The Mad Lover, a Tragi-Comedy. Beaumont Francis

      Page. Brave Lieutenant.

      Fool. Hail to the man of worship.

      Chi. You are fine sirs,

      Most passing fine at all points.

      Fool. As ye see Sir,

      Home-bred and handsome, we cut not out our clothes Sir

      At half sword as your Taylors doe, and pink 'em

      With Pikes and Partizans, we live retir'd Sir

      Gentlemen like, and jealous of our honours.

      Chi. Very fine Fool, and fine Boy, Peace playes with you,

      As the wind playes with Feathers, dances ye,

      You grind with all gusts, gallants.

      Page. We can bounce Sir,

      When you Soldados bend i'th' hams, and frisk too.

      Fool. When twenty of your trip-coats turn their tippets,

      And your cold sallets without salt or vineger

      Be wambling in your stomachs; hemp and hobnails

      Will bear no price now, hangings and old harness

      Are like to over-run us.

      Pa. Whores and hot houses.

      Fool. Surgeons and Syringes ring out your sance-bells.

      Page. Your Jubile, your Jubile.

      Fool. Prob Deum.

      How our St. Georges will bestride the Dragons,

      The red and ramping Dragons.

      Page. Advanc't fool —

      Fool. But then the sting i'th' tail boy.

      Page. Tanto Melior.

      For so much the more danger, the more honour.

      Chi. You're very pleasant with our occupation Gent.

      Which very like amongst these fierie Serpents

      May light upon a Blind-worm of your blood,

      A Mother or a Sister.

      Fool. Mine's past saddle,

      You should be sure of her else: but say Sir Huon,

      Now the Drums dubbs, and the sticks turn'd bed-staves,

      All the old Foxes hunted to their holes,

      The Iron age return'd to Erebus,

      And Honorificabilitudinitatibus

      Thrust out o'th' Kingdom by the head and shoulders,

      What trade do you mean to follow?

      Chi. That's a question.

      Fool. Yes and a learned question if ye mark it,

      Consider and say on.

      Chi. Fooling as thou dost, that's the best trade I take it.

      Fool. Take it straight then

      For fear your fellows be before ye, hark ye Lieutenant

      Fooling's the thing, the thing worth all your fightings,

      When all's done ye must fool Sir.

      Chi. Well, I must then.

      Fool. But do you know what fooling is? true fooling,

      The circumstances that belong unto it?

      For every idle knave that showes his teeth,

      Wants and would live, can juggle, tumble, fiddle,

      Make a dog face, or can abuse his fellow,

      Is not a fool at first dash; you shall find Sir

      Strange turnings in this trade; to fool is nothing

      As fooling has been, but to fool the fair way,

      The new way, as the best men fool their friends,

      For all men get by fooling, meerly fooling,

      Desert does nothing, valiant, wise, vertuous,

      Are things that walk by without bread or breeches.

      Chi. I partly credit that.

      Fool. Fine wits, fine wits Sir,

      There's the young Boy, he does well in his way too,

      He could not live else in his Masters absence;

      He tyes a Ladyes garters so, so prettily,

      Say his hand slip, but say so.

      Chi. Why let it slip then.

      Fool. 'Tis ten to one the body shall come after,

      And he that works deserves his wages.

      Chi. That's true.

      Fool. He riddles finely to a waiting Gentlewoman,

      Expounds dreams like a Prophet, dreams himself too,

      And wishes all dreams true; they cry Amen,

      And there's a Memorandum: he can sing too

      Bawdy enough to please old Ladies: he lies rarely,

      Pawns ye a sute of clothes at all points, fully,

      Can pick a pocket if ye please, or casket;

      Lisps when he lists to catch a Chambermaid,

      And calls his Hostess mother, these are things now,

      If a man mean to live: to fight and swagger,

      Beaten about the Ears with bawling sheepskins,

      Cut to the soul for Summer: here an arm lost,

      And there a leg; his honourable head

      Seal'd up in salves and cereclothes, like a packet,

      And so sent over to an Hospital, stand there, charge there,

      Swear there, whore there, dead there,

      And all this sport for cheese, and chines of dog-flesh,

      And mony when two wednesdayes meet together,

      Where to be lowzie is a Gentleman,

      And he that wears a clean shirt has his shrowd on.

      Chi. I'le be your scholar, come if I like fooling.

      Fool. You cannot choose but like it, fight you one day

      I'le fool another, when your Surgeon's paid,

      And all your leaks stopt, see whose slops are heaviest,

      I'le have a shilling for a can of wine,

      When you shall have two Sergeants for a Counter.

      Boy. Come learn of us Lieutenant, hang your Iron up,

      We'l find you cooler wars.

      Chi. Come let's together,

      I'le see your tricks, and as I like 'em. – [Exeunt.

      Mem. Why was there not such women in the camp then

      Prepar'd to make me know 'em?

      Eum.