FULGOSO

What is lost is lost, Money is trash, and Ladies are et caetera's, Play's play; luck's luck, Fortune's and I know what, You see the worst of me, and whats all this now? Bore threescore ducats, Thirty a piece, we need not care who know it She played, I went her half walked by and whistled After my usual manner thus—unmoved Whistles. As no such thing had ever been as it were, Although I saw the winners share my money His lordship, and and honest gentleman Pursed it, but not so merrily as I Whistled it off—whistles I can forgo things nearer then my gold, Allyd to my affections, and my blood; Yea honour, as it were, with the same kind. Of careless confidence, and come off fairly Too as it were. No, she's inherent, and mine own passed losing. Broke my lance. I mean so as it were And laid flat on her back, both horse and woman. What else man, as it were. protelt a fine conceit, A very fine conceit, and thus I told her, That for mine own partly, if she liked me, so, If not, not; for my duck or do said I, It is no fault of mine, that I am noble, Grant it; another may be noble too, And then wee'r both one noble better still Habs-nabs good wink and choose, if one must have her, The other goes without her, best of all, My spirit is too high, to fight for woman, I am too full of mercy to be angry, A foolish generous quality, from which No might of man can Beatrice I'm, ime resolved. What does he talk? my weapon speaks no language, 'Tis a dutch iron truncheon. And it needs be, 'Twill maul one's hide, in spite of who says nay Hold me too Sirrah if th'art my Friend, for I love no fighting, Yet hold me least in pity I fly off, It I must fight, I must; in a scutvie quarrel I de fie he's and she's, twit me with dutch? Hang dutch and french, hang spanish and Italians, Christians and Turks pew-waw; all's one to me, I know whats what, I know on which side My bred is buttered. Front me no fronts, if thou beestangrie squable Heeres my defence, and thy destruction—whistles a charge If friends shake hands, and go with me to dinner. I vow a match: I'll feast the Done to day And fast with him to morrow. Whats that? I saw a found. It named a Lord. So say I, we will eat and drink, and squander, Till all do split again. So am I too. Can as occasion serves, if she turn scurvy, Unswear my self again, and never change colours. Pish man, the best, though call em, ladies, madames, Fairs, fines, and honies, are but flesh and blood, And now and then too, when the fi S come on they, Will prove themselves but flirts, and tirliry pufkins. Dost long for a beating? Shalls try a slash, heres that shall do't: I'll tap A gallon of thy brains, and fill thy hogshead With two of wine for't. Heigh day, what's this? All: Hold there, I bar play under board, My partly yet lies therein; you never saw The things you wier-draw thus. O rare, And all this in a dream. My waking brother Soldier is tumd Into a sleeping Carpenter or Taylor, Which goes for half a man—whats he? bear up? Bless us, a monster patched of dagger bombast, His eyes Like Copper-basons, of has changed Hair with a shag dog. I worser. fie him. It gabbles Like I know not what, believe it, The fellows a shrewd fellow at a pink. Why save thee too, if thou be'st of heavens making: What art?—Fear nothing Done, we have our blades, Are mettle men our selves, try us who dare. What man? tirteen? is't possible thoulyest not? A shaver of all trades; what course oh f life Dost mean to follow next? would? speak thy mind. Hoy worser , a purse in troath wh oh dropped, stay, stay, Umh; have we gipsies here? o mine is safe Is't your purse, brother Done? Hast any money in it, honest blade? A bots on empty purses. All these thy followers, miserable pigmies Prate sense and don't be mad, I Like thy humour, 'Tis pretty odd, and so as one might say, I care not greatly if I entertain thee, Dost want a master? if thou dost I am for thee Else choose, and Sneak up; pish I scorn to flinch man. The great affairs I shall employ thee most in will be news, And telling whats a clock, for ought I know yet. I do not ask thee now, or if I did We are not much the wiser, and for news— Thats well remembered, brother Done let's trudge, Or we shall come too late. Wait close my ragged newcome. She seems in my first entrance to admire me, Protest she eyes me round; Fulg she's is thine own. Did you hear the music? It I that brought it, was't not tickling? ah would Prince, no Prince but we, We set the ditty and composed the song, Theresnos a note or foot in't, but our own, And the pure trodden mortar of this brain, We can do things and things. Nay, nay, I could never sing More then a gib cat, or a very howler, But you shall heareme whistle it. I do hear you, And thank you heartily for your good wills, In setting forth my parts, but what I live on, Is simple trade of money from my lands. Hang sharks, I am no shifter. Hear? I may whistle. I wonot hold, his man, 'tis time to speak Before my time, o scurvy, I his man? That has no means for meat or rags, and seame-rents. The puppit heads. Thou liest thou hast not, And isle mayn't. And arrant, arrant thief leader, pray mock it. I'll not endure it, To hear a canting mongrel—Hear me lady, I care not fair or foul, I from a King derive my pedigree, King Oberon by name, from whom my father The mighty and courageous Mounti-banco, Was lineally descended, and my mother (In right of whose blood I must ever honour The lower Germany) was a Harlekine. Her father was Grave Hansvan Herne, the son Of Hogen Mogen, that de droates did sneighen Of veirteen hundred Spaniards in one neict. Ten thousand Devils, nor Diabolos Shall fright me from my pedigree, my uncle Yacob van Flagon drought, with Abraham Snorten fert And youngster Brogen foh with fourscore hargubush, Managed by well-lined Butter-boxes, took A thousand Spanish Iobber-nowles by surprise, And Beatrice a sconce about their ears. My Fortune's bid me to be wise in duels, Else hang't, who cares? Pheugh, is it were. Pheugh. I'll led the van then. I'll follow. The Ladies, play at cards, make sport and whistle, My purse shall bear me out, a lazy life, Is scirvy, and deboshd; fight you abroad, And weel be game while you fight at home, Run high, run low, here is a brain can do , But for my martial brother Done, prithee make him A what dee callt, a setting dog, a centinel I'll mend his weekly pay. Marry. The Dons a generous Done. For my own partly, Kill or be killed, for theres the short and long on't. Call me your shadows hinch-boy. Gulls or Mogulls, Tag, rag, or other, Hoger-Mogen vanden Skip-jacks, or Chouses. Who! the brace are flinched, The pair of shavers are sneaked from us, Done. Why? what are we? I Say, Done, brother mine, win her and wear her. And so will I; if't be my luck to lose her, I lose a pretty wench, and theres the worst on't. Or whistle thee into and ague; hang't, Be sociable: drink till we roar and scratch; Then drink our selves asleep again. The fashion! Thou dost not know the fashion.