Wife. I Ralph, he beat him unmercifully, Ralph, and thou
spar'st him Ralph, I would thou wert hang'd.
Cit. No more, wife, no more.
Ralph. Where is the Caitiff wretch hath done this deed,
Lady, your pardon, that I may proceed
Upon the quest of this injurious Knight.
And thou fair Squire repute me not the worse,
In leaving the great venture of the purse,
Enter Jasper and Luce.
And the rich Casket till some better leisure.
Hum. Here comes the Broker hath purloin'd my treasure.
Ralph. Go, Squire, and tell him I am here,
An Errant Knight at Arms, to crave delivery
Of that fair Lady to her own Knights arms.
If he deny, bid him take choice of ground,
And so defie him.
Squire. From the Knight that bears
The Golden Pestle, I defie thee Knight,
Unless thou make fair restitution
Of that bright Lady.
Jasp. Tell the Knight that sent thee
He is an ass, and I will keep the wench,
And knock his Head-piece.
Ralph. [Knight thou] art but dead,
If thou recall not thy uncourteous terms.
Wife. Break's pate Ralph, break's pate Ralph, soundly.
Jasp. Come Knight, I am ready for you, now your Pestle.
[Snatches away his Pestle.
Shall try what temper, Sir, your Mortar's of:
With that he stood upright in his stirrops,
And gave the Knight of the Calve-skin such a knock,
That he forsook his horse, and down he fell,
And then he leaped upon him, and plucking off his Helmet.
Hum. Nay, and my noble Knight be down so soon,
Though I can scarcely go, I needs must run.
[Exit Humphrey and Ralph.
Wife. Run Ralph, run Ralph, run for thy life boy, Jasper
comes, Jasper comes.
Jasp. Come Luce, we must have other Arms for you,
Humphrey and Golden Pestle both adieu. [Exeunt.
Wife. Sure the Devil, God bless us, is in this Springald,
why George, didst ever see such a fire-drake, I am afraid my
boy's miscarried; if he be, though he were Master Merry-thoughts
Son a thousand times, if there be any Law in England,
I'll make some of them smart for't.
Cit. No, no, I have found out the matter sweet-heart,
Jasper is enchanted as sure as we are here, he is enchanted,
he could no more have stood in Ralph's hands, than I can
stand in my Lord Mayor's: I'll have a Ring to discover all
enchantments, and Ralph shall beat him yet: be no more vext,
for it shall be so.
Enter Ralph, Squire, Dwarfe, Mistriss
Merry-thought, and Michael.
Wife. Oh Husband, here's Ralph again, stay Ralph, let me
speak with thee, how dost thou Ralph? art thou not shrewdly
hurt? the foul great Lungies laid unmercifully on thee, there's
some Sugar-candy for thee, proceed, thou shalt have another
bout with him.
Cit. If Ralph had him at the Fencing-School, if he did
not make a puppy of him, and drive him up and down the
School, he should ne'r come in my shop more.
Mist. Mer. Truly master Knight of the Burning Pestle,
I am weary.
Mich. Indeed-law Mother, and I am very hungry.
Ralph. Take comfort gentle Dame, and [you] fair Squire.
For in this Desart there must needs be plac'd
Many strong Castles, held by courteous Knights,
And till I bring you safe to one of those
I swear by this my Order ne'r to leave you.
Wife. Well said Ralph, George, Ralph was ever comfortable,
was he not?
Cit. Yes Duck.
Wife. I shall ne'r forget him: when we had lost our child,
you know it was straid almost alone, to Puddle-wharfe, and the
Cryers were abroad for it, and there it had drown'd it self but
for a Sculler, Ralph was the most comfortablest to me: peace
Mistriss, saies he, let it go, I'll get you another as good, did he
not George? did he not say so?
Cit. Yes indeed did he Mouse.
Dwarfe. I would we had a mess of Pottage, and a pot
of Drink, Squire, and were going to bed.
Squire. Why we are at Waltham Towns end, and that's
the Bell Inne.
