The Scornful Lady Part 12

_Lady._ By this, and to morrows light, I care not for you.

_Wel._ Come, come, you cannot hide it.

_Lady._ Indeed I can, where you shall never find it.

_Wel._ I like this mirth well Lady.

_Lady._ You shall have more on't.

_Wel._ I must kiss you.

_Lady._ No Sir.

_Wel._ Indeed I must.

_Lady._ What must be, must be; I'le take my leave, you have your parting blow: I pray commend me to those few friends you have, that sent you hither, and tell them when you travel next, 'twere fit you brought less bravery with you, and more wit, you'le never get a wife else.

_Wel._ Are you in earnest?

_Lady._ Yes faith. Will you eat Sir, your horses will be readie straight, you shall have a napkin laid in the b.u.t.terie for ye.

_Wel._ Do not you love me then?

_Lady._ Yes, for that face.

_Wel._ It is a good one Ladie.

_Lady._ Yes, if it were not warpt, the fire in time may mend it.

_Wel._ Me thinks yours is none of the best Ladie.

_Lady._ No by my troth Sir; yet o' my conscience, You would make shift with it.

_Wel._ Come pray no more of this.

_Lady._ I will not: Fare you well. Ho, who's within there? bring out the Gentlemans horses, he's in haste; and set some cold meat on the Table.

_Wel._ I have too much of that I thank you Ladie: take your Chamber when you please, there goes a black one with you Ladie.

_Lady._ Farewell young man. [_Exit_ Ladie.

_Wel._ You have made me one, Farewell: and may the curse of a great house fall upon thee, I mean the Butler. The devil and all his works are in these women, would all of my s.e.x were of my mind, I would make 'em a new Lent, and a long one, that flesh might be in more reverence with them.

_Enter Abigal to him._

_Abig._ I am sorry M. _Welford_.

_Wel._ So am I, that you are here.

_Abig._ How does my Ladie use you?

_Wel._ As I would use you, scurvilie.

_Abig._ I should have been more kind Sir.

_Wel._ I should have been undone then. Pray leave me, and look to your sweet-meats; hark, your Ladie calls.

_Abig._ Sir, I shall borrow so much time without offence.

_Wel._ Y'are nothing but offence, for G.o.ds love leave me.

_Abig._ 'Tis strange my Ladie should be such a tyrant?

_Wel._ To send you to me, 'Pray goe st.i.tch, good doe, y'are more trouble to me than a Term.

_Abig._ I do not know how my good will, if I said love I lied not, should any way deserve this?

_Wel._ A thousand waies, a thousand waies; sweet creature let me depart in peace.

_Abig._ What Creature Sir? I hope I am a woman.

_Wel._ A hundred I think by your noise.

_Abig._ Since you are angrie Sir, I am bold to tell you that I am a woman, and a rib.

_Wel._ Of a roasted horse.

_Abig._ Conster me that?

_Wel._ A Dog can doe it better; Farwell Countess, and commend me to your Ladie, tell her she's proud, and scurvie, and so I commit you both to your tempter.

_Abig._ Sweet Mr. _Welford_.

_Wel._ Avoid old Sata.n.u.s: Go daub your ruines, your face looks fouler than a storm: the Foot-man stayes for you in the Lobby Lady.

_Abig._ If you were a Gentleman, I should know it by your gentle conditions: are these fit words to give a Gentlewoman?

_Wel._ As fit as they were made for ye: Sirrah, my horses. Farwell old Adage, keep your nose warm, the Rheum will make it horn else-- [_Exit_ Welford.

_Abig._ The blessings of a Prodigal young heir be thy companions _Welford_, marry come up my Gentleman, are your gums grown so tender they cannot bite? A skittish Filly will be your fortune _Welford_, and fair enough for such a packsaddle. And I doubt not (if my aim hold) to see her made to amble to your hand. [_Exit Abigal._

_Enter_ Young Loveless, _and_ Comrades, Morecraft, Widow, Savil, _and the rest._

_Captain._ Save thy brave shoulder, my young puissant Knight, and may thy back Sword bite them to the bone that love thee not, thou art an errant man, go on. The circ.u.mcis'd shall fall by thee. Let Land and labour fill the man that tills, thy sword must be thy plough, and _Jove_ it speed.

_Mecha_ shall sweat, and _Mahomet_ shall fall, and thy dear name fill up his monument.

_Yo. L._ It shall Captain, I mean to be a Worthy.

_Cap._ One Worthy is too little, thou shalt be all.