The Scornful Lady | Page 8

you seen the
Horses Sir?
Ser. Yes Sir.
Wel. Have they any meat?
Ser. Faith Sir, they have a kind of wholesome Rushes, Hay I cannot call
it.
Wel. And no Provender?
Ser. Sir, so I take it.
Wel. You are merry Sir, and why so?
Ser. Faith Sir, here are no Oats to be got, unless you'l have 'em in
Porredge: the people are so mainly given to spoon-meat: yonder's a
cast of Coach-mares of the Gentlewomans, the strangest Cattel.
Wel. Why?
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 Buttery 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 Asses 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, God 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