Boy. They durst not speak,
But blest themselves, and the strange means that had
Made him a Christian in this over-joy,
I took my leave, and bad 'em say their prayers,
And humor him, lest he turn'd Jew agen.
Lur. Enough, enough. Who's this?
Enter Toby.
'Tis one of my ringers; stand close, my Ladies Coachman.
To. Buy a mat for a bed, buy a mat;
Would I were at rack and manger among my horses;
We have divided the Sextons
Houshold-stuff among us, one has the rugg, and he's
Turn'd Irish, and another has a blanket, and he must beg in't,
The sheets serve another for a frock, and with the bed-cord,
He may pass for a Porter, nothing but the mat would fall
To my share, which with the help of a tune and a hassock
Out o'th' Church, may disguise me till I get home;
A pox o' bell-ringing by the ear, if any man take me
At it agen, let him pull mine to the Pillory: I could wish
I had lost mine ears, so I had my cloaths again:
The weather wo'not allow this fashion,
I do look for an Ague besides.
Lur. How the raskal shakes!
To. Here are company:
Buy a Mat for a Bed, buy a Mat,
A hassock for your feet, or a Piss clean and sweet;
Buy a Mat for a Bed, buy a Mat:
Ringing I renounce thee, I'll never come to church more.
Lur. You with a Mat.
Tob. I am call'd.
If any one should offer to buy my Mat, what a case were I in?
Oh that I were in my Oat-tub with a horse-loaf,
Something to hearten me:
I dare not hear 'em;
Buy a mat for a bed, buy a mat.
Lur. He's deaf.