MAUDLINE

H Ave you played over all your old Lessons o'the Virginals? Yes, you are a dull Maid alate, me thinks you had needs have somewhat to quicken your Green Sickness, do you weep? A Hus band. Had not such a piece of Flesh been ordained, what had us Wives been good for? To make Salads, or else cried up and down for Sampier. To see the difference of these Seasons, when I was of your youth, I was lightsome, and quick, two years before I was married. You fit for a Knights bed, drowsy browd, dull eyed, drossy spirited, I hold my life you have forgotten your Dancing: When was the Dancer with you? Last week, when I was of your board, he missed me not a night, I was kept at it, I took delight to learn, and he to teach me, Pretty brown Gentleman, he took pleasure in my company, but you are dull, nothing comes nimbly from you, you dance Like a Plummers Daughter, and deserve two thousand pound in Led to your marriage, and not in Goldsmiths Beware. Faith small, telling your Daughter Marry of her Errors. But it's a Husband sowders up all Cracks. We are honoured then, if this Baggage would be humble, and kiss him with devotion when he enters. I cannot get her for my life to instruct her Hand thus, before and after, which a Knight will look for, before and after. I have told her still, it's the waving of a Woman dose often move a Man, and prevails strongly. But sweet, would you sent to Cambridge, (has Time word an't?) Oh 'twas timely. How can he choose but be so, coming with Cambridge Letters from our Son Time? Go to my Cousin then, at Inns of Court. The Parson then will do it. Please you draw near, and taste the welcome of the City Sir? In faith I will not. I have sworn I says. So will you let the Child go without company And make me forsworn. Speak with me Nurse, who is't? It's my Soon Time I faith, Prethe call him up among the Women, It'll embolden him well, For he wants nothing but audacity, Would the Welch gentlewoman at home were here now. Yes from the University forsooth. There's a great marriage towards for him. Yes sure, a hughe Heir in Wales, At least to nineteen Mountains, Beside her Goods and Cattle. Why Son, why Time, What must I rise and fetch you? For shame Son. Come we'll excuse you here. What is your Tutor come, have you brought him up? Why how now Time, Will not your old tricks yet be left? You'll never lin till I make your Tutor whip you, you know how I served you once at the Free School in Paul's Churchyard? Is this your Tutor Time? I'm the more beholding to your pains Sir. True, he was and Idiot indeed, When he went out of London, but now he's well mended Did you receive the two Goose-pies I sent you? It's my Son Time, I pray bid him welcome Gentlewomen. How, shall I deny your Name? Timothius quoth he? Faith there's a name, it's my Son Time for sooth. Here's nothing but disputing all the day long with they. Your reasons are both good what ever they be Pray give them over, faith you'll tire your selves, What's the matter between you? About a Fool Son, alas what needs you trouble your heads about that, none of us all but knows what a Fool is. Why one that's married before he has wit. Fie it's impossible. What thou wilt not? Nay by my faith, she must prove that her self, or Logic will never do't. Some in this Street would give a thousand pounds that you could prove their Wives so. Why what of him? How hard at first was Learning to him? Truly Sir I thought he would never a took the Latin Tongue. How many Accidences do you think he wore out ever he came to his Grammar? Believe me Sir some four and thirty. He was eight years in his Grammar, and stuck horribly at a foolish place there called Ass in pre senti. Quidest Gramatica? Says the Gentleman to him (I shall remember by a sweet sweet token) but nothing could he answer. Nay do not laugh Son, but let me hear you say it now: There was one word went so prettily off the Gentleman's tongue, I shall remember it the longest day of my life. That was it I faith: Why now Son I see you are a deep Scholar: And M r Tutor a word I pray, let us withdraw a little into my Husbands Chamber, I'll send in the North-Wales Gentlewoman to him, she looks for wooing: I'll put together both, and lock the Door. How now, how speeds your business? How's that? No English Man, bless my Boy, And born i'the Heart of London? Why Time, how have you used the Gentle woman? Latin Fool? In Hebrew Fool? It's Welch. She can speak English too. You must forgive him, he's so inured to Latin, He and his Tutor, that he hath quite forgotten To use the Protestant tongue. Time make amends and kiss her, He makes towards you forsooth. Oh rarely Time, the sweetest British Songs. Thou shalt here sweet Music Time. Pray forsooth. Oh Husband, Husband. We are all undone, she's gone, she's gone. Over the Houses: Lay the Waterside, she's gone for ever else. I'll tug thee home by the Hair. Tend your own business. I'll make thee and example for all the Neighbours Daughters. You that have tricks can counterfeit. Dissembling cunning baggage. Baggage you shall. Oh Husband, husband, she will die, she will die There is no sign but death. Oh how she's changed in compass of and hour: You would have done as much Sir, To curb her of her humour. How now Time. Death! She is not dead I hope? Sing but a strain or two, thou wilt not think How it'll revive thy Spirits: strive with thy fit, Prithee sweet Moll. Oh, I could die with Music: well sung Girl. Dead Sir? Moll, Daughter, sweet Girl speak, Look but once up, thou shalt have all the wishes of thy heart That wealth can purchase. Oh Susan, she thou lovedest so deer, is gone. Where shall we spend that time? Mass a match, We'll not lose all at once, somewhat we'll catch. Good sweet Time have patience. I think you have married her in Logic Time. You told me once, by Logic you would prove A Whore, and honest Woman, prove her so Time And take her for thy labour. There's no remedy now Time, You must prove her so as well as you may. Oh there's a trick beyond your Logic Time. What's the matter? Pray let me see it, I was wont to understand him. Amantissimus charissimus, he has sent the Carriers Man he says: ambobus parentibus, for a pair of Boots: patri & matri, pay the Porter, or it makes no matter. Why Daughter. Faith the Baggage a bashful Girl Sir, these young things are shamefast, beside you have a presence sweet S r Walter, able to daunt a Maid brought up i'the City, A brave Court Spirit makes our Virgins quiver, and kiss with trembling Thighs. Yet see she comes Sir. What gone again, run after him good Nurse, He's so bashful, that's the spoil of youth, In the University they're kept still to Men, And never trained up to Women's company. Run call the gentleman nurse, he's my sons tutor Here eat some Plumbs. He so shamed me once before and honest Gentle man that knew me when I was a Maid How do you agree forsooth? I have brought your Jewel by the Hair. Why well said Wench.