A Tale of a Tub ACT 3. SCENE 1.

Turfe, Clench, Medlay, To-Pan, Scriben, Clay.

Tur.
Passion of me, was ever man thus cross'd?
All things run Arsie-Versie; up-side down.
High Constable! Now by our Lady o'Walsingham,
I had rather be mark'd out Tom Scavinger,
And with a Shovel make clean the High-ways,
Than have this Office of a Constable,
And a High Constable! The higher charge,
It brings more trouble, more vexation with it.
Neighbours, good Neighbours, 'vize me what to do:
How we shall bear us in this Huy and Cry.
We cannot find the Captain; no such man
Lodg'd at the Lion, nor came thither hurt.
The morning we ha' spent in privy search;
And by that means the Bride-Ale is deferr'd;
The Bride, she's left alone in Puppy's charge;
The Bridegroom goes under a pair of Sureties;
And held of all as a respected person.

How should we bustle forward? Gi' some counsel,
How to bestir our stumps i' these cross ways.

Cle.
Faith, Gossip Turfe, you have, you say, Remission,
To comprehend all such as are despected:
Now would I make another privy search
Through this Town, and then you have zearch'd Two
Towns.

Med.
Masters, take heed, let's not vind too many:
One's enough to stay the Hang-man's stomach.
There is John Clay, who is yvound already;
A proper man: A Tile-man by his Trade:
A man, as one would zay, moulded in Clay:
As spruce as any Neigbbour's Child among you:
And he (you zee) is taken on Conspition,
And two or three (they zay) what call you 'em?
Zuch as the Justices of Coram nobis
Grant —— (I forget their Names, you ha' many on 'em,
Mr. High Constable, they come to you.)
I ha' it at my tongues end —— Conny-boroughs,
To bring him straight avore the Zessions house.

Tur.
O, you mean Warrens, Neighbour, do you not?

Med.
I, I, thick same! you know 'un well enough.

Tur.
Too well, too well; wou'd I had never known 'em.
We good Vree-holders cannot live in quiet,
But every hour new purcepts, Hues and Crys,
Put us to Requisitions night and day:
What shud a man zay, shud we leave the zearch?
I am in danger to reburse as much
As he was robb'd on; I, and pay his hurts,
If I should vollow it, all the good cheer
That was provided for the Wedding-dinner
Is spoil'd and lost. Oh, there are two vat Pigs,
A zindging by the vier: Now by Saint Tomy,
Too good to eat, but on a Wedding-day;
And then a Goose will bid you all, Come cut me.
Zun Clay, zun Clay, (for I must call thee so)
Be of good comfort; take my Muckinder,
And dry thine Eyes. If thou beest true and honest;
And if thou find'st thy Conscience clear vrom it,
Pluck up a good heart, we'll do well enough.
If not, confess a truths name. But in faith,
I durst be sworn upon all holy Books
John Clay would ne'er commit a Robbery
On his own head.

Cla.
No: Truth is my rightful Judge:
I have kept my hands, here hence, fro' evil speaking,
Lying and slandering; and my tongue from stealing,
He do not live this day, can say, John Clay,
I ha' zeen thee, but in the way of honesty.

Pan.
Faith, Neighbour Medlay, I durst be his Bur-
rough,
He would not look a true man in the vace.

Cla.
I take the Town to concord, where I dwell,
All Kilburn be my witness, if I were not
Begot in bashfulness, brought up in shamefac'dness:
Let 'un bring a Dog, but to my vace, that can
Zay, I ha' beat 'un, and without a vault:
Or but a Cat, will swear upon a Book,
I have as much as zet a vier her tail;
And I'll give him, or her a Crown for 'mends.
But to give out, and zay, I have robb'd a Captain!
Receive me at the latter day, if I
E're thought of any such matter; or could mind it ——

Med. No, John, you are come of too good Personage;
I think my Gossip Clench, and Mr. Turfe,
Both think, you would ra'tempt no such voul matter.

Tur.
But how unhappily it comes to pass!
Just on the Wedding-day! I cry me mercy:
I had almost forgot the Hue and Cry:
Good Neighbour Pan, you are the Third-burrow,
And D'ogenes Scriben, you my learned Writer,
Make out a new purcept — Lord, for thy Goodness,
I had forgot my Daughter, all this while;

The idle Knave hath brought no news from her.
Here comes the sneaking Puppy; What's the news?
My heart! my heart! I fear all is not well,
Some things mishap'd, that he is come without her.