STARTUP

Sweet Lady, I'm your humble servant, it's Well known what I am, where I live, my father Died since I was of age; and left me, thank him, A younger brother's portion: I know, sweet Lady, what you'd say, My father Had no more children, but I must speak modestly Of my estate, I have land I know enough For two or three wives; I have a horse in town, Your daughter, if we please, shall ride behind me, Sweet Lady, did you ever see the Country? Why any Country living, Sweet Lady, I am your humble servant, if You affect hawking, hunting, or drinking, There be good fellows will bear you company; but you have better Sack, sweet Lady, is there good Tobacco in London? Sweet Sir, I am your humble servant, you Seem to be a Gentleman, will you fetch me a pipe? There's half a piece, and I be not troublesome: Perhaps, sweet Lady, it'll offend you, then Let it alone. Ta la la la lero, &c. Sweet Lady, is this your daughter? That may be too: what Gentleman is that? Sweet Sir, I am your humble servant likewise. Sweet Sir, it's all one, A leg or and arm is not cast away Among friends, I am a Country Gentleman All the world knows, sweet Sir, I would no business In town. That may be too, sweet Lady, pray uncase me, I honour your fair daughter; for I know, As well as another, what belongs to a Gentlewoman: She's not the first, sweet Lady, I'have loved I'th' way of matrimony. Sweet Sir, no all men are not alike. Sweet Sir, I do confess it: But wit is never goodwill it be bought. They say there are good wits in town, I would brought money a purpose me for it; If any will fell me a pennyworth, I'll Give him a hundred pieces, because I would carry A little down into the Country. Sweet Sir, no; There's plenty. My servants have, sweet Sir; but it's all one; This Lady shall be Lord of the Soil: I won't Give any man six pence for a bushel of money; I am a Gentleman, my father was A Yeoman; but sweet Lady, howsoever I'm yours, and every limb is at your service; My hands shall walk, my feet shall run. By this gold they shall. Not run? my Grandfather was a Nobleman Footman, and indeed he run his country; my father did out the Con stable. If I live. Not run, sweet Lady If you have occasion to use me, I won't stand upon my feet. Nay, I won't stand upon my head, sweet Lady, to do you courtesy. Sweet Lady, I am your servant: will this Gentleman dine with us? Sweet Sir, I invite no body, if you love any body here? Sweet Sir, I shannot take it kindly, I do not use to quarrel. Sweet Sir, it's dinner time: fair Lady: Exeunt. If thou dost fear they'll drown, Nurse, I can give thee Lighter, I have some want weight. There. Nay it's the man; I hope you'll be converted, And think a Country Gentleman worth favour, That brought you to this knowledge ; I deserve— You wo'd not have wished me To have put her to't behind the hangings? I Like this humour. Where is he, Close? Honest Close, thou hast saved my life. Dost know the devil if thou seest him, Close? A pox of love, if this be the reward on't; Some call it fire, but I find no such matter; I am frozen to the Blanket, and my teeth Strike one another, and keep time Like hammers That Beatrice a Psalm upon the virtuous Anvil; I do believe if they were beaten out, They would make false Dice, there's quicksilver in they, I know already by their dancing. Here I am still. More terror? what's the matter? Here in the ditch. I thank you honest men: where art thou Close? Blessing on their hearts, I am almost starved. Whither shall we go now? How, Close? D'ee hear, sweet Gentlemen? Shall we be hanged, Close, we are condemned already. This will be excellent; So we shall strangle him in his own nooze, And he never know who hurt him. I had almost forgotten, there is a cast of angels more. These things that go to and again, must have Their fees, they'll never speak in cause else. Save you sweet Lady. Enter Frances Yes, I am kind if you knew all, but you are Deceived in some body; love, and love your heart out, The party does not care a button for you. No, I am a fool, a country clod, sweet Lady, Not worth one of your Shoe-ties, no not I; I do not know who makes and ass of you. A gull, a coxcomb, I am ashamed you have So little wit; Tell me, and tell me truly, Who loves this face of yours beside my self. Sweet Lady I know that; A worse face would become the Country, nay, There are but fifteen women in the parish I live in, of which, twelve are counted witches, And wear beards: But it troubles me, sweet Lady, You should be such and owl. Not to see who abuses you; O I could Now find in my heart to baste you, baste you soundly: You think M r . Hartwell loves you. You lie. You lie most basely, he affects your mother. I'de breath you into a little understanding, I say again, and she is the son of darkness Denies it; M r . Hartwell loves your mother. O I could kick your ignorance: He does love her in the way of Matrimony, And makes a property of you; I'll justify it. D'ee know that couple? Enter Hartwell and Bellamy. Step behind the hangings, and you may Both hear and see: I say no more, sweet Lady, I am a rustic puppy, and know nothing. Will you believe me another time, sweet Lady? If I loved you not, what would become on you? Nay d'ee but hear. This is very fine i'faith, sweet Lady. Thank you, most sweet Lady, Is my discovery come to this? I'de better Ha'been tongue-tied; Curse me, and call me her sins, And see her no more? why this is worse and worse; I must suck better counsel from the Nurse. Exeunt. Why Nurse, what would you have me do? I was round with her I called her ass and coxcomb, And twenty more names, unless I should have called her whore, I could not be more round with her. And she called me, I thank her. Why no worse than her sins, heaven forgive her, She has the more to answer; nay she did Not stick to bid me die too, in that desperate Estate. Where are we now? it's very cold, why dost not Led me to some house? Would, what's that? Now it's gone: it's bright Again, Is't not a spirit? O deliver me. What shall I do? I had as good be killed, but yet I'll venture. Exit. Sweet sir, no; Not killed out right, but I was almost starved With cold: These Gentlewoman know me, And I should know that Hose and Doublet too; Those garments which you wear, I have oft seen, sweet sir. I was feign to borrow These of a prisoner that lies in, upon My Diamond Ring. And we too? Close, you must know this your Mistress: Sweet Lady. Hum; yes, who brought you to town? And your daugh ter too, sweet sir? Is she grown crooked? I knew her too well. Peace, not a word more, I know your meaning, Do not discredit me, sweet sir, and we'll steal down And marry her ere any be aware on't; I won't stay to shift me, take no leave; The jest will be when I am in the Country, How Like and ass he'll look in my apparel. Exeunt Startup Countryman, I would it were The fashion for women to wear swords.