The Staple of News. Act 1. Scene 1.

Peny-Boy Ju. Lether-leg.

His Shoemaker has pull'd on a new Pair of Boots; and
he walksin his Gown, Wastcoat, and Trousers,
expecting his Taylor.
Gramercy Letherleg: Get me the Spurrier,
And thou hast fitted me.     Let. I'll do it presently.
P. Ju. Look at me, Wit, and look to my Wit, Land,
That is, look one me, and with all thine Eyes,
Male, Female, yea, Hermaphroditick Eyes,
And those bring all your helps and Perspicills,
To see me at best advantage, and augment
My Form as I come forth, for I do feel
I will be one, worth looking after, shortly.
Now, by and by, that's shortly. 't strikes! One, Two,
[He draws forth his Watch and sets it on the Table.
Three, Four, Five, Six. Enough, enough, dear Watch,
Thy Pulse hath beat enough. Now sleep and rest;
Would thou couldst make the Time to do so too:
I'll wind the up no more. The hour is come
So long expected! There, there, drop my Wardships,
[He throws off his Gown.
My Pupillage and Vassalage together.
And Liberty, come throw thy self about me,
In a rich Sute, Cloak, Hat, and Band, for now
I'll sue out no Mans Livery, but mine own,
I stand on my own Feet, so much a year,
Right, round, and sound, the Lord of mine own Ground,
And (to Rime to it) Threescore thousand Pound!
Not come? Not yet? Taylor, thou art a Vermine,
[He goes to the Door and looks.
Worse than the same thou prosecut'st, and prick'st
In subtil Seam -- (Go too, I say no more)
Thus to retard My Longings: on the day
I do write Man, to beat thee. Once and twenty
Since the Clock struck, compleat! and thou wilt feel it,
Thou foolish Animall! I could pitty him,
(An' I were not heartily angry with him now)
For this one piece of Folly he bears about him,
To dare to tempt the Fury of an Heir
T' above Two thousand a year; yet hope his Custom!
Well, Master Fashioner; there's some must break --
A Head, for this your breaking. Are you come, Sir?