BOW-WOW

Well, sirs, take heed what you do, I am a Princes man, if you stay me upon the Kings hie way, I can lay fell lowship to your charge. Without the word! Oh pernicious Frenchman! without the word! why, I have called thee Villain, him Rascal; this, Slave; that, Rogue; and am I still without the word? Faith, you're Like to watch this twelvemonth, ere you have any other words at my hands. I came, sir, from the King of France's camp. My name, sir, is Bow wow. No dog, sir, would you should know it, though I be encompassed with curs. Not you, sir, I call not you so: I know you to be a very insufficient ill-spoken Gentleman. My master, sir, is the Lady Katharine, the French Kings daughter: I have been abroad about some business of hers, and am now going back again. Stand of: but soft, I do not know your name, sir, that my Lady may give you thanks. Then, master Dick Bowyer, after my hearty commendations, endue: but as for the rest, I shall, I say no more, I shall— 'Tis true, they are gone together, and I am sent to watch Prince Ferdinand, and the Earl of Pembroke: this way they went; but they are God out of sighed. I were very bade to be a Hound, that have no better a sent: if they were hares, as they are men, I should think them squatted: but hushed, here comes one of them. Here comes the tother, this is luck upon luck: now will I run and fetch my mistress, the Lady Katharine, to partly their fray. Just in this circle I left the two Princes ready to draw; for I read the whole discourse of the Combat in their read eyes. Have they not slain one another, and buried themselves? Oh Lord, then let me turn my self into a Ballad, and mourn for them. Go from your sighed? then let me go out of your company: for I had as leave leave your sighed as your company. Is this my reward for watching and watch king? O Mistress, do not kill me with unkindness: I shall, I shall— Weep out mine eyes, and fill the holes with salt water. Well, I were best be going, now I am so fairly offered. Mistress, your reward hath stopped my tears, and en tic'de my legs to be walking. Farewell, I will go, God knows whither, to seek and to find both, and neither. Farewell, sweet Mistress. Come on, Madam, me thinks now a mask would do well: but I perceive your drift, I smell your policy, you think a bald face hath no needs of a black mask. Shall I tell you what you look Like? A broiled herring, or a tortur'de Image made of plaster work. Out of peradventure, Madam, the ghost of Saint George is come out of England, to see what hospitality S. Denis keeps in France. Antic! thou liest, and thou Wertenberg a Knight of gingerbread: I am no Antic, the whole parish where I was born will swear, that since the reign of Charlemain there was not a better face bred or brought up amongst them. Is my young Lord buried here? I say no more, but I pray God send him a joyful insurrection. Do not think, Madam, that isle forsake you. And so, sir, you that walk in pewter vessayle, Like one of the wor thighs, will you be ruled by me? To set a gyn for Woodcocks, & catch your self first. By your leave, sweet bloods: may a Gentleman or so, deceive two or three ounces of words in this assembly? Is there not a young Kings son amongst you, who treading the steps of his father, is called Philip? Then the old saying is verified, He that seeks, shall find. Here is a poor kinswoman of mine would desire some private conference with you, or so.