Beggars Bush: A Comedy. Beaumont Francis

What ha' you,

      Bells for my squirrel? I ha' giv'n bun meat,

      You do not love me, do you? catch me a butterfly,

      And I'le love you again; when? can you tell?

      Peace, we go a birding: I shall have a fine thing. [Exit.

      Hub. Her voyce too sayes the same; but for my head

      I would not that her manners were so chang'd.

      Hear me thou honest fellow; what's this maiden,

      That lives amongst you here?

      Gin. Ao, ao, ao, ao.

      Hub. How? nothing but signs?

      Gin. Ao, ao, ao, ao.

      Hub. This is strange, I would fain have it her, but not her thus.

      Hig. He is de-de-de-de-de-de-deaf, and du-du-dude-dumb Sir.

      Hub. Slid they did all speak plain ev'n now me thought.

      Do'st thou know this same maid?

      Snap. Why, why, why, why, which, gu, gu, gu, gu, Gods fool

      She was bo-bo-bo-bo-born at the barn yonder,

      By-be-be-be-be-Beggars Bush-bo-bo-Bush

      Her name is, My-my-my-my-my-match: so was her Mo-mo-mo-Mothers too-too.

      Hub. I understand no word he says; how long

      Has she been here?

      Snap. Lo-lo-long enough to be ni-ni-nigled, and she ha' go-go-go-good luck.

      Hub. I must be better inform'd, than by this way.

      Here was another face too, that I mark'd

      Of the old mans: but they are vanish'd all

      Most suddenly: I will come here again,

      O, that I were so happy, as to find it,

      What I yet hope: it is put on.

      Hem. What mean you Sir,

      To stay there with that stammerer?

      Hub. Farewell friend,—

      It will be worth return, to search: Come,

      Protect us our disguise now, pre'thee Hemskirk

      If we be taken, how do'st thou imagine

      This town will use us, that hath stood so long

      Out against Wolfort?

      Hem. Ev'n to hang us forth

      Upon their walls a sunning, to make Crows meat,

      If I were not assur'd o' the Burgomaster,

      And had a pretty excuse to see a niece there,

      I should scarce venture.

      Hub. Come 'tis now too late

      To look back at the ports: good luck, and enter. [Exeunt.

      SCENA II

      Enter Goswin.

      Gos. Still blow'st thou there? and from all other parts,

      Do all my agents sleep, that nothing comes?

      There's a conspiracy of windes, and servants,

      If not of Elements, to ha' me break;

      What should I think unless the Seas, and Sands

      Had swallow'd up my ships? or fire had spoil'd

      My ware-houses? or death devour'd my Factors?

      I must ha' had some returns.

      Enter Merchants.

      1 Mer. 'Save you Sir.

      Gos. 'Save you.

      1 Mer. No news yet o' your Ships?

      Gos. Not any yet Sir.

      1 Mer. 'Tis strange. [Exit.

      Gos. 'Tis true Sir: what a voyce was here now?

      This was one passing bell, a thousand ravens

      Sung in that man now, to presage my ruins.

      2 Mer. Goswin, good day, these winds are very constant.

      Gos. They are so Sir; to hurt—

      2 Mer. Ha' you had no letters Lately from England, nor from Denmark?

      Gos. Neither.

      2 Mer. This wind brings them; nor no news over land,

      Through Spain, from the Straights?

      Gos. Not any.

      2 Mer. I am sorry Sir. [Exit.

      Gos. They talk me down: and as 'tis said of Vulturs

      They scent a field fought, and do smell the carkasses

      By many hundred miles: So do these, my wracks

      At greater distances. Why, thy will Heaven

      Come on, and be: yet if thou please, preserve me;

      But in my own adventure, here at home,

      Of my chast love, to keep me worthy of her,

      It shall be put in scale 'gainst all ill fortunes:

      I am not broken yet: nor should I fall,

      Me thinks with less than that, that ruins all. [Exit.

      SCENA III

      Enter Van-dunck, Hubert, Hemskirk, and Margaret, Boors.

      Van. Captain, you are welcom; so is this your friend

      Most safely welcom, though our Town stand out

      Against your Master, you shall find good quarter:

      The troth is, we not love him: Margaret some wine,

      Let's talk a little treason, if we can

      Talk treason, 'gainst the traitors; by your leave, Gentlemen,

      We, here in Bruges, think he do's usurp,

      And therefore I am bold with him.

      Hub. Sir, your boldness

      Happily becomes your mouth, but not our ears,

      While we are his servants; And as we come here,

      Not to ask questions, walk forth on your walls,

      Visit your courts of guard, view your munition,

      Ask of your corn-provisions, nor enquire

      Into the least, as spies upon your strengths,

      So let's entreat, we may receive from you

      Nothing in passage or discourse, but what

      We may with gladness, and our honesties here,

      And that shall seal our welcom.

      Van. Good: let's drink then,

      Fill out, I keep mine old pearl still Captain.

      Marg. I hang fast man.

      Hen. Old Jewels commend their keeper, Sir.

      Van. Here's to you with a heart, my Captains friend,

      With