BRAND

Your Majesty. I warrant you, let me alone. You need not make these words: You must remove your Iodging: this is all. Be not afeard: come come, here is the door. I tell thee true, compassion is my foe: Yet have I bade of thee compassion. Take in thy child: as I have faith or troth, Thou and thy boy shall be but prisoners: And I must daily bring you meat and drink. Cry without cause? I'll have ye in faith. Store, store. Good, by this hand: exceeding, passing good. The dog no sooner drank it, but, yugh, yugh quoth he: So grins me with his teeth: lies down, and die. Yughst quoth I? by gogs blood go thy ways: Of all thy line and generation, Was never dog so worshipped as thou art, For ere thou didst, thou Wertenberg and officer: I lie not, by these nails, a squires place: For the vile cur became a Countess taster. So died the dog. Now in our next account The Countess comes, lets see a Countess & a Nun Why so? why so? What would she have the whole world quite undone? Weel meet her for that trick. What, not a king? Hanging too good for her; I am but a plain knave, And yet should any of these no forsooths, These pray aways, these trip and goes, these tits. Deny me: now by these: A plague upon this bottle and this cup: I cannot act mine oath: but too't again. By these ten ends of flesh and blood, I swear: First with this hand, wound thus about her hair, And with this dagger lustily lambackt: I would i'faith, I, by my villainy, I would: but here, but here she comes, Led by two doctors in sweet lechery: If they speed, with my poison I go by; If not, have at you maid: then step in I. Fleshly quoth you? a maid of threescore years, And fleshly fightings sticking in her teeth? Well wench, th'art matched i'faith. And Abbess by the cross of my good blade, And excellent mother to bring up a maid, For me I mean, and my good master, But never any for and honest man. Now fie upon that word of honesty Passing my throat, 'thad almost choked me: Sblood I'll for swear it for this trick. Zounds, she thinks us devils. Hear you coniu rer? Except you use that trick, to conjure down The standing spirit of my Lord the King, That your good mother there, the Abbess uses, To conjure down the spirit of the Monk, Not all your crosses have the power to bless Your body from a sharp and speedy death. Maid, maid: catch lower, when you feel you ̄ g men S lood, I was never taken for the devil till now? Yes. Go in go in: its higher up the stairs. No not with Blunt, I mean. Go in I say Or by this hand, ye get no meat to day. Why, and you would go in, immediately. Well go thy ways: Is this no baud think you? She goes i'faith, by God she is their own. Well, well, go get you two unto your conjuring: Let me alone to lay her on gods ground. Why maid, because I must: I have a message to you from the king. Zounds she cares not, she makes death a jest. A bloody villain, and a murderer. A hundred have I slain with mine owe e hands. It I that starved the Lady Bruise to death, And her young son, at Windsor Castle late. 'Tis I have slain Matilda, blessed maid, And now will hurry to damnations mouth, Forced by the gnawing worm of conscience. Neither, thou manly maid: look here, look here: A cup of poison. Wherefore dost thou smile? Will you, or nill ye, zounds, you must go in, And never dine. Near while ye live, i'faith: now are they sure. Cry till their h arts ache, no man can them hear. A miss rabble death is famishment: But what care ? the king commanded me. Good baud, good mother B. How feign you would that that good deed should he! I by gogs blood do they: & moppet, you were best To take their proffers, least if they forsake you, I play the devils partly, step in and take you.