HOBSON

Bones a me, must your crimson throat Be scoured with wine? your master's glad of beer: But yowl die bankrupts, knaves, and ban querouts all. And where have you been? A Dagger Pie! vd's daggers death, these knaves Set cock a hope, but Hobson pays for all. But bones a me, knaves either mend your manners. Leave Alehouses, taverns, and the tippling mates, Your Punks, and cockatrices, or isle clap you Close up in Bride well, bones of me isle doo't, First, bones a God, why 'tis your common course, And you must needs be gusling, go by turns, One to the Alehouse, and two keep the shop. Bones a God, knave, th'art welcome what's the news At bawdy Barnewell, and at Sturbridge Fair? What, have your London wenches any trading? Good girls, they do their kind, what your packs empty? Good news, a sign you bring your purses full, And bones a God, full purses must be welcome: Sort out their wares: welcome's your endue: Pay the old debt, and pen and ink for new. Bones a God, knaves you are welcome, but what news? What news i'the Country? what Commodities Are most respected with your country Girls? And ancient wearing: ther's some changeable stuff Has been a wear with women, time out of mind. Still a good hearing, let the country pay Well for their pride, 'tis gratis here at London, And that's the cause 'tis grown so general. But feed their humours, and do not spare, Bring Country-money for our London beware. No harm good M. Gresham, pray draw near: I'll but dispatch a few old Customers, And bend a present ear to your discourse. Nay my task is done: Oh M. Gresham was a golden world When we were Boys, and honest Country-yeoman, Such as our father's were, God rest their souls Would were white Karfie: bones a me you knaves, Stools for these Gentlemen, your worships welcome. About your kinsman, He shall be welcome: beseech you Gentlemen Less of your courtesy: when shall we see the Youth? Which, bones a me man, which? Which, where, what this young gentleman! Bones a me man, he's not for Hobsons turn. He looks more Like my Master then my servant. I thank you for't, And for your sake isle give him entertainment? But Gentleman if you become my man, You must become more civil: bones a me, What a curled pate is here? I must ha'te off, You see my Livery, Hobsons men are known By their Freeze Coats: and you will dwell with me, You must be plain, and leave of bravery. Pray God it prove so. well, M. Gresham, partly for your love, And chiefly to supply my present want, Because you say your kinsman is well seen Both in languages and factorship, I do intend to send him into France, In trust both with my Marchandzies and my Cash. What are your books made even with your accounts? Bones a me knave, Ten pounds in a morning: here's the fruit Of Dagger Pies, and Alehouse-guslings: Make even your Reckonings, or Gods mother knaves, You shall all smart for't. Bones a me, knaves, I have pa'yd soundly for my Country news: What was his name? Now bones a me, what careless Knaves keep I, Give me the book, what habit did he were? Art sure: then set him down John Tawny-coat. Bones a God man, these knaves will beggar me. Thank God for all: when I came first to town, It would have shook me shrewdly: but M. Gresham. How stands your difference with Sir Thomas Ramsey? Are you made friends yet? 'Tis passing strange: were Hobson in your coat, Ere i'de consume a penny amongst Lawyers, Idem giu`t poor people, bones a me I would. Bones a me, man, 'twill do that quickly. With all my heart, both company and purse: Bones a me, knaves, look better to my shop: Men of our trade must wear good husbands eyes, Amongst many Chapmen there are few that buys. My leisure now your business attends, Time's won not lost, that's spent to make men friends. Bones a me, you are both to blame: (a Knight. We two Like friends, come to conclude your strife, And you Like fishwives fallen a scolding here. Heigh day, bones a me Was't ever seen two men to scold before? Here's, I know thy rising, and I know thine, When as Gods blessing, that hath raised them both. Am I worse because in Edwards days, When Popery went down, I did engross Most of the Beads that were within the Kingdom, That when Queen Marry, had renewed that Church, They that would pray on Beads were forced to me: I made them stretch their purse-strings, grew rich thereby, Beads were to me a good