Ben Jonson - Bartholomew Fayre Act 1. Scene 5 lyrics

Cokes, Mistris Over-doe, VVaspe, Grace, Quarlous, VVin-wife, John, VVin. O Numps! are you here, Numps? look where I am. Numps! and Mistris Grace too! nay, do not look angerly, Numps, my Sister is here and all, I do not come without her. VVas. What the mischief do you come with her? or she with you? Cok. We came all to seek you, Numps. VVas. To seek me? why, did you all think I was lost, or run away with your Fourteen Shillings worth of small Ware here? or that I had chang'd it i' the Fair for Hob- by-horses? S' precious —— to seek me! Over. Nay, good Mr. Numps do you shew discretion, tho he be exorbitant, (as Mr. Over-do says) and't be but for conservation of the Peace. VVas. Marry gip, Goodly She-Justice, Mistris French- hood! turd i' your teeth; and turd i' your French-hoods teeth too, to do you service, do you see? must you quote your Adam to me! you think you are Madam Re- gent still, Mistris Over-do; when I am in place? No such matter, I a**ure you, your Raign is out, when I am in, Dame. Over. I am content to be in abeyance, Sir, and be go- vern'd by you; so should he too, if he did well; but 'till be expected you should also govern your Pa**ions. Was. Will't so, forsooth? good Lord! how sharp you are! with being at Beth'lem yesterday? VVhetstone has set an Edge upon you, has he? Over. Nay, if you know not what belongs to your Dignity, I do yet to mine. VVas. Very well then. Cok. Is this the Licence, Numps? for Loves sake let me see't; I never saw a Licence. VVas. Did you not so? why, you shall not see't then. Cok. An' you love me, good Numps. VVas. Sir, I love you, and yet I do not love you i'these Fooleries; set your heart at rest; there's nothing in't but hard words; and what would you see't for? Cok. I would see the length and the breadth on't, that's all; and I will see't now, so I will. VVas. You sha' not see it here. Cok. Then I'll see't at home, and I'll look upon the Case here. VVas. Why, do so; a man must give way to him a little in Trifles: Gentlemen. These are Errors, Diseases of Youth: which he will mend when he comes to Judg- ment and knowledge of matters. I pray you conceive so, and I thank you. And I pray you pardon him, and I thank you again. Quar. Well, this Dry-Nurse, I say still, is a delicate man. VVin-w. And I am, for the Cosset, his charge! Did you ever see a Fellows Face more accuse him for an Ass? Quar. Accuse him? it confesses him one without accu- sing. What pity 'tis yonder wench should marry such a Cokes? VVin-w. 'Tis true. Quar. She seems to be discreet, and as sober as she is handsome. VVin-w. I, and if you mark her, what a restrain'd scorn she casts upon all his behaviour and speeches? Cok. Well, Numps, I am now for another piece of bu- siness more, the Fair, Numps, and then — VVas. Bless me! deliver me, help, hold me! the Fair! Cok. Nay, never fidg up and down, Numps, and vex it self. I am resolute Bartholmew in this; I'll make no suit on't to you; 'twas all the end of my Journey indeed, to shew Mrs. Grace my Fair. I call't my Fair, because of Bartholmew: you know my Name is Bartholmew, and Bartholmew Fair. Joh. That was mine afore, Gentlemen: this morning. I had that i'faith upon his Licence, believe me, there he comes after me. Quar. Come, John, this ambitious Wit of yours (I am afraid) will do you no good i' the end. Joh. No? why Sir? Quar. You grow so insolent with it, and over-doing, John; that if you look not to it, and tie it up, it will bring you to some obscure place in time, and there 'twill leave you. VVin-w. Do not trust it too much, John, be more spa- ring, and use it but now and then; a Wit is a dangerous thing in this Age; do not over-buy it. Joh. Think you so, Gentlemen? I'll take heed on't hereafter. VVin. Yes, do John. Cok. A pretty little Soul, this same Mrs. Little-wit would I might marry her. Gra. So would I, or any body else, so I might scape you. Cok. Numps, I will see it, Numps, 'tis decreed: never be melancholly for the matter. VVas. Why, see it, Sir, see it, do, see it! who hinders you? why do you not go see it? 