The Scornful Lady by Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher
F >>
Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher >> The Scornful Lady
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 | 5 |
6 |
7
_Enter_ Servant.
_Ser_. Sir, there's a Gentleman without would speak with you.
_Elder Lo_. Bid him come in.
_Enter_ Welford.
_Wel_. By your leave Sir.
_Elder Lo_. You are welcome, what's your will Sir?
_Wel_. Have you forgotten me?
_Elder Lo_. I do not much remember you.
_Wel_. You must Sir. I am that Gentleman you pleas'd to wrong, in your
disguise, I have inquired you out.
_Elder Lo_. I was disguised indeed Sir if I wrong'd you, pray where and
when?
_Wel_. In such a Ladies house, I need not name her.
_Elder Lo_. I do remember you, you seem'd to be a Sutor to that Lady?
_Wel_. If you remember this, do not forget how scurvily you us'd me: that
was no place to quarrel in, pray you think of it; if you be honest you
dare fight with me, without more urging, else I must provoke ye.
_Elder Lo_. Sir I dare fight, but never for a woman, I will not have her
in my cause, she's mortal, and so is not my anger: if you have brought a
nobler subject for our Swords, I am for you; in this I would be loth to
prick my Finger. And where you say I wrong'd you, 'tis so far from my
profession, that amongst my fears, to do wrong is the greatest: credit me
we have been both abused, (not by our selves, for that I hold a spleen, no
sin of malice, and may with man enough be best forgoten,) but by that
willfull, scornful piece of hatred, that much forgetful Lady: for whose
sake, if we should leave our reason, and run on upon our sense, like
_Rams_, the little world of good men would laugh at us, and despise us,
fixing upon our desperate memories the never-worn out names of Fools and
Fencers. Sir 'tis not fear, but reason makes me tell you; in this I had
rather help you Sir, than hurt you, and you shall find it, though you
throw your self into as many dangers as she offers, though you redeem her
lost name every day, and find her out new honours with your Sword, you
shall but be her mirth as I have been.
_Wel_. I ask you mercy Sir, you have ta'ne my edge off: yet I would fain
be even with this Lady.
_Elder Lo_. In which I'le be your helper: we are two, and they are two:
two Sisters, rich alike, only the elder has the prouder Dowry: In troth I
pity this disgrace in you, yet of mine own I am senceless: do but follow
my Counsel, and I'le pawn my spirit, we'l overreach 'em yet; the means is
this--
_Enter_ Servant.
_Ser_. Sir there's a Gentlewoma[n] will needs speak with you, I cannot
keep her out, she's entred Sir.
_Elder Lo_. It is the waiting woman, pray be not seen: sirrah hold her in
discourse a while: hark in your ear, go and dispatch it quickly, when I
come in, I'le tell you all the project.
_Wel_. I care not which I have. [_Exit_ Welford.
_Elder Lo_. Away, 'tis done, she must not see you: now Lady _Guiniver_
what news with you?
_Enter_ Abigal.
_Abig_. Pray leave these frumps Sir, and receive this letter.
_Elder Lo_. From whom good vanity?
_Abig_. 'Tis from my Lady Sir: Alas good soul, she cries and takes on!
_Elder Lo_. Do's she so good Soul? wou'd she not have a Cawdle? do's she
send you with your fine Oratory goody _Tully_ to tye me to believe again?
bring out the Cat-hounds, I'le make you take a tree Whore, then with my
tiller bring down your _Gibship_, and then have you cast, and hung up
i'th' Warren.
_Abig_. I am no beast Sir, would you knew it.
_Elder Lo_. Wou'd I did, for I am yet very doubtful; what will you say
now?
_Abig_. Nothing not I.
_Elder Lo_. Art thou a woman, and say nothing?
_Abig_. Unless you'l hear me with more moderation, I can speak wise
enough.
_Elder Lo_. And loud enough? will your Lady love me?
_Abig_. It seems so by her letter, and her lamentations; but you are such
another man.
_Elder Lo_. Not such another as I was, Mumps; nor will not be: I'le read
her fine Epistle: ha, ha, ha, is not thy Mistress mad?
_Abig_. For you she will be, 'tis a shame you should use a poor
Gentlewoman so untowardly; she loves the ground you tread on; and you
(hard heart) because she jested with you, mean to kill her; 'tis a fine
conquest as they say.
