The Scornful Lady Part 6

_Ser._ Why, they are transparent Sir, you may see through them: and such a house!

_Wel._ Come Sir, the truth of your discovery.

_Ser._ Sir, they are in tribes like Jewes: the Kitchin and the Dayrie make one tribe, and have their faction and their fornication within themselves; the b.u.t.tery and the Landry are another, and there's no love lost; the chambers are intire, and what's done there, is somewhat higher than my knowledge: but this I am sure, between these copulations, a stranger is kept vertuous, that is, fasting. But of all this the drink Sir.

_Wel. _What of that Sir?

_Ser. _Faith Sir, I will handle it as the time and your patience will give me leave. This drink, or this cooling Julip, of which three spoonfuls kills the Calenture, a pint breeds the cold Palsie.

_Wel. _Sir, you bely the house.

_Ser. _I would I did Sir. But as I am a true man, if 'twere but one degree colder, nothing but an a.s.ses hoof would hold it.

_Wel. _I am glad on't Sir, for if it had proved stronger, you had been tongue ti'd of these commendations. Light me the candle Sir, I'le hear no more. [_Exeunt._

_Enter young_ Loveless _and his _Comrades, _with wenches, and two Fidlers._

_Yo. Lo. _Come my brave man of war, trace out thy darling, And you my learned Council, sit and turn boyes, Kiss till the Cow come home, kiss close, kiss close knaves.

My Modern Poet, thou shalt kiss in couplets.

_Enter with_ Wine.

Strike up you merry varlets, and leave your peeping, This is no pay for Fidlers.

_Capt._ O my dear boy, thy _Hercules,_ thy Captain Makes thee his _Hylas,_ his delight, his solace.

Love thy brave man of war, and let thy bounty Clap him in _Shamois_: Let there be deducted out of our main potation Five Marks in hatchments to adorn this thigh, Crampt with this rest of peace, and I will fight Thy battels.

_Yo. Lo._ Thou shalt hav't boy, and fly in Feather, Lead on a March you Michers.

_Enter_ Savill.

_Savill_. O my head, O my heart, what a noyse and change is here! would I had been cold i'th' mouth before this day, and ne're have liv'd to see this dissolution. He that lives within a mile of this place, had as good sleep in the perpetual noyse of an Iron Mill. There's a dead Sea of drink i'th' Seller, in which goodly vessels lye wrackt, and in the middle of this deluge appear the tops of flagons and black jacks, like Churches drown'd i'th' marshes.

_Yo. Lo._ What, art thou come? My sweet Sir _Amias_ welcome to _Troy_.

Come thou shalt kiss my _Helen_, and court her in a dance.

_Sav_. Good Sir consider?

_Yo. Lo_. Shall we consider Gentlemen? How say you?

_Capt_. Consider? that were a simple toy i'faith, consider? whose moral's that? The man that cryes consider is our foe: let my steel know him.

_Young Lo_. Stay thy dead doing hand, he must not die yet: prethee be calm my _Hector_.

_Capt_. Peasant slave, thou groom compos'd of grudgings, live and thank this Gentleman, thou hadst seen _Pluto_ else. The next consider kills thee.

_Trav_. Let him drink down his word again in a gallon of Sack.

_Poet_. 'Tis but a snuffe, make it two gallons, and let him doe it kneeling in repentance.

_Savil_. Nay rather kill me, there's but a lay-man lost. Good Captain doe your office.

_Young Lo_. Thou shalt drink Steward, drink and dance my Steward. Strike him a horn-pipe squeakers, take thy striver, and pace her till she stew.

_Savil_. Sure Sir, I cannot dance with your Gentlewomen, they are too light for me, pray break my head, and let me goe.

_Capt_. He shall dance, he shall dance.

_Young Lo_. He shall dance, and drink, and be drunk and dance, and be drunk again, and shall see no meat in a year.

_Poet._ And three quarters?

_Young Lo._ And three quarters be it.

_Capt._ Who knocks there? let him in.

_Enter_ Elder Loveless _disguised._

_Savill._ Some to deliver me I hope.

_Elder Lo._ Gentlemen, G.o.d save you all, my business is to one Master _Loveless_?

_Capt._ This is the Gentleman you mean; view him, and take his Inventorie, he's a right one.

_Elder Lo._ He promises no less Sir.

_Young Lo._ Sir, your business?

_Elder Lo._ Sir, I should let you know, yet I am loth, yet I am sworn to't, would some other tongue would speak it for me.

_Young Lo._ Out with it i' G.o.ds name.

_Elder Lo._ All I desire Sir is, the patience and sufferance of a man, and good Sir be not mov'd more.

_Young Lo._ Then a pottle of sack will doe, here's my hand, prethee thy business?

_Elder Lo._ Good Sir excuse me, and whatsoever you hear, think must have been known unto you, and be your self discreet, and bear it n.o.bly.

_Young Lo._ Prethee dispatch me.

_Elder Lo._ Your Brother's dead Sir.

_Young Lo._ Thou dost not mean dead drunk?

_Elder Lo._ No, no, dead and drown'd at sea Sir.

_Young Lo._ Art sure he's dead?