Ben Jonson - The New Inn. Act 2. Scene 1. lyrics

Lady, Prudence. Come Wench, this Suit will serve: dispatch, make ready. It was a great deal with the biggest for me; Which made me leave it off after once wearing. How do's it fit? wilt come together? Pru. Hardly. Lad. Thou must make shift with it. Pride feels no Pain. Girt thee hard, Pru. Pox o' this errand Taylour, He angers me beyond all mark of patience. These base Mechanicks never keep their word, In any thing they promise. Pru. 'Tis their Trade, madam, To swear and break, they all grow rich by breaking, More than their Words; their Honesties, and Credits, Are still the first Commodity they put off. Lad. And worst, it seems, which makes 'em do't so often. If he had but broke with me, I had not car'd, But, with the Company, the Body Politick -- Pru. Frustrate our whole design, having that time, And the Materials in so long before? Lad. And he to fail in all, and disappoint us? The Rogue deserves a torture -- Pru. To be crop'd With his own Scizzars. Lad. Let's devise him one. Pru. And ha' the Stumps sear'd with his own searing Candle? Lad. Close to his Head, to trundle on his Pillow? I'll ha' the Lease of his House cut out into Measures. Pru. And he be strangl'd with 'em? Lad. No, no Life I would ha' toucht, but strech'd on his own Yard He should be a little, ha' the strappado! Pru. Or an Ell of Taffata Drawn thorough his Guts, by way of Glister, & fir'd With Aqua vitae? Lad. Burning i' the Hand With the pressing Iron cannot save him. Pru. Yes, Now I have got this on: I do forgive him, What Robes he should ha' brought. Lad. Thou art not cruel, Altough streight-lac'd, I see, Pru! Pru. This is well. Lad. 'Tis rich enough! But 'tis not what I meant thee! I would ha' had thee braver than my self, And brighter far. 'Twill fit the Players yet, When thou hast done with it, and yield thee somewhat. Pru. That were illiberal, Madam, and mere sordid In me, to let a Suit of yours come there. Lad. Tut, all are Players, and but serve the Scene,Pru, Dispatch; I fear thou dost not like the Providence, Thou art so long a fitting thy self for it. Here is a Scarf, to make thee a Knot finer. Pr. You send me a feasting, Madam. Lad. Wear it Wench. Pru. Yes, but, with leave o' your Ladiship, I would tell you This can but bear the Face of an odd Journey. Lad. Why, Pru? Pru. A Lady of your Rank and Quality, To come to a publick Inn, so many Men, Young Lords, and others, i' your Company! And not a Woman but my self, a Chamber-maid! Lad. Thou doubt'st to be over-laid Pru? Fear it not, I'll bear my Part, and share with thee, i' the Venture. Pru. O but the Censure, Madam, is the main, What will they say of you? or judge of me? To be translated thus, 'bove all the bound Of fitness, or decorum? Lad. How, now! Pru! Turn'd Fool upo' the sudden, and talk idly I' thy best Clothes! shoot Bolts and Sentences T' affright Babies with? as if i liv'd To any other Scale that what's my own? Or fought my self, without my self, from home? Pru. Your Ladiship will pardon me, my fault, If I have over shot, I'll shoot no more. Lad. Yes shoot again, good Pru, I'll ha thee shoot, And aim, and hit: I know 'tis love in thee, And so I do interpret it. Pru. Then Madam, I'ld crave a farther leave. Lad. Be it to Licence, It sha' not want an Ear, Pru, Say what is it? Pru. A Toy I have, to raise a little Mirth To the design in hand. Lad. Out with it, Pru. If it but chime of Mirth. Pru. Mine Host has, Madam, A pretty Boy i' the house, a dainty Child, His Son, and is of your Ladiships Name too, Frances, Whom if your Ladiship would borrow of him, And give me leave to dress him, as I would, Should make the finest Lady and Kinswoman, To keep you Company, and deceive my lords, Upo' the matter, with a Fountain o' sport. Lad. I apprehend thee, and the source of Mirth That it may breed, but is he bold enough, The Child? and well a**ur'd? Pra. As I am, Madam, Have him in no suspicion, more than me. Here comes mine Host; will you but please to ask him, Or let me make the Motion? Lad. Which thou wilt, Pru.