'Slid see it. Cok. The Fair, Numps, the Fair. VVas. Would the Fair, and all the Drums and Rattles in't were i' your belly for me: they are already i' your Brain: he that had the means to travel your head now, should meet finer sights than any are i' the Fair; and make a finer Voyage on't; to see it all hung with co*kle- shels, Pebbles, fine Wheat-straws, and here and there a Chicken's Feather, and a Cob-web. Quar. Good faith, he looks, methinks, an' you mark him, like one that were made to catch Flies, with his Sir Cranion-Legs. VVin-w. And his Numps, to flap 'em away. VVas. God, be w'you, Sir, there's your Bee in a Box, and much good do't you. Cok. Why, your Friend, and Bartholmew; an' you be so contumacious. Quar. What mean you, Numps? VVas. I'll not be guilty, I, Gentlemen. Over. You will not let him go, Brother, and lose him? Cok. Who can hold that will away? I had rather lose him than the Fair, I wusse. Was. You do not know the inconvenience, Gentle- tlemen, you perswade to, nor what trouble I have with him in these humours. If he go to the Fair, he will buy of every thing to a Baby there; and Houshold-stuff for that too. If a Leg or an Arm on him did not grow on, he would lose it i' the Press. Pray Heaven I bring him off with one Stone! And then he is such a ravener after Fruit! you will not believe what a coil I had t'other day, to compound a business between a Katern- pear-woman, and him, about snatching! 'tis intolerable, Gentlemen. Win-w. O! but you must not leave him now to these hazards, Numps. Was. Nay, he knows too well, I will not leave him, and that makes him presume: well, Sir, will you go now? if you have such an itch i' your feet, to foot it to the Fair, why do you stop, am I your Tarriars? go, will you go? Sir, why do you not go? Cok. O Numps! have I brought you about? come Mistriss Grace, and Sister, I am resolute Bat, i' faith, still. Gra. Truly, I have no such fancy to the Fair; nor ambition to see it; there's none goes thither of any qua- lity or fashion. Cok. O Lord, Sir! you shall pardon me, Mistriss Grace, we are enow of our selves to make it a fashion: and for qualities, let Numps alone, he'll find qualities. Quar. What a Rogue in apprehension is this! to un- derstand her Language no better. Win-w. I, and offer to marry to her. Well, I will leave the chase of my Widow, for to day, and directly to the Fair. These Flies cannot, this hot season, but engender us excellent creeping sport. Quar. A Man that has but a Spoon full of Brain would think so. Farewel, John. Joh. Win, you see, 'tis in fashion, to go to the Fair, Win: we must to the Fair too, you and I, Win. I have an affair i' the Fair, Win, a Puppet-play of mine own making: say nothing, that I writ for the motion Man, which you must see, Win. Win. I would I might John; but my Mother will never consent to such a prophane motion: she will call it. Joh. Tut, we'll have a device, a dainty one: (Now, Wit, help at a pinch, good Wit come, come good Wit, and 't be thy will.) I have it, Win, I have it i' faith, and 'tis a fine one. Win, long to eat of a Pig, sweet Win, i' the Fair; do you see? i' the heart o' the Fair; not at Pye- corner. Your Mother will do any thing, Win, to satis- fie your longing, you know; pray thee long presently, and be sick o' the sudden, good Win. I'll go in and tell her; cut thy Lace i' the mean time, and play the Hy- pocrite, sweet Win. Win. No, I'll not make me unready for it. I can be Hypocrite enough, though I were never so straight lac'd. Joh. You say true, you have bin bred i' the Family, and brought up to't. Our Mother is a most elect Hypo- crite, and has maintain'd us all this seven year with it, like Gentle-folks. Win. I, Let her alone, John, she is not a wise wilful Widow for nothing; nor a sanctified Sister for a Song. And let me alone too, I ha' somewhat o' the Mother in me, you shall see, fetch her, fetch her, ah, ah.