angry women of Abington.
Coom. Wel sir, so it is, I would not wish ye to marry without
my mistris consent.
my mistris consent.
Fra. And why?
Coom. Nay, theres nere a why, but there is a wherefore, I
haue known some haue done the like, & they haue daunst
a Galliard at Beggers bush for it.
haue known some haue done the like, & they haue daunst
a Galliard at Beggers bush for it.
Boy. At Beggers bush, here him no more maister, he doth
be dawbe ye with his durty speach: doe ye heare sir, how
farre stands Beggers bushe from your fathers house sir? how
thou whorson refuge of a Taylor, that wert prentise to a tailor
half an age, & because if thou hadst serued ten ages thou
wouldst proue but a botcher, thou leapst frō the shop board
to a Blew coate: doth it become thee to vse thy tearms so?
wel, thou degree aboue a hackney, and ten degrees vnder a
Page, sow vp your lubber lips, or tis not your sworde and
Buckler, shall keep my Poniard from your brest.
be dawbe ye with his durty speach: doe ye heare sir, how
farre stands Beggers bushe from your fathers house sir? how
thou whorson refuge of a Taylor, that wert prentise to a tailor
half an age, & because if thou hadst serued ten ages thou
wouldst proue but a botcher, thou leapst frō the shop board
to a Blew coate: doth it become thee to vse thy tearms so?
wel, thou degree aboue a hackney, and ten degrees vnder a
Page, sow vp your lubber lips, or tis not your sworde and
Buckler, shall keep my Poniard from your brest.
Coo. Do ye heare sir, this is your boy?
Fran. How then?
Coom. You must breech him for it.
Fran. Must I? how if I will not.
Coom. Why then tis a fine world, when boies keep boies,
and know not how to vse them.
and know not how to vse them.
Fra. Boy, ye rascall.
Mi. Gour. Strike him and thou darst.
Coom. Strike me, alas he were better strike his father,
Sownes go to, put vp your Bodkin.
Sownes go to, put vp your Bodkin.
Fran. Mother stand by, Ile teach that rascall,
Coom. Go to, giue me good words, or by Gods dines Ile
buckle ye, for all your bird-spit.
buckle ye, for all your bird-spit.
Fran. Will ye so sir?
Phi. Stay Franke, this pitch of Frensie will defile thee,
Meddle not with it, thy vnreprooued vallour,
Should be high minded: couch it not so low,
Dost heare me? take occasion to slip hence,
But secretly, let not thy mother see thee,
At the backside there is a Cunny greene,
Stay there for me, and Mall and I will come to thee.
Meddle not with it, thy vnreprooued vallour,
Should be high minded: couch it not so low,
Dost heare me? take occasion to slip hence,
But secretly, let not thy mother see thee,
At the backside there is a Cunny greene,
Stay there for me, and Mall and I will come to thee.
Fra. Enough, I will: mother you doe me wrong,
To be so peremptory in your commaund,
And see that rascall to abuse me so.
To be so peremptory in your commaund,
And see that rascall to abuse me so.
Coom.
