SIR OWEN

By Cod Sir Emuloes, sir Owen is clad out a cry because is friends with her, for Sir Owen swear, did her not swear Rice ? Well here is hand, now is mighty friends. By Cod is swear terrible to knog her pade, and fling her spingle legs at plum trees, when her come to fallen to her tagger and fencing trigs, yes faith and to breag her shins did her not Rice ? By Cods judge me is all true, and to give her a great teale of bloody nose, because Sir Emuloes you challenge the prittish Knight, Rice you know Sir Owen gentleman first, and secondly knight, what apoxale you Rice, is shook now? Nay 'tis well known Sir Owen is good shen tleman, is not Rice ? By God is fine leg and fine poote to: but Emu las leg is better, and finer, and shenglier skin to wear. Would, would, Rice go call Gwenthyan, A pogs on her go sedge her and call her within By Cod is mean ta let Gwenthyan see what bobie fool love her, apogs on you. Cods plud, you call her gluttons, Gwenthyan, so ho Gwenthyan ? Belly the ruddo whee: wrage witho, Mandag any Mou du ac whellock en uvea awh. Have at her: nay by Cod is no have at her to, Is tawge tn her prittish tongue, for 'tis fine delicates tongue, I can tell her. Welsh tongue is finer as Greek tongue. Salomon's had pretty wit: but what say you to King Tauie : King Tauie is well known was as good musicians, as the pest fiddler in aul Italy, and King Tauie was Sir Owens countryman, yes truly a prettish shen tlemen porne, and did twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, out a cry upon welsh-harp, and 'tis known Tauie love Miss tris Persabe, as Sir Owen loves Gwenthyan : will her have Sir Owen now? Owe, how do you S. Em. is friends out a cry now but Emuloes take heed, you match no more love trigs to widow Gwenthyans, by Cod vrdge me, that do so must knoge her, see you now? Would would is know not what genicalls mean, but Sir Owen will genicall her, and her fag her genicalling Gwenthyan. By God is out a cry friends, but harg Farnese, Vrcenze twag a great teale to Emuloes: Owe. is great teale of friends: would would is tell sine admirable shest, by Cod Emu loes, for fear S. Owen, knog her shines, is tell, Sir Owen by tozen gentlemen her pooets is put about with lathes, would, would, serge her serge her. Congruent? sploud what leather is congru ent, spanish leather? Pray Emuloes let her see her congruenee leather would would, owe what a pox is here: would, would, is mag a wall to her shins, for keeb her warm? No go to the ̄ , by Cod Sir Owen bear as brave mind as Emperor. But what says Gwenthyans now? will have Sir Owen, Sir Owen is known for a wisely man, as any since Adam and Eves time, and that is by Gods judge me a great teale ago. Tall man, as God unde me, her think the prittish shentelman, is faliant as Mars that is the fine knaves, the poets say the God of pribles & prables, I hope widow you see little more in Sir owen then in Sir Emuloes, say shall her? have her now, 'tis faliant, as can desire, I warrant her. Come widow: Un lod dis Glane Gwe ̄ thya ̄ mondu God judge me, tage her away to her hus band, and is led her have her will owd a cry, yet by God is pridle her well enough. By Cod Wales is better country then Italy's, a great teale so better. Owe whats else: Sir owen marg that ferrewel, yet shall tage her down quiglie enough, come widow will wag to the coward, now to her cozen, and bid her continued zen tell her mind of Str owen. Yes by Cod and prauely to, come Shentlemans you'll tag pains to go with her? By Cod isle see her Latie hanged first: cozen Mar quesse & cozens awl, pray tag time & stay here, Rees shall dress more fittels, and shall dine her in spite of her La die: Cod splude Rees Rees. Exit. Yes as Cod vdg me is: how cozen Julia, is out a cry friends now, Gwenthyan is laugh & be ferie patience now Sir Owen kiss her Lady, a great teale now: see else? Fugh, her warrant her shall log them vb from Sun and Moon, and seven stars too I hobe, but harg you cozen Marquess. Harm, yes by Gods lid, a poggy teale of harm, for loog you cozen, and cozen Julia, & Gentlemen awl, (for awl is to know her wives case) you know her tag to wife the widow Gwenthyan. Pray Gwenthien be