Ev. Come, you muſt do’t, Sir. I am vndone elſe, and your Lady Tayle-buſh Has ſent for mee to dinner, and my cloaths Are all at pawne. I had ſent out this morning, Before I heard you were come to towne, ſome twenty 20 Of my epiſtles, and no one returne—
Mere-craft tells him of his faults.
Mer. VVhy, I ha’ told you o’ this. This comes of wearing Scarlet, gold lace, and cut-works! your fine gartring! VVith your blowne roſes, Couſin! and your eating Pheſant, and Godwit, here in London! haunting 25 The Globes, and Mermaides! wedging in with Lords, Still at the table! and affecting lechery, In veluet! where could you ha’ contented your ſelfe With cheeſe, ſalt-butter, and a pickled hering, I’ the Low-countries; there worne cloth, and fuſtian! 30 Beene ſatisfied with a leape o’ your Hoſt’s daughter, In garriſon, a wench of a ſtoter! or, Your Sutlers wife, i’ the leaguer, of two blanks! You neuer, then, had runne vpon this flat, To write your letters miſſiue, and ſend out 35 Your priuy ſeales, that thus haue frighted off All your acquaintance; that they ſhun you at diſtance, VVorse, then you do the Bailies!
Ev. Pox vpon you. I come not to you for counſell, I lacke money.
Hee repines.
Mer. You doe not thinke, what you owe me already?
Ev. I? 40 They owe you, that meane to pay you. I’ll beſworne, I neuer meant it. Come, you will proiect, I ſhall vndoe your practice, for this moneth elſe: You know mee. and threatens him.
Mer. I, yo’ are a right ſweet nature!
Ev. Well, that’s all one!
Mer. You’ll leaue this Empire, one day? 45 You will not euer haue this tribute payd, Your ſcepter o’ the ſword?