_Elder Lo_. Hast thou so much moisture in the Whitleather hide yet, that
thou canst cry? I wou'd have sworn thou hadst been touchwood five year
since; nay let it rain, thy face chops for a shower like a dry Dunghil.
_Abig_. I'le not indure this Ribauldry; farewel i'th' Devils name; if my
Lady die, I'le be sworn before a Jury, thou art the cause on't.
_Elder Lo_. Do Maukin do, deliver to your Lady from me this: I mean to see
her, if I have no other business: which before I'le want to come to her, I
mean to go seek birds nests: yet I may come too: but if I come, from this
door till I see her, will I think how to rail vildly at her; how to vex
her, and make her cry so much, that the Physician if she fall sick upon't,
shall find the cause to be want of Urine, and she remediless dye in her
Heresie: Farewell old Adage, I hope to see the Boys make Potguns on thee.
_Abig_. Th'art a vile man, God bless my issue from thee.
_Elder Lo_. Thou hast but one, and that's in thy left crupper, that makes
thee hobble so; you must be ground i'th' breach like a Top, you'I ne're
spin well else: Farewell Fytchock. [_Exeunt_.
_Enter_ Lady _alone_.
_Lady_. Is it not strange that every womans will should track out new
wayes to disturb her self? if I should call my reason to account, it
cannot answer why I keep my self from mine own wish, and stop the man I
love from his; and every hour repent again, yet still go on: I know 'tis
like a man, that wants his natural sleep, and growing dull would gladly
give the remnant of his life for two hours rest; yet through his
frowardness, will rather choose to watch another man, drowsie as he, than
take his own repose. All this I know: yet a strange peevishness and anger,
not to have the power to do things unexpected, carries me away to mine own
ruine: I had rather die sometimes than not disgrace in public him whom
people think I love, and do't with oaths, and am in earnest then: O what
are we! Men, you must answer this, that dare obey such things as we
command. How now? what newes?
_Enter_ Abigal.
_Abi_. Faith Madam none worth hearing.
_Lady_. Is he not come?
_Abi_. No truly.
_Lady_. Nor has he writ?
_Abigal_. Neither. I pray God you have not undone your self.
_Lady_. Why, but what saies he?
_Abi_. Faith he talks strangely.
_Lady_. How strangely?
_Abi_. First at your Letter he laught extremely.
_Lady_. What, in contempt?
_Abi._ He laught monstrous loud, as he would die, and when you wrote it I
think you were in no such merry mood, to provoke him that way: and having
done he cried Alas for her, and violently laught again.
_Lady._ Did he?
_Abi._ Yes, till I was angry.
_Lady._ Angry, why? why wert thou angry? he did doe but well, I did
deserve it, he had been a fool, an unfit man for any one to love, had he
not laught thus at me: you were angry, that show'd your folly; I shall
love him more for that, than all that ere he did before: but said he
nothing else?
_Abi._ Many uncertain things: he said though you had mockt him, because
you were a woman, he could wish to do you so much favour as to see you:
yet he said, he knew you rash, and was loth to offend you with the sight
of one, whom now he was bound not to leave.
_Lady._ What one was that?
_Abi._ I know not, but truly I do fear there is a making up there: for I
heard the servants, as I past by some, whisper such a thing: and as I came
back through the hall, there were two or three Clarks writing great
conveyances in hast, which they said were for their Mistris joynture.
_Lady._ 'Tis very like, and fit it should be so, for he does think, and
reasonably think, that I should keep him with my idle tricks for ever ere
he be married.
_Abi._ At last he said, it should go hard but he would see you for your
satisfaction.
_Lady._ All we that are called Women, know as well as men, it were a far
more noble thing to grace where we are grace't, and give respect there
where we are respected: yet we practise a wilder course, and never bend
our eyes on men with pleasure, till they find the way to give us a
neglect: then we, too late, perceive the loss of what we might have had,
and dote to death.
_Enter_ Martha.
_Mar._ Sister, yonder's your Servant, with a Gentlewoman with him.
_Lady._ Where?
_Mar._ Close at the door.
_Lady._ Alas I am undone, I fear he is be[t]roth'd,
What kind of woman is she?
_Mar._ A most ill favoured one, with her Masque on:
And how her face should mend the rest I know not.
_La._ But yet her mind was of a milder stuff than mine was.
