Название | Beaumont and Fletcher's Works. Volume 9 |
---|---|
Автор произведения | Beaumont Francis |
Жанр | |
Серия | |
Издательство | |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn |
I could suck Sugar from 'em, what a beard's here!
When will the Knight thy Master have such a
Stamp of manhood on his face? nay, do not blush.
Clow. 'Tis nothing but my flesh and blood that rises so.
Cun. 'Death, she courts the fool.
Guard. Away, away, 'tis sport, do not mind it.
Nee. Give me thy hand, come, be familiar;
[I, h]ere's a promising palm; what a soft
Handful of pleasure's here, here's Down compar'd
With Flocks and quilted Straw, thy Knights fingers
Are lean mattrice rubbers to these Feathers,
I prethee let me lean my cheek upon't.
What a soft pillow's here!
Clow. Hum, umh, hu, hum.
Neece. Why there's a courage in that lively passion,
Measure thee all o'r, there's not a limb
But has his full proportion, it is my voice,
There's no compare betwixt the Knight and thee,
The goodlier man [by] half, at once now
I see thee all over.
Clow. If you had seen me swim t'other day on my back, you would have sed you had seen, there was two Chambermaids that saw me, and my legs by chance were tangled in the flags, and when they saw how I was hang'd, they cryed out, Oh help the man for fear he be drown'd.
Neec. They could do no less in pity, come thine arm, we'll walk together.
Cun. Blindness of Love and Women, why she dotes upon the fool.
Guard. What's that to you, mind her not.
Cun. Away you Burr.
Guard. How's that?
Cun. Hang of Fleshook, fasten thine itchy claspe
On some dry Toad-stool that will kindle with thee,
And burn together.
Guard. Oh abominable,
Why do you not love me?
Cun. No, never did;
I took thee down a little way to
Enforce a Vomit from my offended stomach,
Now thou'rt up agen, I loath thee filthily.
Guard. Oh villain.
Cun. Why dost thou not see a sight.
Would make a man abjure the sight of Women.
Neece. Ha, ha, ha, he's vext; ha, ha, ha.
Clow. Ha, ha, ha.
Neece. Why dost thou laugh?
Clow. Because thou laugh'st, nothing else i'faith.
Cun. She has but mockt my folly, else she finds not
The bosome of my purpose, some other way,
Must make me know; I'll try her, and may chance quit
The fine dexterity of her Lady-wit.
Neec. Yes introth, I laught to think of thy Master,
Now, what he would think if he knew this?
Clow. By my troth I laugh at him too, faith sirrah, he's but a fool to say the truth, though I say't, that should not say't.
Neece. Yes, thou shouldst say truth, and I believe thee;
Well, for this time we'll part, you perceive something,
Our tongues betray our hearts, there's our weakness,
But pray be silent.
Clow. As Mouse in Cheese, or Goose in Hay i'faith.
Neece. Look, we are cut off, there's my hand where my
Lips would be.
Clow. I'll wink, and think 'em thy Lips, farewel.
Neece. Now Guardianess, I need not ask where you have been.
Guard. Oh Lady, never was woman so abus'd.
Clow. Dost thou hear Lady, sweet-heart, I had forgot to tell thee, if you will, I will come back in the evening.
Neece. By no means, come not till I send for you.
Clow. If there be any need, you may think of things when I am gone, I may be convey'd into your chamber, I'll lye under the bed while midnight, or so, or you shall put me up in one of your little boxes, I can creep in at a small hole.
Neece. These are things I dare not venture, I charge you on my love, never come till I send for you.
Clow. Verbum insapienti, 'tis enough to the wise, nor I think it is not fit the Knight should know any thing yet.
Neece. By no means, pray you go now, we are suspected.
Clow. For the things that are past, let us use our secrets.
Neece. Now I'll make a firm trial of your love,
As you love me, not a word more at this time,
Not a syllable, 'tis the seal of love, take heed.
Clow. Hum, hum, hum, hum – .
He humhs loath to depart.
Neece. So, this pleasant trouble's gone, now Guardianess,
What? your eyes easing your heart, the cause woman?
Guard. The cause is false man, Madam, oh Lady,
I have been gull'd in a shining Carbuncle,
A very Glo-worm, that I thought had fire in't,
And 'tis as cold as Ice.
Neece. And justly serv'd,
Wouldst thou once think that such an [erring] spring
Would dote upon thine Autumn?
Guard. Oh, had you heard him but protest.
Neece. I would not have believ'd him,
Thou might'st have perceiv'd how I mock'd thy folly.
In wanton imitation with the Fool,
Go weep the sin of thy credulity,
Not of thy loss, for it was never thine,
And it is gain to miss it; wert thou so dull?
Nay, yet thou'rt stupid and uncapable,
Why, thou wert but the bait to fish with, not
The prey, the stale to catch another Bird with.
Guard. Indeed he call'd me Bird.
Neece. Yet thou perceiv'st not,
It is your Neece he loves, wouldst thou be made
A stalking Jade? 'tis she examine it,
I'll hurry all awry, and tread my path
Over