ISMENUS

If you have lain with her tell your Father, No doubt he has done as ill before now: The Gentlewoman will be proud ont. Who prates? Ime glad of that too: Sir will you dispatch Us, we shall wither here for ever. How now man, struck dead with a tale? Stand of your self: can you endure blows, and shrink at words? Why, for the other let her marry and hang, 'tis no purposed fault of yours: and if your father will needs have your cast whore, you shall show the duty of a child better in being contented, and bidding much good do his good old heart with her, then in repining thus at it: let her go: what, there are more wenches man, weel have another. This Rogue mocks me. Well Timantus, pray how have you sped here at home at shouelboord? How many Stags have you been at the death of this grass? Prithee how does the dun Nag? Mock thee? Yes by my troth do I: why what wouldst thou have me do with thee? Art good for any thing else? Sir, I am sure we dream this cannot be. Look, do you see whose there? your for tuous Mother's issue: kill her, yet take some little bid ling revenge. She's come again. How does your good mother? Are you so simple, to make so much of this, Do you not know, That all her wicked mother labours for, is but to raise Her to your right, and leave her this Duked ome. Nay as you will. Will you not take revenge? I le call them on. And what house will you go too? You may kill your mother, and never offend your father and honest man. Tima. a pox take him, would I had him here, I would kill him at his own weapon single sithes we have built enough on him: plague ont, Ime out of all patience: discharge such and Army as this, that would have followed you without paying, o gods! This is one of your moral Philosophy is it? Heaven bless me from subtleties to undo my self with; But I know if, reason her self were here, She would not partly with her own safety. of whom? Heart, you shall take no leave of me. No by the gods shall you not: nay if you have no more wit but to go absolutely alone, I'll be in a little. I wonnoty faith, never move it any more; for by this good light I wonnot. Yes if you can Beatrice me away: else, the gods resuse me if I will leave you till I see more reason; you sha'nt undo your self. Why I'll tell you, Because when you are gone, then — life, if I have not forgotten my reason— heel take me: you put me out of patience so: Oh! marry when you are gone, then will your Mother: a pox confound her, she never comes in my head but she spoils my memory to: there are a hu ̄ dreaded reasons. Show you, what a stir here is, why I will show you: Do you think; well, well, I know what I know, I pray come, come. 'Tis in vain: but I am sure. Devils take em, what do I meddle with em? You know your self. Soul, I think I am: is there any man ith world? as if you knew not this already better then I. Pish, pish, I le give no reason. 'Tis true, and in the same Proclamation your fine sister Urania, whom you used so kindly, is pre claimed heir apparent to the Crown. Danger, hang danger, what tell you me of danger? I dare not: if you speak it in earnest, you are a boy. Why so you shall, I will stay. Pox o'me self for and Ass, I me crying now, God be with you, if I never see you again: why then pray get you gone, for grief and anger wonnot let me know what I say. I'll to the Court as fast as I can, and see the new heir apparent. What would her new Grace have with me? God bless him that shall be thy husband, if thou wearest breeches thus soon, thoult be as im pudent as thy mother. Why wouldst not thou have thy brains Beatrice out for this, to follow thy mother's steps so young? Believe you? why do you think I never had wits? or that I am run out of them? how should it belong to you to know, If I could tell? And Ambassador. Pray, I know that too well, what ten? Oh that thou hadst no seed of thy Mother in thee, and couldst mean this now. By my troth I do: I know Ime and Ass fort, But I cannot help it. You fleering harlot, I'll have a horse to leap thee, and thy base issue shall carry Sumpters. Come Lords, bring her along, weel to the Prince all, where her hell-hood shall wait his censure; and if he spare thee she Goat, may he lie with thee again; and be side, mayest thou upon him some nastle soul dis ease that hate still follows, and his end, a dry ditch. Lead you corrupted whore, or I'll draw Good shall make you skip: away to the Prince. Sir, for you we come, as Soldiers to revenge the wrongs you have suffered under this naughty Creature: what shall be done with her? say, I am ready. Monstrous woman, Mars would weep at this, and yet she cannot. See, she stands as if she were inventing Some new destruction for the world. I come to make you somewhat sadder sir. Your Father's dead. How do you sir? Let her be damned already as she is: post all for Surgeants. It shall be so. No Sir, I know not Sir. Has his ways by him self, is too wise for my come pany. But that all's nothing to make you thus: your Sisters dead. Madame, you know I dare not speak before The King; but you know well, if not I le tell it you, You are the most wickedest, and most murderous Strumpet that ever was called Woman. Yes, I think so: some goods happened I war rant; Do you hear you? What honest man has scapd misery, that you are crying thus? You