_Enter_ Elder Loveless, _and_ Welford _in Womans apparel._
_Lady._ Now I see him, if my heart swell not again (away thou womans
pride) so that I cannot speak a gentle word to him, let me not live.
_Elder Lo._ By your leave here.
_Lady._ How now, what new trick invites you hither?
Ha'you a fine device again?
_Elder Lo._ Faith this is the finest device I have now:
How dost thou sweet heart?
_Wel._ Why very well, so long as I may please
You my dear Lover. I nor can, nor will
Be ill when you are well, well when you are ill.
_Elder Lo._ O thy sweet temper! what would I have given, that Lady had
been like thee: seest thou her? that face (my love) join'd with thy humble
mind, had made a wench indeed.
_Wel._ Alas my love, what God hath done, I dare not think to mend. I use
no paint, nor any drugs of Art, my hands and face will shew it.
_La._ Why what thing have you brought to shew us there? do you take mony
for it?
_Elder Lo._ A Godlike thing, not to be bought for mony: 'tis my Mistris:
in whom there is no passion, nor no scorn: what I will is for law; pray
you salute her.
_Lady._ Salute her? by this good light, I would not kiss her for half my
wealth.
_Elder Lo._ Why? why pray you?
You shall see me do't afore you; look you.
_Lady._ Now fie upon thee, a beast would not have don't.
I would not kiss thee of a month to gain a Kingdom.
_Elder Lo._ Marry you shall not be troubled.
_Lady._ Why was there ever such a _Meg_ as this?
Sure thou art mad.
_Elder Lo._ I was mad once, when I lov'd pictures; for what are shape and
colours else, but pictures? in that tawnie hide there lies an endless mass
of vertues, when all your red and white ones want it.
_Lady._ And this is she you are to marry, is't not?
_Elder Lo._ Yes indeed is't.
_Lady._ God give you joy.
_Elder Lo._ Amen.
_Wel._ I thank yo[u], as unknown for your good wish.
The like to you when ever you shall wed.
_Elder Lo._ O gentle Spirit!
_Lady._ You thank me? I pray
Keep your breath nearer you, I do not like it.
_Wel._ I would not willingly offend at all,
Much less a Lady of your worthie parts.
_Elder Lo._ Sweet, Sweet!
_La._ I do not think this woman can by nature be thus,
Thus ugly; sure she's some common Strumpet,
Deform'd with exercise of sin?
_Wel._ O Sir believe not this, for Heaven so comfort me as I am free from
foul pollution with any man; my honour ta'ne away, I am no woman.
_Elder Lo._ Arise my dearest Soul; I do not credit it. Alas, I fear her
tender heart will break with this reproach; fie that you know no more
civility to a weak Virgin. 'Tis no matter Sweet, let her say what she
will, thou art not worse to me, and therefore not at all; be careless.
_Wel._ For all things else I would, but for mine honor; Me thinks.
_Elder Lo._ Alas, thine honour is not stain'd,
Is this the business that you sent for me about?
_Mar._ Faith Sister you are much to blame, to use a woman, whatsoe're she
be, thus; I'le salute her: You are welcome hither.
_Wel._ I humbly thank you.
_Elder Lo._ Milde yet as the Dove, for all these injuries. Come shall we
goe, I love thee not so ill to keep thee here a jesting stock. Adue to the
worlds end.
_Lady._ Why whither now?
_Elder Lo._ Nay you shall never know, because you shall not find me.
_Lady._ I pray let me speak with you.
_Elder Lo._ 'Tis very well: come.
_Lady._ I pray you let me speak with you.
_Elder Lo._ Yes for another mock.
_Lady._ By Heaven I have no mocks: good Sir a word.
_Elder Lo._ Though you deserve not so much at my hands, yet if you be in
such earnest, I'le speak a word with you; but I beseech you be brief: for
in good faith there's a Parson and a licence stay for us i'th' Church all
this while: and you know 'tis night.
_Lady._ Sir, give me hearing patiently, and whatsoever I have heretofore
spoke jestingly, forget: for as I hope for mercy any where, what I shall
utter now is from my heart, and as I mean.
_Elder Lo._ Well, well, what do you mean?
_Lady._ Was not I once your Mistress, and you my Servant?
_Elder Lo._ O 'tis about the old matter.
