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Mer. Woman, I take you to my love again; but you shall sing before you enter; therefore despatch your song and so come in.

Mist. Mer. [within.] Well, you must have your will, when all's done. -Mick, what song canst thou sing, boy? Mich. [within.] I can sing none, forsooth, but 'A Lady's Daughter, of Paris properly,' [Sings within.

It was a lady's daughter, &c.

MERRYTHOUGHT opens the Door; enter Mistress
MERRYTHOUGHT and MICHAEL.

Mer. Come, you're welcome home again.

If such danger be in playing,

And jest must to earnest turn,

You shall go no more a-maying

[Sings.

Vent. [within.] Are you within, sir? Master Merrythought!

Jasp. It is my master's voice: good sir, go hold him In talk, whilst we convey ourselves into

Some inward room.

[Exit with LUCE.

Mer. What are you? are you merry?

You must be very merry, if you enter.
Vent. [within.] I am, sir.

Mer. Sing, then.

Vent. [within.] Nay, good sir, open to me.

Mer. Sing, I say,

Or, by the merry heart, you come not in !

Vent. [within.] Well, sir, I'll sing.

Fortune, my foe, &c.

[Sings.

MERRYTHOUGHT opens the Door: Enter VENTUREWELL.

:

Mer. You are welcome, sir, you are welcome you see your entertainment; pray you, be merry.

Vent. Oh, Master Merrythought, I'm come to ask

you

Forgiveness for the wrongs I offered you,

And your most virtuous son! they're infinite;

Yet my contrition shall be more than they :

I do confess my hardness broke his heart,

For which just Heaven hath given me punishment
More than my age can carry; his wandering spirit,
Not yet at rest, pursues me every where,

Crying, "I'll haunt thee for thy cruelty."

My daughter, she is gone, I know not how,
Taken invisible, and whether living

Or in the grave, 'tis yet uncertain to me.

Oh, Master Merrythought, these are the weights
Will sink me to my grave! forgive me, sir.

Mer. Why, sir, I do forgive you; and be merry:
And if the wag in's lifetime played the knave,
Can you forgive him too?

Vent. With all my heart, sir.

Mer. Speak it again, and heartily.

Vent. I do, sir;

Now, by my soul, I do.

Re-enter LUCE and JASPER.

Mer. [Sings.]

With that came out his paramour;

She was as white as the lily flower:

Hey, troul, troly, loly !

With that came out her own dear knight;
He was as true as ever did fight, &c.

Sir, if you will forgive 'em, clap their hands together; there's no more to be said i' the matter.

Vent. I do, I do.

[Cit. I do not like this. Peace, boys! Hear me, one of you every body's part is come to an end but Ralph's, and he's left out.

Boy. 'Tis 'long of yourself, sir; we have nothing to do with his part.

Cit. Ralph, come away!-Make an end on him, as you have done of the rest, boys; come.

Wife. Now, good husband, let him come out and die.

Cit. He shall, Nell.--Ralph, come away quickly, and die, boy!

Boy. 'Twill be very unfit he should die, sir, upon no occasion—and in a comedy too.

Cit. Take you no care of that, sir boy; is not his part at an end, think you, when he's dead?-Come away, Ralph!]

Enter RALPH, with a forked Arrow through his Head.

Ralph. When I was mortal, this my costive corps
Did lap up figs and raisins in the Strand;
Where sitting, I espied a lovely dame,

Whose master wrought with lingel' and with awl,
And underground he vampèd many a boot.
Straight did her love prick forth me, tender sprig,
To follow feats of arms in warlike wise
Through Waltham-desert; where I did perform
Many achievements, and did lay on ground
Huge Barbarossa, that insulting giant,
And all his captives soon set at liberty.

Then honour pricked me from my native soil
Into Moldavia, where I gained the love

Of Pompiona, his beloved daughter;

But yet proved constant to the black thumbed maid
Susan, and scornèd Pompiona's love;
Yet liberal I was, and gave her pins,
And money for her father's officers.
I then returned home, and thrust myself
In action, and by all men chosen was
Lord of the May, where I did flourish it,
With scarfs and rings, and posy in my hand.
After this action I preferrèd was,

And chosen city-captain at Mile-End,

1 Shoemaker's thread.

With hat and feather, and with leading-staff,

And trained my men, and brought them all off clear,
Save one man that berayed him' with the noise.
But all these things I Ralph did undertake
Only for my beloved Susan's sake.

Then coming home, and sitting in my shop.
With apron blue, Death came into my stall
To cheapen aquavita; but ere I

Could take the bottle down and fill a taste,
Death caught a pound of pepper in his hand,
And sprinkled all my face and body o'er,
And in an instant vanishèd away.

[Cit. 'Tis a pretty fiction, i'faith.]

Ralph. Then took I up my bow and shaft in hand,
And walked into Moorfields to cool myself:
But there grim cruel Death met me again,
And shot this forkèd arrow through my head;
And now I faint; therefore be warned by me,
My fellows every one, of forkèd heads!
Farewell, all you good boys in merry London!
Ne'er shall we more upon Shrove-Tuesday meet,
And pluck down houses of iniquity;—
My pain increaseth ;—I shall never more
Hold open, whilst another pumps both legs,
Nor daub a satin gown with rotten eggs;
Set up a stake, oh, never more I shall !
I die fly, fly, my soul, to Grocers' Hall!
Oh, oh, oh, &c.3

[Wife. Well said, Ralph! do your obeisance to the gentlemen, and go your ways: well said, Ralph !]

1 Befouled himself.

2

[RALPH rises, makes obeisance, and exit.

Attacking houses of ill-fame was a favourite occupation of the London prentices on Shrove Tuesday.

3 This speech is a parody of the speech of Andrea's Ghost in The Spanish Tragedy:—

"When this eternal substance of my soul

Did live imprisoned in my wanton flesh," etc.

Mer. Methinks all we, thus kindly and unexpectedly reconciled, should not depart without a song.

Vent. A good motion.

Mer. Strike up, then!

1

SONG.

Better music ne'er was known
Than a quire of hearts in one.
Let each other, that hath been
Troubled with the gall or spleen,
Learn of us to keep his brow
Smooth and plain, as ours are now:

Sing, though before the hour of dying;
He shall rise, and then be crying,

"Hey, ho, 'tis nought but mirth

That keeps the body from the earth!" [Exeunt.

you

Cit. Come, Nell, shall we go? the play's done. Wife. Nay, by my faith, George, I have more manners than so; I'll speak to these gentlemen first.—I thank all, gentlemen, for your patience and countenance to Ralph, a poor fatherless child; and if I might see you at my house, it should go hard but I would have a bottle of wine and a pipe of tobacco for you: for, truly, I hope you do like the youth, but I would be glad to know the truth; I refer it to your own discretions, whether you will applaud him or no; for I will wink, and whilst you shall do what you will. I thank you with all my heart. God give you good night!—Come, George. [Exeunt.

1 i.e. Part.

11 21 1922

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