Part 5

|1285| _Tuc._ Farewell stinckers, I smel thy meaning Screech-owle, I doe tho I stop my nose: and Sirra Poet, we’ll haue thee vntrust for this; come, mother Mum-pudding, come.

_Exeunt._

_Trumpets sound a florish, and then a sennate: Enter_ King _with_ Cælestine, Sir Walter Terrill, Sir Quintilian, Sir Adam, Blunt |1290| _and other Ladies and attendants: whilst the Trumpets sound the King_ _takes his leaue of the Bride-groome, and_ Sir Quintilian, _and last of the Bride._

_Kin._ My song of parting doth this burden beare; A kisse the Ditty, and I set it heere. |1295| Your lips are well in tune, strung with delight, By this faire Bride remember soone at night: Sir Walter.

_Ter._ My Leige Lord, we all attend, The time and place.

|1300| _Kin._ Till then my leaue commend.

_They bring him to the doore: Enter at another doore_ Sir Vaughan.

_Sir Vau._ Ladies, I am to put a verie easie suite vpon you all, and to desire you to fill your little pellies at a dinner of plums behinde noone; there be Suckets, and Marmilads, and Marchants, |1305| and other long white plummes that faine would kisse your delicate and sweet lippes; I indite you all together, and you especially my Ladie Pride; what doe you saie for your selles? for I indite you all.

_Cæl._ I thanke you good Sir Vaughan, I will come.

|1310| _Sir Vau._ Say Sentlewomen will you stand to me too?

_All._ Wee’ll sit with you sweet Sir Vaughan.

_Sir Vau._ God a mightie plesse your faces, and make your peauties last, when wee are all dead and rotten:--you all will come.

_1 Lady._ All will come.

|1315| _Sir Vau._ Pray God that Horace bee in his right wittes to raile now.

_Exit._

_Cris._ Come Ladie, you shall be my dauncing guest To treade the maze of musicke with the rest.

_Dem._ Ile lead you in.

|1320| _Dicach._ A maze is like a doubt: Tis easie to goe in, hard to get out.

_Blun._ We follow close behinde.

_Philoca._ That measure’s best. Now none markes vs, but we marke all the rest.

_Exeunt._

|1325| _Exeunt all sauing_ Sir Quintilian, Cælestine, _and_ Sir Walter Terrill.

_Ter._ Father, and you my Bride; that name to day, Wife, comes not till to morrow: but omitting This enterchange of language; let vs thinke Vpon the King and night, and call our spirits |1330| To a true reckoning; first to Arme our wittes With compleat steele of Iudgement, and our tongs, With sound attillery of Phrases: then Our Bodies must bee motions; moouing first What we speake: afterwards, our very knees |1335| Must humbly seeme to talke, and sute our speech; For a true furnisht Cortyer hath such force, Though his tonge faints, his very legs discourse.

_Sir quin._ Sonne Terrill, thou hast drawne his picture right, For hee’s noe full-made Courtier, nor well strung, |1340| That hath not euery ioynt stucke with a tongue. Daughter, if Ladies say, that is the Bride, that’s she, Gaze thou at none, for all will gaze at thee.

_Cæl._ Then, ô my father must I goe? O my husband Shall I then goe? O my selfe, will I goe?

|1345| _Sir quin._ You must.

_Ter._ You shall.

_Cæl._ I will, but giue me leaue, To say I may not, nor I ought not, say not |1350| Still, I must goe, let me intreate I may not.

_Ter._ You must and shall, I made a deede of gift, And gaue my oath vnto the King, I swore By thy true constancy.

_Cæl._ Then keep that word |1355| To sweare by, O let me be constant still.

_Ter._ What shall I cancell faith, and breake my oath?

_Cæl._ If breaking constancie, thou breakst them both.

_Ter._ Thy constancie no euill can pursue.

_Cæl._ I may be constant still, and yet not true.

|1360| _Ter._ As how?

_Cæl._ As thus, by violence detain’d, They may be constant still, that are constrain’d.

_Ter._ Constrain’d? that word weighs heauy, yet my oath Weighes downe that word; the kinges thoughts are at oddes, |1365| They are not euen ballanst in his brest; The King may play the man with me; nay more, Kings may vsurpe; my wife’s a woman; yet Tis more then I know yet, that know not her, If she should prooue mankinde, twere rare, fye, fye, |1370| See how I loose my selfe, amongst my thoughts, Thinking to finde my selfe; my oath, my oath.

