Ben Jonson - The Staple of News Act 5 Scene 3 lyrics

To them.]Lickfinger. I Sent it you, together with your Keys, Pic. How? Lic. By the Porter that came for it, from you, And by the token, you had giv'n me the Keys, And bad me bring it. Pic. And why did you not? Lic. Why did you send a Countermand? Pic. Who, I? Lic. You, or some other you, you put in trust. Pic. In trust? Lic. Your Trust's another self, you know; And without Trust, and your Trust, how should he Take notice of your Keys, or of my Charge? Pic. Know you the Man? Lic. I know he was a Porter, And a Seal'd Porter; for he bore the Badge On Breast, I am sure. Pic. I am lost! a Plot! I scent it! Lic. Why! and I sent it by the Man you sent, Whom else I had not trusted. Pic. Plague o' your Trust, I am truss'd up among you. P. jun. Or you may be. Pic. In mine own Halter, I have made the Noose. [Picklock goes out. P. jun. What was it, Lickfinger? [Young Peni-boy discovers it to his Father to be his Plot of sending for it by the Porter, and that he is in possession of the Deed. Lic. A Writing, Sir, He sent for't by a Token: I was bringing it, But that he sent a Porter, and he seem'd A Man of decent Carriage. P. Ca. 'Twas good fortune! To cheat the Cheater, was no Cheat, but Justice. Put off your Rags, and be your self again: This Act of Piety and good Affection Hath partly reconcil'd me to you. P. jun. Sir. P. Ca. No Vows, no Promises: too much Protestation Makes that suspected oft, we would persuade. Lic. Hear you the News? P. jun. The Office is down, how should we? Lic. But of your Uncle? P. jun. No. Lic. He's run mad, Sir. P. Ca. How, Lickfinger? Lic. Stark staring mad, your Brother, H' has almost k**'d his Maid. P. Ca. Now Heaven forbid. [Elder Peni-boy startles at the News. Lic. But that she's Cat-liv'd, and Squirrel-limb'd, With throwing Bed-staves at her: H' has set wide His outer Doors, and now keeps open House For all the Pa**ers by to see his Justice. First, he has apprehended his two Dogs, As being o' the Plot to cozen him; And there he sits like an old Worm of the Peace, Wrapp'd up in Furs, at a square Table, screwing, Examining, and committing the poor Curs To two old Cases of Close-stools, as Prisons; The one of which he calls his Lollards Tower, Th' other his Block-house, 'cause his two Dogs Names Are Block and Lollard. P. jun. This would be brave Matter Unto the Jeerers. P. Ca. I, if so the Subject Were not so wretched. Lic. Sure I met them all, I think, upon that quest. P. Ca. 'Faith, like enough: The Vicious still are swift to shew their Natures. I'll thither too, but with another aim, If all succeed well, and my Simples take.