Hip. I’ll meet the doctor, tell him; yet to-night
I cannot: but at morrow rising sun
I will not fail.—[Exit Servant.]—Go, woman; fare thee well. [Exit.
Bell. The lowest fall can be but into hell:
It does not move him I must therefore fly
From this undoing city, and with tears
Wash off all anger from my father’s brow;
He cannot sure but joy, seeing me new born.
A woman honest first, and then turn whore,
Is, as with me, common to thousands more:
But from a strumpet to turn chaste, that sound
Has oft been heard, that woman hardly found. [Exit.
SCENE II. A Street.
Enter Fustigo, Crambo, and Poh.
Fus. Hold up your hands, gentlemen, here’s one, two, three [Giving money]—nay, I warrant they are sound pistoles, and without flaws; I had them of my sister and I know she uses to put up nothing that’s cracked—four, five, six, seven, eight and nine; by this hand bring me but a piece of his blood, and you shall have nine more. I’ll lurk in a tavern not far off, and provide supper to close up the end of the tragedy: the linen-draper’s, remember. Stand to’t, I beseech you, and play your parts perfectly.
Cram. Look you, signor, ’tis not your gold that we weigh—
Fus. Nay, nay, weigh it and spare not; if it lack one grain of corn, I’ll give you a bushel of wheat to make it up.
Cram. But by your favour, signor, which of the servants is it? because we’ll punish justly.
Fus. Marry ’tis the head man; you shall taste him by his tongue; a pretty, tall, prating fellow, with a Tuscalonian beard.