ITHAMORE

Alas, Sir, I am a very youth. I will serve you, Sir. I passing well. I, I'll put her in. Faith Master, I think by this You purchase both their lives; is it not so? O, master, that I might have a hand in this. It's poisoned, is it not? Fear not, I'll so set his heart a fire, that he Shall verily think it comes from him. As I behave my self in this, employ me hereafter. Oh the sweetest face that ever I beheld! I know she is A Curtezane by her attire: now would I give a hundred Of the Jews Crowns that I had such a Concubine. Well, I have delivered the challenge in such sort, As meet they will, and fighting die; brave sport. Why was there ever seen such villainy, so neatly Plotted, and so well performed? both held in hand, and Flatly both beguiled. O, Mistress, would would would. O my master. O Mistress! I have the bravest, gravest, secret, subtle Bottle-nosed knave to my Master, that ever Gentleman had O, my master has the bravest policy. Why, know you not? Know you not of Mathia & Done Lodowick disaster? Why the devil invented a challenge, my M r . writ it, And I carried it, first to Lodowick, and impr miss to Mathia. And then they met, as the story says, In doleful wise they ended both their days. Am I Ithimore? So sure did your father write, & I carry the challenge. I pray, mistress, will you answer me to one question? A very feeling one; have not the Nuns fine sport With the Friars now and then? I will forsooth, Mistress. Exit When duck you? To day. A Friar. How, Sir? That's no lie, for she sent me for him. O master. Who I, master? Why I'll run to some rock and Throw my self headlong into the sea; why I'll do any Thing for your sweet sake. I hold my head my master's hungry: I go Sir. Here it's, Master. Yes, Sir, the proverb says, he that eats with the devil Had needs of a long spoon, I have brought you a Ladle. Why, master, will you poison her with a mess of rice Porridge that will preserve life, make her round & plump, And batten more then you are aware. How master? How so? Pray do, and let me help you M r . Pray let me taste first. Troth M r . I'm loath such a pot of pottage should be spoiled. Well, master, I go. What a blessing has he giu'nt? was ever pot of Rice porridge so sa c't? what shall I do with it? Here's a drench to poison a whole stable of Flanders mares: I'll carry't to the Nuns with a powder. That's brave M r . but think you it will not be known For my partly fear you not. And reason too; but here's a royal Monastery hard By, good master let me poison all the Monks. Do you ot sorrow for your daughters death? Look, look, Mr. here come two religious Caterpil le. God-a-mercy nose; come let's begone. And so could I; but penance will not serve. Partly they, master, partly they. You know my mind, let me alone with him; Why does he go to thy house, let him begone. Yes; and I know not what the reason is Do what I can he will not strip himself, Nor go to bed, but sleeps in his own cloth I fear me he mistrusts what we intend. No, none can hear him, cry he never so loud. You loiter, master, wherefore stay we thus? O how I long to see him shake his heals. Yes, because you use to confess. I, and our lives too therefore pull amain. It's neatly done, Sir, here's no print at all. Nay, M r . be ul'd by me a little; so, let him lean Upon his staff; excellent, he stands as if he were begging of Bacon. Towards one. I, Mr. he's slave; look how his brains drop out on's nose. No, let us bear him to the Magistrates. Fie upon they, Mr. will you turn Christian, when Holy Friars turn devils and murder one another. Why a Turk could a done no more. I never knew a man take his death so patiently as This Friar; he was ready to leap off ever the halter was About his neck; and when the Hangman had put on his Hempen Tippet, he made such haste to his prayers, as if He had had another Cure to serve; well, go whither He will, I'll be none of his followers in haste: And now I think on't, going to the execution, a fellow Met me with a muschatoes Like a Ravens wing, and A Dagger with a hilt Like a warming-pan, and he Gave me a letter from one Madam Bellamira, Saluting me in such sort as if he had meant to make Clean my Boots with his lips; the effect was, that I should come to her house, I wonder what the reason is; It may be she sees more in me than I can find in My self: for she writes further, that she loves me Ever since she saw me, and who would not requi e such Love he e's her house, and here she comes, and now Would I were gone, I am not worthy to look upon her. Gentleman, he flouts me, what gentry can be in a Poor Turk of ten pence? I'll be gone. Again, sweet youth; did not you, Sir, bring