Bel. It may be then absolv'd,
And then are we both scorn'd and laugh'd at, Madam;
Beside the promise you have ty'd upon it,
Which you must never keep.
Dutch. I never meant it.
Bel. For heaven sake let me know it, 'tis my Suit to ye,
The Boon you would have me ask; let me but see it,
That if there be a way to make't so strong,
No wit nor powerful reason can run through it,
For my disgrace, I may beg of heaven to grant it.
Dutch. Fear not, it has been put to sharper judgements
Than e'er he shall arrive at: my dear Father,
That was as fiery in his understanding,
And ready in his wit as any living,
Had it two years, and studied it, yet lost it:
This night ye are my Bed-fellow, there Daughter
Into your bosom I'll commit this secret,
And there we'll both take counsel.
Bel. I shall find
Some trick I hope too strong yet for his mind. [Exeunt.
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Penurio.
Pen. Methinks I am batten'd well of late, grown lusty,
Fat, high, and kicking, thanks to the bounteous Rugio;
And now, methinks I scorn these poor repasts,
Cheese-parings, and the stinking tongues of Pilchers;
But why should I remember these? they are odious,
They are odious in mine eyes; the full fat dish now,
The bearing dish is that I reverence,
The dish an able Serving-man sweats under,
And bends i' th' hams, as if the house hung on him,
That dish is the dish: hang your bladder Bankets,
Or halfe a dozen of Turnops and two Mushrumps,
These when they breed their best, hatch but two belches;
The state of a fat Turkey, the decorum
He marches in with, all the train and circumstance;
'Tis such a matter, such a glorious matter,
And then his sauce with Oranges and Onions,
And he displaid in all parts, for such a dish now,
And at my need I would betray my Father,
And for a rosted Conger, all my Countrey.
Enter Bartello.
Bar. What my friend Lean-gut, how does thy beauteous Mistriss?
And where's your Master Sirrah? where's that horn-pipe?