GETTINGS

She'es here. Good morrow to the star of my delight, Whose beams more glorious do eclipse the Sun, And cast a richer warmth about the world. Fear me not, Lady, I am none of those were born too't, I had rather Be a Jew then christened in Parnassus Pomp, I have nothing but the knuckles and the rumps Of Poetry. I have-read, he was A common Piper, and those Nine were Gipsies, That lived by cheating Palmistry. I am instructed. No comparison, Master Clod. You're very positive. Duel? You wonot provoke me, Clod, Will you? if you do, Clod. How? You're a dirty fellow, Clod, and if I had met thee that year I was Scavenger, I would have had thee carted. So, so. That days pride? Why, anger ha made you witty Countryman. The highway, but not the wall in London, do you know where you are, and what you have talked all this while? and Informer would squeeze your trunk hose for this, and teach you to know your Terms and your Artornies. Why, thou lump of ignorance, leather and husbandry ill compounded, thou that hast been so long a dunghill, till the weeds have overgrown thee, and a far off hast cozened a horse, thou that dost whistle out thy prayers, and wo-not change thy dirty soil, for so many acres in Paradise, nor leave thy share o'the plough, for Saint Peters patri money, thou that were begotten upon a hay-mow, bred in thy father's stable, and out-dung'd his Cat tell, thou, that at one and twenty, Wertenberg only able to write a sheeps mark in Tar, and read thy own capital letter, Like a gallous upon a cows buttock; you that allow no Scripture Canonical, but and All manacke, which makes you weather-wise, and puts you in hope of a deer year: let the Country starve, and the poor grind provender, so the market rise: let your soul fallen to the Devil among the Corn cutters, I am ashamed to hold discourse any longer with thee; only one word, I would advice you to let your Actium of love fallen, and be content to marry with Malkin, in the Country, she can churme well, and humble her self behind a hedge, for this Lady is no lettice for your lips, go go, meddle with your jades, and exercise a whip, among your bred and cheese eaters. What weapon? Our weapons length are even, but yowl find There is such ods betwixt us, nought but death Can reconcile our difference. You're very round, Clod, I do not think you have practised Fencing of late, this is a weapon you are not used to, a Pitchfork were more convenient for you to manage. You cannot, sure: for ought I see in your con tenance, you are not long-lyv'd your self, you have but a tallow complexion, do you know what ground you stand upon, Clod? You may tread upon your grave now, for all this blustering. Who is this? 'Tis well, something will cool you, after so much thunder, but it won't quench the fire of my anger. I do not use to put up these things, when I am drawn too't, your Foul weather is nothing to the business in hand, therefore submit thy neck to my execution, or— And thou hadst as many heads as Hydra— Would, I'll not hurt a Hare, I am frighted this is my heart, you had not so wet, but we are Like to have as dry a time on't, I stood upon to es before, this is Long-Vacation. I dreamed of a dry Summer, he will con fume me, it will be a thousand years till Michael mass. Prithee let's be friends, for my partly I have no hope of Riches. By our seven gates that do let in Every day no little sin, By the sword which we advance, And the Cap of Maintenance: By the Shrieves post, and the hall Yelped Guild, and London wall, By our Royal Change which yields Gentile beware, and by More-fields, By our thrice burned famous Steeple, That does overlook the people, Cheapeside Cross, and loud Bow-bell, And by all that wish it well: I am friends with him till he die, And love him Like my liberties: So help me Riches, what I speak: The Citizen will never break. Welcome to my heart. How I do love thee, Riches! Oh my soul, We'll marry straight. Me thinks I fumble my gold chain already. But who are these? What care we for Honour, so we have Riches? I make no doubt. 'Tis such a dry Clod! 'Twas his ignorance, But we are friends again. Nay, nay, sweet Lady we shall be friends again. You were fi e and tow but 'een now. They are in my books already, pray Gentlemen, Know my Commodities, when I would married Riches, I shall be better able to furnish you If thou hast any ambition to be beaten to dust, Clod, thank your self.