The Mad Lover Part 13

_Pol._ Come, I will do it now; 'tis brave, I find it, And now allow the reason.

_Mem._ O do you so, Sir?

Do ye find it currant?

_Pol._ Yes, yes, excellent.

_Mem._ I told ye.

_Pol._ I was foolish: I have here too The rarest way to find the truth out; hark ye?

Ye shall be rul'd by me.

_Mem._ It will be: but--

_Pol._ I reach it, If the worst fall, have at the worst; we'll both go.

But two days, and 'tis thus; ha?

_Mem._ 'Twill do well so.

_Pol._ Then is't not excellent, do ye conceive it?

_Mem._ 'Twill work for certain.

_Pol._ O 'twill tickle her, And you shall know then by a line.

_Mem._ I like it, But let me not be fool'd again.

_Pol._ Doubt nothing, You do me wrong then, get ye in there private As I have taught ye; _Basta_.

_Mem._ Work. [_Exit_ Memnon.

_Pol._ I will do.

_Eum._ Have ye found the cause?

_Pol._ Yes, and the strangest, Gentlemen, That e'r I heard of, anon I'll tell ye: _Stremon_ Be you still near him to affect his fancy, And keep his thoughts off: let the Fool and Boy Stay him, they may do some pleasure too: _Eumenes_ What if he had a Wench, a handsome Wh.o.r.e brought, Rarely drest up, and taught to state it?

_Eum._ Well Sir.

_Pol._ His cause is meerly heat: and made believe It were the Princess mad for him.

_Eum._ I think 'Twere not amiss.

_1 Cap._ And let him kiss her.

_Pol._ What else?

_2 Cap._ I'll be his Bawd an't please you, young and wholesome I can a.s.sure ye he shall have.

_Eum._ Faith let him.

_Pol._ He shall, I hope 'twill help him, walk a little.

I'll tell you how his case stands, and my project In which you may be mourners, but by all means Stir not you from him, _Stremon_.

_Strem._ On our lives, Sir. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Priestess, _and_ Chilax.

_Pri._ O y'are a precious man! two days in town And never see your old Friend?

_Chi._ Prithee pardon me.

_Pri._ And in my Conscience if I had not sent.

_Chi._ No more, I would ha' come; I must.

_Pri._ I find ye, G.o.d a mercy want, ye never care for me But when your Slops are empty.

_Chi._ Ne'r fear that, Wench; Shall find good currant Coin still; Is this the old House?

_Pri._ Have ye forgot it?

_Chi._ And the door still standing That goes into the Temple?

_Pri._ Still.

_Chi._ The Robes too, That I was wont to shift in here?

_Pri._ All here still.

_Chi._ O ye tuff Rogue, what troubles have I trotted through!

What fears and frights! every poor Mouse a Monster That I heard stir, and every stick I trod on, A sharp sting to my Conscience.

_Pri._ 'Las poor Conscience.

_Chi._ And all to liquor thy old Boots, Wench.

_Pri._ Out Beast: How you talk!

_Chi._ I am old, Wench, And talking to an old man is like a stomacher, It keeps his blood warm.

_Pri._ But pray tell me--

_Chi._ Any thing.

_Pri._ Where did the Boy meet with ye? at a Wench sure?

At one end of a Wench, a Cup of Wine, sure?

_Chi._ Thou know'st I am too honest.