GOURSEY

GOod master Barns, this entertain of yours, So ull of courtesy and rich delight, Makes me misdoubt my poor ability, In quittance of this friendly courtesy. Kind sir, near dwelling amity indeed, Offers the hearts enqui y better view. Then love thats seated in a farther soil, As prospectives the nearer that they be, Yield better judgement to the judging eye, Things seen far off, are lessened in the eye, When their true shape is seen being hard by. I sir, the surely some alliance betwixt them, For they have both the offspring from the heart, Within the hearts blood Ocean still are found, Jewels of amity, and lemmes of love. I have some business in the town by three. Yes, I can. Why then master Barns, and if you please, Our wives shall try the quarrel betwixt us two, And weel look on? I'll see she shall not. Is she so cunning grown, come, come, lets see. It is too much, a shilling were good game. No, weell be ill huswives once, You have oft been ill husbands, lets alone. This is not noble sport, but royal play. Well to your game, we will not trouble you. Peace wife be quiet. Well master Barns, we cannot do with all, Let us be friends still. And with exchange of love I do receive it, Then here weel partly partners of two cursed wives. Twenty farewells sir. Nay, if thy mind be forward with thy years, The time is lost thou to rriest, trust me boy, This match is a swerable to thy birth, Her blood and portion give each other grace: These indented lines promise a sum, And I do Like the value, if it hapthy liking to accord to my consent, It is a match: wilt thou go see the maid? That way. Return the messenger of joy my son. Because she is your neighbour and Why then preserve it you by patience. There is a dearth of manners in you wife, Rudely to snatch it from me, give it me? What will you move me to impatience then? Go to, you move me wife, give me the letter, In I shall grow angry, if you do not. Shall I not have it, intruth I'll try that, Minion I'll hau'te, shall I not hau'te, I am loath, Go too, take pausment, be advised, Infaith I will, and stand not long upon it, A woman of your years, I am ashamed, A couple of so long continuance, Should thus, Gods foot, I cry God heartily mercy, Go to, you vex me, and I'll vex you for it, Before I leave you, I will make you glad, To tender it on your knees, hear you, I will I will, What worse and worse stomach, you faith, Shall I be crossed by you in my old age? And where I should have greatest comfort to, A of you nursle in the devils name, Go to mistress, by Gods pre jous deer, If you delay. Pale, can ye blame me for it, I tell you true, And easy matter could not thus have moved me, Well this resignment, and so forth, but woman This fortnight shall I not forget ye for it. Would, would, I see that roughness can do somewhat, I did not think good faith, I could have set, So Sour a face upon it, and to her, My bed embracer, my right bosom friend, I would not that she should have seen the letter As poor a man as I am by my troth For twenty pound: well I am glad I have it. Would, heres a do about a thing of nothing, What stomach, would, 'tis happy your come down. Whoes there? What master Barns did you not see my wife? I thought that knave was with her, but 'tis well, I pray God they may come by never a light, But both be led a dark dance in the night. Hark, theres one holloes. I faith 'tis good, and we will practice it, But sir it must be handled cunningly, Or all is marred, our wives have subtle heads, And they will soon perceive a drift devise. Whose thy master? Why wherefore is sir Raphe so la e abroad? Why, could ye miss from Master Barnses house unto his Cunnyberry? Philip, if thy father will remit, The wounds I gave him, and if these conditions May be performed, I banish all my wrath. If they be friends, by promise we agree. Go to, no more a do, gentle sir Raphe, Your man is not in fault for missing you, For he mistook by us and we by him. And may he prove as happy unto her. Oh master Barns, you put me but in mind, Of that which I should say: 'tis we that are Indebted to your kindness for this cheer: Which debt that we may repay, I pray lets have, Sometime your company, at our homely house. Why so I do. Where stands your man now? It stands b tween the points. Well, you shall see them turn for you anon. How do you mean? And a hight mischief on the curser too. And what? And a jealous slandering spiteful quean she is, One that would blur my reputation, With her approbrious malice if she could, She wrongs her husband, to abuse my fame, 'Tis known that I have lived in honest name, All my life time, and been your right true wife, Husband, in very deed you shall not have it. Lord Lord, why in what a fit, Are you in husband, so enraged, so moved, And for so slight a cause, to read a letter, Did this letter love, contain my death, Should you deny my sighed of it, I would not, Not see my sorrow, not eschew my danger, But willingly yield me a patient, Un oh the doom that your displeasure gave: Here is the letter, not for that your incensment, Makes me make offer of it, but your health, Which anger I do fear hath crasd. And viper Like hath sucked away the blood, That wont was to be cheerful in this cheek, How pale ye look. Nay heers my hand, I will do very much for thee If ere thou standest in needs of me, Thou shall not lack, while thou hast a day to l we. Money apparel. Well bold face, but I mean to make you stay, Go to, come from him, or isle make you come, Will ye not come? It will not prove well. I care not if I take it. Sure none is here to hinder me, And light me home. Yet Barnses wife would chafe if that she knew, That I had this good to get a light. Let go I say. Pray do forsooth, Gods Lord what means the woman, She speaks it scornfully, I faith I care not, Things are well spoken, if they be well taken, What mistress Barns, is it not time to partly? And if you please. How wife? Gods passion, if she knew but the contents, Sheele seek to cross this match, she shall not read it. Wife, give it me, come, come, give it me. How now woman, who hath won the game? Why whats the matter woman? I know, though that my sons years be not many. Yet he hath wit to woo as well as any, Here comes my wife, I am glad my boy is gone. Ereshe came hither, how now wife, how