patient, as her cozen Griselda is. I pought them for her horse indeed, for here was her cozen Marquess and prought her ponds and scribblings here for her money: Gwenthyan pray keep her ponds and keep her wisely: Sirrah Gwenthyan is tell her brave news, Griselda is prought to bed of liddle gentleman and shentlewoman: (is glad out a cry speag her fair) yes truly Griselda is prought a bed. Sir Owen shall say no more hang her self, be out a cry still and her shall pie her new carded to ride in, & two new fine horses, and more plew coats and padges ta follow her heals, see you now? Would a pogs is do with peggers? would is peg gers 1 page duplicate 1 page duplicate Is come pie and pie, Cod judge me Gwenthian pray put on your prauerie and fine knags, and shame not Sir Owen, yes truly Gwenthian is come out pie and pie, Man grass worth whee cozen Marguesse, Man grass worth whee cozen Iolia is welcome awl. By Cod is tell her a lie then, her wise has pri dled & tamed her indeed: cozen Marquess pecause Griselda is made fool and turn away, Gwenthian mag fool of sir owen : is good? would, is good? Owe Gods lid mine is stubborn Like Gwen thians, Gods plude see it preakes in snip snap pieces, what now Cozen? By God is true as Pistol and Gospel, o true out a cry. A poor on it 'tis scalde matter, well, well pray cozen Marquess, use her Latie Griselda a good teale better, for as God judge me, you hurd Sir Owen out a cry by maging her sad and proved so, see you? Are you? by God so are not I, isle tell you what continued zen Marquess, you awl know her well, you know her face is liddle fair & smug, but her has a tongue goes Jingle jan gle, Jingle jangle, better and worse then pelles when her house is a fire: patient? would would sir Owen shall tag her heels and run to Wales, and her play the tiuell so out a cry ter rible a pogs on her la. Commend her? no by God not I, would would: is know her qualities better & better, before I commend her: but Gwenthian is worse and worse out a cry, owe out a cry worse, out of awl cry, she's feared to be made fool as Gris sill is, & as God judge me, her mag fine pobbie fool of Sir Owen, her shide & shide, & prawle & scold, by God and scradge terrible sometime, owe & haid her will do what her can, would would would, and sir Owen were handsome pachcler again, pray cozen Marquess tag some order in Griselda, or fedge sir Owen to mag Gwenthians quiet and tame her. What shall her do now with these? peat and knog her Gwenthian. Enter Mario. Would would would, tame a shrew, owe 'tis out a cry terri ble hard, and more worse then tame a mad pull, but whad mean her cozen to mag her cut her wands? would would, God judge me 'tis fine knag, I see her knavery now, 'tis to pang Gwenthyans body and she mag a noise & prabble: Is not so? by Gods lid so, & Gwenthian, sir Owen will knog you before her abide such horrible do. Enter Gwenthian and Rice. Gods lid here her comes. Terdawgh Gwenthian Terdawgh. Rees is better preake Rees his pate: here Rees carry her home. Peace Rees, go to, I pought them indeed to mag her horse run and go a mighty teale of pace, pray let Rees tag her in good Gwenthian? God judge me, not love her cozen? is shealous? owe is fine trig, not love her cozen? God judge me her will, and hang her self, see you now? Gods plude, what cannot get by prawles, is get by owe, owe owe, is terrible Lady, pray be peace, and cry no more owe, owe, owe, Tawsone Gwenthyans, God judge me is very fury. Adologo whee Gwenthyan bethogh, en Though nigh, en moyen endue. O no more, as God judge me no more, pray leave, owe, owe, owe. What a pestilence is this for Gwenthyan? Owe Gwenthyan, Cods plude is five thousand ducats, hold hold hold, a pogs on her pride, what has her done? Where is the shear Rees ? Cods plude where? True, et is true I warrant her pogs on her too true. Is glad of that, would, would, would, tag heed of wands Lady, Cod judge me Sir Owen would hang before her marry once more, if I were another Patcheler: marry owe. Exeunt omnes. Yes truly above a dozen more is warrant her. You prade and you taug Gwenthians, but I made you put on parrels for awl your taug and prade: Rees, where's Rees spring the wandes