Bartholomew Fayre Act 1. Scene 4

VVaspe, John, VVin-wife, Quarlous.

By your leave, Gentlemen, with all my heart to
you: and God give you good morrow; Master
Little-wit, my business is to you. Is this License
ready?

Joh.
Here I ha' it for you in my hand, Master Hum-
phrey.

Was.
That's well; nay, never open or read it to me,
it's labour in vain, you know. I am no Clerk, I scorn
to be sav'd by my Book, i'faith I'll hang first; fold it
up o' your word, and gi' it me; what must you ha'
for't?

Joh.
We'll talk of that anon, Master Humphrey.

Was.
Now or not at all, good Mr. Proctor, I am for no
anon's, I assure you.

Joh.
Sweet Win, bid Solomon send me the little black
Box within in my Study.

Was.
I, quickly, good Mistris, I pray you: for I have
both Eggs o' the Spit, and Iron i' the Fire, say what you
must have, good Mr. Little-wit.

Joh.
Why, you know the price, Mr. Numps.

Was.
I know? I know nothing. I, what tell you
me of knowing? (now I am in haste) Sir, I do not
know, and I will not know, and I scorn to know, and
yet, (now I think on't) I will, and do know as well as
another; you must have a Mark for your thing here,
and Eight Pence for the Box; I could ha' sav'd Two Pence
i' that, an' I had bought it my self, but here's Fourteen
Shillings for you. Good Lord! how long your little wife
stays! pray God Solomon, your Clerk, be not looking
i' the wrong Box, Mr. Proctor.

Joh.
Good i' faith! no, I warrant you, Solomon is wi-
ser than so, Sir.

Was.
Fie, fie, fie, by your leave, Master Little-wit, this
is scurvy, idle, foolish and abominable, with all my heart;
I do not like it.

Win-w.
Do you hear? Jack Little-wit, what business
does thy pretty head think this Fellow may have, that he
keeps such a coyl with?

Quar.
More than buying of Ginger-bread i' the Cloy-
ster, here, (for that we allow him) or a guilt pouch i' the
Fair?

Joh.
Master Quarlous, do not mistake him: he is his
Master's Both-hands, I assure you.

Quar.
What? to pull on his Boots a Mornings, or his
Stockings, do's he?

Joh.
Sir, if you have a mind to mock him, mock him
softly, and look t'other way: for if he apprehend you
flout him once, he will fly at you presently. A terrible
testy old Fellow, and his Name is Waspe too.

Quar.
Pretty Insect! make much on him.

Was.
A Plague o' this Box, and the Pox too, and on
him that made it, and her that went for't, and all that
should ha' sought it, sent it, or brought it! do you see,
Sir?

Joh.
Nay, good Mr. Waspe.

VVas.
Good Master Hornet, turd i' your teeth, hold
you your tongue: do not I know you? Your Father was
a Pothecary, and sold Glisters, more than he gave, I wusse:
and turd i' your little Wives teeth too (here she comes),
'twill make her spit as fine as she is, for all her Velvet
Custard on her head, Sir.

Joh.
O! be civil, Master Numps.

VVas.
Why, say I have a Humour not to be civil; how
then? who shall compel me? you?

Joh.
Here is the Box now.

VVas.
Why a Pox o' your Box, once again: let your
little Wife stale in it, and she will. Sir, I would have
you to understand, and these Gentlemen too, if they
please ——

VVin-w.
With all our Hearts, Sir.

VVas.
That I have a charge, Gentlemen.

Joh.
They do apprehend, Sir.

VVas.
Pardon me, Sir, neither they nor you can ap-
prehend me yet. (You are an Ass) I have a Young Ma-
ster, he is now upon his making and marring; the whole
care of his well-doing, is now mine. His foolish School-
masters have done nothing, but run up and down the
Countrey with him to beg Puddings, and Cake-bread of
his Tenants, and almost spoiled him; he has learn'd
nothing but to sing Catches, and repeat Rattle Bladder,
rattle, and O, Madge. I dare not let him walk alone,
for fear of learning of vile Tunes, which he will sing at
Supper, and in the Sermon-times! If he meet but a
Carman i' the Street, and I find him not talk to keep
him off on him, he will whistle him, and all his Tunes
over at Night in his Sleep! he has a head full of Bees!
I am fain now (for this little time I am absent) to leave
him in charge with a Gentlewoman:: 'Tis true, she is
a Justice of Peace his Wife, and a Gentlewoman o' the
Hood, and his Natural Sister: But what may happen
under a Womans Government, there's the doubt. Gen-
tlemen, you do not know him: he is another manner of
piece than you think for! but Nineteen years old, and
yet he is taller than either of you by the Head, God
bless him.

Quar.
Well, methinks this is a fine Fellow!

VVin-w.
He has made his Master a finer by this Descrip-
tion, I should think.

Quar.
'Faith, much about one, it's Cross and Pile,
whether for a New Farthing.

VVas.
I'll tell you, Gentlemen ——

Joh.
Will't please you drink, Master VVaspe?

VVas.
Why, I ha' not talk't so long to be dry, Sir;
you see no Dust or Cobwebs come out o' my Mouth:
do you? you'ld ha' me gone, would you?

Joh.
No, but you were in haste e'en now, Mr.
Numps.

Was.
What an' I were? so I am still, and yet I will
stay too; meddle you with your match, your Win, there,
she has as little Wit as her Husband, it seems: I have o-
thers to talk to.

Joh.
She's my match indeed, and as little Wit as I,
Good!

VVas.
We ha' been but a day and a half in Town,
Gentlemen, 'tis true, and yesterday i' the Afternoon
we walk'd London, to shew the City to the Gentlewo-
man he shall marry, Mistris Grace; but afore I will en-
dure such another half day with him, I'll be drawn with
a good Gib-cat, through the great Pond at home, as his
Uncle Hodge was! why, we could not meet that Heathen
thing all day, but staid him: he would name you all the
Signs over, as he went, aloud: and where he spi'd a
Parrat, or a Monkey, there he was pitch'd, with all the
little Long-Coats about him, Male and Female; no get-
ting him away! I thought he would ha' run mad o' the
black boy in Bucklers-bury, that takes the scurvy, roguy
Tabacco there.

Joh.
You say true, Master Numps: there's such a one
indeed.

VVas.
It's no matter whether there be or no, what's
that to you?

Quar.
He will not allow of John's reading at any
hand.