_Lady._ Nay good Sir stay me out; I would but hear you excuse your self,
why you should take this woman, and leave me.
_Elder Lo._ Prethee why not, deserves she not as much as you?
_Lady._ I think not, if you will look
With an indifferency upon us both.
_Elder Lo._ Upon your faces, 'tis true: but if judiciously we shall cast
our eyes upon your minds, you are a thousand women of her in worth: she
cannot swound in jest, nor set her lover tasks, to shew her peevishness,
and his affection, nor cross what he saies, though it be Canonical. She's
a good plain wench, that will do as I will have her, and bring me lusty
Boys to throw the Sledge, and lift at Pigs of Lead: and for a Wife, she's
far beyond you: what can you do in a houshold to provide for your issue,
but lye i' bed and get 'em? your business is to dress you, and at idle
hours to eat; when she can do a thousand profitable things: she can do
pretty well in the Pastry, and knows how Pullen should be cram'd, she cuts
Cambrick at a thread, weaves Bone-lace, and quilts Balls; and what are you
good for?
_Lady._ Admit it true, that she were far beyond me in all respects, does
that give you a licence to forswear your self?
_Elder Lo._ Forswear my self, how?
_Lady._ Perhaps you have forgotten the innumerable oaths you have utter'd
in disclaiming all for Wives but me: I'le not remember you: God give you
joy.
_Elder Lo._ Nay but conceive me, the intent of oaths is ever understood:
Admit I should protest to such a friend, to see him at his Lodging to
morrow: Divines would never hold me perjur'd if I were struck blind, or he
hid him where my diligent search could not find him: so there were no
cross act of mine own in't. Can it be imagined I mean to force you to
Marriage, and to have you whether you will or no?
_Lady._ Alas you need not. I make already tender of my self, and then you
are forsworn.
_Elder Lo._ Some sin I see indeed must necessarily fall upon me, as
whosoever deals with Women shall never utterly avoid it: yet I would chuse
the least ill; which is to forsake you, that have done me all the abuses
of a malignant Woman, contemn'd my service, and would have held me prating
about Marriage, till I had been past getting of Children: then her that
hath forsaken her Family, and put her tender body in my hand, upon my
word--
_Lady._ Which of us swore you first to?
_Elder Lo._ Why to you.
_Lady._ Which oath is to be kept then?
_Elder Lo._ I prethee do not urge my sins unto me,
Without I could amend 'em.
_Lady._ Why you may by wedding me.
_Elder Lo._ How will that satisfie my word to her?
_Lady._ 'Tis not to be kept, and needs no satisfaction,
'Tis an error fit for repentance only.
_Elder Lo._ Shall I live to wrong that tender hearted Virgin so? It may
not be.
_Lady._ Why may it not be?
_Elder Lo._ I swear I would rather marry thee than her: but yet mine
honesty?
_Lady._ What honesty? 'Tis more preserv'd this way:
Come, by this light, servant, thou shalt, I'le kiss thee on't.
_Elder Lo._ This kiss indeed is sweet, pray God no sin lie under it.
_Lady._ There is no sin at all, try but another.
_Wel._ O my heart!
_Mar._ Help Sister, this Lady swounds.
_Elder Lo._ How do you?
_Wel._ Why very well, if you be so.
_Elder Lo._ Since a quiet mind lives not in any Woman, I shall do a most
ungodly thing. Hear me one word more, which by all my hopes I will not
alter, I did make an oath when you delai'd me so, that this very night I
would be married. Now if you will go without delay, suddenly, as late as
it is, with your own Minister to your own Chapel, I'le wed you and to bed.
_Lady._ A match dear servant.
_Elder Lo._ For if you should forsake me now, I care not, she would not
though for all her injuries, such is her spirit. If I be not ashamed to
kiss her now I part, may I not live.
_Wel._ I see you go, as slily as you think to steal away: yet I will pray
for you; all blessings of the world light on you two, that you may live to
be an aged pair. All curses on me if I do not speak what I do wish indeed.
_Elder Lo._ If I can speak to purpose to her, I am a villain.
_Lady._ Servant away.
_Mar._ Sister, will you Marry that inconstant man? think you he will not
cast you off to morrow, to wrong a Lady thus, lookt she like dirt, 'twas
basely done. May you ne're prosper with him.
_Wel._ Now God forbid. Alas I was unworthy, so I told him.
