Phil. Also a very lean gentleman,
That must be fatter before he's married?—
Lean-man. Hark, that is I?
Phil. And the hugest loss of
All is one Master Pinguister, a lovely
Fat gentleman, whom all that knew him, doubt him
To be dead upon some privy-house; because
He purged every day for love, by reason
Mistress Mirida would not marry him till
A certain measure that she[75] has will come
About his waist—
Enter Mirida.
Ping. Crier, I am here, I am here.
Phil. If any can bring news of the six aforesaid
Virgin ladies, or of the three Flanders nurses
And colts, to one Master Philidor, a very
Conscientious young man—
Omnes. A pox take him!
Phil. They shall be extremely paid for their pains.
Again, if any can bring tidings of this
Master Pinguister to Mistress Mirida,
She will be very bountiful in her
Reward: the poor soul weeps most bitterly
For him.
Ping. Does she so, poor wretch? [Cries aloud.] Prythee, good
Crier, go tell her I am not dead, though
I have been buried a great while in the
Vault.
Mercy of my bum-gut, my purge again?
Omnes. You nasty rogue, turn your breech out of the
Gate then.