BEARD

Exceeding well she carries it by Jove ; And if she can forbear her Rampant trick, And but hold close a while 'twill take by Mars. I shall do, What fits and honest man. Back. Was bravely fetched about. Nay you're fitted. Mistress. Now Jove forfend. But where's the man? I Like your council, could you show the man. Mistress, take the man, Shall we be baffled with fair promises, Or shall we trudge, Like beggars back again, No, take this wise and virtuous man, Who should a loose his legs, his arms, his ears, His nose, and all his other members, Year if his tongue be left it'll get his living, Take me this man. Shall I be taught how to advance my torch, How and ass; die men Like dogs. And ass, and ass. Water at Dock, A fico for her Dock, yowl not be ruled. Yowl still be obstinate, I'll pawn my fate, She took a long show-lane, and so went home, I home; how could she chosen but go, Seeing so many naked tools at once, Drawn in the street? God give you joy sir. I be sure of that, For I have certain goblins in buff Jerkins Enter with the Sergeants. Lie in ambuscado for him. Her vow is passed, nor will she break her word Look to it mitcher. Not so, I must have money. Foutrè, words are wind, I say I must have money. Three pounds in hand, and all the rest to morrow. Sergeants beware, be sure you not mistake, For If you do. She shall be baylde, Drawer bring up some wine, use her well, Her husband is a Gentleman of sort Drink upon that Whilst we go fetch her bail. Dash, fellow Dash, With all the speed thou hast run for our Master, Make hast least he be gone before thou comest, To Lady Somerfields : I'll fetch another, She shall have bail. And I another: What news boy? why stand you Centinel? Shall maids be here deflowered, Deflower virgins, rogue? avant you slave, Are maids fit subjects for a Sergeants mace. So now are we once more free: ther's for the wine. Ex. Sir. Now to our Randeuow: three pounds in gold These stops contain; weel quaff in Venice glasses, And swear some Lawyers are but silly Asses. Exeunt. By Jove the night grows dark and Luna looks, As if this hour some fifty cuckolds were making, Then let us trudge. And stays the Curate. Whats here knocked down, and blood of men let out, Must men in darkness bleed, then Erebus look big, And Boreas blow the fire of all my rage, Into his nose. Night thou art a whore, Smalshanke a rogue: and is my wench took from me, Sure I am gulled, this was no Coccatryce, I never saw her before this daylight peeped, What droppest thou head, this surely is the heir, And mad will Small-shanks lay in Ambuscado, To get her now from me, Beard : Liefrenant Beard, Thou art and asses what a dull slave was I, That all this while smelled not her honesty. Pate I do not pity thee: hadst thou brains, Lieutenant Beard had God this wealthy heir, From all these rogues, blood to be this orereachd, In pate and wench: revenge, revenge come up, And with thy curled locks cling to my beard, Smale-shamkes I will betray thee: I now will trudge, To Saint Johns street to inform the Lady Sommerfield, Where thou art: I will prevent the match, Thou art to Fleetestreet gone, revenge shall follow, And my incensed wrath shall Like great thunder, Dispersse thy Hope's and thy brave wife a sunder. What's here to do? is all the world in arms? More tumults, brawls, and insurrections, Is blood the Theme whereon our time must treat. Draw? not so: my Blad's as ominously drawn Unto the death of nine or ten such grooms, As is a knife unsheathed with the hungry maw, Threatening the ruin of a chine of Beef: But for the restless toil it took of late, My blade shall sleep awhile. Not I by heaven. By love I gulled thee Throat. Must we be led Like thieves, and pinioned walk, Spent I my blood for this? is this my hire? Why then burn rage, set Beard and nose on fire. Oh rare invention, I'll act my partly, A owes me thirteen pound, I say no more, But there be catchpoles: speak st a match. What are you sure, tide fast by heart and hand. Oh hard at hand, And almost mad with lose of his fair bride Let not my lovely Mistress be seen, And see if you can draw him to compound For all his title to her, I have Sergeants Ready to do the feat, when time shall serve. Will you cheat your father? Stop thee Throat And hear me speak, whose bloody Characters, Will show I have been scuffling: briefly thus, Thy wife, your daughter, and your lovely Niece, Is hurried now to Fleetstreet, the damned crew With glaues and clubs have rapt her from these arms, Throat thou art bobd, although thou boughtest the heir, Yet hath the slave made a reentry. How are we outstripped, Blown up by wit of man: Let us be gone Home again, home again, our market now is done.