BAGLIONI

what Mandragon or salvage Ascapart, what Pantaconger or Pantagruell Art thou that fightest with thy father's soul Or with some subtle apparitions. Which no man can behold with mortal eyes Or art thou ravished with bedlamy Fighting with figments and vain fantasies Chimaeras ot black spirits of the night. And yet I love thee for thy martial grace, Thine in all service: shake hands and embrace. A mouldy jest, well I will answer thee: I coni re thee by Negra Lucia's name, By Dol Pattenti, by the subtle shape, Of Nanna Baliker, by the cunning flights Of Vini Clerilicks with his fair sprights: By Mega Court, with Marga Marichalus, That in Turnuliball does keep and Alehouse: By Nan Riuehomo that hight stigmatist, Now bedded with h the Ita jan Vitraillist, W ich in the fiery Phlegitonian flames, Did work strange vitriall dildidoes for Dams, Her spirits have no power to touch this strand. Till they transported from Lambechia land, By Charon Ferryman of Black Auerne, Fallen Anchor at the Stilliard Tavern, And by Tartarean Pluto's Ebony bowl, Why didst thou combat with thy Father's soul? Goodnight my noble Rillibilb bo, Thou shalt be welcome in the darkest midnight. Exit Bagli. What I my gracious Lord? know I my self? O my good Lord lies fix, found as a bell, With all my warlike furniture beside Good flask and touchbox, a Valentiam blade A slavish dagger, powder of Rheims and bullets Here they been. And if I do not my good Lord dam me for it I have and old grudge at him coal black cur, He sha l have two steel bullets strongly charged Nay but here me my Lord? I'll tell you what, By this rue fox of steel I had as good a spaniel for the water, As ever hunted duck: and this true villain Because my dog did eat up a pannado Within his house; what did that Spanish rogue? What did he think you my Lord? Marry very fair and instantly Poison worser my paniell with Rosa-solis, A pox on him micher, faith isle pay him his old fippence for't now. Afeard my Lord Were it a tempest in a shower of gold I would endure it and adore you for't. No more, but by this cross, Why now this Noble Caesars Like himself, Hath fitted me with service: if the world, Had sought out somewhat to content a man, Nothing could better please old Ballion Then to kill a rascal, coward, cur, A Spanish squirt-vp, a black poisoning toad. I Like this trading better then the wars For there I serve for two ducats a month, And not a duck egg richer when I march And in continual hazard of my life For which percase my piece kills twenty persons: Now shall I march in purse with many ducats, For one hours service but to kill one man, Free from all danger of mine enemy, I will about it and take up my stand. Exit. Well said brave Pincoginger, by mine honour Before I do this service lie there piece. For I must have a saying to those bottles, He drinketh. True stingo stingo by mine honour. O that mine old friend and Boccadillio From cobaldi Wear hear alive again to taste of this other bottle, Well I will venture upon it, that I may drink one hea that To Fr scebaldi I will encounter with this stout He torean, Greek. Were Meleager here that slew the boor. Like a Boracchio armed all in sack, Or stout Achilles in a pewter coat. Or old Assar cus a med in a wicker lyrkin, Or Priamus armed with a leather Jacket, Lined and embossed with Alligant and Hollock By forch of arms and Mars his valiant hand, I would encounter them while I could stand. The laues are busy reading their paphlagonian papers, I must have a aying to y u sir I must; though, You be provided for his Holiness own mouth; I will be, Bold to be the Popes ta ter by his leave. Now trusty Troilus, base los manos. What is the wild goose fallen? have at you Sir, might a poor soldier speak half a score words to your venomous worship and according to your accustomed surliness have no rep yall: I believe you sir, your words are not offenciue in any sort I must confess. Now thou infectious slave, thou compicti ous Rascal, thou confectionary villeine: where is you sublimatum now sir? where is your Ratsbanatum now? now where are your poisoned pu lets in stued-broth? where be they? you never drempt of a poisoned ballet, did you go too? now Signor curri gantino will I rummage in the worm eaten keel of your rotten hulk : passion of my soul what papers are these. Foh powder, powder foh, whats here I marry sir I Like this well, a e you so pursy sir, this may serve to stop a gap in my neighbours hedge, what is this you show me with a S am to you, yea and master of the small ordinance to, this Basilisk hath been often mon ted where there hath been hight and dangerous siruice in the I'll of Japan, hold passion of me my guts, out upon thee thou hast poisoned me with thy stinking breath or with thy villonous powders out alas alas what Syria commotions I feel in my body groping fretting and suming, a plague on your bottle ale with a vengeance, I am peppered there is no reme die in all these extreme agonies! must draw this villeine fur there: and throw him into a ditch, Deh veleno dell Diabolo, fare well farewell my old Shurcordillio Frescobldi farewell Madam Sempronia, for in conscience I am guilty of mine own death o the pangs of hell and purgatory; come you lousy Rascal I will bury thee with carryon in the next ditch. I Conjure thee fowl fiend of Acheron By puissant Hoblecock and Bristletoe, By Windicaper Monti-boggl bo. Polipotmos and the dreadful names of Mulli-sack and Hermocotterock. By Petrovidemi, by the dogged spirits Of Bacchus which Canary land inherrits. By purple Aligant the bloody giant. And leaden headed hollock pure and pliant. By B rrha Martia and by Sydrack sweet Who did with Matthew Glynne in combat meet. And by this awful cross upon my blade Of which black curs and hedghogges are afraid. And by this fox which stinks of Pagan blood, Dost thou walk there for mischief or for good. Come and embrace: 'tis bli h when malte-men meet, And drink till they have lost both head and feet. And drivelling sleep on every stall and bench With every man a knee in his hand and in his Can a pretty wench But Frescobaldi my brave Bodigonero, Varlet of velvet, my moccado villain, Old heart of durance, my stripped canvas shoulders, And my Perpetuana pander tell me; Tell me what humours Cataplasmatick, Excited have thy Bacchick fantasies: To draw that triumphant swerlidildido, Upon some spirit of the Buttery, True my good Lord I very well remember, He was a lousy villain, marry was he, And if he lived yet such is my stomach, That were he chopped in mammockes I could eat him: But for that honour in a soldiers word He spend my life to do your highness service. Here me, but my good Lord mark my words well, If old Henrilico S in in this service Cass ir him, call him whipstock, let him perish, For want of S a is wines, and maluasie. This is a Noble nipster faith, so so. He drinckth. Back again to kennel slave. May it please your highness he serves his Holiness.