Dwarfe. Take courage valiant Knight, Damsel, and Squire,
I have discovered, not a stones cast off,
An antient Castle held by the old Knight
Of the most holy Order of the Bell,
Who gives to all Knights Errant entertain:
There plenty is of food, and all prepar'd,
By the white hands of his own Lady dear.
He hath three Squires that welcome all his Guests:
The first, High Chamberlain, who will see
Our beds prepar'd, and bring us snowy sheets,
Where never Footman stretch'd his butter'd Hams.
The second height Tapstro, who will see
Our pots full filled, and no froth therein;
The third, a gentle Squire Ostlero height,
Who will our Palfries slick with wisps of straw,
And in the Maunger put them Oats enough,
And never grease their teeth with Candle-snuffe.
Wife. That same Dwarfe's a pretty boy, but the Squire's
a grout-nold.
Ralph. Knock at the Gates my Squire, with stately Lance.
Enter Tapster.
Tap. Who's there, you're welcome Gentlemen, will you
see a room?
Dwarfe. Right courteous and valiant Knight of the Burning
Pestle, This is the Squire Tapstro.
Ralph. Fair Squire Tapstro, I a wandring Knight,
Height of the Burning Pestle in the quest
Of this fair Ladies Casket, and wrought purse,
Losing my self in this vast wilderness,
And to this Castle well by fortune brought,
Where hearing of the goodly entertain
Your Knight of holy Order of the Bell,
Gives to all Damsels, and all Errant Knights,
I thought to knock, and now am bold to enter.
Tapst. An't please you see a chamber, you are very welcome. [Exeunt.
Wife. George, I would have something done, and I cannot
tell what it is.
Cit. What is it Nell?
Wife. Why George, shall Ralph beat no body again?
prethee sweet-heart let him.
Cit. So he shall Nell, and if I joyn with him, we'll knock
them all.
Enter Humphrey and Merchant.
Wife. O George, here's master Humphrey again now, that
lost Mistriss Luce, and Mistriss Luce's Father, master Humphrey
will do some bodies arrant I warrant him.
Hum. Father, it's true in arms I ne'r shall clasp her,
For she is stoln away by your man Jasper.
Wife. I thought he would tell him.
Mer. Unhappy that I am to lose my child:
Now I begin to think on Jasper's words,
Who oft hath urg'd to me thy foolishness,
Why didst thou let her go, thou lov'st her not,
That wouldst bring home thy life, and not bring her.
Hum. Father forgive me, I shall tell you true,
Look on my shoulders they are black and blue,
Whilst too and fro fair Luce and I were winding,
He came and basted me with a hedge binding.
Mer. Get men and horses straight, we will be there
Within this hour; you know the place again?
Hum. I know the place where he my loins did swaddle,
I'll get six horses, and to each a saddle.
Mer. Mean time I'll go talk with Jaspers Father. [Exeunt.
Wife. George, What wilt thou lay with me now, that
Master Humphrey has not Mistriss Luce yet, speak George what
wilt thou lay with me?
Cit. No Nell, I warrant thee, Jasper is at Puckeridge with
her by this.
Wife. Nay George, you must consider Mistriss Lucies feet
are tender, and besides, 'tis dark, and I promise you truly, I do
not see how he should get out of Waltham Forrest with her yet.
Cit. Nay Cunny, what wilt thou lay with me that Ralph
has her not yet.
Wife. I will not lay against Ralph, Honny, because I have
not spoken with him: but look George, peace, here comes the
merry old Gentleman again.
Enter old Merry-thought.
Old Mer. When it was grown to dark midnight,
And all were fast asleep,
In came Margarets grimly Ghost,
And stood at William's feet.
I have money, and meat, and drink before hand, till to
morrow at noon, why should I be sad? methinks I have halfe
a dozen jovial spirits within me, I am three merry men, and
three merry men: To what end should any man be sad in
this world? give me a man that when he goes to hanging
cries troul the black boul to me: and a Woman that will
sing a catch in her Travel. I have seen a man come by my
door, with a serious face, in a black cloak, without a Hatband,
carrying his head as if he lookt for pins in the street. I have
lookt out of my window halfe a year after, and have spied
that mans head upon London Bridge: 'tis vile, never trust
a Tailor that does not sing at his work, his mind is of nothing
but filching.
