IDLE

Who should those be, I almost know their oy es? Oh my friends? Ya're welcome to a smelling Room here? you newly took leave of the air is't not a strange savour? By my troth George I thank thee; but pish,—what must be, must be. Faith, my offence is ordinary,—common? A Hie-waye, and I fear me my penalty will be ordinary and common too, a halter. Whither I live or die, that art and honest George tell you—silver stoved not with ee, as it had done, (for now the tide runs to Bawds and flatterers) I had a start out, and by chance set upon a fat steward, thinking his purse had been as pursy as his body; and the slave had about him but the poor purchase of ten groats: notwithstanding being des cried, pursued, and taken, I know the Law is so grim: in respect of many desperate-unsettled soldiers, that I fear me I shall dance after their pipe for't. Push, the worst is death,—would you a pipe of Tobacc about you? Hers a clean Gentleman too, to receive? How now more Visitants?—what Corporal Oath? Good Coxcomb? what makes that pure—starched fool here? This is a double torture now,—this fool by'th book Do's vex me more then my imprisonment? What meant you Corporal to hook him hither? Fie, what vain breath you spend! he supply? I'll sooner expect mercy from a Usurer when my bonds forfetted, sooner kindness from a Lawyer when my moneys' spent: nay sooner charity from the devil, then good from a Puritaine? I'll look for relief from him, when I cifer is restored to his blood, and in Heaven again! Pshaw; a foolish Cozen of nine; I must thank God for him. Push, I published him even now to my Corporal, he will be damned, ere he do me so much good; why I know a more proper, a more handsome device then that, if the slave would be sociable—now goodman Fleer-face? Twould do me a exceeding pleasure indeed that, but ere talk foe der on't, the fool will be hanged, ere he do't. And so my disgrace will dwell in his Jaws, and the slave slaver out our purpose to his Master, for would I were but as sure on't as I am sure he will deny to do't. I have took note of thy steers a good while, if thou art minded to do me good? as thou gapst upon me comfortably, and givest me charitable faces? which indeed is but a fashion in you all that are Pu itaines? wilt soon at night steal me thy Masters chain? I know it to be worth three hundred Crowns, & with the half of that, I can buy my life at a Brokers, at second hand, which now lies in pawn to 'th Law, if this thou re suse to do, being easy and nothing dangerous, in that thou art held in good opinion of thy M ster, why 'tis a palpable Argument thou holdest my life at no price, and these thy broken & vnioyn ted offers, are but only created in thy lip, now born, and now buried, foolish breath only? what; woult do't? shall I look for happiness in thy answer? Nay, I told you as much; did I not; though he be a Puritaine yet he will be a true man? Why, and fool, thou shalt love thy Neighbour, and help him in extremities? Why in the first of Charity, the 2. verse. No, I knew it torn out of thy Book, & that makes so little in thy heart. Well seeing he will do no more, as far as I see I must be contented with that. And my three times thrice honey Cozen. I, is he not a fine fool Corporal? But George thou talkest of Art and Coniuting, How shall that be? Oh villain, thou hast opened a vain in my leg. By yond blue Welkin, 'twas out of my partly George to be hurt on the leg. Ime hurt, and had more needs have Surgeons, Lay hands upon me then rough Officers. How now, whose that? what are you? Oh yes, yes, yes: often, often. Sfoot that would be the more to driven me into such and ecstasy, that I should never lin laughing. Mass that's well remembered, now isle do well I warrant thee, never fear me now: but how shall I do George for boyste rous words, and horrible names. Troth and you say true George, there's strange words enough to raise a hundred Quack-salvers; though they be never so poor when they begin? but here lies the fear on't, how in this false conjuration a true Devil should pop up indeed. I understand that you are my Kinsmans good Master, and in regard of that, the best of my skill is at your service: but had you fortunde a ere stranger, and made no means to me by acquaintance, I should have utterly denied to have been the man; both by reason of the Act passed in Parliament against Conjurers and Witches, as also, because I would not have my Art vulgar, trite, and common. What plunges he puts me to, were not this Knight a fool, I had been twice spoiled now; that Captay es woe see then accursed that has and ass to his Kinsman—Sfoot I fear he will driuell't out before I come toot.—Now sir—to come to the point in deed—you see I stick here in the jaw of the Marshalsea, and cannot doo't. How none? why is not this the Marshialsea? Now trust me yar a deer Knight kindness unexpected, o theirs nothing to a free Gentle man.—I will cuniute for you sir till Froth come through my Buff-jerkin? 