OLD BLOODHOUND

Look, look upon, and ready, all ready Widow is, he is in some deep discourse with Sim, concerning moneys out to one or another. Praver before providence, when did ye know any thrive, and swell than uses it, he's a chip o'th old block, I exercise him in the trade of thrift, by turning him to all the petty pawns, If they come to me, I tell they I have given over Brokering, moi ling for muck and trash, and that I mean to live a life Monastic, a praying life, pull out the tail of Cressus from my pocket, and swear it's called Charities looking glass, or and exhortation to for sake the World. But let a fine fool that's well feathered come, and with all good meat, I have a friend it may be, that may compassionate his wants, I'll tell you and old Saw for't over my chimney yonder, a poor man seem to him that's poor, and prays thee for to lend, but tell the prodigal (not quite spent) thou wilt procure a friend. Many will have virtuous admonitions on their walls, but not a piece in their coffers, give me these witty politic saws, and indeed my house is furnished with no other. Shall bed it, shall bed it wench, shalt have't by infusion, look, look. Enter a Smith. Would thrifty whoreson. Would villain, shalt have a l. Would Boy. What, disbursing money boy? here is thy mother in law Get you in you Rogue. Nay nay, now his great oath's passed, ther's no talk on't, ke him never the worse, ther's and old saw sort, A kiss first, next the feeling sense, Crack say the purse strings, out fly the penee. But he can talk though, whose Boy are you Time? Can you turn and wind a penny Time. You have look't in the Church book late, bow old are you Time? And Grammar too, what's Latin for your head Time? Do you hear, your ear. Your eye. That's for one eye, what's Latin for two. This boy shall have all, I have and elder rogue that sucks and draws me, a saverne Accademian: one that protests to Whores, and shires with Highway lawyers; and arrant unclari fied Rogue, that drinks nothing but wicked Sack. Look, look, now he's come for more money. Look, look, takes his brother for his Father. Shalt not go faith Widow: you Cheater Rogue, must I would my friends frighted out my house by you, look heel steal nothing to feast his Bawds, get you out sirrah, there are Con stables, Beadles, whips, and the College of extravaging, E clipped Bridewell ye Rogue, ye Rogue there is, there is—mark that. I'll have no stolen Rings, picked out of pockets, or taken upon the way, not I. There's a Rogue mocks his Father, sirrah, get 'ye gone, Sim, go let lose the Mastiff. Better pul't out, then a halter stretched, away out of my doors rogue, I defy thee. The Rogue will fallen upon her. Did ye ever hear such a Rascal? come come, let's leave him: I'll go buy thy wedding Ring presently, you're best be gone sirrah: I am going for the Constable, I and one of the Churchwardens, and now I think on't, he shall pay five shil lings to the poor for being drunk, twelve pence shall go into the box, and tother four, my partner and weel share betwixt us, there's a new path to thrist wench, we must live, we must live girl. There sirrah, there's his bound, run into the Strand, S xe weeks the allow Chandler fetched my hundred mark , ent him to set him up, and to buy great, this is his day, I'll have his bones foe ' see, so pray tell him. Out Coxecombe. And run to Master Eare-lacks the informer, in Thieving lane, and ask him what he has done in my busi ness he gets abundance, and if he carry my cause with one false oath, he shall have Moll, he will take her with a little, are ye gone Sir? As ye come by Templebar, make a step to'th Devil. My Master means the sign of the Devil. No, no, I'll have one shall savour of, of a saw. Let me see, a Widow witty. No, no, I can make the sport, then and old man. Mine Alminacke. A prayer book for devote beggars I hate, look I beseech thee, Fortune now befriend me, and I will call the plaguy whore in, let me see, six months. Four days too late Sim, four days too late Sim. You are a stranger Sir, you shall be witness, I shall be railed at else, they will call me devil, I pray you how many months from the first of May, to the sixth of November following? I ask, because the last first of May, a noble gentle man, one Ancient Young. My spectacles Sim, look Sim, is this Ancient Young? And is't not Ancient Young? O Sim, a Chair, I know him now, but I shall not live to tell him. Sick, sick, exceeding sick, That you beloved, you, who of all men i'th world, my poor heart doted on, whom I loved better then Father, Mother, Brother, Sister, Uncle's, Ants, what wood ye have, that you should stay four days too late. Nay, nay, I am Noble, fellow, very Noble, a very rock of friendship, but, but, I had a house and bairn burned down to the ground, since you were here. How burned ask Sim? To built up which, for I am a poor man, a poor man, I was forced by course of Law to enter upon your