GENTLEMEN

I thank you Sir, Nephew to the old Lady, his name is Wildbraine, And wild his best condition. Had Hartlove no fast friends? I am sorry fort, Here comes poor Frank, nay we are friends, start not Sir, We see your willow and are sorry for, And though it be a wedding we are half mourners. Come good Frank, Forget now, since there is no remedy, And show a merry face, as wise men would do. And so do I too. But the Plague is, heel burn out instantly; Give him another cup. Come have a good heart, And win him Like a bowl to lie close to you, Make your best use. This is some trick. Is it possible? Hold, hold, he's desperate too. What book has he given thee? Dost thou believe it? I have John Tailors book of Hempeseede too, Which for two lines I happened on by chance, I reverence. They are so put upon the time, as if He studied to answer the late Histriomastix, Talking of change and transformations, That wittily, and learnedly he bangs him, So may a Puritans ruff, though starched in Print, Be turned to Paper, and a Play writ in't: A Play in the Puritans ruff? I'll buy his Works for't, And confute Horace with a Water Poet: What hast there, a ballad too? Some cry ith' streets; prithee sing on. 'Tis a strange noise? and has a tang o'the Justice. Untie his feet, pull out his gag, he will choke else; What desperate rogues were these. He gave us books sir, dainty books to busy us; And we were reading in that which was the Brewhouse; A great way off, we were finging ballads too, And could not hear. Shall we pursue they? Your little Prayer book? But the keys in they, and if they be gone, They could not want wit to lock us in sir. The likest face — She gabbles innocently. Lets interrupt him, he'll be mad our right else. 'Tis not Maria. We are hellhounds hellhounds, that have commission From the Prince of darkness, To fetch thy black soul to him. Thou art, but we have brought thee instruments Will quickly rid thy miserable life, Stab, Hang thy self, this choice is offered And all the Fiends expect thee. Come with us to that pit of endless horror, Or we will force thee. Groans are too late, sooner the ravisher, Whose soul is hurled into eternal frost, Stung with the force of twenty thousand Winter's To punish the distempers of his blood, Shall hope to get from thence, then thou avoid The certainty of meeting hell where he is. Shall murderers be there for ever dying, Their souls shot through with adders, torn on Engines, Dying as many death's for killing one, Could any imagination number them, As there be moments in eternity: And shall that Justice spare thee, that hast slain, Murdered by thy extortion so many? Tell us of thy repentance? perjured villain, Pinch off his flesh, he must be whipped, salted and whipped. I have herd of him, I pray you tell me Sir, is young Maria merry After her marriage rites? does she look lively? How does she Like her man? Be a free guest, and think not of those passages. I prithee Frank go with us, And laugh and dance as we do. Come, old sticks take fire. Those are but flashes, A run of sack wonot set him high enough. Will you to bed? I smell the Wildgoose. Hold her, she Sinks. A dainty book, a book of the great Navy, Of fifteen hundred ships of Cannon proof, Built upon Whale's to keep their Keels from sinking; And Dragons in they, that spit fire ten mile; And Elephants that carry goodly castles. Shall we not believe books in Print? I prithee what are they? This? This is a piece of Poetry indeed; What noise is that? Again, dost not hear? it's ith'house certainly? Lets see? Give him fresh air. What would you lost fir? We shall be starved. If you should be called to take you oath. She sighs. Observe a little more. Come leave this dream. Poison. Thou canst not hope for heaven; thy base soul is Lost to all hope of mercy. Quickly, quickly. The torments cool Do execution quickly, or weel carry thee alive to hell.