commodity. Friends, M. Doctor Nowell, look you here, Here's M. Greshams hand. This seven year they have been in law together. How much such men as they in seven yeares' spend, Lawyres may laugh at, but let wise men judge. Bones a me, isle hold you fast, I will not have a couple of such men Make cackling lawyers rich, and themselves fools, And for a trifling cause: as I am old Hobson. Body of me, both shall be schooled, M. Worser. Nowell, You know the cause that this contention, Is only that he bought a piece of land This had given earnest for, all Adam's earth, And Adam's earth is free for Adam's sons, And 'tis a shame men should contend for it: What ere you speak shall for a sentence stand, And being spoke, they shall shake hand in hand. No matter. The judgement stands, only this verdite too, Had you before the law foreseen the lose, You had not now come home by weeping cross. Strifes may as well have end betwixt honest men, Lawyers set fools to Law, then laugh at them. Shake hands, by the Marry God, sir Thomas what else, Amen, amen, to you both. And is not 'tis better then every Term to trot after Lawyers? Day M. Gresham, let me see: I took a fellows word for twenty pound The tenth of March, the tenth of March. Bones a me knave, art there yet? I thought thou hadst been half way there by this. Bones of me then I have herd lies, For I have herd he was a scullion, And raised himself by venture of a Cat. Bones a me 'tis true: why should we live, To have the poor to curse us being dead? Heaven grant that I may live, that when I die, Although my children laugh, the poor may cry. No more M. Worser. Nowell, no more, I think these words should make a man of flint. To mend his life: how say you M Gresham? In my time I have seen many of them. Bones a me, M. Gresham, is my man John Gone away with your hundred pound? No bones a me knaves, not for a million: Friend, come to pay me money, for what, for what, For what come you to pay me money? Bones a me a merry knave: what's thy name? And had ten pound in beware of me, a month ago: Bones give me the books, John Goodfellow of Kenned. Tell me of no of me here's no such matters Away knave away, thou owest me none, out of my doors. There's a groat, go drink a pint of Sack, Comfort thy self thou art not well in thy wits; God forbid, pay me ten pound not endue to me. Nimble-chaps, call for help Nimble-chaps, Bones of me the man begins to rave. John Tawny-cote! welcome John Tawny-cote. A stool for John Tawny-cote, fit good John Tawny-cote. Honest John Tawny-cote, welcome John Tawny-cote. Thou art honest John, honest John Tawny-cote: Having so honestly paid for this, Sort up his pack straight worth twenty pound, I'll trust thee honest John, Hobson will trust thee: And any time, the beware that thou dost lack, Money or money not, isle stuff thy pack. How, bones a me, Queen know Hobson, Queen know And send but for one hundred pound: Friend come in; (Hobson? Come in friend, shall have two, Queen shall have two: If Queen know Hobson, once her Hobsons purse, Must be free for her she is England's Nurse: Come in good friend, would, Queen know Hobson, Nay come in John we'll dine together too. And bones of me, old Hobson will be one, Here's fellowys there's my gold give me a stone. Fore-God my Lord, have you beheld the Like! Look how it streaks, what do you think of it? By the Marie-god it was a dangerous day, Three Kings beside young Stewkeley slain: I'll tell you my Lord Mayor what I have seen When sword and bucklers were in question, I have seen that Stewkeley Beatrice a street before him, He was so familiar grown in every mouth, That if it happened any fighting were, The question straight was, was not Stewkely there. Bones a me he would hew it. Now, what news with you? Oh and answer of a Letter that I sent, To send me Matches against Bristol fair, If then any were come. What's here, what's here. As near as I could guess at your meaning, I have laboured to fur nish you, and have sent you 2. thousand pounds worth of Match. How, bones knave, 2. thousand pounds worth of Match! Bones a me, I sent for matches of beware, fellows of beware. The blazing Star did not appear for nothing: I sent to be sorted with matches of beware, And he hath sent me nought, but a commodity of Match, And in a time when ther's no vent for it. What do you think on't Gentlemen, I little thought Jack would have