Land, and so for less money then you had of me, I was feign to fell it to another, that by four days stay, a man should loose his blood, our livings, our blood, o my heart, o nigh head. A dog, a very dog, there is more mercy in a pair of unbribed Bailiffs, to shun all such solicitings, he's rid to York, a very cutthroat Rogue, but I'll send to him. O right honest young man Sim. I tell thee and old saw sirrah, he that dissembles in wealth shall not want, they say dooms day is coming, but think you not an't, this will make the pot sees Sim, good Sir talk no more, my mouth runs over, Sleep, wake, worthy beggar, worthy indeed to be one, and am one worthily—how fine it is to wanton without affliction on, I must look out for Fortune's, over again, no, I have money here, and it's the curse of merit , not to work, when she has money: there was a handsome Widow, whose wild ma j alous husband died at Sea, let me see, I am near Blackfriars, I'll have oh e start at her, or else— Your oath struck it dead then? o my sides. Mol, come hither Mol, I hope Sim has discovered the project? Madness—you're a whore. And arrant vhore, to refuse Master Innocent Ear lack of Rogue-land, that for his dwelling, next that he does Inform now and then against enormities, and hath been blancketted, it may be pump't in's time: yet the world knows, he dost not out of needs, he's of mighty means, but takes delight now and then to trot up and down, to a void Idleness, you whore. No, no, man, here are out of ballads, She has all the Garland of good will by heart. I'll tell thee and old saw for't girl, old, say he be, old blad S are best, young hearts are never old. Gold is great Glee, gold begets rest, what fault is found in Gold? Let's have't, lets ha'te. A very pretty pithy one, I protest, look and Moll dee not laugh, shalt have a pair of gloves for thee, what leather dost love? Nay, it's a witty notable knave, he should never serve me else. Love letters, love lies, dost mark Sim, these Women are violent, Sim, while I read the lie, do you rail to him upon the Brewer, swear has deceived us, and save a cup of Beer by't. O nimble, nimble Widow, I am sorry we have no better friends, but pray commend me, though in a blunt dry Commendations at the time and place appointed, I wonnot fail, I know she has a nest of suitors, and wo'd car ry't close, because she fears surprisal. Shalt lie there all night son. I must meet a friend i'th dark soon, let me see, we lovers are all a little mad, do you and Moll take a turn or two i'th garden, whilst Sim and I go up into the Gar rest and device, the guess come. Nay, nay, nay, mark what follows, I must bring her home 'th dark, turn her up to bed, and here she goes to Church: my Cloak sirrah. I am going to steal the Widow from I know not how many. To bed, to bed—good son, what Sim I say. I charge ye let not one be up ith'house, but your self, after the clock strikes ten, nor a light be stirring, Moll, Trick up the green bedchamber very dainti y. And well remembered Moll, the keys of my Counting house, are in the left pocket of my hose above i'th wicker chair, look to them and have a care of the black box there I have often told thee of, look to that as to thy Maidenhead. Pray for me all, pray for me all. Out Rogue shall not I be at infinite expense to morrow, fast too night, and pray for me. Would, what's that? That's true, thats true, I come Widow, I come Wench. I wonder where this young rogue spends the day, I hear he has received my hundred Marks, and my advantage with it and it may be, he went home since I went out. vis was with me but even now, and bid me watch, and narrowly, for fear of some of my Rival spies: For I know she has many wealthy Suitors, all love more ney. This Jarvis is most neat in a love business; and when we are married because many mouths much meat, I will requite his courtesy, and turn him away; the Widow's all I look for.—Nay, let her fling to see I have her pos sessions, there's a Saw for't. There's thriving in Wiving: For when we bury Wives by half-dozens, the Money makes marry. O money, money, money, I will built thee And Altar on my heart, and offer to thee My morning longings, and my evening wishes, And hadst thou life, kill thee with covetous kisses. Jarvis. Is she come? is she come Jarvis? We shall cozen all her woers. What, what is his name I prithee. And wood he pop her in at Puddle-dock? By my troath we shall pop him fairly, where is she? where is she? There is something walks. Not I hope man. 