THE LONDON CHANTICLEERS.
SCENE I.
Enter Heath, a broom-man.
Heath. Brooms, maids, brooms! Old boots or shoes! Come, buy my brooms!
You maidens that do cleanse the door,
And make a looking-glass o' th' floor,
That every night prepare the ground,
For Oberon to dance a round,
And do expect Queen Mab for you
Should drop a tester in a shoe,
And would sleep without pinching, come
Quickly to me, and buy a broom,
That will effect the thing you mean;
'Tis a new broom, and will sweep clean.
Come, buy my broom, maids! Maids, did I say? Sure, there are none i' th' city; or, if there be any, they have forsworn my custom. All the brooms I have sold to-day would not sweep half the ground I have gone; and the money I have got will scarce buy ale enough to moisten my mouth after one cry. Sure, all the city are turned dustmen, and the whole corporation are of the company of Grobians. Women sweep their houses with their long coats, and men their shops with their scrubbed beards. There's no use of a besom now but to make rods of and sweep the children's backsides. 'Tis better killing men for eightpence a day, or hanging of 'em for thirteenpence halfpenny apiece, than follow this poor and idle life; 'tis easier canting out, A piece of broken bread for a poor man, than singing, Brooms, maids, brooms: come, buy my brooms! I should e'en go hang myself now if I were worth a halter; but who will spend a groat on't, when he may be hanged at free cost? I'll go rob the sheriff, and not leave him enough to hire an executioner for me; steal the judge's gown, that he may not come to the assizes, and poison the jury, that they may not bring me in guilty.
Enter Bristle.
Bris. Buy a save-all, buy a save-all; never more need. Come, buy a save-all! Buy a comb-brush or a pot-brush; buy a flint, or a steel, or a tinder-box.
Heath. O Bristle, welcome! I perceive by thy merry note, that there's music in thy pocket. What, dost jingle?
Bris. And I perceive by thy heavy countenance thy purse is light. Dost want coin?