served me so. Mother a me what a thick mist is here: I walked abroad to take the morning's air, And I am out of knowledge, bones a me What Meads, what Enclosures have we here? How now old Hobson, dote in thine old age? A fool a threescore, whither wilt thou wit? I crossed the water in my gown and slippers, To see my rends and buildings of the Bankside, And I am slipped clean out of ken, fore-god A woolgathering. Would, would, I smile at my own foolery, Now I remember mine old Grandmother Would talk of Fairies and Hobgoblins, That would led milkmaids over hedge and ditch, Make them milk their M. neighbours kine, And ten to one this Robin Godfellow, Hath led me up and down the mad men maze. I hear some company, for shame all whist, Fit thee down Hobson a right man, in the missed. Hobson, Bones a me, What voice is that? art thou a man, or friend? Tell me if thou be'st that Will of the wisp, That leadest me this wild Morris: I coniute thee To leave me to my self. I am in the missed, what art thou, speak? A Debtor of mine, mother of me thou liest, I know thee not, nor do I know this place: If thou owest me any thing, pay me with thy love, And if thou be'st acquainted in these woods, Conduct me to some Town, or direct road That leads to London, and isle here discharge thee Of debts and duties, and beside impart Somewhat to cherish thee. Now bones a me another Tawniecote: What's thy name Knave? And I the Hobson that will pity thee: Now bones a me, what makest thou with a spade? Now alas good soul, It melts my heart to hear him, and mine eyes Could weep for company, what earnest a day? Alas the while, poor soul I pity them, And in thy words as in a lookingglass, I see the toil and travel of the country, And quiet gain of cities blessedness. Heavens will for all, and should not we respect it We were unworthy life: but bones of me, Dost thou think to pay me twenty pound, And keep thy charge, earning a groat a day? Give it me, somewhat hath some savour, And yet shall I spend that which the poor laborer God? No God forbid, old Hobson never will eat, Rather then surfeit upon poor men's sweat: Take it again, and by thy children bred. But soft the missed does break, what town is this? Bones a me, to Detford came I to do charity: I see was Gods appointment, But who comes here, bones a me honest Time, Was said in London you were bound for France, And I determined to have write by you. Bones a me Time, so speedy in your journey, It seems your business was of much import. Mother a me Time, I am glad of it, But how does my factor John Gresham in France? Mother of me, leave of these Parables, And tell me plainly, is he not a wencher? Mother of me 'tis so, In a French Tavern Kissing the Lady, and the Sea betwixt us: I am for you M. John: thus in my gown and slippers, And nightcap and gown isle step over to France, Here Tawnicote, receive thou my sealed ring, Bear it to my Factor, bid him by that token Sort thee out forty pounds worth of such wares As thou shalt think most beneficial: Thou art a freeman, up with thy Trade again, I'll raise thee Rouland, if God say Amen. Tut bones a me man peace, Hobson will doo't; Tou owest me but twenty pound, I'll venture forty more, Timothy here shall be thy witness To my Factor in this business. To all our friends in London say, I am gone Over to France, I am for your M. John. Damsel good day, is there not a fellow here and English-Here's and Englishman, but none of your fellow neither: I hope sir we are not all fellows at football. Nay bones a me Girl, there's no reason we should he fellows, but prethe my wench is there not one Jack Gresham here? Bones a me goodman Master, Master servant, Old goodman Hobson keeps Gentlemen to his men Jack turned to M. John, marry sir reverence, The french maid taught me manners: well I hope We shall have a sighed of the Gentleman. Sante amen: Man John, a wenchart Knave, rack and manger knave: bones a me, cannot a snatch and away serve your turn, but you must lie at rack and manger? Is this the beware you deal with servant John? Sirrah, Sirrah, the dealing with such war belongs not to our Trade: bones a me knave, a Prentice must not occupy for himself but for his Master, to any purpose. Come you're a knave. God bless thy Grace Queen Bess. Knowest thou not me Queen? then thou knowest no Bones a me Queen, I am Hobson, and old Hobson (body: By the