'Tis none of Sir Nicholas spies, is't? He wonnot murder me, will he? Good. Good again. And to bob Sir Nicholas most neatly. Or Widow Coote. But how and she wooed say she is not Widow Come, and that she knows no such woman, and so spoil all? Thou hast a delicate Mistress of her. Prithee let me alone, and Sir Nicholas were here himself, he shoo'd swear 'twere thine Aunt. Who's there, Widow Coote? She changes her voice bravely, I must tell thee true Widow, I have loved thee long time, look how the Rogue looks, but had never the wit to let thee know it till to day. I Like thy dwelling well upon the Fleet ditch. Who would think 'twere she Jarvis? I'll home with her presently, some stays up i'th dark. He has God a dagger. There was never such a Jervis herd off, bid Si to be careful, by the same token, I told him he shood feed to morrow for all the week after: good night Widow, Coote my man stays up, we will bob Sir Nicholas bravely. Good night sweet widow Coote. I do but seem to partly, weel meet at home wench. —Exit. I am up before ye son Earelacke, will Ancient Young be here with a rich Wife too? thy Mistress is not stirring yet sirrah, I'll hold my life the Baggage slipe to thy Mistress, there they have e'ne locked the door to them, and are tricking up one another: o these women! but this Rogue Time, he lay out to night too, he received my hun dreaded Mark, and I fear is murdered: Truss, Truss, good Jarvis. Nay, nay, it's Like, the boy had ever a captiva ting tongue to take a woman—o excellent money, ex cellent money, Mistress of my devotions, as if my Wid dowes estate is little less too, and then Sander, he has God a moneyed woman too, there will be a bulk of money, Sim is puling sir, I may tell thee, one that by nature's course, cannot live long: other, a Midnight sur et cuts off, then have I a trick to cozen both their Widows, and make all mine, o Jarvis, what a moneyed generation shall I then get upon thy Mistress? Hast done? I'll in and get some m cke for thy Mistress, to quicken her this morning, and then to Church in earnest, it's done, where is Sir Nicholas Nemo and his words that watch so for her? Would, would, would, al's mixed with honey, I have mirth, a sweet young Widow and her money, o that sweet Saint, called money. Why Master Busy, asleep as thou standest man? Alas Sir, a woman in that kind you know must have help. Son Alexander welcome, and Ancient Young to, I have herd all. They are witty, they are witty. Obedience, hang her virtue, let her starve; has she money? hath she money? They are all Alexanders women, do you mark? Come, come, weel to Church presently: Pri thee Jarvis while the Musicle plays joust upon the delici ous close, usher in the Brides, the Widow, and my Moll. They are both locked up itaith, trimming of one another. O these women, they are so secret in their but sinesse, they will make very Coxcombs of us men, and doo't at pleasure to, it's well said friends, play, play, where's Sim? Marie's above goodman Blockhead. Call my son Earelack, bid him for shame make hast. I am so busied, you must bear with me Gentle men, they leave it all to me here. No, no, good Master Busy, we will first usher the brides. Where's Moll Sim, the Widow Sim, the dainty Widow? Why Gentlemen? Jarvis you're a Rogue, a Cutpurse Jarvis, run Sim, call my son Earelack, he shall put her into the Spi ritual Court for this. Would Boys, the Informer and the Bawd, the Bawd and the Informer have God a devil betwixt them Gentle men. Did we bring you to Music with a mischief Earlack? thou art a Goat, thou hast abused the best bed in my house, I'll set a Sumner upon thee. Are you a Bawd huswife, would? Sim, run to the widow Wags, tell her we are both abum ed, this Jarvis is a ugler, say. Would brave tricks and conceits, can ye dance Ma ster Earelack? And were not you the tother Juggler with Jarvis in this, heigh pass and repass. And I pray let's hear it sir. Heyday, we are cheated by the rule faith, now sirrah, they say you are to be married too. But sirrah, setting aside marriages, where's my hundred Mark you went to receive? Such a match, I pray discover her, what is she? Sir Marmaduke, you are a Justice of peace; I charge you in the Kings name, you and Master Ambodexter, to assist me with the Whore and the Bawd, to Bridewell. Now, now, you look Like a melancholy dog, that had lost his dinner, where's my hundred Marks now you Coxecombe? Here's another madman. What box is that? I shoo'd know that box. Would, would, would, Cupid this twenty four hours has done nothing but cut cross capers. Who have we here trow? The very face of Jarvis. This is strange. Her Husband I told you was a madman. By my troth Master Wag this was a waggs trick indeed, but I knew I know ye, I remembered you a more neth ago, but that I had forgotten where I saw you. All is forgotten now my best son Alexander, and that my wedding want no good company, I invite you all. Why make a fair show, and the Devil and the Saint does no more. Let me see now, for a posy for the Ring: Never and end of and old saw, it's a quick Widow Sim, And wood have a witty posy. O Rogue, Rogue, I shall have eggs for my money, I must hang my self. are witty, you're witty, call to the man o'th house, bid him send in the bottles of wine to night, they will be at hand i'th morning,—will you run sir? Have the guests Rosemary without?