know I love you but too well. Where her feign Grace? What is't? if it be no great matter whither I do or no, perhaps I will. And what is't? I faith you shan be hanged first, is your mother so foolish to think yonr good Grace can sift it out of me? I shall prove a ridiculous fool, I'll be damned else: hang me if I do not half believe thee. Yes faith will I, or any thing else ith world, for I think thou art as good a creature as ever was born. Nay by this light I do not think thou wilt: I'll presently provide thee money and a letter. Nay I'll shake ye, yes devil, I will shake ye. Do you hear Whore, a plague a God upon thee, the Duke is dead. I, wildfire and brimstone take thee: good man he is dead, and passed those Misery's which thou, salt infection-like, Like a disease, flungst upon his head. Doffed thou hear, and it not more respect in Woe manhood in general then thee, because I had a More there, who I will not say she was good, she lived so near thy time, I would have thee in vengeance of this man, whose peace is made in heaven by this time, tied to a post, and dryde ith sun, and after carried about and shone at fairs for money, with a long sto rye of the devil thy father that taught thee to be who rish, envious, bloody. To what sir? I will interpret for him; she shall have burial according to her own deserts, with dogs. I am ready. Agenor, go and let the Trumpets found Some mournful thing, while we convey the body Of this unhappy Prince unto the Court, And of that virtuous Virgin to a graven: But drag her to a ditch, where let her lie Accursed, while one man has a memory. I am sure not I: nor have known twice this ten days, which if I were as proud as some of em I should take scurvily, but he is a young man: Let him have his swinge, 'twill make him. Theres some good matter now in hand: How the slave geers and grins: the Duke is pleased. Theres a new pair of Scarlet Hose now, and as much Money to spare, as will fetch the old from pawn, a Hat and a Cloak to go out to morrow: Garters and stockings come by nature. Why killed you her not? 'Slight, if all the women ithe world were Barren, she had died. Nay, 'tis well, if he know himself, but some of the Nobility have delivered a petition to him: whats int, I know not, but it has put him to his trumps: he has taken a months time to answer it and chafes Like himfelfe. Why will you hear him? I would hear blasphemy as willingly. Take heed, this is your Mother's scorpion, That carries stings even in his tears, Whose soul is a rank poison through: Touch Not at him, if you do you are gone, if you had twenty Lives: I knew him from a Roguish boy, when He would poison Dogs, and keep tame Toads, He lay with his Mother, and infected her, and now She begs ith Hospital, with a patch of velvet, Where her Nose stood: Like the queen of spades. And all her Teeth in her purse, the Devil and this Fellow are so near, 'Tis not yet known which is the euiller Angel. Help thee: why the Pox take him that will not help thee to any thing ith world; I'll help thee to Money, and I'll doe't presently to, and yet soul, If you should play the scurvy Harlotry little pocky baggage now and cozen me, what then? I le trust none of em that come of such a breed. You are not so mad to go; shift of this fellow, you shall be ruled once by a wise man: rats bane get you gone, or — The great pox on you: but thou hast that curse so much, 'twill grow a blessing in thee shortly. Sir, for wisdoms sake court not your death, I am your friend and subject, and I shall loose in both: if I loved you not, I would laugh at you, and see you run your neck into the noose, and cry a Woodcock. Go, and let your own rod whip you: I pity you, And dog, if he miscarry thou shalt pay fort, I'll study for thy punishment, and it shall last Longer and sharper then a tedious Winter, Till thou blasphemst, and then thou diest and dambst. Yes, free o'th Traitors, for you are proclay med one. But whats this to knowing where the Prince is? Are you inventing still? weel ease your studies. Sir, I will break down none my self, But I will deliver your command: Hand I will have none int, for I Like it not. Ime glad ont. Then gave I none at all, for all I have in me Directs me: Your Father's in a pretty Rage. You believe all this: A good faith does well, but me thinks It were no harden matter now, for her Mother to send Her: yonder's one you may trust if you will too. Why there; hast wept thine eyes out? Nor as thou art, y faith a whit to blame, Never pardon him and silence a knave. This love, this halter: if he prove not yet The cunningest, Rankest Rogue that ever Canted, I'll never see man again, I know him to bring, And can interpret every new face he makes, Look how he wrings Like a good stool for a tear, Take heed, Children and Fools First feel the smart: Then weep. Of Fiddlers: Thou a Company? No, no, keep thy company at home, & cause cuckolds, The wars will hurt thy face, theres no semsters, Shoemakers, nor Tailors, nor almond milkith morning, Nor poached eggs to keep your worship soluble, No man to warm your shyrt, and blow your roses: Nor none to reverence your round lace breeches: If thou wilt needs go, and go thus, Get a case for thy Captainship, a shower will spoil thee else. Thus much for thee. Timantus wilt thou go with me?