ROGER

God save you Sir, My Lady lets you know she de sire's to be acquainted with your name before she confer with you. Sir, you are a gentleman of a good name. I'll try his wit. I knew a worshipful and a religious gentleman of your name in the Bishopric of Durham. Call you him Cousin? It is modestly said: I should carry the badge of your Christianity with me to. Roger. Her own words were these; To know whither you were a formerly denied suitor, disguised in this mes sage: For I can assure you she delights not in Than lame: Himen and sh are at variance, I shall return with much hast. Jam but a Bachiler of Art Sir; and I have the men ding of all under this roof, from my Lady on her down bed, to the maid in the peas straw. No Sir. I inculcate Divine service within these walls, Yes, I do take the air many morning's on foot, three or four miles for eggs: but why move you that? I do Sir. Your understanding is ingen ous. Oh Lord Sir, Surely I love it, but it loves not me; yet with your reverence isle be bold. I promise you it is notable stinging gear indeed. It is wet Sir, Lord how it brings down Reume? Thanks ever premised for it. I promise you it is very powerful, and by a Trope, spiritual: for certainly it moves in sundry places. Assuredly I will speak the truth unto you; you shall understand Sir, that my head is broken, and by whom; e ven by that visible beast the Butler. Reproving him at Tra-trip Sir, for swearing: you have the total surely. Have patience Sir, until our fellow Nicholas be deceased, that is, a sleep: for so the word is taken; to sleep to die, to die to sleep: a very Figure Sir. Not till the man be in his bed, his graven; his graven, his bed; the very same again Sir. Our Comic Poet gives the reason sweetly; Plenus rimarum est, he is full of loop holes, and will discover to our Patroness. Sir be addressed, the graces do salute you with the full bowl of plenty. Is our old enemy entombed? And does he snore out supinely with the Poet? Shall we give thank,? Do I dream, or do I wake? surely I know not: am I rubbed off? is this the way of all my morning's prayers? O her, thou art but grass, and woman as a flower. Did I for this consume my quarters in meditation, vows, and wooed her in Heroical Epistles? Did I expound the Owl, and un dertooke, with labour and expense the recollection of those thousand Pieces, consumed in Cellors and Tobacco shops of that our honoured Englishman Ni. Br.? Have I done this, and am I done thus too? I will end with the Wiseman, and say, He that holds a woman, has and Eel by the tail. Solamen Miseris socios habuisse doloris: but I alone. Good Sir, peace be with you. Fair Gentlewoman, my name is Roger. Ungentle Abigall. You are weak indeed: for so the Poet sings. Good my Ladies Gentlewoman, or my ood Ladies Gen tlewoman (this trope is lost to you now) leave your prating, you have a season of your first Mother in ye: and surely had the devil been in love, he had been abused too, go Dalid ; you make men fools, and wear fig breeches. I they were pearls once with you. Nay, nay, I do beseech you leave your cogging, what they ate, they are, they serve me without Spectacles I thank um, I do not think I can, You're Like a Copyhold with nine lives in't. I was a Christian fool then: Do you remember what a dance you led me? how I grew quaum'd in love, and was a dunce? could expound but once a quarter, & then was out too: and then at prayers once (out of the stinking stir you put me in) I prayed for mine own royal issue. You do remember all this? I thank you for it; surely I will be wiser Abigall: and as the Ethnic Poet sings, I will not lose my oil and labour too. You're for the worshipful I take it Abigall. I Like these tears well, and this humbling also, they are Symptoms of contrition, as a Father says. If I should fallen into my fit again, would you not shake me into a quotidian Coxcomb? Would you not use me scurvily again, and give me possets with purging comsets in't? I tell thee Gentlewoman, thou hast been har der to me then a long chapter with a pedigree. I am mollified: as well shall testify this faithful kiss: and have a great care Mistress, Abigall, how you depress the spirit any more with your rebukes and more kes: for certainly the edge of such a folly cuts it self. Now cannot I hold if I should be hanged, I must cry to. Come to thine own beloved, & do even what thou wilt withme, sweet, sweet, Abi. I am thine own for ver: heers my hand, when ̄ Ro. proves a recreant, hang him i'th Bel-ropes. Ent. La. and Mar. I humbly ask your pardon: I'll clap up Prayers (but staic a little) and be with you again. Joy be amongst you all. Marriage an't Like your worship. As well as the next priest could do it, Madam. Sir you grow scurrilous: What I shall do, I shall do: I shall not need your help. I mean the name which your Godfathers & God mother's gave you at the Font. More rooms then one. Most properly Sir. Not the best benefice in your worships gift Sir. Sir, my Ladies pleasure is to see you: who hath commanded me to acknowledge her sorrow. that you must take the pains to come up for so bade enter tainement.