Coc. I will look to your wife’s payment, I warrant you.
Mul. And now, good yoke-fellow, leave thy poor Mulligrub. 101
Mistress Mul. Nay, then I were unkind; i’faith I will not leave you until I have seen you hang.
Coc. But brother,[112] brother, you must think of your sins and iniquities; you have been a broacher of profane vessels; you have made us drink of the juice of the whore of Babylon: for whereas good ale, perrys, bragots,[113] cyders, and metheglins, was the true ancient British and Troyan drinks, you ha’ brought in Popish wines, Spanish wines, French wines, tam Marti quam Mercurio, both muscadine and malmsey, to the subversion, staggering, and sometimes overthrow of many a good Christian. You ha’ been a great jumbler; O remember the sins of your nights! for your night works ha’ been unsavoury in the taste of your customers. 115
Mul. I confess, I confess; and I forgive as I would be forgiven. Do you know one Cocledemoy?
Coc. O very well. Know him!—an honest man he is, and a comely; an upright dealer with his neighbours, and their wives speak good things of him. 120
Mul. Well, wheresoe’er he is, or whatsoe’er he is, I’ll take it on my death he’s the cause of my hanging. I
heartily forgive him, and if he would come forth he might save me; for he only knows the why and the wherefore.
Coc. You do, from your hearts and midrifs and entrails, forgive him then? you will not let him rot in rusty irons, procure him to be hang’d in lousy linen without a song, and after he is dead piss on his grave?
Mul. That hard heart of mine has procured all this; but I forgive as I would be forgiven. 131