_Mar._ That was your modesty, too good for him.
I would not see your wedding for a world.
_Lady._ Chuse chuse, come _Younglove_.
[_Exit_ La. Elder Lo. _and_ Young.
_Mar._ Dry up your eyes forsooth, you shall not think we are all such
uncivil beasts as these. Would I knew how to give you a revenge.
_Wel._ So would not I: No let me suffer truly, that I desire.
_Mar._ Pray walk in with me, 'tis very late, and you shall stay all night:
your bed shall be no worse than mine; I wish I could but do you right.
_Wel._ My humble thanks:
God grant I may but live to quit your love. [_Exeunt._
_Enter_ Young Loveless _and_ Savil.
_Young Lo._ Did your Master send for me _Savil_?
_Sav._ Yes, he did send for your worship Sir.
_Young Lo._ Do you know the business?
_Sav._ Alas Sir, I know nothing, nor am imployed beyond my hours of
eating. My dancing days are done Sir.
_Young Lo._ What art thou now then?
_Sav._ If you consider me in little, I am with your worships reverence
Sir, a Rascal: one that upon the next anger of your Brother, must raise a
sconce by the high way, and sell switches; my wife is learning now Sir, to
weave inkle.
_Young Lo._ What dost thou mean to do with thy Children _Savil_?
_Sav._ My eldest boy is half a Rogue already, he was born bursten, and
your worship knows, that is a pretty step to mens compassions. My youngest
boy I purpose Sir to bind for ten years to a G[ao]ler, to draw under him,
that he may shew us mercy in his function.
_Young Lo._ Your family is quartered with discretion: you are resolved to
Cant then: where _Savil_ shall your scene lie?
_Sav._ Beggers must be no chusers.
In every place (I take it) but the stocks.
_Young Lo._ This is your drinking, and your whoring _Savil_, I told you of
it, but your heart was hardened.
_Sav._ 'Tis true, you were the first that told me of it I do remember yet
in tears, you told me you would have Whores, and in that passion Sir, you
broke out thus; Thou miserable man, repent, and brew three Strikes more in
a Hogshead. 'Tis noon e're we be drunk now, and the time can tarry for no
man.
_Young Lo._ Y'are grown a bitter Gentleman. I see misery can clear your
head better than Mustard, I'le be a sutor for your Keys again Sir.
_Sav._ Will you but be so gracious to me Sir? I shall be bound.
_Young Lo._ You shall Sir
To your bunch again, or I'le miss foully.
_Enter_ Morecraft.
_Mor._ Save you Gentleman, save you.
_Young Lo._ Now Polecat, what young Rabets nest have you to draw?
_Mor._ Come, prethee be familiar Knight.
_Young Lo._ Away Fox, I'le send for Terriers for you.
_Mor._ Thou art wide yet: I'le keep thee companie.
_Young Lo._ I am about some business; Indentures,
If ye follow me I'le beat you: take heed,
A[s] I live I'le cancel your Coxcomb.
_Mor._ Thou art cozen'd now, I am no usurer:
What poor fellow's this?
_Savil._ I am poor indeed Sir.
_Mor._ Give him mony Knight.
_Young Lo._ Do you begin the offering.
_Mor._ There poor fellow, here's an Angel for thee.
_Young Lo._ Art thou in earnest _Morecraft_?
_Mor._ Yes faith Knight, I'le follow thy example: thou hadst land and
thousands, thou spendst, and flungst away, and yet it flows in double: I
purchased, wrung, and wierdraw'd, for my wealth, lost, and was cozen'd:
for which I make a vow, to trie all the waies above ground, but I'le find
a constant means to riches without curses.
_Young Lo._ I am glad of your conversion Master _Morecraft_:
Y'are in a fair course, pray pursue it still.
_Mor._ Come, we are all gallants now, I'le keep thee company;
Here honest fellow, for this Gentlemans sake, there's two Angels more for
thee.
_Savil._ God quite you Sir, and keep you long in this mind.
_Young Lo._ Wilt thou persevere?
_Mor._ Till I have a penny. I have brave cloathes a making, and two
horses; canst thou not help me to a match Knight, I'le lay a thousand
pound upon my crop-ear.
_Yo. Lo._ Foot, this is stranger than an _Africk_ monster, There will be
no more talk of the _Cleve_ wars Whilst this lasts, come, I'le put thee
into blood.
