PUPPY

Where? where? I could never endure the sighed of these Rogue-Gipsies, which be they: I would feign see'em. Can they Cant, or Mill? are they Master's of their Arts? Music, wee'll have a whole poverty of pipers, call cheeks upon the Bagpipe, and Tom Ticklefoot with his Tabor; see where he comes! And long Meg of Eaton; Say you so old Gipsy? 'slid these go too't in rhymes; this is bet ter then canting by tone half. Faith but a little, they'le do it non upstant. Is that a fortune for a Christian; a Turk, or a Gipsy could not have told her a worse. No, I'm well enough, I would ha'no good fortune and I might; What! are they gone? flown all of a sudden? this is fine faith? a covie call y'em, they are a covie soon scattered me think, who sprung they I marl? Hold thy peace, thou talkest as if thou hadst a license to loose thy purse alone in this company; 'slid here be those can loose a purse in honour of the Gipsies, as well as thou for thy heart, and never make word of it: I have lost my purse too. Marry, a new collection, ther's no music else Master's, he can ill pipe that wants his upper lip; Money. Here goodman Townshead, you have nothing to loose it seems, but the Towne-braines you are trusted with. AND excellent song, and a sweet Songster, and would have done rarely in a Cage, with a dish of water, and hempseed; a fine breast of his own: Sir you are a Prelate of the Order, I under stand, and I have a terrible grudging now upon me to be one of your company; will your Captain take a Prentice Sir? I would bind my self to him body and soul, either for one and twenty years, or as ma nigh lives as he would. Tut, they have other manner of gifts then picking of pockets, or telling Fortune's; if they would but please to show they, or thought us poor Country mortals worthy of them; what might a man do to be a Gentleman of your company Sir? I, a Gipsy in ordinary, or nothing. All the better; I would be acquainted with them while they are in clean life, the 'ile do their tricks the cleanlier. And set the Codpieces and they by ears at pleasure. But look to our pockets, and purses, for our own sake. The wiser Gipsie's the Marry. Yes, and isle stand too't, that a wise Gipsy (take him at time o'year) is as pollique a piece of flesh, as most Justices in the County where he stalks. Let her alone, shee'll swallow well enough; A learned Gipsy. Marry, and isle listen; who stands next? Jack Cockrell. You'll have good luck to horseflesh of my life, You plowed so late with the Vicars wife. A Prophet, a prophet, no Gipsy; or if he be a Gipsy, a divine Gipsy. Byr'lady he touched the virgin string there a little too hard, they are arrant learned men all I see; what say they upon Tom, Clod, List. Has hit the right nail o'th head, his own game. Peace, who's this? Long Meg? They slip her, and treat upon Tickle-foot. Or thy Grannams silver ring. What sort or order of Gipsies, I pray sir. But I pray sir, if a man might ask on you, how came your Cap taines place first to be called the Devils-arse. Without the aid of a Cheese, OF my conscience he fears not that, and the Marshal himself were here; I protest I admire him.