Free. Yes, sure, if we could find out some wise man presently.
Mal. How was the plate lost? how did it vanish?
Free. In most sincere prose, thus: that man of much money, some wit, but less honesty, cogging Cocledemoy, comes this night late into mine hostess Mulligrub’s tavern here; calls for a room; the house being full, Cocledemoy consorted with his movable chattel, his instrument of fornication, the bawd Mrs. Mary Faugh, are imparlour’d next the street; good poultry was their food, blackbird, lark, woodcock; and mine host here comes in, cries “God bless you!” and departs. A blind harper enters, craves audience, uncaseth, plays; the drawer, for female privateness’ sake, is nodded out, who knowing that whosoever will hit the mark of profit must, like those that shoot in stone-bows,[4] wink with one eye, grows blind o’ the right side, and departs. 27
Caq. He shall answer for that winking with one eye at the last day.
Mal. Let him have day[5] till then, and he will wink with both his eyes.
Free. Cocledemoy, perceiving none in the room but the blind harper (whose eyes Heaven had shut up from beholding wickedness), unclasps a casement to the
street very patiently, pockets up three bowls unnaturally, thrusts his wench forth the window, and himself most preposterously, with his heels forward, follows: the unseeing harper plays on, bids the empty dishes and the treacherous candles much good do them. The drawer returns, but, out alas! not only the birds, but also the neast of goblets, were flown away. Laments are raised—— 42
Tys. Which did not pierce the heavens.
Free. The drawers moan, mine host doth cry, the bowls are gone.
Mul. Hic finis Priami!