NITIDO

Away Secco away, my Lord calls, of ha a lose hair started from his fellows, a clip of your art is come manded. Trudging between and old moil, and a young Calf, my numble intelligeneer, what, thou fatten'st apace on Capon still? What a terrible sighed to a lib'd breech is a sow gel der? Good! witty rascal, th'art a Satire I protest, but that the Nymph's needs not fear the evidence of thy morta lity, go put on a clean bib, and spin amongst the Nuns, sing'em a bawdy song, all the children thou ge'tst, shall be christened in wassail bowls, and turned into a college of men Midwives, farewell nightmare. And still the Urchin would, but could not do. Ladies, I shall, now for a lusty harvest. It'll prove a cheap year, should these barns be filled once, Madam Morosa? To you in secret. My duty reverend Madam. I have fashioned the means of your admittance. More, have bethought me of a shape, a quaint one, You may appear in, safe and unsuspected. Beyond all this; Have so contrived the feat, that at first sighed, Troylo himself shall court your entertainment: Nay, force you to vouchsafe it. True, I have sir Fadged nimbly in my practises: but surely, There are some certain clogs, some roguish staggers, Somewhat shall I call em in the business? Am I honest In this discovery? All fears are cleared then. But if— If w'are discovered, You'll answer I am honest still? Not much; I have your purse in pawn fort. Now to the shape, and know the wits in Florence, Who in the great Dukes court, buffoons his compliment, According to the change of meats in season, At every free Lords table, You have him. Like such a thing must you appear, and study Amongst the Ladies in a formal soppery, To vent some curiosity of language, Above their appehensions, or your own, Indeed beyond sense, you are the more the person. Now amorous, then scurvy, sometime bawdy, The same man still, but evermore fantastical, As being the suppositor to laughter: It hath saved charge in physic. On my Modesty, You are some kin to him—Seignior Prugnioli! Seignior Mushrumpo! Leap but into his antic garb, and trust me You'll fit it to a thought. As suddenly As you can be transformed,—for the event, It's pregnant. Pish, it more Queres,? Till your own eyes inform, be silent, else Take back your earnest, what, turn woman? fie; Be idle and inquisitive? I'll not fail ye, Assuredly, I will not fail you Seignior; My fine in amorato —twenty ducats? Th'are half his quarters incombe—love, o love, What a pure madness art thou? I shall fit him, Fit, quit and split him too—most bounteous sir. Though sir, I'm but a child, yet you shall find me— Most greedily Swallows it with a licourish delight: Will instantly be shaped in't instantly, And on my conscience, sir, the supposition Strengthened by supposition, will trans form him Into the beast it self he do's resemble. Sir, it needs not: I have already twenty Ducats pursed In a gay case, alas sir, to you, my service Is but my duty. Sir at's lodging, Or near about: he will make haste believe it. If I miss my partly, hang me. Ladies good Ladies, deer Madam Morosa. As I hope to live to be a man. Truly I am innocent. I fear thy roguery, and I shall find it. Beshrew your fools head; this was jest in earnest. With your good Lordship's favour, since, Spadone Confessed it was a gullery put on Secco, For some revenge meant me. This comes of prating. Here's a chair, a chair politic, my fine boy, fit thee down in triumph, and rise one of the nine Wor thighs; thou'lt be a sweet youth anon sirrah. Nay, the thing under your fingers is a whelp of the wits I can assure you. Yes, frizzle or powder their hair, plane their eyebrows, set a napp on their cheeks, keep secrets, and tell news; that's all. Most certain, some Doctor Farriers are of opini on that the Mare may cast a Foal, which the Master of their Hall conclude in spite of all lockies and their fami liars, will carry every raze before him, without spur or switch. Grecum album is a kind of white perfumed pou der, which plain Country people, I believe, call dog-muske. Have patience man, it's for his credit to be neat. Give him kind words you were best, for a toy that I know. Spadone, thou art in a lamentable pickle, have a good heart and pray if thou canst, I pity thee. O scurvy! thou art angry, feel man whither thy weasand be not cracked first. Wipe your face clean; and take heed of a Razor. Help, or I shall be throttled.