A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Xi Part 61

JOYCE. I'll first be buried quick.

GERT. How! ashamed? 'Sfoot, I trow, "if I had set my affection on a collier, I'd ne'er fall back, unless it were in the right kind: if I did, let me be tied to a stake, and burnt to death with charcoal."[195]

JOYCE. Nay, then, we shall have't.

GERT. Yes, marry shall you, sister: will you speak to him?

JOYCE. No.

GERT. Do you hear, sir? here's a gentlewoman would speak with you.

JOYCE. Why, sister! I pray, sister----

GERT. One that loves you with all her heart, yet is ashamed to confess it.

STAINES. Did you call, ladies?

JOYCE. No, sir; here's no one called.

GERT. Yes, sir, 'twas I; I called to speak with you.

JOYCE. My sister's somewhat frantic; there's no regard to be had unto her clamours. Will you yet leave? I' faith, you'll anger me.

GERT. Pa.s.sion: "come back, fool; lover, turn again and kiss your bellyful; here's one will stand ye."[196]

STAINES. What does this mean, trow?

JOYCE. Yet is your humour spent?

GERT. Come, let me go: "birds that want the use of reason and of speech can couple together in one day; and yet you, that have both, cannot conclude in twenty."[197] Now, sister, I am even with you, my venom is spit. As much happiness may you enjoy with your lover as I with mine.

And droop not, wench, nor never be ashamed of him; the man will serve the turn, though he be wrapped in a blue coat, I'll warrant him; come.

JOYCE. You are merrily disposed, sister. [_Exeunt wenches._

STAINES. I needs Must prosper: fortune and love work for me.

Be moderate, my joys; for, as you grow To your full height, so Bubble's waxeth low. [_Exit._

_Enter_ SPENDALL, SWEATMAN, _and_ TICKLEMAN.

TICKLE. Will my sweet Spendall be gone, then?

SPEND. I must, upon promise; but I'll be here at supper: therefore, Mistress Sweatman, provide us some good cheer.

SWEAT. The best the market will yield.

SPEND. Here's twenty s.h.i.+llings; I protest I have left myself but a crown for my spending-money: for indeed I intend to be frugal, and turn good husband.

TICKLE. Ay, marry will you; you'll to play again and lose your money, and fall to fighting; my very heart trembles to think on it; how, if you had been killed in the quarrel? of my faith, I had been but a dead woman.

SPEND. Come, come, no more of this; thou dost but dissemble.

TICKLE. Dissemble! do not you say so; for if you do, G.o.d is my judge, I'll give myself a gash.

SPEND. Away, away; prythee, no more. Farewell.

TICKLE. Nay, buss first; well, There's no adversity in the world shall part us.

SPEND. Thou art a loving rascal; farewell.

SWEAT. You will not fail supper?

SPEND. You have my word; farewell. [_Exit._

_The street. Enter_ SERJEANTS.

1ST SER. Sir, we arrest you.

SPEND. Arrest me! at whose suit?

2D SER. Marry, there's suits enough against you, I'll warrant you.

1ST SER. Come, away with him.

SPEND. Stay, hear me a word.

2D SER. What do you say?

SWEATMAN'S _house. Another part of the street_.

_Enter_ PURSENET.

TICKLE. How now, Pursenet? why com'st in such haste?

PURSE. Shut up your doors, and bar young Spendall out; And let him be cas.h.i.+er'd your company.

He's turn'd bankrout; his wares are seiz'd on; And's shop shut up.

TICKLE. How! his ware seized on? Thou dost but jest, I hope.

PURSE. What this tongue doth report, these eyes have seen; It is no aesop's fable that I tell; But it is true, as I am faithful pander.

SWEAT. Nay, I did ever think the prodigal would prove A bankrupt: but, hang him, let him rot In prison; he comes no more within these doors, I warrant him.

TICKLE. Come hither! I would he would but offer it; We'll fire him out, with a pox to him.

SPEND. Will you do it?

To carry me to prison but undoes me.

1ST SER. What say you, fellow Gripe, shall we take his forty s.h.i.+llings?