CORNEGO

No lesson, Madam, but Lacrymae's? if you had buri ed nine husbands, so much water as you might squeeze out of and Onion had been tears enough to cast away upon fellows that cannot thank you, come be Jovial. A suit of laugh and lie down would wear better. Be not sad. Marry this, to see much, say little, do little, get little, spend little, and want nothing. Why then, Madam, what I knock out now is the very Maribone of mirth, and this it is. The best mirth for a Lawyer is to have fools to his Clients: for Citizens, to have Noblemen pay their debts: for Tailors to have store of Satin brought in, for then how little soere their houses are, they'll be sure to have large yards: the best mirth for bawds is to have fresh handsome whores, and for whores to have rich gulls come aboard their pinnaces, for then they are sure to built Gally-Asles. Here S a parcel of men flesh has been hanging up and down all this morning to speak with you. How now? what quarter of the Moon has she cut out now? my Lord puts me into a wise office, to be a mad woe men keeper: why madam! Let go your hold, or I'll fallen upon you as I am a man. He's gone, but not so far gone as you are. What powder? come, what powder? when did you ever see a woman grinded into powder? I am sure some of your sex powder men and pepper they too. No, there has too much fallen upon you already. Pray be more seasoned, if he made any Bawds he did ill, for there is enough of that flyblown flesh already. No Madam, not all, for you cannot be rid of me: Here comes your Uncle. There's cud enough for you to chew upon. Madam, theres a bear without to speak with you. Its a Man all hairy, and thats as bade. 'Tis one Master Captain Baltazar. He desires to see you: and if you love a water- pa iel before he be shorn, see him. Hist; a duck, a duck; there she is, Sir. Yes, she has been struck under line, master Soul worser . Hence Cornego? stay Captain: when man and woe man are put together, some egg of villainy is sure to be sat upon. I see nothing about him to hang in but's garters. He says he is a Poet. Your Verses are lamed in some of their fect, Ma ster Poet. Your book shall come to light, Sir. The Poets book, Madam, has God the Inflammati on of the Livor, it died of a burning F aver. I believe you, Madam;—but here comes your Uncle. The Lady Onaelia dresseth the stead of her come delations in the most Courtly Attire that words can be clothed with, from her self to you, by me. The Kings Evil; and here she hath sent something to you wrapped up in a white sheet, you needs not fear to oh pen it, 'tis no coarse. At her pricksong. No Crochets, it's only the Cliff has made her m worser. A wind instrument nt, she did nothing but sighs. My wit has always had a singing head, I have found out her Note Captain. Solemnizing, my foul; re, is all rend and torn Like a ragga mu in; me, mend it good Captain; fa, fa, whats fa Cap taine? M , Captain, with all my heart; have I tickled my Ladies Fiddle well? Assafetida? what S that? Why what ails my Lady? I said somewhat cut her soul in pieces. And what shall be back worser in to? The Devil lies sick of the Mulligrubs. With the wrong side outward So the Goose talks French to the Buzzard. And a poisoned Bagge-pudding in Tom Thumbs belly. Is this all? Nor a Coranta neither, though it were S All with But ter, and yet I know where they both lie passing well. Dancing Bear, I'm gone.