Wife. Mark this George, 'tis worth noting: Godfrey my
Tailor, you know never sings, and he had fourteen yards to
make this Gown; and I'll be sworn, Mistriss Penistone the
Drapers Wife had one made with twelve.
Old Mer. 'Tis mirth that fills the veins with blood,
More than Wine, or Sleep, or Food,
Let each man keep his heart at ease
No man dies of that disease.
He that would his body keep
From diseases, must not weep,
But whoever laughs and sings,
Never [he] his body brings
Into Feavers, Gouts, or Rhumes,
Or lingringly his Lungs consumes:
Or meets with aches in the bone,
Or Catarrhs, or griping Stone:
But contented lives for aye,
The more he laughs, the more he may.
Wife. Look George, how sayst thou by this George? is't not a fine old man? Now Gods blessing a thy sweet lips.
When wilt thou be so merry George? Faith thou art the
frowningst little thing, when thou art angry, in a Countrey.
Enter Merchant.
Cit. Peace Conny, Thou shalt see him took down too I
warrant thee: here's Luce's Father come now.
Old Mer. As you came from Walsingam, from the Holy
Land, there met you not with my true love by the way as
you came.
Mer. O Master Merry-thought! my Daughters gone,
This mirth becomes you not, my Daughter's gone.
Old Mer. Why an if she be, what care I?
Or let her come, or go, or tarry.
Merch. Mock not my misery, it is your Son,
Whom I have made my own, when all forsook him,
Has stoln my only joy, my child away.
Old Mer. He set her on a milk white Steed, and himself upon a gray,
He never turn'd his face again, but he bore her quite away.
Merch. Unworthy of the kindness I have shewn
To thee, and thine: too late, I well perceive
Thou art consenting to my Daughters loss.
Old Mer. Your Daughter, what a-stirs here wi' y'r daughter?
Let her go, think no more on her, but sing loud. If both my
sons were on the gallows, I would sing down, down, down:
they fall down, and arise they never shall.
Merch. Oh might I behold her once again,
And she once more embrace her aged sire.
Old Mer. Fie, how scurvily this goes: and she once more
embrace her aged sire? you'll make a dog on her, will ye;
she cares much for her aged sire, I warrant you.
She cares not for her Daddy, nor she cares not for her Mammy.
For she is, she is, she is[, she is] my Lord of Low-gaves Lassie.
Merch. For this thy scorn I will pursue
That son of thine to death.
Old Mer. Do, and when you ha kill'd him,
Give him flowers i'now Palmer, give him flowers i'now,
Give him red and white, and blue, green, and yellow.
Merch. I'll fetch my Daughter.
Old Mer. I'll hear no more o' your Daughter, it spoils
my mirth.
Merch. I say I'll fetch my Daughter.
Old Mer. Was never man for Ladies sake, down, down,
Tormented as I [poore] Sir Guy? de derry down,
For Lucies sake, that Lady bright, down, down,
As ever men beheld with eye? de derry down.
Merch. I'll be reveng'd by heaven. [Exeunt. Finis Act. Secund.
Musick.
Wife. How dost thou like this George?
Cit. Why this is well Cunnie: but if Ralph were hot
once: thou shouldst see more.
Wife. The Fidlers go again Husband.
Cit. I Nell, but this is scurvy Musick: I gave the whoreson
gallows money, and I think he has not got me the Waits
of Southwark, if I hear him not anan, I'll twinge him by
the ears.
[You] Musicians play Baloo.
Wife. No good George, let's ha Lachrymæ.
Cit. Why this is it Cunny.
Wife. It's all the better George: now sweet Lamb, what
story is that painted upon the cloth? the confutation of Saint
Paul?
Cit. No Lamb, that's Ralph and Lucrece.
Wife. Ralph and Lucrece? which Ralph? our Ralph?
Cit. No Mouse, that was a Tartarian.