the sweet Youth a letter? Now am I clean, or rather foully out of the way. I'll go steal some money from my Master to Make me handsome: Pray pardon me, I must go see a ship discharged. Nay, I care not how much she loves me; Sweet Allamira, would I had my Master's wealth for thy sake: If 'twere above ground I could, and would have it; But he hides and buries it up as Partridges do Their eggs, under the earth. By no means possible. I, and such as — Go to, no more, I'll make him send me half he has, & glad he escapes so too. Pen and Ink: I'll write unto him, we'll have money strait. Ten hundred thousand crowns,— M r . Barabas. Sirrah Barabas, send me a hundred crowns. I charge thee send me 300 by this bearer, and this Shall be your warrant; if you do not, no more but so. Otherwise I'll confess all, vanish and return in a Twinkle. Hang him Jew. And bid the Jeweller come hither too. Content, but we will leave this paltry land, And sail from hence to Greece, to lovely Greece, I'll be thy Jason, thou my golden Fleece; Where painted Carpets over the meads are hurled, And Bacchus vineyards overspread the world: Where Woods and Forests go in goodly green, I'll be Adonis, thou shalt be Loves Queen. The Meads, the Orchards, and the Primrose lanes, Instead of Sedge and Reed, bear Sugar Canes: Thou in those Groves, by Dis above, Shalt live with me and be my love. How now? hast thou the gold? Rather for fear then love. The more villain he to keep me thus: Here's goodly 'parrell, is there not? But ten? I'll not leave him worth a grey groat, give Me a Ream of paper, we'll have a kingdom of gold for't. Sirrah Jew, as you love your life send me 500 crowns, And give the Bearer 100. Tell him I must hau't. Take thou the money, spend it for my sake. That kiss again; she runs division of my lips. What and eye she casts on me? It twinkles Like a Star. O that ten thousand nights were put in one, That we might sleep seven years together afore We wake. Sayest thou me so? have at it; and do you hear? Of that condition I will drink it up; here's to thee. There, if thou lovest me do not leave a drop. Three and fifty dozen, I'll pledge thee, Heigh Rivo Castiliano, a man's a man. Would to the Jew, and send me money you were best. Do nothing; but I know what I know, He's a murderer. You knew Mathias and the Governors son, he and I killed they both, and yet never touched they. I carried the broth that poisoned the Nuns, and he And I snicle hand too fast, strangled a Friar. We two, and 'twas never known, nor never shall Be for me. Love me little, love me long, let music rumble, While I in thy incoomy lap do tumble. Wilt drink Frenchman, here's to thee with a — Pox on this drunken hickup. Like thy breath, sweet-hart, no violet Like they. Play, Fiddler, or I'll cut your cats guts into chitterlins Pardona moi, be no in tune yet; so now, now all be in. Give him a crown, and fill me out more wine. Dost not know a Jew, one Barabas ? I scorn the Peasant, tell him so. It's a strange thing of that Jew, he lives upon Pickled Grasshoppers, and sau ed Mushrumbs. He never put on clean shirt since he was circumcised The Hat he wears, Judas left under the Elder When he hanged himself. No, I'll send by word of mouth now; Bid him deliver thee a thousand Crowns, by the same Token, that the Nuns loved Rice, that Friar Bernardine Slept in his own clothes, Any of they will do it. The meaning has a meaning; come let's in: To undo a Jew is charity, and not sin Exeunt. Nor me neither, I cannot outrun you Constable, o my belly. Guilty, my Lord, I confess; your son and Mathias Were both contracted unto Abigall, Forged a counterfeit challenge. I carried it, I confess, but who writ it? Marry even he that strangled Bernardine, poisoned the Nuns, and his own daughter. No Sir, I can cut and shave. In Trace ; brought up in Arabia. Faith, Sir, my birth is but mean, my name's Ithimer, My profession what you please. O brave, master, I worship your nose for this. Faith, Master, in setting Christian villages on fire, Chaining of Eunuchs, binding galley-slaves. One time I was and Hostler in and Inn, And in the night time secretly-would I steal To travellers Chambers, and there cut their throats: Once at Jerusalem, where the Pilgrim's kneeled, I strowed powder on the Marble stones, And therewithal their knees would rankle, so That I have laughed agood to see the cripples Go limping home to Christendom on stilts. I am gone. Pay me my wages for my work is done. Exit. And so do I, master, therefore speak they fair. And if he ask why I demand so much, tell him, I scorn to write a line under a hundred crowns. But came it freely, did the Cow give down her milk freely?