MORGAN

Hark you, me Lord Codigune, By the pones of Saint Tany, you have prattled to the King a great deal of good Physic, and for this one of her good lessons and destructions, how call you it, be Cad, I know not very well, I will fight for you with all the George Stones, or the Ursa majors under the Suns. Hark you me, Kings: I pray you now, good Kings, leave your whimbling, and your great proclamations: let death come at her, and would can catch her, and pray God bless her. As for the Rebel Monmouth, I kanow very well what I will do with her. I will make Martlemas beef on her flesh, and false dice on her pones for every Conicatcher: I warrant her for Case bobby and Metheglin: I will make her pate ring noon for all her resurrections and rebellions. Cousin Caradoc, well, in all these pribble prab bles, I pray you, how doth our uncle Cadallan ? be Cad, I herd he had God a knock: if it be so, I pray you look that the lean Cannibal, what do you call him that eat up Julius Caesars and Pompey's : a saucy knave, that cares no more for Kings, then lousy beggars & Chimney-swee pers. I, I, Death, a pox on her: as Cad shudge me, he will eat more Emperors and Kings at one meal, then some Tailors halfpenny loaves, or Usurers decayed shen tlemen in a whole year: therefore I pray you Cousin, have a care of her uncle. In heaven! why did you let her go thither? Angels! Cots blue-hood: I warrant her, there is never a Lawyer in the whole orld, but had rather have e leven shillings, then the best Anshell in heaven. I pray you who sent her thither? Monmouth ! Jesu Christ! did he send her uncle to Saint Peters and Saint Pauls, and not suffer her cousin Morgan to bid her Nos Dhi u ? hark you, Cousin, I'll seek her out be Cad. Farewell, Cousin, I'll make her pring pack her Nuncle with a venshance. God plesse her. Be Cad, Kings, all the Sybil's in the whole orld speak not more tales and prophecies, then our Cousin Morgan: Look you now Kings, our cou sin Caradoc, and our cousin Constantine, break our fasts with mince-pies and Gallymawfryes of legs and arms. Is your Grace a hungry? If you be, I have prought you a Calves head in wool, be Cad; 'tis in my Knappesacke. But hark you me, son Morion ; is all this true, or invented of her own foolish pates and imaginashions? Her tell her true in that; 'tis the prauest Nati on under the Suns for that Hark you me, sons; be Cad, it is a great teale better to be a thief, then a liar, I warrant her. I warrant her, 'tis for more knocks on the pate. Roman call you her? Be Cad, scurvy Romans, that can not let her alone, in her own Countries. I'll choke some of her with cause bobby, or drown her in hogsheads of Perry and Metheglin. I pray you, from whence come her? From Room! And I pray you, what a pox ails her, that you cannot keep her at home? have you any Wasps in her tails? or live Eels in her pelly, you cannot keep her at home? Hark you me: I pray you, how tooth M. Caesar ? tooth he need eram parbour? Look you now: let him come to Wales, and her Cousin Caradoc shall trim his crowns, I warrant her. Cads blue-hood, fight with Teuils. I warrant her, some Ambassadors from Belzebub's shortly. Here's a great teale of sturies. I pray Cad plesse her from TO uils. They are a great teale worse then Marshal men, and Bum-Bayly. From all of them, Cood Lord deliver her. I come, Cousin. I warrant her. By shesu, 'tis a hight whore. Hark you me, you remember our Cousin Can radoc and Morgan, do you not? Give me your hands. Be Cad, I shall love the Tevill, till breath's in her body, for this trick. Be Cad, he hath done more good then any Justice of Peace this seven years, for all her stocks and whipping posts. Hark you me now. Thanks for a Pig in a poake, 'tis pleeding new; and I pray you thank our cousin Caradoc for it: for as Cad shudge me, he was the Caterer: be Cad, he did kill her with one blow in the crag, as you use to kill Conies. Do you not? Hark you me: you were a gteat deal better to kill all the Conies in Wales, then they to kill her. Be Cad, I have known tall men as Hercules, been wounded to death, and kick up her heals in and Hospital, by the by ting of a tame Conies in the City: therefore your wild Conies in the Suburbs, that eat of nothing but Mandrakes & Turne-her-vps, mark you me now, by Sheshu, are worse then Dog days. Her consent, Cousin Caradoc, I warrant her there is never a Lady in England, but consent to give prike and praise to a good thing; go you together: I warrant her. Priests! Cads blue-hood, I should be mad fellow to make Priests: for mark you now, my Lord: the Priests say, Let no man put her asunder: thats very good. But be lieve me, and her will, it is a great deal better to put her between; because the one is a curse, and the fruits of the womb is a great blessing. Fare you well, great King: our Cousin ap Caram donc and I, will make Caesars, with all her Romans, run to the Teuils arse a peak, I warrant her. Exeunt. I pray you look unto her son there: be Cad, he hath no more wit in his pa es, then the arrantest Cander at Coose fair. Exit. From Wales! I pray you, good posts and mes sengers, tell us, how fares all our friends, our Cousin ap Guiniuer, ap Caradoc, ap Voada. Come, come, say nothing: weel go home Like fools as we came. Come, my clothes, my clothes. Well, we may go home with the naked truth. Its no matter, A men a man, though he have but a hose on his head. If his head were taken from his shoulders, 'twere very well, and poale his head on a high crag. The rest sir, mercy upon us, do you reckon me a false knave? by S. Davy, I will melt a stone of tallow from your kidneys. By S. Davies, it is very true. Come you Coxecombe, leave your proclamati ons and your preambles, and tell her the naked truth. Cousin Caradoc, I pray you hold her peace a little. Cads blu-hood, take her for Bedlems, & mad men's? Cads blue-hood, peat out her praynes, for calling her Bedlems. Cads nails? Cood people, does Morgan speak Hebrews or no? Understand her not? Hark you now, Cousin, Cads blue-hood, if you had beat out her praynes, you had peene quiet. Shesu, more troubles and fexashions! what a orld is this? You are a prattling Coxcomb, I would have his head mounted on a poale, for all false knaves to see and behold. Pray you Cousin, let me go. Hark you, hark you Cousin, he speaks British, by shesu, I not strike him now, if he call me three knaves more. God plesse us, if he do not speak as good British, as any is in Troy-walls. Give me both your right hands, I pray you, let us be friends for ever and ever. But he is dead, whither you will or no. And his body shall be dust, whither you will, or no. Hold your tongue there, I beseech you. Cads blue-hood, Cousin, take her to her heals: was never in such tanshers. Will her not stir? why look you now, the Romans come upon her with as many men, as Mercers keep Wenshes; or Wenshes decayed shentle men. Hark you: I'll call her Cousin Mauron, and our Cou sin Constantine, and come to her presently. Cad plesse her. Cornewals, be Cad, you are as arrant a Knave, as any Proker in Longlanes. Hark you me, I'll fight with her for all her treasons and conjurations. Fare you well, Cousin Cornwall, I pray you come mend us to Pluto's and Proserpina's, and tell all the Teuils of your affinity and acquaintance, I thank them for our Cousin Galled. Cads blue-hood, know not our Cousin? I'll give her such a blow on the pate, I'll make her know her cousin's. Cads zwownes, he had best tell her, he knows not her nose on her face. This fellow was porne at hogs Norton, where pigs play on the Organ. Posts call you her? Sploud, were a simple Carpenter to built house on such posts: not know our Cousin's?