WIN

Come, indeed la, you are such a fool, still! You have a hight coal i'your mouth, now, you cannot hold. I'll tell him my self. Sir, my mother has had her natiuity-water cast lately by the Cunning men in Cow lane, and they have told her her for tune, and do ensure her, she shall never have happy hour; un less she marry within this sen'night, and when it is, it must be a Madman, they say. Yes, so the tother man of More-fields says. Where is she? stirring yet? Yes indeed, we have such a tedious life with him for his diet, and his clothes too, he breaks his buttons, and cracks seams at every saying he sobs out. No, he told my mother, a Proctor was a claw of the Beast, and that she had little less then committed abomination in marry king me so as she ha done. Why, John ! do you see this, John? look you! help me, John. Y'faith you are a fool, John. Alas, I am quite off that sent now. Yes, do John. I would I might John, but my mother will never con sent to such a profane motion : she will call it. No, I'll not make me unready for it. I can be Hypocrite enough, though I were never so straight laced. I, Let her alone, John, she is not a wise wilful widow for nothing, nor a sanctified sister for a song. And let me alone too, I have somewhat o'the mother in me, you shall see, fetch her, fetch her, ah, ah. Now, the blaze of the beauteous discipline, fright away this evil from our house! how now Win-the-fight, Child: how do you? Sweet child, speak to me. Yes, forsooth. (Uh, uh.) A profane black thing with a beard, John. Yes, a great deal, John, (uh, uh.) I, but i'the Fair, mother. Uh, uh. That these people should be so ignorant to think us chapmen for them! do we look as if we would buy Gingerbread? or Hobby-horses? Do not see him! he is the roaring horse-courser, pray thee let's avoid him: turn down this way. You may draw me to as likely and inconvenience, when you please, as this. Not of the company I am in, Sir, nor the place, I assure you. Mother o'the Furies, I think, by her firebrand. And inspired vessel of Kitchin-sluffe! And then he would be a fort'night weighing up again. Let's away, her language grows greasier then her Pigs. Pray thee, let's go. This is scurvy, that we must come into the Fair, and not look on't. I love not enterprises of that suddenness, though. What doe's he talk to himself, and act so seriously? poor fool! Was there ever such a self-affliction? and so imper tinent? How melancholi' Mistress Grace is yonder! pray thee let's go enter our selves in Grace, with her. That conveyance was better then all, did you see't? he has given the purse to the ballad-singer. Alack, good Numps. It's true! but will you please to withdraw with us, a little, and make them think, they have lost you. I hope our man ners have been such hitherto, and our language, as will give you no cause, to doubt your self, in our company. What say you, John? But we sha'not eat o'the Bull, and the Hog, John, how shall I long then? Yes John, but I know not what to do. For a thing, I am ashamed to tell you, faith, and it's too far to go home. Hang him, base Bobchin, I scorn him; no, I have very great, what shall call'um, John. Will you leave me alone with two men, John ? How, Sir? is and honest woman's life a scurvy life? What, and be honest still, that were fine sport. Lord, what a fool have I been! I wonder where Tom Quarlous is, that he returns not, it may be he is struck in here to seek us. Yes goodman. They do so all to be Madame me, I think they think me a very Lady! Must I put off my masque to him? How would my husband know me, then? Yes, a great deal. When will they begin, trow? in the name o'the Motion ? That's I, that's I. Numps is come! But do you think you can get one?