ACT IV., SCENE I.

CREDULOUS, HEARSAY, SLICER.

CRE. _My name's not Tribulation,_ _Nor holy Ananias:_ _I was baptiz'd in fashion,_ _Our vicar did hold bias._

HEAR. What! how now, Master Credulous? so merry?

CRE. Come, let's be mad: by yea and nay, my son Shall have the Turkish monarchy; he shall Have it directly. The twelve companies Shall be his kickshaws.

HEAR. Bashaws, sir, you mean.

CRE. Well, sir, what if I do? Andrew the Great Turk? I would I were a pepper-corn,[202] if that It sounds not well. Does't not?

SLICER. Yes, very well.

CRE. I'll make it else great Andrew Mahomet, Imperious Andrew Mahomet Credulous-- Tell me which name sounds best.

HEAR. That's as you speak 'em.

CRE. Oatmealman Andrew! Andrew Oatmealman.

HEAR. Ottoman, sir, you mean.

CRE. Yes, Ottoman. Then, Mistress Jane, Sir Thomas Bitefig's daughter, That may be the She-Great-Turk, if she please me.

SLICER. The sign o' th' half-moon, that hangs at your door Is not for nought.

CRE. That's the Turk's arms, they say; The empire's destin'd to our house directly. Hang shop-books; give us some wine! Hey for a noise[203] Of fiddlers now!

HEAR. The Great Turk loves no music.

CRE. Does he not so? Nor I. I'll light tobacco With my sum-totals; my debt-books shall sole[204] Pies at young Andrew's wedding; cry you mercy, I would say, gentlemen, the Great Turk's wedding. My deeds shall be slic'd out in tailors' measures; They all employed in making Mistress Mahomet New gowns against the time. Hang dirty wealth!

SLICER. What should the Great Turk's father do with wealth?

CRE. 'Snigs, I would fain now hear some fighting news.

_Enter_ CASTER.

SLICER. There's one will furnish you, I warrant you.

CAS. Pox! plague! hell! death! damn'd luck! This 'tis! The devil take all fortunes! Never man Came off so: quite and clean defunct, by heaven! Not a piece left.

CRE. What, all your ordnance lost?

CAS. But one to bear and lose it! All the world Was, sure, against me.

CRE. 'Snigs, how many fell?

CAS. He threw twice twelve.

CRE. By'r Lady, a shrewd many!

CAS. The devil, sure, was in his hand, I think.

CRE. Nay, if the devil was against you, then----

CAS. But one for to be hit in all the time, And that, too, safe enough, to any one's thinking: 'T stood on eleven.

CRE. 'Slid, a mighty slaughter; But did he stand upon eleven at once?

CAS. The plague take all impertinences. Peace!

CRE. These soldiers are so choleric, there is No dealing with 'em. Then they've lost the day?

CAS. 'Twas ten to one, by heaven, all the while.

CRE. And yet all kill'd at last! Hard fortune, faith! What news from Brussels or the Hague? D' y' hear Ought of the Turk's designs?

CAS. I'll make thee news for the Coranti, dotard.

CRE. Ay, the Coranti; what doth that say?

CAS. O hell! Thou foolish thing, Keep in that tongue of thine; or----

SLICER. Good now, peace: He's very furious when he's mov'd.

HEAR. This 'twas. You must be venturing without your fancy-man.

CRE. What officer's that fancy-man, lieutenant? Some great commander, sure.

CAS. Pox! let it go; I'll win't again: 'twas but the relics of An idle hundred.

CRE. 'Snigs, and well-remember'd. You did receive the hundred that I sent you To th' race this morning by your man, my bailiff?

CAS. Take him away, his wine speaks in him now.

CRE. Godsnigs! the farm is mine, and must be so.

SLICER. Debate these things another time, good friends.

_Enter_ HAVE-AT-ALL.

Come, come, have patience. Od's my life, away! There's Master Have-at-all is mad; he'll spit you If he but know you are a usurer.

CRE. A plot, a plot, to take away my life and farm!

[_Exit._

HAVE. Fight, as I live, with any one. Lieutenant, Do not come near me now, nor yet thou, Caster: It works, 'fore Mars, it works; I'll take my walk, And if I do find any one, by Jove----

[_Exit_ HAVE-AT-ALL.[205]

CAS. What, 's he fox'd too? Some drunken planet reigns, And works upon the world. Provide my fancy, Good noble patron; I'll win soberly, I itch till I have beggar'd all the city. [_Exit_ CASTER.

HEAR. Till that you have undone yourself, you mean.

_Enter_ MOTH.

MOTH. Ey save you both; for dern love sayen soothly Where is thylk amebly franklin, cleped Meanwell?

HEAR. He's gone abroad.

MOTH. Lere me whylk way he wended.

SLICER. He is gone o'er the fields.

HEAR. To the knight's house.

MOTH. Why laugh you every dele? So mote I gone, This goeth not aright; I dread some covin. [_Exit_ MOTH.

SLICER. Now will he meet with Have-at-all; there'll be A combat worthy chronicle. Let's go, And see how this grave motion[206] will bestir him. [_Exeunt_.