Stocks, I am sure you know me. Bones a me woman send to borrow money Of one you do not know, there's a new trick: Your Grace sent to me by a Pursuivant, And by a privy Seal to lend your Highness And hundred pound: I hearing that my Queen Had needs of money, and thinking you had known me, Would needs upon the bearer, force two hundred: The Queen should have had three rather then fail, I by this hand Queen Bess, I am old Hobson A Haberdasher, and dwelling by the Stocks: When thou seest money with thy Grace is scant, For twice five hundred pound thou shalt not want. No, no my Sovereign, I'll take thine own word without skrip or scroll. They are knaves both, a Horse, A hundred thousand pound cannot make a man: A hundred shall not hang one by my means: Men are more worth then money M. Rouland, Come help me to a horse, the next I meet, To save the knave's life galloppes through the street. Hyday, bones a me, here's lazy knaves. Passed eight a clock, and neither beware sorted, Not shop swept. I but sirrah, I'll have none of my English Prentices Frenchefied; bones a me knave, I'll have thee deal with no such broken Commodities. No, what is she then John? Bones a me knave I cannot speak a word of French. Madam, I cry you mercy for this wrong Done to your Ladyship, I did suspect you For a bade liver, but I see you clear, For which mistake, I do remain your servant. How, would you my grey Mare see? If it Like your Ladyship, I came by water, and neither of Mares back, nor horse back. No indeed Lady, my name is not Frauneis, your sir vant and John Hobson. I have no points in my parlour indeed, but I have a hundred pounds worth in my shop. Swee honest John, why bones a me knave John. Nay, bones a me John, friends, sweet John all friends; I do confess tha'st o'reacht thy master. Can me, Can thee, conceal this from my wife, And I'll keep all thy knavery from thine uncle. Nay, bones a me, I'll take you at your word, Beside I hope these honest Gentlemen Will save my credit. 'Tis Logic to me sir, I understand you not. I hope they'le bring me to no more bawdy houses, I would not be taken napping again for two and one: But Gentlemen I'll accept of courtesy, and then John You shall with me to England, weel show France Our backs. And you will needs deal for your self, Afore your time, you shall doo't in England. Will you walk Gentlemen? Beside, thou canst not keep open shop here, because thou art a foreigner, by the laws of the Realm. What sayest thou knave? Bones of me, a Haberdasher of small wares. No points; yes indeed Lady, I have points at my hose, though I go untrust. A search, and this a bawdy house! why John, Bones a me knave, How comes this to pass? How, must you have money of me? I'll know where before first, by your leaves. How, must I go to prison for doing amiss? Bones a me John, is not this a Lady? Is not this Gentlewoman a dealer? And hath she not a good commodity? Hath she not beware? And may not then a chapman deal with her? God a mercy Gentlemen, God a mercy John, but bones a me knave, where are their lodgings? Good morrow Master Doctor; my good Lady! Bones a me woman, thou lookest sad to day, Thou hast not drunk a cup of sack this morning. Gods blessing of your heart, needs must be fed, Let us that have it give the hungry bred. My new elected master of the Hospital, What hasty news with you? Where? bones a me why? speak, why? Bones man, 'tis not so. A horse, a horse, carthorse, malt horse, anything To save the knaves life, I protest, I swear This was the first time that I herd the knave Hath been in any trouble, bones of me, Was done without my knowledge. Bones a me! I thought as much: art not thou Tawnicote? I have slipped over into France, and in my slippers Given all my friends the slip, to see this Gallant My man, he that hath matched me: bones a me, The knave's a Prophet, else it could not be. He's not at his Lodging; yet by and English Factor, A fellow knows not me, I was directed Unto this house, I'll know what business The knave hath here. Pulsat. It's been used long at London. Money is welcome chaffer, welcome good friend, Welcome good friend. How knaves, think scorn to receive my money? Bones a me grown proud, proud knaves, proud. God, will be done M. Dean, hape what hap will, Death does not fear the good man but the ill. Bones a me John, what John? why honest John? No more good John.