Wife. A Tartarian? well, I wo'd the Fidlers had done,
that we might see our Ralph again.
Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima.
Enter Jasper and Luce.
Jasp. Come my [deere deere], though we have lost our way,
We have not lost our selves: are you not weary
With this nights wandring, broken from your rest?
And frighted with the terror that attends
The darkness of this wild unpeopled place?
Luce. No my best friend, I cannot either fear,
Or entertain a weary thought, whilst you
(The end of all my full desires) stand by me:
Let them that lose their hopes, and live to languish
Amongst the number of forsaken Lovers,
Tell the long weary steps, and number time,
Start at a shadow, and shrink up their bloud,
Whilst I (possest with all content and quiet)
Thus take my pretty love, and thus embrace him.
Jasp. You have caught me Luce, so fast, that whilst I live
I shall become your faithful prisoner:
And wear these chains for ever. Come, sit down,
And rest your body, too too delicate
For these disturbances; so, will you sleep?
Come, do not be more able than you are,
I know you are not skilful in these Watches,
For Women are no Soldiers; be not nice,
But take it, sleep I say.
Luce. I cannot sleep.
Indeed I cannot friend.
Jasp. Why then we'll sing,
And try how that will work upon our sences.
Luce. I'll sing, or say, or any thing but sleep.
Jasp. Come little Mermaid, rob me of my heart
With that inchanting voice.
Luce. You mock me Jasper.
SONG.
Jasp. Tell me (dearest) what is Love?
Luce. 'Tis a lightning from above,
'Tis an Arrow, 'tis a Fire,
'Tis a Boy they call desire.
'Tis a smile
Doth beguile
Jasp. The poor hearts [o]f men that prove,
Tell me more, are Women true?
Luce. Some Love change, and so do you.
Jasp. Are they fair, and never kind?
Luce. Yes, when men turn with the wind.
Jasp. Are they froward?
Luce. Ever toward
Those that love, to love anew.
Jasp. Dissemble it no more, I see the God
Of heavy sleep, lay on his heavy Mace,
Upon your eye-lids.
Luce. I am very heavy.
Jasp. Sleep, sleep, and quiet rest crown thy sweet thoughts:
Keep from her fair blood distempers, startings,
Horrors and fearful shapes: let all her dreams
Be joys, and chaste delights, embraces, wishes,
And such new pleasures as the ravish'd soul
Gives to the sences. So my charms have took.
Keep her you powers divine, whilst I contemplate
Upon the wealth and beauty of her mind.
She is only fair, and constant: only kind,
And only to thee Jasper. Oh my joyes!
Whither will you transport me? let not fulness
Of my poor buried hopes come up together,
And over-charge my spirits; I am weak,
Some say (how ever ill) the Sea and Women
Are govern'd by the Moon, both ebb and flow,
Both full of changes: yet to them that know,
And truly judge, these but opinions are,
And heresies to bring on pleasing War
Between our tempers, that without these were
Both void of after-love, and present fear.
Which are the best of Cupid. O thou child!
Bred from despair, I dare not entertain thee,
Having a love without the faults of Women,
And greater in her perfect goods than men:
Which to make good, and please my self the stronger,
Though certainly I am certain of her love,
I'll try her, that the world and memory
May sing to after-times her constancy.
Luce, Luce, awake.
Luce. Why do you fright me friend,
With those distempered looks? what makes your sword
Drawn in your hand? who hath offended you?
I prethee Jasper sleep, thou art wild with watching.
Jasp. Come make your way to Heaven, and bid the world
(With all the villanies that stick upon it)
Farewell; you're for another life.
Luce. Oh Jasper.
How have my tender years committed evil,
(Especially against the man I love)
Thus to be cropt untimely?
Jasp. Foolish girl,
Canst thou imagine I could love his daughter
That flung me from my fortune into nothing?
Discharged me his service, shut the doors
Upon my poverty, and scorn'd my prayers,
Sending me, like a boat without a mast,
To sink or swim? Come, by this hand you dye,
I must have life and blood to satisfie
Your fathers wrongs.
