Ben Jonson - The Staple of News Act 2 Scene 2 lyrics

Pyed-Mantle, Broker, Peny-Boy sen. What luck's this? I am come an Inch too late. Do you hear, Sir? Is your Worship o' the Family Unto the Lady Pecunia? Bro. I serve her Grace, Sir, Aurelia Clara Pecunia, the Infanta. Pie. Has she all those Titles, and her Grace besides? I must correct that Ignorance and Over-sight, Before I do present. Sir, I have drawn A Pedigree for her Grace, tho yet a Novice In that so Noble Study. Bro. A Herald at Arms? Pie. No, Sir, a Pursivant, my Name is Pyed-mantle. Bro. Good Master Pyed-mantle. Pie. I have deduc'd her —— Bro. From all the Spanish Mines in the West Indies, I hope: for she comes that way by her Mother, But by her Grand-mother, she's Dutches of Mines. Pie. From Man's Creation I have brought her. Bro. No farther? Before, Sir, long before, you have done nothing else, Your Mines were before Adam, search your Office, Roll Five and Twenty, you will find it so, I see you are but a Novice, Master Pyed-mantle, If you had not told me so. Pye. Sir, an Apprentice In Armoiry. I have read the Elements, And Accidence, and all the leading Books, And I have now upon me a great ambition, How to be brought to her Grace, to kiss her Hands. Bro. Why, if you have acquaintance with Mistris Statute, Or Mistris Band, my Ladies Gentlewomen, They can induce you. One is a Judges Daughter, But somewhat stately; th' other, Mistris Band, Her Father's but a Scrivener, but she can Almost as much with my Lady as the other, Especially if Rose Wax the Chambermaid Be willing, Do you not know her, Sir, neither? Pye. No, in troth, Sir. Bro. She's a good pliant Wench, And easie to be wrought, Sir; but the Nurse, Old Mother Mortgage, if you have a Tenement, Or such a Morsel, tho she have no Teeth, She loves a Sweet Meat, any thing that melts In her warm Gums, she could command it for you On such a trifle, a toy. Sir, you may see How for your Love, and this so pure Complexion, (A perfect Sanguine) I ha' ventur'd thus, The straining of a Ward, opening a Door Into the Secrets of our Family. Pye. I pray you let me know, Sir, unto whom I am so much beholden; but your name. Bro. My name is Broker, I am Secretary And Usher to her Grace. Pye. Good Master Broker! Bro. Good Master Pyed-mantle. Pye. Why, you could do me, If you would, now, this Favour of your self. Bro. Truly I think I could; but if I would, I hardly should, without, or Mistris Band, Or Mistris Statute, please to appear in it. Or the good Nurse I told you of, Mistris Mortgage. We know our places here, we mingle not One in another's Sphere, but all move orderly, In our own Orbs; yet we are all Concentricks. Pye. Well, Sir, I'll wait a better Season. Bro. Do, And study the right means; get Mistris Band To urge on your behalf, or little Wax. [Broker makes a mouth at him. Pye. I have a hope, Sir, that I may, by chance, Light on her Grace, as she's taking the Air. Bro. That Air of Hope has blasted many an Airy Of Castrils like your seif, good Master Pied-mantle. [He jeers him again. [Old Peni-boy leaps. P. sen. Well said, Mr. Secretary, I stood behind And heard thee all. I honour thy Dispatches. If they be rude, untrained in our Method, And have not studied the Rule, dismiss 'em quickly. He'll never keep his Hour, that Vessel of Kitchen-stuff!