is't? What are you yet in charity and love with mistress Barns? I entertain no other thought my wife, And my opinion's found of your behaviour. Well, I can bear enough, but not too much, Come give it me, it best you be persuaded, By God you make me swear, now God forgive me, Give me I say, and stand not long upon it, Go to, I am angry at the heart, my very heart, I doubted that, that made me come unto you: But whither is she gone? And every where we come, I here some hollo. And yet it is our haps to meet with none. I and our wives, we cannot meet with them. Nor with the boy, nor Mall, nor Frank, nor Philip: Nor yet with Coomes, and yet we never stood still. Well I am very angry with my wife, And she shall find I am not pleased with her, If we meet never so soon, but 'tis my hap, She hath had as blind a journey out as we, Pray God she have, and worse if worse may be. Frank? Who goes there? By that I swear, isle credit none of you, until I here Friendship concluded straight between them two, If I see that they willingly will do, Then isle imagine all suspicion ends, I may be then assured they being friends. Faith this occasion sir, women will jar. And jar they did to day, and so they parted, We knowing women's malice let alone, Will Canker Like ate farther in their hearts, Did seek a sudden cure, and thus it was, A match between his daughter and my son, No sooner motioned but it agreed, And they no sooner saw but wooed and liked, They have it sought to crose, and cross it thus. No body yet. If I can help it. Why how now woman, how unlike to women, Are you both now? come partly, come partly I say. I say you shall not, wife go to, tame your thoughts, That are so mad with fury. How, strumpet mistress Barns, nay I pray hark you, I oft indeed have herd you call her so, And I have thought upon it, why you should Twither with name of strumpet, Do you know any hurt by her, that you term her so? But I would know whence this same rage should come. Wheres smoke theres fire, and my heart misgives. My wives intemperance hath God that name, And mistress Barns, I doubt and shrewdly doubt, And some great cause begets this doubt in me, Your husband and my wife does wrong us both. Then still I fear I shall your debtor prove. Then I arrest you in the name of love, Not bale, but present answer to my plea, And in the Court of reason we will try, If that good thoughts should believe jealousy, Come let us hear him, then speak quickly Philip why will it be? If that they Like her owry shall be equal, To your sons wealth or possibility, It is a means to make our wines good friends, And to continue friendsh p twi to two, 'Tis so indeed, I Like this motion, And it hath my consent, because my wife, is soar infected and heart sick with hate: & I have sought the G l of advice, which only tells me this same potion, to be most sovereign for his sickness cure. Here comes my son, conferring with his friend, France's, how do you Like your friends discourse? I know he is persuading to this motion. But boy, let my experience teach thee this, Yet in good faith, thou speakest not much amiss, When first thy mother's same to me did come, Thy grandsire thus, then came to me his son, And even my words to thee, to me he said, And as to me thou sayest, to him I said, But in a greater huff, and hotter blood, I tell you, on youths tiptoes then I stood, Says he (good faith this was his very say) When I was young, I was but reasons fool, And went to wedding, as to wisdoms school: It taught me much, and much I did forget, But beaten much by it, I God some wit, Though I was shackled from and often scout, Yet I would wanton it when I was out, It comfort, old acquaintance then to meet, Restrained liberty, at ainde is sweet, Thus said my Father to thy Father, son And thou mayest do this to, as I have done. So ho. Then in good faith wife you are more to blame. Give me it then, and I will read it to you? Well sir, then go your ways, I give you leave. Why she is mankind, therefore thou mayest strike her. Where am I now? nay where was I ever now, Nor now, nor then, nor where I shall be, know I, I think I am going home I may as well Be going from home, 'tis so very dark, I cannot see how to direct a step, I lost my pursuing of my son, My son escaped me too, now all alone, I am inforced to wander up and down, Barnses wife's abroad pray God that she: May have as good a dance, nay ten times worse, O but I fear she hath not, she hath light To see her way, Oh that some bridge would break That she might fallen into some deep dug ditch, And either break her bones or drown her self, I would these mischiefs I could wish to her, Might light on her, but soft I see a light, I will go near, 'tis comfortable, After this nights sad spirits dulling darkness, How now? What is it set to keep it self? Thats my good Dick, thats my sweet Dick, What wouldst thou do with him. Neither saw we him. Come, come, we see that we have all been crossed. Therefore lets go, and seek them we have lost. Am I alone? does not my mother come? Her torch I see not, which I well might see, If any way she were coming towards me, Why then belike she's gone some other way, And may she go till I bid her turn, Far shall her way be then, and little fair, For she hath hindered me of my good turn, God send her wet and weary ere the turn, I had been at Oxenford, and to morrow, Have been released from all my maidens sorrow. And tasted joy, had not my mother been, God I beseech thee make it her worst sin, How many maids this night lies in their beds, And dream that they have lost their maidenheads, Such dreams, such slumbers I had to enioyde, If waking malice had not them destroide, A starved man with double death does die, To have the meat might save him in his eye, And may not have it so am I tormented, To starve for joy I see yet am prevented, Well Frank, although thou woedst and quickly won, Yet shall my love to thee be never done, I'll run through hedge and ditch, through brakes & briers To come to thee, sole Lord of my desires, Short wooing is the best, and hour, not years, For long debating love is full of fears, But hea ke, I hear one tread, oh Wertenberg my brother, Or Frank, or any man, but not my mother. Wh shall I think her hate will yield so much: TO to sir, howsoever it shall go forward.