The Mad Lover Part 2

_Eume._ The whole name of souldier then will suffer.

_Mem._ She's a sweet one, And good sirs leave your exhortations, They come untimely to me, I have brains That beat above your reaches: She's a Princess, That's all: I have killed a King, that's greater.

Come let's to dinner, if the Wine be good, You shall perceive strange wisdom in my blood.

[_Exeunt all but_ Chilax.

_Chil._ Well, would thou wert i' the wars again Old _Memnon_, there thou wouldst talk toth' purpose, And the proudest of all these Court Camelions Would be glad to find it sense too: pla[gu]e of this Dead peace, this b.a.s.t.a.r.d breeding, lowzie, lazie idleness, Now we must learn to pipe, and pick our livings Out of old rotten ends: these twenty five years I have serv'd my Country, lost my youth and bloud, Expos'd my life to dangers more than dayes; Yet let me tell my wants, I know their answers, The King is bound to right me, they good people Have but from hand to mouth. Look to your wives Your young trim wives, your high-day wives, your marchpanes, For if the souldiers find not recompence, As yet there's none a hatching; I believe You men of wares, the men of wars will nick ye, For starve nor beg they must not; my small means Are gone _in fumo_: here to raise a better Unless it be with lying, or Dog flattering, At which our Nation's excellent; observing Dog-days, When this good Lady broyles and would be basted By that good Lord, or such like moral learnings, Is here impossible; Well; I will rub among 'em If any thing for honestie be gotten, Though't be but bread and cheese I can be satisfied: If otherwise the wind blow, stiff as I am Yet I shall learn to shuffle: There's an old La.s.s That shall be nameless yet alive, my last hope, Has often got me my pocket full of crowns.

If all fail--Jack-Dawes, are you alive still?

Then I see the coast clear, when fools and boyes can prosper.

_Enter_ Fool, _and_ Page.

_Page._ Brave Lieutenant.

_Fool._ Hail to the man of wors.h.i.+p.

_Chi._ You are fine sirs, Most pa.s.sing fine at all points.

_Fool._ As ye see Sir, Home-bred and handsome, we cut not out our clothes Sir At half sword as your Taylors doe, and pink 'em With Pikes and Partizans, we live retir'd Sir Gentlemen like, and jealous of our honours.

_Chi._ Very fine Fool, and fine Boy, Peace playes with you, As the wind playes with Feathers, dances ye, You grind with all gusts, gallants.

_Page._ We can bounce Sir, When you Soldados bend i'th' hams, and frisk too.

_Fool._ When twenty of your trip-coats turn their tippets, And your cold sallets without salt or vineger Be wambling in your stomachs; hemp and hobnails Will bear no price now, hangings and old harness Are like to over-run us.

_Pa._ Wh.o.r.es and hot houses.

_Fool._ Surgeons and Syringes ring out your sance-bells.

_Page._ Your Jubile, your Jubile.

_Fool._ _Prob Deum._ How our St. _Georges_ will bestride the Dragons, The red and ramping Dragons.

_Page._ Advanc't fool--

_Fool._ But then the sting i'th' tail boy.

_Page._ _Tanto Melior._ For so much the more danger, the more honour.

_Chi._ You're very pleasant with our occupation Gent.

Which very like amongst these fierie Serpents May light upon a Blind-worm of your blood, A Mother or a Sister.

_Fool._ Mine's past saddle, You should be sure of her else: but say Sir _Huon_, Now the Drums dubbs, and the sticks turn'd bed-staves, All the old Foxes hunted to their holes, The Iron age return'd to _Erebus_, And _Honorificabilitudinitatibus_ Thrust out o'th' Kingdom by the head and shoulders, What trade do you mean to follow?

_Chi._ That's a question.

_Fool._ Yes and a learned question if ye mark it, Consider and say on.

_Chi._ Fooling as thou dost, that's the best trade I take it.

_Fool._ Take it straight then For fear your fellows be before ye, hark ye Lieutenant Fooling's the thing, the thing worth all your fightings, When all's done ye must fool Sir.

_Chi._ Well, I must then.

_Fool._ But do you know what fooling is? true fooling, The circ.u.mstances that belong unto it?

For every idle knave that showes his teeth, Wants and would live, can juggle, tumble, fiddle, Make a dog face, or can abuse his fellow, Is not a fool at first dash; you shall find Sir Strange turnings in this trade; to fool is nothing As fooling has been, but to fool the fair way, The new way, as the best men fool their friends, For all men get by fooling, meerly fooling, Desert does nothing, valiant, wise, vertuous, Are things that walk by without bread or breeches.

_Chi._ I partly credit that.

_Fool._ Fine wits, fine wits Sir, There's the young Boy, he does well in his way too, He could not live else in his Masters absence; He tyes a Ladyes garters so, so prettily, Say his hand slip, but say so.

_Chi._ Why let it slip then.

_Fool._ 'Tis ten to one the body shall come after, And he that works deserves his wages.

_Chi._ That's true.

_Fool._ He riddles finely to a waiting Gentlewoman, Expounds dreams like a Prophet, dreams himself too, And wishes all dreams true; they cry Amen, And there's a _Memorandum_: he can sing too Bawdy enough to please old Ladies: he lies rarely, p.a.w.ns ye a sute of clothes at all points, fully, Can pick a pocket if ye please, or casket; Lisps when he lists to catch a Chambermaid, And calls his Hostess mother, these are things now, If a man mean to live: to fight and swagger, Beaten about the Ears with bawling sheepskins, Cut to the soul for Summer: here an arm lost, And there a leg; his honourable head Seal'd up in salves and cereclothes, like a packet, And so sent over to an Hospital, stand there, charge there, Swear there, wh.o.r.e there, dead there, And all this sport for cheese, and chines of dog-flesh, And mony when two wednesdayes meet together, Where to be lowzie is a Gentleman, And he that wears a clean s.h.i.+rt has his shrowd on.

_Chi._ I'le be your scholar, come if I like fooling.

_Fool._ You cannot choose but like it, fight you one day I'le fool another, when your Surgeon's paid, And all your leaks stopt, see whose slops are heaviest, I'le have a s.h.i.+lling for a can of wine, When you shall have two Sergeants for a Counter.

_Boy._ Come learn of us Lieutenant, hang your Iron up, We'l find you cooler wars.

_Chi._ Come let's together, I'le see your tricks, and as I like 'em.-- [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Memnon, Eumenes, _and Captains_.

_Mem._ Why was there not such women in the camp then Prepar'd to make me know 'em?

_Eum._ 'Twas no place Sir.

_1 Capt._ Why should they live in Tumults? they are creatures Soft and of sober natures.

_Mem._ Cou'd not your wives, Your Mothers, or your Sisters have been sent for To exercise upon?

_Eume._ We thank your Lords.h.i.+p.

_2 Capt._ But do you mean?

_Mem._ I do mean.

_2 Capt._ What Sir?

_Mem._ To see her, And see thee hang'd too an thou anger'st me, And thousands of your throats cut, get ye from me, Ye keep a prating of your points of manners, And fill my head with lowzie circ.u.mstances, Better have Ballads in't, your courtly wors.h.i.+ps, How to put off my hat, you, how to turn me, And you (forsooth) to blow my nose discreetly; Let me alone, for I will love her, see her, Talk to her, and mine own way.

_Eume._ She's the Princess.