SISLY

Why Barnaby, thouseest I am at des ance with my work Till it be done, for I am always spitting on my toe. Eat my feet goodman knave? And you are worthy of that i'faith. Yes truly husband, if they will do as well as they say, I Like they very well; good faces as faces goes now a days, Prithee sweet heart be kind to they, and entertain they If they Like our Trade. They will work and earn their meat I'll warrant ye. 'Tis pity they should be parted then, if they love so well. I dare do that Madam, Crispinus, reach a stool. Kind boys they are, indeed they shall fare near the worse, I could e'ne weep my self, to see my boys so kind hearted. The world treads not upright, methinks It had need of a good workman to mend it. That knave will still be backward: why Barnaby. Come, come, you are a lazy knave, you must be pr to for a Should A fever lurden have you not? you lazy knave you, Wilt thou let a boy out dare thee? Alack, alack, the Boy is forward, but far unable; Sir pray spare him and take either of these. A false stitch I warrant thee, the Wars will pick it out. And welcome shalt thou be to thy Dame boy; if there come but a leg on thee back, the worst member thou hast, shall be welcome to me; lame or blind, if thou comest back, thou shalt want no Hospi tall-pention as long as I live. Well, go thy ways, and take the kindest youth with thee, that ever set foot in the stirrup. O you are a cunning counterfeit knave sirrah. Truly man I am afraid he's pressed at Canterbury. Oh you are a fine loitering youth, what, lie out of your Ma sters house! Who knows that sir? you frighted both your Master & me We thought you had been pressed for a Soldier, as your Brother is. I, I, the flower's plucked, but the weed remains; thy brother that's gone, would not have served me so. I, I, you'll mar they all: but he had better been a sleep. Fie, fie, fie; Heaven for thy pity how am I used to day! Here be youths indeed to run away, and leave me in this order. Do I keep one, two, three, four, and five journey-men, Beside Prentices, uprising and downlying, And do they all bob me of this fashion? How now, art thou there Crispine? that's well: Did you see your fellows? Then I'll have you before me too, but not so far as they are: Fie, fie, see how I sweat with following them: Come sir, though they gave me the slip, you'll not serve me so I hope. Go before, and man me. How now Crispine, what's the matter Boy? Why are so many Chancery Bills drawn in your face? Now, where sits the wind that you blow so? What ailest thou? Bless him good Heaven, upon what ground soever he tread: He was and honest fellow, and a good servant, And so he shall find, if ever he come From the wars again. A maid, marry hang her whore. Out upon thee Traitor. He'll smoke for't I warrant him. He'll climb to the Gallows for't. Hoyda. You pressed her at night, did you? Thou art a Coxcomb and a Claperdudgion: ost thou see now, I was never so called in my life as thou callest me. Thou mayest be ashamed on't: this it's to let thy Prentices have their swing, and lie out at nights thus. Shee'le spin a fair thread I warrant you: How will he maintain her troe ye? Would, is he a Kings son Husband? Nay truly Husband, I ever thought they were some wor shipfull men sons, they were such mannerly boys still. Blessing of thy heart, I Like thee well th'ast such a care of thy Wife: therefore if thou couldst but steal her from the Court, and bring her hither, she should lie in, and be brought to bed at my house and no body know it I warrant you. Come, come, leave it to me Boy, I see, a woman's wit must help at a pinch still Boy: Mark this device, and if you Like it, do it, and thus it is: Soon at night thou shalt hire some friend to fire Tree upon the Coast at Dover, as near the Beacons as can be possible, by which means the men that watch the other Beacons, seeing that in flames, and supposing some Enemy landed, will presently fire all the rest, and so on a sudden set both Court, City, and Country, and all in and uproar, in which time if you and she cannot bestir your stumps, and run both away, would you were whipped i'faith. Oh horrible! Sweet Crispianus, welcome home from the wars; Nay sir, your brother has been in Arms too: Do you you see what exploits has done? A boy I'm sure, Has a Purse and two pence in't: Nay come Sir, you shall kiss your kinsman: Here's his Father's own nose i'faith. And I'll not fit out, though I turn up Noddy. Alas man the boys young, his tender limbs are scarce Well jointed yet, let Ralph, or Barnaby, undertake that task, It's sitter for either. Never by my Holy dame; Yet I have much ado to keep my ownesecrets, But I'll keep thine I'll warrant thee. Let what will lie on't, shall never be talked of by me. Dost think I am a woman or a beast? Here's a do indeed, Thou hast not God a wench with child hast? Out upon thee Villain. Hence you Whoremaster knave, Gods my passion, God a wench with child, Thou naughty pack thou hast undone thy self for ever: Precious coals, you are a fine youth indeed, Can you cut out no shoes but of Ducks leather, With a wanion? has your Master so little doings, Your tools must be working abroad in a foreigners shop? Nothing, hang thee villain, I'll cry it at the Market Cross: Faith, is your Aul so free for smock-leather? By these ten fingers I'll double thy years for't: O that I knew the Quean, I'de slit her nose, And tear her eyes out of her head y'faith. O, you are as good a Master too o'th to the side: you look to your Prentices well; one of your men has been at green-goose fair; but he shall pay for the sauce I'll warrant him. Nay, it's no matter, as he likes this, let him dance the sha king of the sheets another time. Marry uptailes all: do you smell me now? Dead, hang ye Rascal, hang ye; you were quick enough when you laid your Whore on her back, to take measure of her new shoes: Would you think it Husband, this young knave has God a wench with child. I, I, one Whoremaster will take partly with another still. I, beshrew your heart for your labour. And cause he's a Knight, thou shalt have my shilling too. Here's one, if it could speak, would be a witness to that. I, their Compassion of women shall lose they nothing, If they be but dutiful to their Master, and just to their Dame.