JENKINS

What is he a Barber Surgeon, that dressed your lips so. Uds blood isle lay him cross upon his coxcomb next day. If I take Master pricklouse ramping so High again, by this Iron (which is none a gods Angel) isle make him know how to kiss your blind cheeks sooner: mistress Dorothy Hor net, I would not have you be a hornet, to lick at Cowsherds, but to S ng such sh eds of rascality: will you sing a Tailor shall have me my joy? Of what stature or size have you a stomach to have your husband now? As it might be Sampson or so, or great Goliath that was killed by my Countryman. The Trab will driven you (if she put you before her) in to a pench hold. Will he? tawsone, this woman, Hunt's at his tail Like your little Goats in Wales follow their mother, we have warrants here from master Sustice of this shire, to show no pity nor mere cy to her, her name is Doll. What has she committed: ownds she has committed more that n manslaughters, for she has committed her self God plesse us to everlasting prison: lug you sir, she is a punk, she shifts her lovers (as Captains and Welsh Gentlemen and such) as she does her Trenchers when she has well fed vpon't, and that there is left nothing but pa e bones, she calls for a clean one, and scrapes away the first. By God, 'tis well said: all your best Captain in the Low-cou tr es are as taller as I: but why of my pitch Mistress Dol? Uds blould, and hang him for urse than a rogue than will slash and cut for and woman, if she be a whore. As any tongue in the vrld, unless Cramacrees, that's urse. Mi caram whee, en hellon. Hell hound, oh mondu, my caram whee, en hellon. O! and you went to writing school twenty score year in Wales, by Sesu, you cannot have better utterance, for welch. By gad I kanow not, what your tit mees and tat mees are, but me uatha — Sbloud I know what kisses be, aswell as I know a Welch hook, if you will go down with Shrop-sheere carriers you shall have Welch enough in your pellies forty weeks. Fare? by Sesu, Oh there is the most abominable seere! and wider silver pots to drink in, and softer beds to lie upon & do our necessary pusines, and fairer houses and parks, & holes for Conies, and more money, beside toasted Sees and butter milk in Northwales diggon: beside, harps, & Welch Freeze, and Goats, and Cow-heeles, and Metheglin, ouh, it may be set in the Kernicles, will you ma changed thither? Will you go with Captain Jenkin and see his Cozen Maddoc upon Jenkin there, and isle run headlongs by and by, & batter away money for a new Coach to jolt you in. Will you? by all the leeks that are worn on Saint Dam vies day I will buy not only a Coach, with four wheels, but also a white Mare and a stone horse too, because they shall traw you, very lustily, as if the devil were in their arses. Exit. How now, more Tailors — Meets Philip. Is he, I will Cozen you then sir too, one day. By gad I hobe so, farewell Sidanien. Exit. I seek sir, (God plesse you) for a Sentillman, that talks beside to himself when he's alone, as if he were in Bedlam, and he's a Poet. Pray Master Poet shute off this little potgun, and I will conjure your Fu y: 'tis well lay you sir, my desires are to have some amiable and amorous sonnet or madrigal composed by your Fury, see you. Owe, by gad out a cry. You're then a scholar sir. I would picked up my cromes in Sesus college in Oxford one day a gad w isle ag e S nax Tragedy is he living can you tell? was not Sti anax a M n-mouth man? Hector was grannam to Cadwalader, when she was great with child, God judge me, there was one young Styanan of Monmouth sheire was a madder Greek as any is in all Englam ̄ worser. By God your Frenchmen will do a Tragedy interlude, poggy well. Uds blood, does Orleans marry with the Admiral of France now. But are you sure Duke Pepper-noone will give you such good vrdes, behind your back to your face. God judge me, all France may hap die in your debt for this. Did he die in his ped Could the little horse that ambled on the top of Pauls carry all the people; else how could they ride on the roofs! By Sesu, and it were tilde all with naked Imen it better. A Captain sir, and a follower of God Mars. For a witty ditty, to a Sentill-oman, that I am fallen in with all, over head and ears in affections, and natural desires. Cross sticks: I would not be too cross Master Poet; yet if it be best to bring her name in question, her name is mistress Dorothy Hornet. Love her! there is no Captains wife in England, can have more love put upon her, and yet Ime sure Captains wives, have their pellies full of good men's loves. As great a matter, as a whole coach, and a horse and his wife are gone too and from between us. Honest? God judge me, she's as honest, as a Punk, that cannot abide fornication, and lechery. 'Tis for some love—song to send to me, I hold my life. Oh I, I, put her in, put her in I pray now. Exit Servants. Does the Poet play Torkin and cast my Lucraesies water too in hugger muggers? if he do, Styanax Tragedy was never so horrible bloody-minded, as his Comedy shall be, — Tawsons Captain Jenkins. Enter Doll. What stands he upon then? with a pox God bless us? Ud blood! I did never see a white flay before I will cling you? Sesu, are I men so arsy varsy. Do you, are you a town cow and confess you bear calves. A pogs a your stable-room; is your Inn a baudy house now? You lie he makes you a punk Hornet minor. Cockatrice: you mistress Salamanders that fear no burr ning, let my mare and my mares horse, and my coach come run ning home again and run to and hospital, and your Surgeons, and to knaves and panders and to the tiuell and his tame to. I'll have any man, woman or cilde by his ears, that says a common drab can love a Sentillman honestly, I will fell my Coach for a cart to have you to punks hall, Pridewell, I sarge you in Apollos name, whom you belong to, see her forth-com ming, till I come and tiggle her, by and by, Sbloud I was never Couzend with a more rascal piece of mutton, since I came out a the Lawer Countries. Exit. Set the best of your little diminutive legs before, and ride post I pray. Possible! S old 'tis more easy for and woman to be nought, than for a soldier to beg, and thats horrible easy, you know. Your Norfolk tumblers are but zanies to connicatch king punks. I will geld all the horses in five hundred Sheires, but I will ride over her, and her cheaters, and her Hornets ; She made a stark Ass of my Coach-horse, and there is a putter-box, whom she spread thick upon her white bred, and eat him up, I think she has sent the poor fellow to Gil derland, but I will marse prauely in and out, and pack again upon all the low countries in Christendom, as Holland and Zeland and Netherland, and Cleueland too, and I will be drunk and cast with master Hans van Belch, but I will smell him out. I will traw as better, and as urse weapons as arrewes up to the head, lug you, it shall be warrants to give her the whip deedle. Fle with her pells! ownds I know a parish that sal tag down all the pells and fell em to Captain Ienkens, to do him good and if pelle will fly, weel fly too, unless, the pell-ropes hang us: will you amble up and down to master Justice by my side, to have this rascal Hornet in corum, and so, to make her hold her whoars peace. Oh mon du! u dguin ! follow your leader, Jenken shall cut, and Slice, as worse as they: come I scorn to have any peace of her, or of any onam, but open wars. E unt. Owe! Sbloud do you come so far to fish and catch Frogs? your wife is a Tilt-boat, any man or woman may go in her for money; she's a Cunny-catcher: where is my move ab'e goods called a Coach and my two wild pests, pogs on you would they had trawne you to the gallows. You are a Poet sir, are you. God plesse you; is there not and arrant scurvy trab in your company, that is a Sentill-woman born sir, and can tawg Weleh, and Dutch and any tongue in your head?