FRAILTY

A man of Mark, quatha, I do not think he can show a Beggars Noble. o, you lie Nicholas; for here's one strong enough; blow us up quatha, he may well blow me above twelvescore off and him? I warrant if the wind stood right, a man might smell him from the top of Newgate, to the Leads of Ludgate? If he should chance to break it, the poor men Breeches would fallen down about his heals, for Venus allows him but one point to his hose? Oh Mistress Moll, Mistress Moll. The Knight your uter, sir John Penny-Dub. He's walking in the Gallery. Oh no, she's—spitting in the Kitchen. That's joust Like running a Tilt; but I hope heel break nothing this time. Forsooth Madam? there are two or three Archers at door, would very gladly speak with your Ladyship. Who do you not see they before you, are not these Ar chers, what do you call they Shooters: Shooters and Archers are all one I hope. I, I knew by their shuffling Clubs would be Trump; mass here's the Knave, and he can do any good upon they: Clubs, clubs, clubs? Madam, he was carried to the superior, but if he had no money when he came there, I warrant he's dead by this time. Oh no Madame, he's above at breakfast, with sir reue rence a Conjurer. O, a wondrous ra e fellow Mistress, very strongly made upward, for he goes in a Buff-jerkin: he says he will fetch Sir Godfreys Chain again, if it hang between heaven and earth. Fooh—he's neither smoke-dried, nor scorched, nor black, nor nothing, I tell you Madame, he looks as fair to see to, as one of us; I do not think but if you saw him once, you worser take him to be a Christian. Oh Mistress, Gentlemen, there's the bravest sighed come ming along this way. O here they come, here they come! Oh me Master Edmund we shall would rare doings. Here's run, run, run— Fagh and hour ago I help they my self. Away, away, away then There is none of us I can tell you, but shall be soundly whipped for swearing. Si rah Saint? my Mistress sends a way a l her suitors and puts eas ears? Why do you take us to be Jack at'h Clockhouse? Passed seventeen? nay ha met with his match now, Corporal Oath will fit him. O, one going to burying, & another going to hanging. Not I neither, I cannot abide to handle a Ghost of all me. Why, we're as fearful as you I warrant you—o— Had it so sir: sure it cannot be lost then; I'll put you in that comfort. Why if your chain had so many Links, it cannot choose but come to light. Oh I, we may lie, but me must not swear. Oh I, I have seen him eat up a whole Pig, and after ward falls to the pettitoes? Put off all their suits quam than? I, that's the best wooing of a Widow indeed, when a man's Nonsuted, that is, when he's a bed with her. I should laugh now, if this blunt fellow should put they all by side the sti rop, and vault into the saddle himself, I have seen as mad a trick. Oh Mistress, he may well be called a Corporal now, for his corpses are as dead as a cold Capons? Your chain sir? I would he were hanged in chains that has it then for me? Alas sir, I saw none of your chain, since you were hung with it your self? Oh Madam Madam. Yet Simon, many widows will do't, what so comes on't. What all ready Master Edmond. What more yet? Ther's none but Master Pilfer the Tailer: he's a above with Sir Godfrey pra king of a Doublet: and I must trudge anon to fetch Master Suds the Barber!