180
A TALE OF A TUB.
Turfe. Now villains both! oh that same hue and cry!
Oh neighbours! oh that cursed serving-man!
O maids! O wife! but John Clay, where is he?
How! fled for fear, zay ye? will he slip us now?
We that are sureties must require 'un out.
How shall we do to find the serving-man?
Cock's bodikins, we must not lose John Clay:
Awdrey, my daughter Awdrey too! let us zend
To all the towns and zeek her; but, alas,
The hue and cry, that must be look'd unto.
Oh neighbours! oh that cursed serving-man!
O maids! O wife! but John Clay, where is he?
How! fled for fear, zay ye? will he slip us now?
We that are sureties must require 'un out.
How shall we do to find the serving-man?
Cock's bodikins, we must not lose John Clay:
Awdrey, my daughter Awdrey too! let us zend
To all the towns and zeek her; but, alas,
The hue and cry, that must be look'd unto.
Enter Tub.
Tub. What, in a passion, Turfe?
Turfe. Ay, good 'squire Tub.
Were never honest varmers thus perplext.
Were never honest varmers thus perplext.
Tub. Turfe, I am privy to thy deep unrest:
The ground of which springs from an idle plot,
Cast by a suitor to your daughter Awdrey
And thus much, Turfe, let me advertise you;
Your daughter Awdrey met I on the way,
With justice Bramble in her company;
Who means to marry her at Pancras-church.
And there is canon Hugh to meet them ready:
Which to prevent, you must not trust delay;
But winged speed must cross their sly intent:
Then hie thee, Turfe, haste to forbid the banes.
The ground of which springs from an idle plot,
Cast by a suitor to your daughter Awdrey
And thus much, Turfe, let me advertise you;
Your daughter Awdrey met I on the way,
With justice Bramble in her company;
Who means to marry her at Pancras-church.
And there is canon Hugh to meet them ready:
Which to prevent, you must not trust delay;
But winged speed must cross their sly intent:
Then hie thee, Turfe, haste to forbid the banes.
Turfe. Hath justice Bramble got my daughter Awdrey?
A little while shall he enjoy her, zure.
But O, the hue and cry! that hinders me;
I must pursue that, or neglect my journey:
I'll e'en leave all, and with the patient ass,
The over-laden ass, throw off my burden,
And cast mine office; pluck in my large ears
Betimes, lest some disjudge 'em to be horns:
A little while shall he enjoy her, zure.
But O, the hue and cry! that hinders me;
I must pursue that, or neglect my journey:
I'll e'en leave all, and with the patient ass,
The over-laden ass, throw off my burden,
And cast mine office; pluck in my large ears
Betimes, lest some disjudge 'em to be horns:
