Ben Jonson - Bartholomew Fayre Act 4. Scene 2 lyrics

Edgworth, Trouble-all, Nightingale, Cokes, Costardmonger. Come away, Nightingale, I pray thee. Tro. VVhither go you? where's your VVarrant? Edg. VVarrant! for what, Sir? Tro. For what you go about, you know how fit it is; an' you have no VVarrant, bless you, I'll pray for you, that's all I can do. [Goes out. Edg. VVhat means he? Nig. A Mad-man that haunts the Fair; do you not know him? It's marvel he has not more Followers after his ragged Heels. Edg. Beshrew him, he startled me: I thought he had known known of our Plot. Guilt's a terrible thing! Ha' you prepar'd the Costard-monger? Nig. Yes, and agreed for his Basket of Pears; he is at the Corner here, ready. And your Prise, he comes down sailing that way all alone, without his Protector; he is rid of him, it seems. Edg. I, I know; I should ha' follow'd his Protector- ship, for a Feat I am to do upon him: But this offer'd it self so i' the way, I could not let it scape: Here he comes, whistle; be this Sport call'd, Dorring the Dottrel. [Nightingale whistles. Nig. Wh, wh, wh, wh, &c. Cok. By this Light, I cannot find my Gingerbread Wife, nor my Hobbyhorse Man, in all the Fair now, to ha' my Money again: And I do not know the way out on't, to go home for more. Do you hear, Friend, you that whistle? what Tune is that you whistle? Nig. A new Tune, I am practising, Sir. Cok. Dost thou know where I dwell, I pray thee? Nay, on with thy Tune; I ha' no such haste for an An- swer: I'll practise with thee. Cos. Buy any Pears, very fine Pears, Pears fine. [Nightingale sets his Foot afore him, and he falls with his Basket. Cok. Gods so! a muss, a muss, a muss, a muss. Cos. Good Gentleman, my Ware, my Ware; I am a poor Man. Good Sir, my Ware. Nig. Let me hold your Sword, Sir, it troubles you. Cok. Do, and my Cloke, an' thou wilt, and my Hat too. [Cokes falls a scrambling, whilst they run away with his things. Edg. A delicate great Boy! Me thinks he out-scram- bles 'em all. I cannot perswade my self, but he goes to Grammar-school yet, and plays the Treuant to day. Nig. Would he had another Purse to cut, Zekiel. Edg. Purse! A Man might cut out his Kidneys, I think, and he never feel 'em, he is so earnest at the Sport. Nig. His Soul is half way out on's Body, at the Game. Edg. Away, Nightingale; that way. Cok. I think I am furnish'd for Cattern-pears, for one Under-meal: Gi' me my Cloak. Cos. Good Gentleman, give me my Ware. Cok. Where's the Fellow I ga' my Cloak to? My Cloak and my Hat? Ha! Gods 'lid, is he gone? Thieves, Thieves; help me to cry, Gentlemen. [He runs out. Edg. Away, Costard-monger, come to us to Ursla's. Talk of him to have a Soul! 'Heart, if he have any more than a thing given him in stead of Salt, only to keep him from stinking, I'll be hang'd afore my time, presently: Where should it be trow? in his Blood? He has not so much to'ard it in his whole Body, as will maintain a good Flea: And if he takes this course, he will not ha' so much Land left, as to rear a Calf, with- in this Twelve-month. Was there ever green Plover so pull'd! That his little Overseer had been here now, and been but tall enough to see him steal Pears, in exchange for his Bever-hat and his Cloke thus! I must go find him out next, for his Black Box, and his Patent (it seems) he has of his Place; which I think the Gentleman would have a Reversion of, that spoke to me for it so earnestly. He comes again. Cok. Would I might lose my Doublet, and Hose too, as I am an honest Man, and never stir, if I think there be any thing but thieving and cozning i' this whole Fair. Barthomew Fair, quoth he; an' ever any Bartholmew had that luck in't that I have had, I'll be Martyr'd for him, and in Throws a-way his Pears. Smithfield too. I ha' paid for my Pears, a rot on 'em, I'll keep 'em no longer; you were Choak-pears to me: I had been bet- ter ha' gone to Mum-chance for you, I wuss. Me thinks the Fair should not have us'd me thus, and 'twere but for my Names-sake; I would not ha' us'd a Dog o' the Name so. O, Numps will triumph now! Friend, do you know who I am? or where I lie? I do not my self, I'll be sworn. Do but carry me home, and I'll please thee; I ha' Money enough there. I ha' lost my self, and my Cloke, and my Hat, and my fine Sword, and my Sister, and Numps, and Mi- stris Grace, (a Gentlewoman that I should ha' married) and a Cut-work Handkercher she ga' me, and two Pur- ses, to day; and my Bargain o' Hobby-horses and Gin- gerbread, which grieves me worst of all. [Trouble-all comes again. Tro. By whose Warrant, Sir, have you done all this? Cok. Warrant? Thou art a wise Fellow indeed; as if a Man need a VVarrant to lose any thing with! Tro. Yes, Justice Overdoo's VVarrant, a Man may get and lose with, I'll stand to't. Cok. Justice Overdoo? Dost thou know him? I lie there; he is my Brother-in-Law, he married my Sister: Pray thee shew me the way; dost thou know the House? Tro. Sir, shew me your VVarrant; I know nothing without a VVarrant, pardon me. Cok. Why, I warrant thee; come along: thou shalt see I have wrought Pillows there, and Cambrick Sheets, and Sweet-bags too. Pray thee guide me to the House. Tro. Sir, I'll tell you; go you thither your self first alone, tell your worshipful Brother your Mind, and but bring me three Lines of his Hand, or his Clerks, with Adam Overdoo underneath; here I'll stay you, I'll obey you, and I'll guide you presently. Cok. 'Slid, this is an Ass, I ha' found him; Pox upon me, what do I talking to such a dull Fool? Farewel, you are a very Coxcomb, do you hear? Tro. I think I am; if Justice Overdoo sign to it, I am, and so we are all: he'll quit us all, multiply us all.