FIDDLE

Here's a fiddling indeed, I think your tongue be made of nothing but fiddlestrings, I hope the fiddle must have some rest as well as the fiddlestick: well Crowd, what say you to Fiddle now? It is indeed, Master. To go to bed again Sir. What a fiddling do you keep, are you not ashamed to make such music; I hope sir, you will Christian me anew shortly, for you have so worn this name, that never a wench in all the town but will scorn to dance after my fiddle. Thats more than you know, Master. Yowl be damned then, Master. I had rather your daughter loved me, I hold with you Master, if my young mistress would Like so well of my music, that she would dance after no bo die instrument but mine. A shame on you, I thought you would not hear on that side True, master; therein you say well. Who he sir, never regard him, I know the vildest thing by him, Oh 'tis abominable! I tell you sir, 'twill make your hair to stand on end as stiff as a Rubbing-brush, to hear his villainies. What's this you have given me? Have you any skill in Arithmetic? Sir, I would have you to multiply; could you not make this one shilling two or three? I would not be known to beg, but if out of your cunning you can do this trick of multi plication, I shall speak the better. So sir, this is multiplication, now sir, if you know the Rule of addition you are and excellent Scholar: can you not add? And other shilling sir. Why then attend you Hills and Dales, and stones so quick of hearing, this Cripple is. And honest man, as any is in all the town. I by this silver, and as good a fellow as ever went up on four legs, if you would multiply till midnight, I would never speak otherwise. The chaste Moon, why the Moon is not chaste. Why sir, ther's a man in the middle of her, how can she be chaste then? Gallants goodnight; if time and place were in pros peritie, I were yours for and hours society, I must after yond mulberry with my torch: adue deer hearts, adue. Exit. Porter, I am not for you, you see I am perambulating before a female. Speak in time then Porter, for otherwise I do not love to answer you, and be as brief as you can, good Por ter. Then you are and ass Porter, 'tis the fair Maid of the Exchange. God give you the time of the day, pardon me Gall lants, I was so near the middle that I knew not which hand to take. And yet because I will be sure to give you a true salu tation, Cripple, quomodo vales? Good morrow Cripple, good den good master Barnard, master Bowdler, Bonos noches, as they say, good night; and thus you have herd my manner of salutation. The best news I know not sir, but the newest news is most excellent i'faith. Why this it is, the Sergeants are watching to arrest you at master Berries suit. Nay, I know not where; alas sir, there is no such mat ter, I did but say so much, to make you warm the handle of your rapier: But M. Bawdler, I have good news for you. How, russeting? You are a You are a, Oh that I could speak for indignation! Yond are a pippinmonger to call me Russeting or ap ple John. You pippinmonger, I'll cut off your legs, and make you travel so near the mother earth, that every boy shall be high enough to steal apples out of thy basket, call me Rus setting? As I am a gentleman cripple, I meant him no harm, but the name of Russeting to master Fiddle, that many times travels under the arm in velvet, but for the most partly in lea there trussd with calve-skin points, 'tis most tolerable, and not to be endured, flesh and blood cannot bear it. Say you so? why then anger avoid the room, melan choly march away, choler to the next chamber, and heres my hand I am yours to command from this time forth, your we ry mortal friend, and loving enemy, master Fiddle. Oh, the sweet news, faith sir, this it is, that I was sent to the Cripple from my young Mistress. Master Cripple you know I have spent some time in idle words, therefore be you compendious, and tell me if my mistress handkerchief be done or no. If his stomach be up to go to dinner. What else master? with the best belly in my heart, the sweetest strain in my music, and the worst entertainment that may be, Fiddle bids your worship adesdum. I, and heel be here I warrant you. Alls well, alls well, but there wants some saffron, To colour the custards withal. I sir, and here comes one more than you looked for. Why sir I think it is no good conceit. Master, where my master? heeres one would couple a brace of words with you. No sir, with my young mistress. A crooked knave sir, 'tis the Cripple. Run away with her? well may she carry him, but if he run away with her, isle never trust crutch more. True still master. True, all this is most natural truth. Nay thats a lie, that hath marred all, was your con ceipt so tirde you could tell troth no longer? No indeed sir, we are not, we stand still, your con ceit failde in that. I sir, master Fiddle is my name, sir Laurence Syro was my father. Here sir. You cannot see master, but I can. Will you approach cavaliero, if I speak not in sea son, 'tis because I was never in the salt country, where you sea captains use to march. Let me alone then for leading my men. After the French salutation I am yours for the Like courtesy. Porter, we commit you, if you be a crafty knave, and lay in the wind for a vantage, you have your answer: mark her last words, isle arm my self with floutus and cruelty. Exeunt. It is indeed sir. Certes Porter, I serve a Gentleman, that Gentle man is father to this Gentlewoman, this Gentlewoman is a maid, this maid is fair, and this fair maid belongeth to the Exchange, and the Exchange hath not the Like fair maid now Porter, put all this together, and tell me what it spells. Her name Porter requires much poeticalitie in the subscription, and no less judgement in the understanding; her name is Phillis, not Phillis that same dainty lass that was beloved of Amintas, nor Phillis she that doted on that comely youth Demophoon, but this is Phillis, that most strange Phillis, the flower of the Exchange. After the most humble manner I will; and so gentle men I commit you all: you Cripple to your shop; you sir, to a turnup and dish of capers; and lastly, you M. Barnard, to the tuition of the Counter-keeper: theres and Item for you, and so farewell. Exit.