Ben Jonson - Bartholomew Fayre Act 3. Scene 6 lyrics

John, Win, Trash, Leatherhead, Knockhum, Busy, Purecraft. DO you hear, Win, Win? Win. What say you, John? Joh. While they are paying the Reckoning, Win, I'll tell you a thing, Win; we shall never see any Sights i' the Fair, Win, except you long still, Win; good Win, sweet Win, long to see some Hobby-horses, and some Drums, and Rattles, and Dogs, and fine Devices, Win. The Bull with the five Legs, Win; and the great Hog. Now you ha' begun with Pig, you may long for any thing, Win, and so for my Motion, Win. Win. But we sha' not eat o' the Bull and the Hog, John; how shall I long then? Joh. O yes, Win: you may long to see, as well as to taste, Win: How did the Pothecary's Wife, Win, that long'd to see the Anatomy, Win? or the Lady, Win, that desir'd to spit i' the great Lawyer's Mouth, after an elo- quent Pleading? I a**ure you, they long'd, Win; good Win, go in, and long. Tra. I think we are rid of our new Customer, Bro- ther Leather-head, we shall hear no more of him. [They plot to be gone. Lea. All the better; let's pack up all, and be gone, before he find us. Tra. Stay a little, yonder comes a Company; it may be we may take some more Money. Kno. Sir, I will take your Counsel, and cut my Hair, and leave Vapours: I see, that Tabacco, and Bottle-ale, and Pig, and Whit, and very Ursla her self, is all Vanity. Bus. Only Pig was not comprehended in my Admo- nition, the rest were: For long Hair, it is an Ensign of Pride, a Banner; and the World is full of those Banners, very full of Banners. And Bottle-ale is a Drink of Sa- tan's, a Diet-drink of Satan's, devised to puff us up, and make us swell in this latter Age of Vanity; as the Smoke of Tabacco, to keep us in Mist and Error: But the flesh- ly Woman (which you call Ursla) is above all to be avoided, having the Marks upon her of the three Ene- mies of Man; the World, as being in the Fair; the De- vil, as being in the Fire; and the Flesh, as being her self. Pur. Brother Zeal-of-the-land! what shall we do? My Daughter Win-the-fight is fall'n into her Fit of Longing again. Bus. For more Pig? There is no more, is there? Pur. To see some Sights i' the Fair. Bus. Sister, let her fly the impurity of the place swift- ly, lest she partake of the Pitch thereof. Thou art the Seat of the Beast, O Smithfield, and I will leave thee. Idolatry peepeth out on every side of thee. Kno. An excellent right Hypocrite! Now his Belly is full, he falls a railing and kicking, the Jade. A very good Vapour! I'll in, and joy Ursla, with telling how her Pig works; two and a half he eat to his Share; and he has drunk a Pail-full. He eats with his Eyes, as well as his Teeth. Lea. What do you lack, Gentlemen? What is't you buy? Rattles, Drums, Babies —— Bus. Peace, with thy Apocryphal Wares, thou pro- fane Publican: thy Bells, thy Dragons, and thy Tobies Dogs. Thy Hobby-horse is an Idol, a very Idol, a fierce and rank Idol: and thou, the Nebuchadnezzar, the proud Nebuchadnezzar of the Fair, that set'st it up, for Children to fall down to, and worship. Lea. Cry you mercy, Sir; will you buy a Fiddle to fill up your noise? Joh. Look, Win, do, look a Gods name, and save your Longing. Here be fine Sights. Pur. I, Child, so you hate 'em, as our Brother Zeal does, you may look on 'em. Lea. Or what do you say to a Drum, Sir? Bus. It is the broken Belly of the Beast, and thy Bel- lows there are his Lungs, and these Pipes are his Throat, those Feathers are of his Tail, and thy Rattles the gnash- ing of his Teeth. Tra. And what's my Gingerbread, I pray you? Bus. The Provender that pricks him up. Hence with thy basket of Popery, thy Nest of Images, and whole Legend of Ginger-work. Lea. Sir, if you be not quiet the quicklier, I'll ha' you clapp'd fairly by the Heels, for disturbing the Fair. Bus. The Sin of the Fair provokes me, I cannot be silent. Pur. Good brother Zeal! Lea. Sir, I'll make you silent, believe it. Joh. I'ld give a Shilling you could, i' faith, Friend. Lea. Sir, give me your Shilling, I'll give you my Shop, if I do not; and I'll leave it in pawn with you i' the mean time. Joh. A match, i' faith; but do it quickly then. Bus. Hinder me not, Woman. I was mov'd in spirit, to be here this day, in [He speaks to the Widow. this Fair, this wicked and foul Fair; and fitter may it be call'd a Foul than a Fair; to protest against the Abuses of it, the foul Abuses of it, in regard of the afflicted Saints, that are troubled, very much troubled, exceedingly troubled, with the open- ing of the Merchandise of Babylon again, and the peep- ing of Popery upon the Stalls here, here, in the High Pla- ces. See you not Goldylocks, the purple Strumpet there, in her yellow Gown and green Sleeves? the prophane Pipes, the tinkling Timbrels? A Shop of Relicks! Joh. Pray you forbear, I am put in trust with 'em. Bus. And this idolatrous Grove of Images, this Flasket of Idols, which I will pull down — [Overthrows the Gingerbread. (Tra. O my Ware, my Ware, God bless it.) Bus. In my zeal, and glory to be thus exercis'd. [Leatherhead enters with Officers. Lea. Here he is, pray you lay hold on his Zeal; we cannot sell a Whistle for him in tune. Stop his noise first. Bus. Thou canst not; 'tis a sanctified noise. I will make a loud and most strong noise, till I have daunted the profane Enemy. And for this Cause — Lea. Sir, here's no Man afraid of you, or your Cause. You shall swear it i' the Stocks, Sir. Bus. I will thrust my self into the Stocks, upon the Pikes of the Land. Lea. Carry him away. Pur. What do you mean, wicked Men? Bus. Let them alone, I fear them not. Joh. Was not this Shilling well ventur'd, Win, for our Liberty? Now we may go play, and see over the Fair, where we list our selves; my Mother is gone after him, and let her e'en go, and lose us. VVin. Yes, John; but I know not what to do. Joh. For what, VVin? VVin. For a thing I am asham'd to tell you, i' faith; and 'tis too far to go home. Joh. I pray thee be not asham'd, VVin. Come, i' faith, thou shalt not be asham'd: Is it any thing about the Hobby-horse Man? an't be, speak freely. VVin. Hang him, base Bobchin, I scorn him; no, I have very great, what sha' call 'um, John. Joh. O! Is that all, VVin? We'll go back to Captain Jordan, to the Pig-womans, VVin, he'll help us, or she, with a Dripping-pan, or an old Kettle, or something. The poor greasie Soul loves you, VVin; and after we'll visit the Fair all over, VVin, and see my Puppet-play, VVin; you know it's a fine matter, VVin. Lea. Let's away; I counsel'd you to pack up afore, Jone. Tra. A pox of his Bedlam Purity. He has spol'd half my Ware: But the best is, we lose nothing, if we miss our first Merchant. Lea. It shall be hard for him to find, or know us, when we are translated, Jone.