MR BAR. Gentle Sir Ralph, your courtesy is such,
As may impose command unto us all;
We will be thankful bold at your request.
PHIL. I pray, Sir Ralph, what cheer shall we have?
SIR RALPH. I'faith, country fare, mutton and veal,
Perchance a duck or goose [upon the platter.]
MAL. O, I am sick!
ALL. How now, Mall? what's the matter?
MAL. Father and mother, if you needs would know,
He nam'd a goose, which is my stomach's foe.
PHIL. Come, come, she is with child of some odd jest,
And now she's sick, till that she bring[446] it forth.
MAL. A jest, quoth you! well, brother, if it be,
I fear 'twill prove an earnest unto me.
Goose, said ye, sir? O, that same very name
Hath in it much variety of shame!
Of all the birds that ever yet was seen,
I would not have them graze upon this green;
I hope they will not, for this crop is poor,
And they may pasture upon greater store:
But yet 'tis pity that they let them pass,
And like a common bite the Muse's grass.
Yet this I fear: if Frank and I should kiss,
Some creaking goose would chide us with a hiss;
I mean not that goose that
Sings it knows not what;
'Tis not that hiss, when one says, "hist, come hither,"
Nor that same hiss that setteth dogs together,
Nor that same hiss that by a fire doth stand,
And hisseth T. or F.[447] upon the hand;
But 'tis a hiss, and I'll unlace my coat,
For I should sound[448] sure, if I heard that note,
And then green ginger for the green goose cries,
Serves not the turn—I turn'd the white of eyes.
The rosa-solis yet that makes me live
Is favour[449] that these gentlemen may give;
But if they be displeased, then pleas'd am I
To yield myself a hissing death to die.
Yet I hope here is[450] none consents to kill,
But kindly take the favour of good-will.
If any thing be in the pen to blame,
Then here stand I to blush the writer's shame:
If this be bad, he promises a better;
Trust him, and he will prove a right true debtor.
[Exeunt.