_Sav._ Would all his damn'd tribe were as tender hearted. I beseech you
let this Gentleman join with you in the recovery of my Keyes; I like his
good beginning Sir, the whilst I'le pray for both your worships.
_Young Lo._ He shall Sir.
_Mor._ Shall we goe noble Knight? I would fain be acquainted.
_Young Lo._ I'le be your Servant Sir. [_Exeunt._
_Enter_ Elder Loveless, _and_ Lady.
_Elder Lo._ Faith my sweet Lady, I have caught you now, maugre your
subtilties, and fine devices, be coy again now.
_Lady._ Prethee sweet-heart tell true.
_Elder Lo._ By this light, by all the pleasures I have had this night, by
your lost maidenhead, you are cozened meerly. I have cast beyond your wit.
That Gentleman is your retainer _Welford_.
_Lady._ It cannot be so.
_Elder Lo._ Your Sister has found it so, or I mistake, mark how she
blushes when you see her next. Ha, ha, ha, I shall not travel now, ha, ha,
ha.
_Lady._ Prethee sweet heart be quiet, thou hast angred me at heart.
_Elder Lo._ I'le please you soon again.
_La._ Welford?
_Elder Lo._ I _Welford_, hee's a young handsome fellow, well bred and
landed, your Sister can instruct you in his good parts, better than I by
this time.
_Lady._ Uds foot am I fetcht over thus?
_Elder Lo._ Yes i'faith.
And over shall be fetcht again, never fear it.
_Lady._ I must be patient, though it torture me:
You have got the Sun Sir.
_Elder Lo._ And the Moon too, in which I'le be the man.
_Lady._ But had I known this, had I but surmiz'd it, you should have
hunted three trains more, before you had come to th' course, you should
have hankt o'th' bridle, Sir, i'faith.
_El. Lo._ I knew it, and min'd with you, and so blew you up.
Now you may see the Gentlewoman: stand close.
_Enter_ Welford, _and_ Martha.
_Mar._ For Gods sake Sir, be private in this business,
You have undone me else. O God, what have I done?
_Wel._ No harm I warrant thee.
_Mar._ How shall I look upon my friends again?
With what face?
_Wel._ Why e'ne with that: 'tis a good one, thou canst not find a better:
look upon all the faces thou shall see there, and you shall find 'em
smooth still, fair still, sweet still, and to your thinking honest; those
have done as much as you have yet, or dare doe Mistris, and yet they keep
no stir.
_Mar._ Good Sir goe in, and put your womans cloaths on:
If you be seen thus, I am lost for ever.
_Wel._ I'le watch you for that Mistris: I am no fool, here will I tarry
till the house be up and witness with me.
_Mar._ Good dear friend goe in.
_Wel._ To bed again if you please, else I am fixt here till there be
notice taken what I am, and what I have done: if you could juggle me into
my woman-hood again, and so cog me out of your company, all this would be
forsworn, and I again an _asinego_, as your Sister left me. No, I'le have
it known and publisht; then if you'le be a whore, forsake me and be
asham'd: and when you can hold no longer, marry some cast _Cleve Captain_,
and sell Bottle-ale.
_Mar._ I dare not stay Sir, use me modestly, I am your wife.
_Wel._ Goe in, I'le make up all.
_Elder Lo._ I'le be a witness of your naked truth Sir: this is the
Gentlewoman, prethee look upon him, that is he that made me break my faith
sweet: but thank your Sister, she hath soder'd it.
_Lady._ What a dull ass was I, I could not see this wencher from a wench:
twenty to one, if I had been but tender like my Sister, he had served me
such a slippery trick too.
_Wel._ Twenty to one I had.
_Elder Lo._ I would have watcht you Sir, by your good patience, for
ferreting in my ground.
_Lady._ You have been with my Sister.
_Wel._ Yes to bring.
_Elder Lo._ An heir into the world he means.
_Lady._ There is no chafing now.
_Wel._ I have had my part on't: I have been chaft this three hours, that's
the least, I am reasonable cool now.
_Lady._ Cannot you fare well, but you must cry roast-meat?
_Wel._ He that fares well, and will not bless the founders, is either
surfeited, or ill taught, Lady, for mine own part, I have found so sweet a
diet, I can commend it, though I cannot spare it.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 | 5 |
6 |
7