TATTLE

I cannot abide that nasty fellow, the Beggar, if he had been a Court-Begger in good clothes; a Beggar in velvet, as they say, I could have endured him. I would feign see the Fool, gossip, the Fool is the finest man t'the company, they say, and has all the wit: He is the very Justice of Peace o'the Play, and can cemmit whom he will, and what he will, error, absurdity, as the toy takes him, and no man say, black is his eye, but laugh at him. It's a wise Play, then. My husband, ( Timothy Tatle, God rest his poor soul) was wont to say, there was no Play without a Fool, and a Devil in't; he was for the Devil still God bless him. The Devil for his money, would he say, I would feign see the Devil. And why would you so feign see the Devil? would I say. Because he has horns, wife, and may be a cuckold, as well as a Devil, he would answer: You are even such another, husband, quoth I. Was the Devil ever married? where do you read, the Di ll was ever so honourable to commit Matrimony; The Play will tell us, that, says he, wee'll go see't to morrow, the Devil is and Ass. He is and errant learned man, that made it, and can write, they say, and I am foully deceived, but he can read too. Oh, it was, Mistress — Oh, but the poor man had God a shrewd mischance, one day. He had dressed a Rogue Jade i'the morning, that had the Stag gers, and had God such a spice of them himself, by noon, as they would not away all the Play time, do what he could, for his heart. Say you so, I understood not so much. But here is never a Fiend to carry him away. Beside, he has never a wooden dagger! I'd not give a rush for a Vice, that has not a wooden dagger to snap at every body he meets. By Lady but he should not to mine, I would harken, and harken, and censure, if I saw cause, for th'other Princess sake Pokahon tas, surnamed the blessed, whom he has abused indeed (and I do censure him, and will censure him) to say she came forth of a Tavern, was said Like a paltry Poet. When it is churned, and dish't, we shall hear of it. He has rich ingredients in him, I warrant you, if they were ex tracted, a true receipt to make and Alderman, and he were well wrought upon, according to Art. Why? This was the worst of all! the Catastrophe! Marry, I would have the old conicatcher cozened of all he has, i'the young heirs defence, by his learned counsel, M r Picklock! In a word, they were beastly buttered! he shall never come of my bred more, nor my in mouth, if I can help it. I have had better news from the bakehouse, by ten thousand parts, in a morning: or the conduicts in Westminster! all the news of Tutle -street, and both the Alm'ries ! the two Sanctuaries long, and round Wool-staple ! with Kings -street, and Canon -row to boot! Why, I had it from my maid Joan Hearsay: and she had it from a limb o'the school, she says, a little limb of nine year old; who told her, the Master left out his conjuring book one day, and he found it, and so the Fable came about. But whither it were true, or no, we Gossips are bound to believe it, an't be once out, and a foot: how should we entertain the time else, or find our selves in fashionable discourse, for all companies, if we do not credit all, and make more of it, in the reporting? Like enough, for he had the chiefest partly in his play, if you mark it. I, but set a beggar on horseback, hee'll never linne till he be a gallop. And showed her to them all! was not jealous! Erect a College! As the Doctors? I would have flyen in his gypsies face faith. No, I would have Master Pyed-mantle, her Graces He rald, to pluck down his hatchments, reverse his coat-armour, and nul lifie him for no Gentleman. And us too Non-solvent— Subsigned. Tatle, Stay, they come again. He comes out in the patchd cloak his father left him. N Ay, they are fit, as they had been made for me, And I am now a thing, worth looking at! The same, I said I would be in the morning. No Rogue, at a Comitia of the Canters, Did ever there become his Parents Robes Better, then I do these: great fool! and beggar! Why do not all that are of those societies, Come forth, and gratulate me one of theirs? Me thinks, I should be, on every side, saluted, Dauphin of beggars! Prince of Prodigals! That have so fallen under the ears, and eyes, And tongues of all, the fable o'the time, Matter of scorn, and mark of reprehension! I now begin to see my vanity, Shine in this Glass, reflected by the foil! Where is my Fashioner? my Featherman? My Linnener? Perfumer? Barber? all? That tail of Riot, followed me this morning? Not one! but a dark solitude about me, Worthy my cloak, and patches; as I had The epidemical disease upon me: And I'll fit down with it.