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قراءة كتاب Beggars Bush: A Comedy From the Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher (Volume 2 of 10)

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‏اللغة: English
Beggars Bush: A Comedy
From the Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher (Volume 2 of 10)

Beggars Bush: A Comedy From the Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher (Volume 2 of 10)

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
الصفحة رقم: 7

Fetch'd from the Heralds ABC, and said over
With your Court faces, once an hour, shall never
Make me mistake my self. Do not your Lawyers
Sell all their practice, as your Priests their prayers?
What is not bought, and sold? The company
That you had last, what had you for't, i'faith?

Hem. You now grow sawcy.

Gos. Sure I have been bred Still, with my honest liberty, and must use it.

Hem. Upon your equals then.

Gos. Sir, he that will Provoke me first, doth make himself my equal.

Hem. Do ye hear? no more.

Gos. Yes, Sir, this little, I pray you,
And't shall be aside, then after, as you please.
You appear the Uncle, Sir, to her I love
More than mine eyes; and I have heard your scorns
With so much scoffing, and so much shame,
As each strive which is greater: But, believe me,
I suck'd not in this patience with my milk.
Do not presume, because you see me young,
Or cast despights on my profession
For the civility and tameness of it.
A good man bears a contumely worse
Than he would do an injury. Proceed not
To my offence: wrong is not still successful,
Indeed it is not: I would approach your Kins-woman
With all respect, done to your self and her.

Hem. Away Companion: handling her? take that. [Strikes him.

Gos. Nay, I do love no blows, Sir, there's exchange.

Hub. Hold, Sir. (He gets Hemskirks sword and cuts him on the head.

Mar. O murther.

Ger. Help my Goswin.

Mar. Man.

Van. Let 'em alone; my life for one.

Gos. Nay come, If you have will.

Hub. None to offend you, I, Sir.

Gos. He that had, thank himself: not hand her? yes Sir,
And clasp her, and embrace her; and (would she
Now go with me) bear her through all her Race,
Her Father, Brethren, and her Uncles, arm'd,
And all their Nephews, though they stood a wood
Of Pikes, and wall of Canon: kiss me Gertrude,
Quake not, but kiss me.

Van. Kiss him, Girl, I bid you;
My Merchant Royal; fear no Uncles: hang 'em,
Hang up all Uncles: Are not we in Bruges?
Under the Rose here?

Gos. In this circle, Love, Thou art as safe, as in a Tower of Brass; Let such as do wrong, fear.

Van. I, that's good, Let Wolfort look to that.

Gos. Sir, here she stands,
Your Niece, and my beloved. One of these titles
She must apply to; if unto the last,
Not all the anger can be sent unto her,
In frown, or voyce, or other art, shall force her,
Had Hercules a hand in't: Come, my Joy,
Say thou art mine, aloud Love, and profess it.

Van. Doe: and I drink to it.

Gos. Prethee say so, Love.

Ger. 'Twould take away the honour from my blushes: Do not you play the tyrant, sweet: they speak it.

Hem. I thank you niece.

Gos. Sir, thank her for your life, And fetch your sword within.

Hem. You insult too much With your good fortune, Sir. [Exeunt Gos. and Ger.

Hub. A brave clear Spirit; Hemskirk, you were to blame: a civil habit Oft covers a good man: and you may meet In person of a Merchant, with a soul As resolute, and free, and all wayes worthy, As else in any file of man-kind: pray you, What meant you so to slight him?

Hem. 'Tis done now, Ask no more of it; I must suffer. [Exit Hemskirk.

Hub. This
Is still the punishment of rashness, sorrow.
Well; I must to the woods, for nothing here
Will be got out. There, I may chance to learn
Somewhat to help my enquiries further.

Van. Ha? A Looking-glass?

Hub. How now, brave Burgomaster?

Van. I love no Wolforts, and my name's Vandunk,

Hub. Van drunk it's rather: come, go sleep within.

Van. Earl Florez is right heir, and this same Wolfort Under the Rose I speak it—

Hub. Very hardly.

Van-d. Usurps: and a rank Traitor, as ever breath'd,
And all that do uphold him. Let me goe,
No man shall hold me, that upholds him;
Do you uphold him?

Hub. No.

Van. Then hold me up. [Exeunt.

Enter Goswin, and Hemskirk.

Hem. Sir, I presume, you have a sword of your own, That can so handle anothers.

Gos. Faith you may Sir.

Hem. And ye have made me have so much better thoughts of you As I am bound to call you forth.

Gos. For what Sir?

Hem. To the repairing of mine honour, and hurt here.

Gos. Express your way.

Hem. By fight, and speedily.

Gos. You have your will: Require you any more?

Hem. That you be secret: and come single.

Gos. I will.

Hem. As you are the Gentleman you would be thought.

Gos. Without the Conjuration: and I'le bring Only my sword, which I will fit to yours, I'le take his length within.

Hem. Your place now Sir?

Gos. By the Sand-hills.

Hem. Sir, nearer to the woods, If you thought so, were fitter.

Gos. There, then.

Hem. Good. Your time?

Gos. 'Twixt seven and eight.

Hem. You'l give me Sir Cause to report you worthy of my Niece, If you come, like your promise.

Gos. If I do not, Let no man think to call me unworthy first, I'le do't my self, and justly wish to want her.— [Exeunt.


Enter three or four Boors.

1 B. Come, English beer Hostess, English beer by th' belly.

2 B. Stark beer boy, stout and strong beer: so, sit down Lads, And drink me upsey-Dutch: Frolick, and fear not.

Enter Higgen like a Sow-gelder, singing.

Hig. Have ye any work for the Sow-gelder, hoa,
My horn goes too high too low, too high too low.
Have ye any Piggs, Calves, or Colts,
Have ye any Lambs in your holts
To cut for the Stone,
Here comes a cunning one.
Have ye any braches to spade,
Or e're a fair maid
That would be a Nun,
Come kiss me, 'tis done.
Hark how my merry horn doth blow,
Too high too low, too high too low.

1 B. O excellent! two-pence a piece boyes, two-pence a piece. Give the boys some drink there. Piper, wet your whistle, Canst tell me a way now, how to cut off my wifes Concupiscence?

Hig. I'le sing ye a Song for't.


Take her, and hug her,
And turn her and tug her,
And turn