Wife. Away George, away, raise the Watch at Ludgate,
and bring a Mittimus from the Justice for this desperate
Villain. Now I charge you Gentlemen, see the Kings peace
kept. O my heart what a varlet's this, to offer Man-slaughter
upon the harmless Gentlewoman?
Cit. I warrant thee (sweet heart) we'll have him hampered.
Luce. Oh Jasper! be not cruel,
If thou wilt kill me, smile, and do it quickly,
And let not many deaths appear before me.
I am a woman made of fear and love
A weak, weak woman, kill not with thy eyes,
They shoot me through and through. Strike I am ready.
And dying still I love thee.
Enter Merchant, Humphrey, and his Men.
Merch. Where abouts?
Jasp. No more of this, now to my self again.
Hum. There, there he stands with Sword like martial Knight.
Drawn in his hand, therefore beware the fight
You that are wise: for were I good Sir Bevis,
I would not stay his coming, by your leaves.
Merc. Sirrah, restore my daughter.
Jasp. Sirrah, no.
Merch. Upon him then.
Wife. So, down with him, down with him, down with
him: cut him i'the leg boyes, cut him i'th' leg.
Merc. Come your ways Minion, I'll provide a Cage for
you, you're grown so tame. Horse her away.
Hum. Truly I'm glad your forces have the day.
[Exeunt manet Jasper.
Jasp. They are gone, and I am hurt, my Love is lost,
Never to get again. Oh me unhappy!
Bleed, bleed, and dye, I cannot: Oh my folly!
Thou hast betray'd me, Hope where art thou fled?
Tell me if thou be'st any where remaining.
Shall I but see my love again? Oh no!
She will not dain to look upon her Butcher,
Nor is [it] fit she should; yet I must venter.
Oh chance, or fortune, or what ere thou art
That men adore for powerful, hear my cry,
And let me loving live; or loosing dye. [Exit]
Wife. Is a gone George?
Cit. I conny.
Wife. Marry and let him go (sweet heart) by the faith
a my body a has put me into such a fright, that I tremble
(as they say) as 'twere an Aspine leaf: look a my little finger
George, how it shakes: now in truth every member of my
body is the worse for't.
Cit. Come, hug in mine arms sweet Mouse, he shall not
fright thee any more: alass mine own dear heart how it
quivers.
Enter Mistris Merry-thought, Rafe, Michael, Squire, Dwar[f]e, Host, and a Tapster.
Wife. O Rafe, how dost thou Rafe? how hast thou slept
to night? has the Knight us'd thee well?
Cit. Peace Nell, let Rafe alone.
Tapst. Master, the reckoning is not paid.
Rafe. Right courteous Knight, who for the orders sake
Which thou hast tane, hang'st out the holy Bell,
As I this flaming Pestle bear about,
We render thanks to your puissant self,
Your beauteous Lady, and your gentle Squires,
For thus refreshing of our wearied limbs,
Stifned with hard atchievements in wild Desart.
Tapst. Sir, there is twelve shillings to pay.
Rafe. Thou merry Squire Tapstero, thanks to thee,
For comforting our souls with double Jug,
And if adventurous Fortune prick thee forth,
Thou jovial Squire, to follow feats of Arms,
Take heed thou tender every Ladies cause,
Every true Knight, and every Damsel fair
But spill the blood of treacherous Sarazens,
And false inchanters, that with Magick spels,
Have done to death full many a noble Knight.
Host. Thou valiant Knight of the burning Pestle, give ear
to me, there is twelve shillings to pay, and as I am a true
Knight, I will not bate a penny.
Wife. George, I prethee tell me, must Rafe pay twelve
shillings now?
Cit. No, Nel, no, nothing but the old Knight is merry
with Rafe.
Wife. O is't nothing else? Rafe will be as merry as he.
Rafe. Sir Knight, this mirth of yours becomes you well,
But to requite this liberal courtesie,
If any of your Squires will follow Arms,
He shall receive from my Heroick hand
A Knig[h]thood, by the virtue of this Pestle.
