'tis not the First time you have seen a child carried out of Town in a Dos sir, for fear of the Plague. Not you Sir, I know by your asking. Do, what would you do, have done too much already. I am with child by you. Yowl find it Sir in earnest. Do you wrong me so much to think otherwise. This 'tis for a poor Damsel Like my self, To yield her Honour and her youth to any, Who strait conceives she does so unto many, and as I have a soul to save, 'tis true. Its all one, I'll have you for your qualities. How, came you by your good clothes. Why, what mends will you make me, can you give me some sum of money to marry me to some Tradesman, as the play says. Faith, not enough to make up a child. I by my troth, and thank you too, Yes, and something more beside that. Your instructions; Nay faith, you shall see I have as fruitful a brain as a belly, you shall hear some additi ons of my own, my fantasy even kicks Like my Bastard: well Boy, for I know thou art Masculine, neither thy Fa there nor thy Mother had any feminine quality, but one, and that was to take a good thing when it was proffered; when thou inherit'st Land, strange both to thy Father and Grandfather, and ridest in a Caroch, it may be thy Father and old Footman, will be running by thy side, but yonder comes the Gentle Knight, and my Squire. Unfortunate Damsel, why dost thou love Where thou hast sworn it never to reveal? May be he would vouchsafe to look on thee Because he is a Knight, is it thy terror, Why peradventure he is Knighthoods Mirror. Beauis on Arundel with Morglay in hand, Near to my Knight in prowess does not stand; They say Sir Beauis flew both Boar and Dragon, My Knight for that can drink up a whole Flagon, a thing as famous now amongst our men, as killing Monsters were accounted then, 'Tis not thy leg, no, were it twice as good, Throws me into this melancholy mood, Yet let me say and swear, in a cross Garter, Poles never showed to eyes a lovelier quarter. Courteous Sir Abraham. O, thy very name, Like to a Hatchet cleaves my heart in twain, When first I saw thee in those little Breeches, I laughed for joy, but when I herd thy speeches I smiled down right, for I was almost frantic, A modern Knight should be so Like and Antic, In words and deeds, those Pinkanies of thine, For I shall never be blessed to call them mine. How they did run not rheumatickly run, But round about the room, one over one, That wide mouth no, small, no, but Middle-size, That Nose Dominical, that head, Like—wise. What news good Cozen, I hope you have not revealed my Love. Lay with me, alas no, I say not so, nor no man li ving; but there was one night above the rest, that I dreamed he lay with me, and did you never hear of a child begotten in a Dream. Well, I will love him in despite of all, How ere he uses me, 'tis not the shame Of being examined, or the fear of whipping. Should move me, would but he vouchsafe his love, Bear him this purse filled with my latest breath. Blows in it I loved thee Abraham Ninny, even in death. Offers to stab O, let me die then in his worships arms. O happy woman. I should never have known you by that, for you wear it on your head, and other folks in their pockets. Umh, a my Conscience I am peppered, well thou tumblest not for nothing, for he Dances as well that God thee, and plays as well on the Viol, and yet he must not Father thee, I have better men; let me remem ber them, and here in my Melancholy. choose out one Rich enough, to reward this my stale Virginity, or fit enough, to marry my little Honesty; Haulke, hawk. Sir you speak Like and understanding young Gen tleman, and I acknowledge my self much bound to you for your counsel.