Brai. Marry, sir, my proper fine pen-man would needs bestow the
grist on me, at the Windmill, to hear some martial discourse; where
I so marshall'd him, that I made him drunk with admiration; and,
because too much heat was the cause of his distemper, I stript him
stark naked as he lay along asleep, and borrowed his suit to
deliver this counterfeit message in, leaving a rusty armour, and an
old brown bill to watch him till my return; which shall be, when I
have pawn'd his apparel, and spent the better part O' the money,
perhaps.
Wel. Well, thou art a successful merry knave, Brainworm: his
absence will be a good subject for more mirth. I pray thee return
to thy young master, and will him to meet me and my sister Bridget
at the Tower instantly; for here, tell him the house is so stored
with jealousy, there is no room for love to stand up'right in. We
must get our fortunes committed to some larger prison, say; and
than the Tower, I know no better air, nor where the liberty of the
house may do us more present service. Away.
Exit Brai.
Re-enter KITELY, talking aside to CASH.
Kit.
Come hither, Thomas. Now my secret's ripe,
And thou shalt have it: lay to both thine ears.
Hark what I say to thee. I must go forth, Thomas;
Be careful of thy promise, keep good watch,
Note every gallant, and observe him well,
That enters in my absence to thy mistress:
If she would shew him rooms, the jest is stale,
Follow them, Thomas, or else hang on him,
And let him not go after; mark their looks;
Note if she offer but to see his band,
Or any other amorous toy about him;
But praise his leg, or foot: or if she say
The day is hot, and bid him feel her hand,
How hot it is; O, that's a monstrous thing!
Note me all this, good Thomas, mark their sighs,
And if they do but whisper, break 'em off:
I'll bear thee out in it. Wilt thou do this?
Wilt thou be true, my Thomas?
Cash. As truth's self, sir.
Kit. Why, I believe thee: Where is Cob, now? Cob!
[Exit.
Dame K. He's ever calling for Cob: I wonder how he employs Cob so.
Wel. Indeed, sister, to ask how he employs Cob, is a necessary
question for you that are his wife, and a thing not very easy for
you to be satisfied in; but this I'll assure you, Cob's wife is an
excellent bawd, sister, and oftentimes your husband haunts her
house; marry, to what end? I cannot altogether accuse him; imagine
you what you think convenient: but I have known fair hides have
foul hearts ere now, sister.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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