Host. Fair Knight, I thank you for your noble offer,
Therefore gentle Knight,
Twelve shillings you must pay, or I must cap you.
Wife. Look George, did not I tell thee as much, the Knight
of the Bell is in earnest, Rafe shall not be beholding to him,
give him his money George, and let him go snick up.
Cit. Cap Rafe? no, hold your hand sir Knight of the Bell,
there's your Money, have you any thing to say to Rafe now?
cap Rafe?
Wife. I would you should know it, Rafe has friends that
will not suffer him to be capt for ten times so much, and ten
times to the end of that, now take thy course Rafe.
Mist. mer. Come Michael, thou and I will go home to thy
father, he hath enough left to keep us a day or two, and we'll
set fellows abroad to cry our Purse and Casket: Shall we
Michael?
Mich. I, I pray mother, in truth my feet are full of chilblains
with travelling.
Wife. Faith and those chilblaines are a foul trouble, Mistris
Merry-thought when your youth comes home, let him rub
all the soles of his feet, and his heels, and his ankles, with a
Mouseskin; or if none of your [people] can catch a Mouse,
when he goes to bed, let him rowl his feet in the warm embers,
and I warrant you he shall be well, and you may make him
put his fingers between his toes, and smell to them, it's very
soveraign for his head, if he be costive.
Mist. mer. Master Knight of the burning Pestle, my son
Michael, and I bid you farewell, I thank your Worship hartily
for your kindness.
Rafe. Fare-well fair Lady, and your tender Squire.
If pricking through these Desarts, I do hear
Of any traiterous Knight who through his guile,
Hath light upon your Casket and your Purse,
I will despoil him of them and restore them.
Mist. mer. I thank your Worship. [Exit with Michael.
Rafe. Dwarf bear my shield, Squire elevate my lance,
And now farewell you Knight of holy Bell.
Cit. I, I Rafe, all is paid.
Rafe. But yet before I go, speak worthy Knight,
If [ought] you do of sad adventures know,
Where errant Knights may through his prowess win
Eternal fame, and free some gentle souls,
From endless [bonds] of steel and lingring pain.
Host. Sirrah go to Nick the Barber, and bid him prepare
himself, as I told you before quickly.
Tap. I am gone Sir. [Exit Tapster.
Host. Sir Knight, this wilderness affordeth none
But the great venture, where full many a Knight
Hath tried his prowess, and come off with shame,
And where I would not have you loose your life,
Against no man, but furious fiend of Hell.
Rafe. Speak on Sir Knight, tell what he is, and where:
For here I vow upon my blazing badge,
Never to blaze a day in quietness;
But bread and water will I only eat,
And the green herb and rock shall be my couch
Till I have queld that man, or beast, or fiend,
That works such damage to all Errant Knights.
Host. Not far from hence, near [to] a craggy cliff
At the North end of this distressed Town,
There doth stand a lowly house
Ruggedly builded, and in it a Cave
In which an ugly Giant now doth won,
Ycleped Barbaroso: in his hand
He shakes a naked Lance of purest steel,
With sleeves turn'd up, and him before he wears,
A motly garment to preserve his clothes
From blood of those Knights which he massacres,
And Ladies Gentle: without his door doth hang
A copper bason, on a prickant Spear;
At which, no sooner gentle Knights can knock,
But the shrill sound, fierce Barbaroso hears,
And rushing forth, brings in the Errant Knight,
And sets him down in an inchanted chair:
Then with an Engine, which he hath prepar'd
With forty teeth, he claws his courtly crown,
Next makes him wink, and underneath his chin,
He plants a brazen piece of mighty board,
And knocks his bullets round about his cheeks,
Whilst with his fingers, and an instrument
With which he snaps his hair off, he doth fill
The wretches ears with a most hideous noyse.
Thus every Knight Adventurer he doth trim,
And now no creature dares encounter him.
Rafe. In Gods name, I will fight with him, kind sir,
Go but before me to this dismal Cave
Where this huge Giant Barbaroso dwells,
And by that virtue that brave Rosicleere,
That damn'd brood of ugly Giants slew,
And Palmerin Frannarco overthrew:
I doubt not but to curb this Traytor foul,
And to the Devil send his guilty Soul.
