Ben Jonson - A Tale of a Tub ACT 3. SCENE 5. lyrics

D. Turfe, Maids. [To them. D. Turf. How now? what noise is this with you, Ball Puppy? Pup. Oh Dame! and fellows o' the Kitchin! arm, Arm, for my safety; if you love your Ball: Here is a strange thing, call'd a Lady, a Mad-dame: And a device of hers, yclept her Woman; Have plotted on me, in the King's High-way, To steal me from my self, and cut me in halfs, To make one Valentine to serve 'em both; This for my right-side, that my left-hand loves. D. Tur. So saucy, Puppy? to use no more reverence Unto my Lady, and her Velvet Gown? Lad. Turfe's Wife, rebuke him not: Your Man doth please me With his conceit. Hold: there are ten old Nobles, To make thee merrier yet, half-Valentine. Pup. I thank you, right-side: could my left as much, 'Twould make me a Man of Mark: young Hannibal! Lad. Dido, shall make that good; or I will for her. Here Dido Wispe, there's for your Hannibal: He is your Countrey-man, as well as Valentine. VVis. Here, Mr. Hannibal: my Ladies Bounty For her poor Woman, VVispe. Pup. Brave Carthage Queen! And such was Dido: I will ever be Champion to her, who Juno is to thee. D. Tur. Your Ladyship is very welcome here. Please you, good Madam, to go near the House. Lad. Turfe's Wife, I come thus far to seek thy Husband, Having some business to impart unto him. Is he at home? D. Tur. O no, and't shall please you: He is posted hence to Pancridge, with a witness. Young Justice Bramble has kept level coyl Here in our Quarters, stole away our Daughter, And Mr. Turfe's run after, as he can, To stop the Marriage, if it will be stopp'd. Pol. Madam, these tidings are not much amiss! For if the Justice have the Maid in keep, You need not fear the marriage of your Son. Lad. That somewhat easeth my suspicious breast. Tell me, Turfe's Wife, when was my Son with Awdrey? How long is't, since you saw him at your House? Pup. Dame, let me take this Rump out of your Mouth. D. Tur. What mean you by that, Sir? Pup. Rump and Tale's all one. But I would use a Reverence for my Lady: I would not zay surreverence, the Tale Out o' your Mouth, but rather take the Rump. D. Tur. A well-bred Youth! and vull of Favour you are. Pup. What might they zay, when I were gone, if I Not weigh'd my words? This Puppy is a Vool! Great Hannibal's an Ass; he had no breeding: No Lady gay, you shall not zay, That your Val. Puppy, was so unlucky, In speech to fail, as t' name a Tail, Be as be may be, 'vore a fair Lady. Lad. Leave jesting; tell us, when you saw our Son. Pup. Marry, it is two hours ago. Lad. Sin' you saw him? Pnp. You might have seen him too, if you had look'd up. For it shin'd as brighr as day. Lad. Mean my Son. Pup, Your Sun, and our Sun, are they not all one? Lad. Fool, thou mistak'st; I ask'd thee, for my Son! Pup. I had thought there had been no more Suns than one. I know not what you Ladies have, or may have. Pol. Did'st thou ne'er hear my Lady had a Son? Pup. She may have twenty; but for a Son, unless She mean precisely, Squire Tub, her Zon, He was here now, and brought my Master word, That Justice Bramble had got Mrs. Awdrey. But whither he be gone, here's none can tell. Lad. Martin, I wonder at this strange discourse: The Fool it seems tells true; my Son, the Squire, Was doubtless here this morning. For the match, I'll smother what I think, and staying here, Attend the Sequel of this strange beginning. Turfe's Wife, my people, and I will trouble thee, Until we hear some tidings of thy Husband. The rather, for my party Valentine.