[Cantat saltatque cum cithara.
Enter Malheureux.
Fra. O min-here man, a dere liver love, 20
Mine ten tousant times velcom love!
Ha! by mine trat, you bin de just—vat sall me say?
Vat seet honie name sall I call you?
Mal. Any from you
Is pleasure. Come, my loving prettiness,
Where’s thy chamber? I long to touch your sheets.
Fra. No, no, not yet, mine seetest soft-lipp’d love,
You sall not gulp down all delights at once.
Be min trat, dis all-fles-lovers, dis ravenous wenchers[91] dat sallow all down hole, vill have all at one bit; fie, fie, fie! be min fait, dey do eat comfets vid spoons. 31
No, no, I’ll make you chew your pleasure vit love;
De more degrees and steps, de more delight,
De more endearèd is de pleasure height.
Mal. What, you’re a learn’d wanton, and proceed by art?
Fra. Go, little vag, pleasure should have a crane’s long neck, to relish de ambrosia of delight. And ick pre de tell me, for me loves to hear of manhood very mush,
i’fait: ick prede—vat vas me a saying? Oh, ick prede tell a me how did you killa Metre Freevill? 40