ASINIUS

Horace, Horace, my sweet ningle, is always in la bour when I come, the nine Muses be his midwives I pray Jupiter: Ningle. To me? I pledge thee sweet Ningle, by Bacchus quassing boul, I thought th'adst drunk to me. Over head and ears y aith? I have a sackful of news for thee, thou shalt plague some of them, if God send us life and health together. Is't good, Is't good pure Helicon would? Oh pure, rich, ther's heat in this, on, on. I marry, ther's sprite and flame in this. So do I by Venus. If I have any Judgement, 'tis the best stuff that e ver dropped from thee. Troth so I think; good pieces of lantskip, show best a far off. Mass I thank my destiny I am not passed grace, for by this hand full of Caraways, I could never abide to say grace. Yes faith Lady, Idem make the laugh, my bolts now and then should be soon shot; by these come its, weed let all slide. Wood I were hanged if I can call you any names but Captain and Tucca. Thou shalt find I'll fight in a Godly quarrel, if I be once fired. My Lords, I was drawn into this beastly suit by head and shoulders only for love I bore to my Ningle. Then I hope to see them fly out Like gunpowder ere night. Here's the best leaf in England, but on, on, I'll but tune this Pipe. Oh sweet, but will there be no exceptions taken, be cause forehead and swelling comes together? Nay an't be proper, let it stand for Gods love. Wood this case were my last, if I did not mark, nay all's one, I have always a consort of Pipes about me, mine Ingle is all fire and water; I marked, by this Candle (which is none of Gods Angels) I remember, you started back at sprite and flame. Ther's music in this; If I have any judgement: 'Slid do not Cri cus Revel in these lines, would Nin gle would? Nay I hope so Crispinus, yet I was sick a quar ter of a year a God of a vehement great tooth-atch: a pox oh to, it bit me vi you, as God same la knew it you by your knocking so soon as I saw you; Demetrius Fannius, will you take a whiff this morning? I have tickling gear now, here's that will play with your nose, and a pipe of mine own scow ring too. I burned my pipe yesternight, and it never used since, if you will 'tis at your service gallants, and Tobacco too, 'tis right pudding I can tell you; a Lady or two, took a pipe full or two at my hands, and praizde it for the Heavens, shall I fill Flannius? Morrow Captain Tucca, will you whiff this morning? I never saw mine Ingle so dashed in my life be before. It's a sweet Muske-cod, a pure spic d-gull, by this feather I pity his Ingenuities; but hast writ all this since Nin gle? I know thou hast a good running head and thou listest. Well Ningle I'll trudge, but where's the Ran devow? Yes faith 'tis meat and drink to me. I am glad Lady Petula (by this Apple) that they please you. Dost threaten me? Gods lid I'll bind thee to the good forbearing. Nay not king, but I am afraid the Welsh Knight has given me nothing but purging Comfits: this Captain sticks pockily in my stomach; read this scroule, he says they're rhymes, and bid me give them you. To me? And for that dares he challenge me? I date answer his challenge, by word of mouth, or by wr ting, but I scorn to meet him, I hope he and I are no Para else. Use me how you will; I am resolute, for I would made my Will. Yes I'll meet; Tucca should would found I dare meet. And I too, let me be put to my shifts with mine Ningle. I'll put up my pipes and then I'll see any thing. Your odes? Oh that which you spoke by word a mouth at th'ordinary, when Musco the gull cried Mew at it: At which he would fai e would blushed but that his pain ted cheeks would not let him. Shall I? faith Ningle, shall I see thy secrets? But what farthel's that? what farthel's that? Answer, as God judge me Ningle, for thy wit thou mayest answer any Justice of peace in England I warrant; thou writest in a most goodly big hand too, I Like that, & readest as leageably as some that have been saved by their neck-verse. If I have any judgement; a pox oh to, here's worship full lines indeed, here's stuff: but ra Ningle, of what fa shion is this knights wit, of what block ? Why you see; well, well, and ordinary Ingenuity, a good wit for a knight, you know how, before God I am haunted with some the most pitiful dry gallants. Hay? why the ̄ Captain Tucca rails upon you most preposterously behind your back, did you not hear him Nay I would more news, ther's Crispinus & his Journey man Poet Demetrius Faninus too, they swear they'll bring your life & death vpon'th stage Like a Bricklayer in a play. Nay that S certain, isle bring 100. gallants of my rank I am one of them that can report it: By my troth here's and excellent comfortable book, it's most sweet reading in it. Mass it smells of Rose-leaves a little too. I warrant he had wit in him that penned it. The whoorson made me meet with a hard style in two or three places as I went over him. Mine Ingle wear and old cast Satin suit? If he carry the mind of a Gentleman, he'll scorn it at's heals. Mass you say true, he was dashed worse once going (in a rainy day) with a speech to'th Tiltyard, by Gods lid has called him names, a dog would not put up, that had a nigh discreation. Ningle lets go to some auerne, and dine together, for my stomach rises at this scurvy leather Captain. If you fly out Ningle, here's your Cloak; I think it rain too. Troth so th'adst need, for now thou art in thy Pee and Kue; thou hast such a villainous broad back, that I war rant th'art able to bear away any men j es in England. Yes faith, I find my wit a the mending hand Ningle; troth I do not think but to proceed Poetaster next Come mencement, if I have my grace perfectly: every one that con fer with me now, stop their nose in merriment and swear I smell somewhat of Horace; one calls me Horaces Ape, anon there Horaces Beagle, and such Poetical names it passes. I was but at Barbers last day, and when he was rencing my face, did but cry out fellow thou makest me too long, & says he says hyee, Master Asinius Bub , you have eene Horaces words as right as if he had spit them into your mouth. I wood always have thee saw a fool thus. I am gone. Slid, he makes hounds of us Ningle, a brace quoth a? Peter I prithee fill me out too. Content, I owe God a death, and if he will make me pay't against my will, I'll say 'tis hard dealing. Thy challenge was but at one, and I'll answer but one. Oh hold, most pitiful Captain hold. Leave have you deer Ningle, marry for reading any book I'll take my death vpout (as my Ningle says) 'tis out of my Eleme ̄ to: no faith, eve since I felt one hit me ith teeth that the greatest Clerks are not the wisest men, could I abide to go to School, I was at As in present and left there: yet be cause I'll not be counted a worle fool then I am, I'll turn over a new leaf. No Captain, wood you should well know it, great coal shall not fill my belly. As God save me la, if I might would my will, Idem rather be a bald Gentleman then a hairy; for I am sure the best and tallest Yeomen in England have bald heads: me thinks hair is a scurvy lousy commodity. Nay my Ningle can tickle it, when he comes too't. Hold Captain Tucca hold, I am Bubo, & come to and swer any thing you can lay to my changed rge.