MISTRESS MERRYTHOUGHT

Give thee my blessing? No, Il'e never give thee my blessing, Il'e see thee hanged first; it shall never be said I gave thee my blessing, th'art thy father's own son, of the right blood of the Merry-thoughts, I may curse the time that ere I knew thy father, he hath spent all his own, and mine too, and when I tell him of it, he laughs and dan ces, and sings, and cries, A merry heart lives long. And thou art a wast-thrift, and art run away from thy master, that loved thee well, and art come to me, and I have laid up a little for my younger son Michael, and thou thinkest to be zell that, but thou shalt never be able to do it. Come hither Michael, come Michael, down on thy knees, thou shalt have my blessing. God bless thee: but Jasper shall never have my blessing, he shall be hanged first, shall he not Michael? how sayest thou? That's a good boy. I faith I had sorrow enough for thee (God knows) but Il'e hamper thee well enough: get thee in thou vagabond, get thee in, and learn of thy brother Mi chael. Hark, my husband he's singing and hoiting, And Im'e feign to cark and care, and all little enough. Husband, Charles, Charles Merithought. If you would consider your state, you would have little lust to sing, Iwis. But how wilt thou do Charles, thou art and old man, and thou canst not work, and thou hast not forty shil lings left, and thou eatest good meat, and drinkest good drink, and laughest? But how wilt thou'come by it Charles? Well Charles, you promised to provide for Jas per, and I have laid up for Michael, I pray you pay Jasper his portion, he's come home, and he shall not consume Mi chaels stock: he says his master turned him away, but I pro mice you truly, I think he ran away. I foul chive him, he is too merry. Jasper, Michael. Why Charles, do you not know your own natural wife? I say, open the door, and turn me out those mangy companions; it's more then time that they were fellow and fellow Like with you: you are a Gentleman Charles, and and old man, and father of two children; and I my self (though I say it) by my mother's side, Niece to a worshipful Gentleman, and a Conductor, would has been three times in his Majesties service at Chester, and is now the fourth time, God bless him, and his charge upon his journey. Come Michael, art thou not weary boy? Where be we now child? No Michael, not all the world boy, but I can assure thee Michael, Mile-end is a goodly matter, there has be a pitch-field my child between the naughty Spaniels and the Englishmen, and the Spaniels ran away Michael, and the Eng lish-men followed, my neighbour Coxstone was there boy, and killed them all with a birding piece. What says my white boy? No Michael, let thy father go snicke-vp, he shall never come between a pair of sheets with me again, while he lives, let him stay at home & sing for his supper boy, come child fit down, and I'll show my boy fine knacks indeed, look here Michael, here's a Ring, and here's Bruch, & here's a Bracelet, and here's two Rings more, and here's money and gold bi'th eye my boy. I Michael thou shalt have all Michael. Oh Michael, we are betrayed, we are betrayed here be Giants, fly boy, fly boy, fly. Alas sir, I am a poor Gentlewoman, and I have lost my money in this forest. Out alas, I left a thousand pound, a thousand pound, e'ne all the money I had laid up for this youth, upon the sighed of your Mastership, you looked so grim, and as I may say it, saving your presence, more Like a Giant then a mortal man. Has he not cause to weep do you think, when he hath lost his inheritance? Truly Master Knight of the Burning Pestle I am weary. Master Knight of the burning Pestle, my son Michael and I, bid you farewell, I thank your Worship hear tily for your kindness. I thank your Worship. Micke my boy? Be merry Micke we are at home now; where I warrant you, you shall find the house flung out at the win dowes: Hark, heigh dogs, heigh, this is the old world Faith with my husband, if I get in among they, I'll play em such a lesson, that they shall have little list to come scraping him there, again. Why master Merry-thought, husband, Charles Merry-thought. Why M r . Merrithought, are you disposed to make me wait here: you'll open I hope, Il'e fetch them that shall open else. Now a Churls fart in your teeth sir: Come Micke, we'll not trouble him, a shall not ding us i'th teeth with his bred and his broth: that he shall not: come boy, Il'e provide for thee, I warrant thee: we'll go to master Ven terwels the Merchant, Il'e get his letter to mine Host of the Bell in Uvaltham, there Il'e place thee with the Tapster; will not that do well for thee Micke? and let me alone for that old Cuckoldly knave your father, Il'e use him in his kind, I warrant ye. Peace be to your Worship, I come as a poor Suitor to you sir, in the behalf of this child. Yes truly, would I had never seen his eles, would has undone me and himself and his children, & there he lives at home & sings, & hoights, & Revels among his drunken continued ̄ panions, but, I warrant you, where to get a penny to put bred in his mouth, he knows not: and therefore if it Like your Worship, I would entreat your letter, to the honest Host of the Bel in Uvaltham, that I may place my child under the protection of his Tapster, in some settled course of life. Will you so sir, how say you by that? come Micke, let him keep his wind to cool his Porrage, we'll go to thy Nurses Micke, she knits silk stockings boy, and we'll knit too boy, and be beholding to none of them all. What M r . Merry-thought, will you not let's in? what do you think shall become of us? You know me well enough, I am sure I have not been such a stranger to you. You will not have us starve here, will you M r . Merry-thought? Why M r . Merry-thought, will you be a vexed thing still? Well, you must have your will when al's done. Micke what song canst thou sing boy? Song. It was, a Ladies daaghter, &c. So Michael, now get thee gone too. No Michael, it's now matter for his blessing, thou hast my blessing, begone; Il'e fetch my money & Jew else, and follow thee: Il'e stay no longer with him I warrant thee, truly Charles Il'e begone too. Why M r . Merrithought, what am I that you should laugh me to scorn thus abruptly? am I not your fell low-feeler (as we may say) in all our Misery's? your Comfort ter in health and sickness? have I not brought you Chil dren? are they not Like you Charles? look upon thine own Image hardhearted man; and yet for all this— Yes indeed will I. You shall not think (when all your own is gone) to spend that I have been scraping up for Mi chael. Come Michael, thou & I will go home to thy father, he hath enough left to keep us a day or two, and we'll set fell lows abroad to cry our Purse & our Casket, Shalwe Michael?