here Rees. Stand by Rees, walk in the halls among the Servingmans, keep her wandes till I call, hear you now? Tawsone Tawsone Cozens aul, and here harmonies and solemnizing faes. As Cod judge me Jan Niclas is honest man, he does not flatter and sembles, but tell his intentions: owe more melodies, owe here come her new pride. Gwenthians there's wives, there's patient wives Hold, hold, hold, banquet? if you banquet so, Sir Owen is Like to have shear, her Latie here is cog a hoop now at this, pray Cozen keep your promise, Rees the wandes Rees, your medicines and fine trigs to tame shrews. Owe wind them, yes is wind them and mag good mighty cudgel, to tame and knog her Latie, and she prawle, or cry, or give preade and meat to peggers, or tear ponds, by God is well remembered too, Cozen you promised to help her to her Duckegs, for all her pa per and ponds is torn? Owe, by Cod is thought should pull her down, ah would. By Cod is love her out a cry now, sir owen could tame her before, but Prittish ploude scawrnes to fidem w to Laties, yes faith scorns out a cry, a pogs ont 'tis nought: Gwenthian shall no more be called Gwenthian but patient Griselda, ah would is. Would would would, Grissil is weary, pray let sir owen speag Griselda is patient, and her cozen is patient, therefore is speage for two, Gods plude you see her Latie is spride of buttery, yet sir owen tame her and tear her ruffs, & mag her cry and put ou her parrels, and say is sorry Sir owen, marg that well: if sir owen was not patient, her Latie had not been pridled, if Griselda had not been patient her cozen Marquess had not been pridled: well now if you love sir owens Latie, I hope you love sir owen too, or is grow mighty angry, sir owen love you as God judge me out a cry, a terrible feal, do you hear now, then pray awl that have crabbed husbands and cannot mend them, as Grissils had, and awl that have fixen wives, and yet is tame her well enough as sir owen does, & awl that have scolds as sir owen does, and awl that love fair Laties as sir owen does, to said her two hands to his pill, and by God shall have sir owens herd and soul in his pellie: and so God save you all. Man grass wortha whee, Man grass wor than whee. God night Cozens awl. Exeunt. Owe, looge here, fine wandes Gwenthyan, is not? Yes, her marg her, Rees pray marg her Lady? Cods plude is pought her to peat dust out of her cloag and parrels. Go Rees, go lock them up in a pox or shest, go. Brave? yes is brave, 'tis repatoes I warrant her: I patoes money out a cry, yes 'tis brave, Rees the preece? Rees the preece? Would would would, pound, Gwenthyan pray do not pie it. God judge me her shall not. Then mag a pobbie fool of Sir Owen indeed: Gods plude shall? I say shall not: five pound for puble, for patoes: here there, so tag it now, wear it now powte her neg, shall pridle sir Owen would? A breath vawer or no Tee : pridle her, sir owen is pridled I warrant: widows (were better Gods plude marry whore) were better be hanged and quarter, then marry widows as God judge me: Sir owen fallen on her knees, & pray God to tag her to her mercy, or else put pet ter mind in her Lady: awl prittish Shentlemans tag heed how her marry fixen widow. Sir owen ap Meredith can rightly tell, A shrews sharp tongue is terrible as hell. Exit. Tardaugh Cozen Marquess & Lawrdes awl. Adologg whee bethogh en Thlonigh, en Moyen endue, Gwenthian. By Cod is threaten her indeed, her says shee'll scradge out Sir owens eyes, and her frown upon her, a pogs on her nails. Owe her cozen Marquess has terrible mighty news for tell her, or else is made ready a great banquet at home for awl, pray come home, is awll ready for her, her Lady say not boepeepe now: but first hear her cozen Marquess news. Cozen, when her weddings are done and at lea sures, I will learn your medicines to tame shrews. Marg patience there Gwenthyan see you thade What shall do to her Latie then? is pest run a way cozen, or knog her brains out? for is as faliant as Mars if I be anger. I pray & pray her for Cods love be quiet, splude her say her will not be quiet, do what Sir owen can: mon endue Gwenthian, Me knock the pen, en vmbleth, pobe des, and pobe nose.