LENTULO.
Anon, forsooth.
BOMELIO.
You naughty lout; come out, sir knave, come away.
LENTULO. Will you not give one leave to pull down his points? what, an a should his breeches beray?
[Enter LENTULO.]
BOMELIO.
Get you to the market, and buy such things as needful are for us.
LENTULO.
Such things as needful are for us! and what are those, I pray?
First, there is needful for us a pot of porridge, for I had none this
many a day;
And then, there are needful for us a feather-bed, for I lie on a
bottle of hay;
And then there is most needful for us a pretty proper wench for to
laugh and play.
BOMELIO. Go, buy us some victuals, and hie thee home. [Exit.
LENTULO.
Now, farewell, master mine, good gentle master mome.
Have you seen such a logger-headed fool, to say:
Go, go, good Lentulo, to buy my victuals so, and give me money?—no!
But for the name's sake, swounds, I were as good serve a master
of clouts.
He'll do nothing all day long but sit on his arse, as my mother did
when she made pouts:
And then a' looks a' this fashion, and thus and thus again; and then,
what do ye?
By my troth, I stand even thus at him, and laugh at his simplismity.
Hath the best manners in the world to bid a man fall to his meat,
And then I say: I thank you forsooth, master, and I could tell
what to eat.
We two, look you—that's I and he—can lie a-bed a whole night and a day,
And we eat, and we had it: it vattens a man; look on my cheeks, else,
are they not fall'n away?
Well, I must jog to the town, and I'll tell you what shift I make there.
Marry, ye shall promise me not to steal it away.
When I come to a rich man's gate, I make a low leg, and then
I knock there;
And then I begin to cry in at the keyhole, that I may be sure they
shall hear:
God save my good master and my good mistress, a poor boy, a piece of
bread and meat for God's sake!
Enter PENULO.
Heigh! merrily trick'd! am I not a knave for the nonce,
That can despatch two errands at once?
I have both told her even as I should do,
And told my young master to meet with him too.
Now he, like a gentleman, for the valour of his mind
Hath sworn by his honour not to stay long behind.
The desire of revenge pricketh him forward so,
That I am sure he'll not let but to go,
And that with all haste possible he may.
Then, tantara-tara, we shall have good play.
I like such a knave so can tickle them all,
To set noblemen at brabble and brawl.