'Twill be a glorious show, i'faith Knight a very fine show, but are all these of your own house? are you sure of that fir? Who he he's a rare friend of mine, and admirable fellow Knight, the finest fortuneteller. turn over George. Look quickly for the fifteen day,—if within the come pass of these two days there would be some Boisterous storm or other, it would be the best, Idem defer him off till then, some tempest and it be thy will? Puh, would t'ad been hight and foul. No luck. Lighning and thunder, admirable, best of all, I'll conjure to morrow joust at High none George. sir I must crave your patience, to bestow this day upon me, that I may furnish my self strongly,—I sent a spirit into Lank shire tother day, to fetch back a knave Drover, and I look for his return this evening—to morrow morning my friend here and I will come and breakfast with you. And about Noon without fail, I purpose to conjure. Law he could would told him of that, fool, coxcomb could ye. A little merry with your sisters son sir. Oh wonderful convenient. Why, what's the matter sir? Fuh, I warrant you Sir Godfrey: My life for yours Sir Godfrey? Pray peace George, —thou'lt make me laugh anon; and spoil all. Rumbos-ragdayon, pur, pur, colucundrion, Hois—Plois. Beniamino,—gaspois—kay — gosgothoteron—umbrois. Flows—Kakop pos—dragone—Leloomenos—hodge—podge. Gog de gog, hobgoblin, hunks, houseslow, hockley to Come park. Nunck—Nunck—Rip—Gascoynes, Ipis, Drip—Dropite. Oh Sulphur Scoteface— Sirrah George, how wast, how wast, did I doo't well enough. I must needs say so George? sirrah if we could would con void hither cleanly a cracker or a fire-wheel t'ad been and mitable. Pain? I protest George my heals are sorer, then a Whit son Morris-dancer. But I fear that fox Nicholas has revealed it already? Sir Godfrey? Nicholas, Kinsman-Sfoot they're fast at it still George, Sir Godfrey? Fear not Sir Godfrey all's quieted. Laid; and has newly dropped, Your chain ith Garden. Your Garden? Look-well about a bank of Rosemary. Who? Master Edmond. I uh long ago, 'tis all, as it at first. Fear nothing, pray come near—how now? man. Puh, 'tis nothing sir, love me when you see more. go, retire, to yonder end then. Oh master Edmond, you know but the least partly of me yet, why now at this instant I could but flourish my wand thrice over your head, and charm you inusib'e. Nay I should hardly deny you such a small indnesse Master Edmond Plus, why look you sir 'tis no more but this and thus and again and now yar invisible! You see the fortuneteller yonder at farther end ath cham ber go towards him, do what you will with him he shall never find you. Justled you? I saw no body. Shall I —may be some spirit that haunts the circle. Master Edmund, kind, honest, dainty Master Edmond. Oh the musicians I prce the Master Edmond call' em in and licquour they a little. Sfoot who has blabd George? that foolish Nicholas. Speak low George; Prison Rats have wider ears then those in Malt-lof S. Who I? Kerry merry Buff-jerkin? True George? Enough: my friends farewell, This prison shows as if Ghosts did partly in Hell. George Pie- board, honest George? why camest thou I half fac worser. mu ed so? Why? why? Arrested George. Dogs, I say? I know not. How didst thou shake they of then? Sfoot George, art in thy right wits, dost know what thou sayest? why dost talk to a Captain, a conjuring, didst thou ever hear of a Captain conjure in thy life, dost cal't a Circle, 'tis too wide a thing my thinks: had it been a lesser Circle, then I knew what to have done. No by my faith George, come, come, lets to coniurring, lets to coniuing. Well opened i'faith George, thou hast pulled that saying out of the husk. Sfoot George, I know not what to say toot, conjure? I shall be hanged ere I coniute. Well I may go about it when I will, but mark the end oh to, I shall but shame my self i'faith George, speak big words, and stamp and stare and he look in at Keyhole, why the very thought of that would make me laugh outright, and spoil all, nay I'll tell thee George, when I apprehend a thing once, I am of such a laxative laughter, that if the Devil himself stood by, I should laugh in his face. Then he's false enough a conscience i'faith George. Very good sir—what may I call your lose sir? Trust a fool with secrets? — Sir he may say I know: his meaning is, because my Art is such, that by it I may gather a knowledge of all things.— A pax of all fools—the excuse stuck upon my tongue Like Ship-pitch upon Mariners gown, not to come off in hast—ber-lady Knight to lose such a fair Chain a gold, were a soul lose; Well, I can put you in this good comfort on't, if it be between Heaven and Earth Knight, I'll have't for you? I nigher the earth then thou worst on. Faith Knight in few words, I presume so much upon the power of my Art; that I could warrant your Chain again. Marry it will cost me much sweat e, I were better go to sixteen hothouses. Beside great vexation of Kidney and Liver. Plague of all —indeed Knight I have used it a good while, and therefore 'twill strai e me so much the more you know. O any thing thats lost. A goodiest Georg:, —not now you are not Sir, Why id you not see me when I did un channe you? I, that's the on't, I would he would offer it wisely? Why I thank thee, fare thee well, I shall re quite it. Conjure: sfoot George you know the devil a coniu ring can conjure. Many do I sir to is my intent young Gentleman. That I will sir.