A TALE OF A TUB.
173
Not to her father's. This was the device,
Which I beseech you do not tell my master.
Which I beseech you do not tell my master.
Tub. O wonderful! well, Basket, let him rise;
And for my free escape forge some excuse.
I'll post to Paddington to acquaint old Turfe
[Exit.With the whole business, and so stop the marriage.
And for my free escape forge some excuse.
I'll post to Paddington to acquaint old Turfe
[Exit.With the whole business, and so stop the marriage.
Hilts. Well, bless thee: I do wish thee grace to keep
Thy master's secrets better, or be hang'd.
Thy master's secrets better, or be hang'd.
Met. [rises.] I thank you for your gentle admonition.
Pray you, let me call you god-father hereafter:
And as your godson Metaphor, I promise
To keep my master's privities seal'd up
In the vallies[1] of my trust, lock'd close for ever,
Or let me be truss'd up at Tyburn shortly.
Pray you, let me call you god-father hereafter:
And as your godson Metaphor, I promise
To keep my master's privities seal'd up
In the vallies[1] of my trust, lock'd close for ever,
Or let me be truss'd up at Tyburn shortly.
Hilts. Thine own wish save or choke thee! come away.
[Exeunt.
[Exeunt.
ACT III. SCENE I.
Kentish Town.
Enter Turfe, Clench, Medlay, To-Pan,
Scriben, and Clay.
Turfe. Passion of me, was ever a man thus cross'd!
All things run arsie versie, up-side down.
High constable! now by our lady of Walsingham,
I had rather be mark'd out Tom Scavinger,
All things run arsie versie, up-side down.
High constable! now by our lady of Walsingham,
I had rather be mark'd out Tom Scavinger,
- ↑ In the vallies of my trust.] i. e. I suppose, in the portmanteau or cloke bag: from the French valise.