Host. Brave sprighted Knight, thus far I will perform
This your request, I'll bring you within sight
Of this most loathsome place, inhabited
By a more lothsome man: but dare not stay,
For his main force swoops all he sees away.
Rafe. Saint George set on before, march Squire and
Page. [Exeunt.
Wife. George, dost think Rafe will confound the
Giant?
Cit. I hold my cap to a farthing he does: why Nell, I
saw him wrestle with the great Dutchman, and hurle him.
Wife. Faith and that Dutchman was a goodly man, if all
things were answerable to his bigness: and yet they say there
was a Scottishman higher than he, and that they two and a
Knight met, and saw one another for nothing: but of all the
sights that ever were in London, since I was married, methinks
the little child that was so fair grown about the members, was
the prettiest, that and the Hermaphrodite.
Cit. Nay, by your leave Nil, Ninivie was better.
Wife. Ninivie, O that was the story of Jone and the wall,
was it not George?
Cit. Yes lamb. [Enter Mistris Merry-t[hou]ght.
Wife. Look George, here comes Mistris Merry-though[t]
[ag]ain, and I would have Rafe come and fight with the Gyant,
I tell you true I long to see't.
Cit. Good Mistriss Merri-thought be [g]one, I pray you for
my sake, I pray you forbear a little, you shall have audience
presently, I have a little business.
Wife. Mistris Merri-thought, if it please you to refrain
your passion a little, till Rafe have dispatcht the Giant out
of the way, we shall think our selves much bound to thank
you: I thank you good Mistris Merri-thought.
[Exit Mist. Merry-thought.
Enter a Boy.
Cit. Boy, come hither, send away Rafe and this whoreson
Giant quickly.
Boy. In good faith sir we cannot, you'l utterly spoil our
Play, and make it to be hist, and it cost money, you will not
suffer us to go on with our plots, I pray Gentlemen rule him.
Cit. Let him come now and dispatch this, and I'll trouble
you no more.
Boy. Will you give me your hand of that?
Wife. Give him thy hand George, do, and I'll kiss him, I
warrant thee the youth means plainly.
Boy. I'll send him to you presently. [Exit Boy.
Wife. I thank you little youth, feth the child hath a
sweet breath George, but I think it be troubled with the
Worms, Carduus Benedictus and Mares milk were the only
thing in the world for't. O Rafe's here George; God send
thee good luck Rafe.
Enter Rafe, Host, Squire, and Dwarf.
Host. Puissant Knight yonder his Mansion is,
Lo, where the Spear and Copper Bason are,
Behold the string on which hangs many a tooth,
Drawn from the gentle jaw of wandring Knights,
I dare not stay to sound, he will appear. [Exit Host.
Rafe. O faint not heart, Susan my Lady dear:
The Coblers Maid in Milkstreet, for whose sake,
I take these Arms, O let the thought of thee,
Carry thy Knight through all adventurous deeds,
And in the honor of thy beauteous self,
May I destroy this monster Barbaroso,
Knock Squire upon the Bason till it break [Enter Barba.
With the shrill strokes, or till the Giant spake.
Wife. O George, the Giant, the Giant, now Rafe for thy
life.
Bar. What fond unknowing wight is this, that dares,
So rudely knock at Barbarossa's Cell,
Where no man comes, but leaves his fleece behind?
Rafe. I, traiterous Caitiffe, who am sent by fate
To punish all the sad enormities
Thou hast committed against Ladies gentle,
And Errant Knights, Traytor to God and men:
Prepare thy self, this is the dismal hour
Appointed for thee to give strict account
Of all thy beastly treacherous villanies.
Bar. Fool-hardy Knight, full soon thou shalt aby
This fond reproach, thy body will I bang, [He takes down his pole.
And loe upon that string thy teeth shall hang:
Prepare thy self, for dead soon shalt thou be.
Rafe. Saint George for me. [They fight.
Barba. Gargantua for me.