JOCULO

Here sir, at hand. I know not. I know not. I know not. I know not. I know not. Marry sir, that I do know. And you be so testy, go look: What a coils here with you? If we knew where she were, what needs we seek her? I think you are lunatic: where were you When you should have looked after her? now you Go crying up and down after your wench, Like A Boy had lost his horn book. Ah my sweet Master: nay I can give you as good Words as you can give me: alls one for that. Faith sir, there comes not one morsel of comfort From my lips, to sustain that hungry maw Of your misery, there is such a dearth at this time, God amend it. Your breast and my belly, are in two contrary keys, You walk to get stomach to your meat, And I walk to get meat to my stomach: Your breast's full, and my belli's empty. If they chance to partly in this case, God send them Merry meeting: that my belly be full, and your breast empty. Nay master, if wit could do it, I could tell you More: but if it ever be done, the very legerity Of the feet must do it: these ten nimble bones Must do the deed: I'll trot Like a little dog: Theres not a bush so big as my beard, But I'll be peeping in it: theres not a Coat but I'll search every corner: if she be above, or Beneath, over the ground, or under, I'll find her out. I pray you let me go. I faith isle run. Any way: alls one, isle draw dry foot: If you send not to seek her, you may lie Here long enough, before she come to seek you: She little thinks that you are hunting for her In these quarters. And if my Convoy be not cut off by the way, It shall not be long before I be with you. Well, I pray you look to my master: for Here I leave him amongst you: and if I Chance to light on the wench, you shall hear Of me by the next wind. Fortune my foe, why dost thou frown on me? And will my fortune never better be: Wilt thou I say, for ever breed my pain? And wilt thou not restore my Joys again? I am disposed to be melancholy, And I cannot be private, for one villain or other. I am Page to a Courtier. What art thou? And Outlaw by authority: one that never sets mark of his own goods, nor never knows how he comes by other men's. I marry: this takes fire Like touch powder, And goes off with a huff. Would you Rogues, the very steel of my wit, shall strike fire from the flint of your understandings: have you not herd of me? A wit, as nimble as a Sempsters needle, or a girls fin her at her Busk point. Who would have thought to have found this in a plain villain, that never wore better garment, then a green Jer kin? Sweet Rogues, your company to me, is Like music to a wench at midnight: when she lies alone, and could wish, yea marry could she. What Mawmets are these? Where be your Fiddles? I pray you, you pretty little fellow, whats your name? Little, little Prick? o you are a dangerous Fairy, And fright all the little wenches in the Country, Out of their beds. I care not whose hand I were in, so I were out of yours. I, I thought where I should have you. Indeed sir, I cannot handle my legs. Mopso well met, hast thou found thy mistress? Nor I by Pot. The next God to a Pan, and such a pot it may be, As he shall have more servants then all the Pans in a Tin kers shop. What hast thou found Frisco? And I. I you two. Priapus quoth a? Whattin a God might that be? Thou being a Foresters Boy, shouldst swear by the God of the woods. And her S a shepherd's swain, swears by a Kitchen God, Pan. The God of good-fellowship: well, you have wicked Masters, that teach such little Boys as you are to swear so young. I never herd him swear six found oaths in all my life. How? swear, forswear, and swear? how is that? Well, your masters have much to answer for, that bring you up so wickedly. My master is neither damnde nor dead, and yet is in the case of both your masters: Like a wooden shepherd, and a sheepish woodman, for he is lost in seeking of a lost sheep, and spent in hunting a Do that he would feign strike. I am not tierd, but so weary I cannot go, with follow king a master, that follows his mistress, that follows her shadow, that follows the sun, that follows his course. Is that a wise word? Bring me to him Frisco, I'll give him all the points at my hose, to point me right to my master. And thee to a Woodcock. Kiss it Mopso, and be quiet, I'll salute him civilly. Good speed good man. Meaning thee Frisco. If you be good at Rhymes and Riddles old man, expound me this. These two serve two, those two serve one, Assoil me this, and I am gone. This is a wise answer: her going caused his coming, For if she had never gone he had never come. And gentle master wiseman, tell Ioculo, if his noble Master Ascanio, that gallant Courtier, shall be found by me, and she found by him, for whom, he hath lost his father's fa vour, and his own liberty, and I my labour, and I'll give you thanks: for we Courtiers, neither give nor take bribes. I may go with thee, for I shall speed even so too, by staying behind. Let me be hanged my Lord, but all is lies. True, we are both persuaded thou dost lie. Who I? I thou. Thou darest not come and say so to my face. I'll make you then for ever prating more. Will you prate more? I'll see that presently. Stay master, I have spied the fellow now, that mocked us all this while: see where he sits. What lines he draws? best go not over far. Yowl trouble us all annon, you shall see. My Lord do you not mark? How the sky thickens, and begins to dark? Nay then God be our speed. Such another face I never knew. O now I see he was learning to spell, Theres A. B. C. in amid of his table. It will not all be worth a cup of Ale. Here's learning for the nonce, that stands on joints: For all his cunning, isle scarce give two points. Nay and you go to Latin, then 'tis sure, my master shall find her, if he could tell when. A Riddle for my life, some Antic Jest Did I not tell you what his cunning was? Master be contented, this is leap year. Women wear breeches, petticoats are deer. And thats his meaning, on my life it is. A Lady and a Boy, this hangs well together: Like snow in harvest, sunshine and foul weather. Since hope of help my froward stars deny, Come sweetest death, and end my misery. He left his country, I my shape have lost, Dear is the love, that hath so dearly cost. Nay let them go a Gods name, one by one, With my heart I am glad to be alone. Heres old transforming, would with all his Art, He could transform this tree into a tart. See then if I would flinch from hence or no: But for it is not so, I needs must go. I here they are: master well ouertane. I thought we two should never meet again: You went so fast, that I to follow you, Slipped over hedge and ditch, and many a tall tree. To lie Sir? how say you was it not so? You were at my heals, though far off, you know: For master, not to counterfeit with you now, He's as good a footman as a shackeld sow. Faith Mistress you're too blame to be so coy. The day hath be, but what is that to me: When more familiar with a man you'd be. You cannot tell, take her aside and prove. Is not this hard luck to wander so long, And in the end to find his wife marked wrong. A proper jest as ever I herd tell, In sooth, me thinks the breech becomes her well: And might it not make their husbands fear then, Would all the wives in our town might wear them. Tell me youth, art a stranger here or no? Is your commission sir, to examine me so? By your leave, it's well overtaken yet. Perhaps so sir. What cheer can here be hopte for in these woods? Except trees, stones, briars, bushes, or buds? Why then sir, I do as well as I may. And to persuade you, that welcome you be, Wilt please you sir, to eat a crab with me? Phylander, 'tis the best we can get here. But when return you to the Court again? To requite your pain, Shall I entreat you bear a present from me? To the Duke. Because Venison so convenient does not fallen, A peck of Acorns to make merry withal. By my troth sir as you see, Acorns are good enough for such as he. I wish his honour well, and to do him good: Would he had eaten all the Acorns in Wood. As may agree with such a churlish swine. How does his honour? I wish him better. Vicegerent in hell. I for the love he bears unto his son. Walking about the ground. Why so she is, come follow me and see. I'll bring you strait where they remaining be. O sir, well found. But most especially it glads my mind, To see my mistress restored to kind.