A Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. III | Page 3

wood not see him all this while, never trust me if he looke not somewhat like a man: see how pretely he holds the torche in one of his forefeete: wheres his keeper trowe, is he broke loose?
Iack. Hast ever an Apple about thee (_Will_)? Weele take him up; sure, we shall get a monstrous deale of mony with him.
Will. That we shall yfath, boy! and looke thou here, heres a red cheeckt apple to take him up with.
Ia. Excellent fit a my credit; lets lay downe our provant, and to him.
Bul. Ile let them alone a while.
Ia. Give me the apple to take up _Iack_, because my name is Iack.
Will. Hold thee, _Iack_, take it.
Ia. Come, _Iack_, come, _Iack_, come, Iack.
Bul. I will come to you sir, Ile Iack ye a my word, Ile Iack ye.
Will. Gods me he speakes, Iack. O pray pardon us, Sir.
Bul. Out, ye _mopede monckies_, can yee not knowe a man from a _Marmasett_, in theis Frenchified dayes of ours? nay, ile Iackefie you a little better yet.
Both. Nay good Sir, good Sir, pardon us.
Bul. Pardon us! out ye home-bred peasants, plain English, pardon us? if you had parled, & not spoken, but said _Pardonne moy_, I wood have pardon'd you, but since you speake and not parley, I will cudgell ye better yet.
Ambo. _O pardonne moy, mounsieur_.
Bul. _Bien je vous remercy_; thers _pardonne four vous_, sir, now.
Will. Why I thanke ye for it, Sir; you seeme to bee a Squire of our order Sir.
Ia. Whose page might you be Sir.
Bul. I am now the great French Travalers page.
Will. Or rather the French Travalers great page, Sir; on, on.
Bul. Hight Captaine _Fowleweather_, alias Commendations; whose valours within here at super with the Countes _Eugenia_, whose propper eaters I take you two to be.
Will. You mistake us not Sir.
Ia. This Captaine _Fowleweather_, alias Commendations--
Will. Is the Gallant that will needs be a sutor to our Countes.
Bul.[1] Faith, and if Fouleweather be a welcome suter to a faire Lady, has good lucke.
Ia. O Sir, beware of one that can showre into the lapps of Ladies. Captaine Fowleweather? why hees a Captinado, or Captaine of Captaines, and will lie in their joyntes that give him cause to worke uppon them so heauylie, that he will make their hartes ake I warrant him. Captaine Fowleweather? why he will make the cold stones sweate for feare of him, a day or two before he come at them. Captaine Fowleweather? why he does so dominere, and raigne over women.
Will. A plague of Captaine Fowleweather, I remember him now _Iack_, and know him to be a dull moist-braind Asse.
Ia. A Southerne man I thinke.
Will. As fearefull as a Haire, and will lye like a Lapwing,[2] and I know how he came to be a Captain, and to have his Surname of Commendations.
Ia. How I preethee _Will_?
Will. Why Sir he served the great Lady Kingcob and was yeoman of her wardroppe, & because a cood brush up her silkes lustely, she thought he would curry the enemies coates as soundly, and so by her commendations, he was made Captaine in the lowe Countries.
Ia. Then being made Captaine onely by his Ladies commendations, without any worth also of his owne, he was ever after surnamd Captaine Commendations?
Will. Right.
Bul. I, Sir right, but if he had not said right, my Captaine should have taken no wrong at his handes, nor yours neyther, I can tell ye.
Ia. What are those two Knights names, that are thy Captaines _Comrades_, and within at Supper with our Lady?
Bul. One of their names Sir, is, Sir _Gyles Goosecappe_, the others Sir Cutt Rudseby.
Will. Sir _Gyles Goosecappe_? what's he? a gentleman?
Bul. I, that he is, at least if he be not a noble man; and his chiefe house is in Essex.
Ia. In Essex? did not his Auncestors come out of London.
Bul. Yes that they did Sir, the best Gosecappes in England, come out of London I assure you.
Will. I, but, Sir, these must come into it before they come out ont I hope; but what countriman is Sir _Cutt Rudesby_?
Bul. A Northern man, or a Westernman I take him, but my Captaine is the Emphaticall man; and by that pretty word Emphaticall you shall partly know him: for tis a very forcible word in troth, and yet he forces it too much by his favour; mary no more then he does all the rest of his wordes; with whose multiplicity often times he travailes himselfe out of all good company.
Iack. Like enough; he travaild for nothing else.
Will. But what qualities haunt Sir Gyles Goosecappe now Sir.
Bul. Sir Gyles Goosecap has always a deathes head (as it were) in his mouth, for his onely one reason for everything is, because we are all mortall; and therefore he is generally cald the