Beaumont and Fletcher's Works. Volume 9. Beaumont Francis
to be taken down too with May-butter,
I'll send to my Lady Spend-tail for her Medicine.
Sir Gr. Lum te dum, dum, dum, de dum.
Neece. He's qualified too, believe me.
Sir Gr. Lum te dum, de dum, de dum.
Neece. Where was my judgement?
Sir Gr. Lum te dum, dum, dum, te dum, te dum.
Neece. Perfections cover'd mess.
Sir Gr. Lum te dum, te dum, te dum.
Neece. It smoaks apparantly, pardon sweet Sir,
The error of my Sex.
Old K. Why, well [s]aid Neece,
Upon submission you must pardon her now, Sir.
Sir Gr. I'll do't by course, do you think I'm an ass, Knight?
Here's first my hand, now't goes to the Seal-Office.
Old K. Formally finisht, how goes this Suit forward?
Cun. I'm taking measure of the Widows mind, Sir,
I hope to fit her heart.
Guard. Who would have dreamt
Of a young morsel now? things come in minutes.
Sir Gr. Trust him not Widow, he's a younger brother,
He'll swear and lie; believe me he's worth nothing.
Guard. He brings more content to a woman with that nothing,
Than he that brings his thousands without any thing,
We have presidents for that amongst great Ladies.
Old K. Come, come, no language now shall be in fashion,
But your Love-phrase, the bell to procreation.
Witty. Pox, there's nothing puts me besides my wits, but this fourth,
This last illiterate share, there's no conscience in't.
Ruin. Sir, it has ever been so, where I have practis'd, and must be.
Still where I am, nor has it been undeserv'd at the years
End, and shuffle the Almanack together, vacations and
Term-times, one with another, though I say't, my wife is a
Woman of a good spirit, then it is no lay-share.
Pris. Faith for this five year, Ego possum probare, I have had
A hungry penurious share with 'em, and she has had as much
As I always.
Witty. Present, or not present?
Pris. Residens aut non residens, per fidem.
Witty. And what president's this for me? because your Hic & hac, Turpis and Qui mihi discipulus brains (that never got any thing but by accidence and uncertainty) did allow it, therefore I must, that have grounded conclusions of wit, hereditary rules from my Father to get by —
Ruin. Sir, be compendious, either take or refuse, I will 'bate no token of my wives share, make even the last reckonings, and either so unite, or here divide company.
Pris. A good resolution, profecto, let every man beg his own way, and happy man be his dole.
Witty. Well, here's your double share, and single brains Pol, œdipol, here's toward, a Castor ecastor for you, I will endure it a fortnight longer, but by these just five ends. —
Pris. Take heed, five's odd, put both hands together, or severally, they are all odd unjust ends.
Witty. Medius fi[d]ius, hold your tongue, I depose you from half a share presently else, I will make you a participle, and decline you, now you understand me, be you a quiet Conjunction amongst the undeclined; you and your Latine ends shall go shift, Solus cum solo together else, and then if ever they get ends of Gold and Silver, enough to serve that Gerundine maw of yours, that without Do will end in Di and Dum instantly.
Ruin. Enough, enough, here comes company, we lose five shares in wrangling about one.
Witty. My Father, put on Priscian, he has Latine fragments too, but I fear him not, I'll case my face with a little more hair and relieve.
Old K. Tush Nephew (I'll call you so) for if there be
No other obstacles than those you speak of
They are but Powder-charges without pellets,
You may safely front 'em; and warrant your own danger.
Sir Gr. No other that I can perceive i'faith, Sir, for I put her to't, and felt her as far as I could, and the strongest repulse was, she said, she would have a little Soldier in me, that (if need were) should defend her reputation.
Old K. And surely, Sir, that is a principle
Amongst your principal Ladies, they require
Valour, either in a friend or a Husband.
Sir Gr. And I allow their requests i'faith, as well as any womans heart can desire, if I knew where to get valour, I would as willingly entertain it as any man that blows.
Old K. Breaths, breaths Sir, that's the sweeter phrase.
Sir Gr. Blows for a Soldier, i'faith Sir, and I'm in
Practise that way.
Old K. For a Soldier, I grant it.
Sir Gr. 'Slid, I'll swallow some bullets, and good round ones too, but I'll have a little Soldier in me.
Ruin. Will you on and beg, or steal and be hang'd.
Sir Gr. And some Scholar she would have me besides,
Tush, that shall be no bar, 'tis a quality in a
Gentleman, but of the least question.
Pris. Salvete Domini benignissimi, munificentissimi.
Old K. Salvete dicis ad nos? jubeo te salvere,
Nay, Sir, we have Latine, and other metall in us too.
Sir, you shall see me talk with this fellow now.
Sir Gr. I could find in my heart to talk with him too,
If I could understand him.
Pris. Charissimi, Doctissimique, Domini, ex abundantia.
Charitatis vestræ estote propitii in me jejunum
Miserum, pauperem, & omni consolatione exulem.
Old K. A pretty Scholar by my faith, Sir, but I'll to him agen.
Sir Gr. Does he beg or steal in this Language, can you tell Sir?
He may take away my good name from me, and I ne'er
The wiser.
Old K. He begs, he begs, Sir.
Pris.