_Sir quin._ I sweare another, let me see, by what, By my long stocking, and my narrow skirtes, Not made to sit vpon, she shall to Court. |1375| I haue a tricke, a charme, that shall lay downe The spirit of lust, and keep thee vndeflowred; Thy husbands honor sau’d, and the hot King, Shall haue enough too. Come, a tricke, a charme.

_Exit._

_Cæl._ God keep thy honour safe, my bloud from harme.

|1380| _Ter._ Come, my sicke-minded Bride, Ile teach thee how, To relish health a little: Taste this thought, That when mine eyes seru’d loues commission, Vpon thy beauties I did seise on them, To a Kings vse; cure all thy griefe with this, |1385| That his great seale was grauen vpon this ring, And that I was but Steward to a King.

_Exeunt._

_A banquet set out: Enter_ Sir Vaughan, Horace, Asinius Bubo, _Lady_ Petula, Dicache, Philocalia, _Mistris_ Miniuer _and_ Peter Flash.

|1390| _Sir Vaugh._ Ladies and Sentlemen, you are almost all welcome, to this sweet nuncions of Plums.

_Dicach._ Almost all Sir Vaughan? why to which of vs are you so niggardly, that you cut her out but a peice of welcome.

_Sir Vaugh._ My interpretations is that almost all are welcome, |1395| because I indited a brace or two more that is not come, I am sorrie my Ladie Pride is not among you.

_Asi._ Slid, he makes hounds of vs Ningle, a brace quoth a?

_Sir Vaug._ Peter Salamanders draw out the pictures of all the ioynt stooles, & Ladies sit downe vpon their wodden faces.

|1400| _Flash._ I warrant Sir, Ile giue euerie one of them a good stoole.

_Sir Vau._ Master Horace, Master Horace, when I pray to God, and desire in hipocritnes that bald Sir Adams were heer, then, then, then begin to make your railes at the pouertie and beggerly want of haire.

|1405| _Hor._ Leaue it to my iudgement.

_Sir Vau._ M. Bubo sit there, you and I wil thinke vpon our ends at the Tables: M. Horace, put your learned bodie into the midst of these Ladies; so tis no matter to speake graces at nuncions, because we are all past grace since dinner.

|1410| _Asini._ Mas I thanke my destinie I am not past grace, for by this hand full of Carrawaies, I could neuer abide to say grace.

_Dica._ Mistris Miniuer, is not that innocent Gentleman a kinde of foole?

_Min._ Why doe you aske Madam?

|1415| _Dicach._ Nay for no harme, I aske because I thought you two had been of acquaintaine.

_Min._ I thinke he’s within an Inch of a foole.

_Dicach._ Madam Philocalia, you sit next that spare Gentleman, wod you heard what Mistris Miniuer saies of you.

|1420| _Philo._ Why what saies she Madam Dicache.

_Dica._ Nay nothing, but wishes you were married to that small timber’d gallant.

_Philo._ Your wish and mine are twinnes, I wish so too, for Then I should be sure to lead a merrie life.

|1425| _Asini._ Yes faith Ladie, Ide make you laugh, my bolts now and then should be soone shot; by these comfits, weed let all slide.

_Petu._ He takes the sweetest oathes that euer I heard a gallant of his pitch sweare; by these Comfits, & these Carrawaies, I warrant it does him good to sweare.

|1430| _Asin._ Yes faith tis meate and drinke to me. I am glad Ladie Petula (by this Apple) that they please you.

_Sir Vau._ Peter Salamanders wine, I beseech you Master Asinius Bubo, not to sweare so deeplie, for there comes no fruite of your oathes; heere Ladies, I put you all into one corners together, |1435| you shall all drinke of one cup.

_Asi._ Peter I prethee fill me out too.

_Flash._ Ide fling you out too and I might ha my will, a pox of all fooles.

_Sir Vau._ Mistris Miniuers, pray bee lustie, wod Sir Adams |1440| Prickshaft stucke by you.

_Hor._ Who, the balde Knight Sir Vaughan?

_Sir Vau._ The same M. Horace, he that has but a remnant or parcell of haire, his crowne is clipt and par’d away; me thinkes tis an excellent quallitie to bee balde; for and there stucke a |1445| nose and two nyes in his pate, he might weare two faces vnder one hood.

_Asi._ As God saue me la, if I might ha my will, Ide rather be a balde Gentleman then a hairy; for I am sure the best and tallest Yeomen in England haue balde heads: me thinkes haire is a |1450| scuruie lowsie commodity.

_Hor._ Bubo, heerein you blaze your ignorance.

_Sir Vau._ Pray stop and fill your mouthes, and giue M. Horace all your eares.

_Hor._ _For, if of all the bodies parts, the head |1455| Be the most royall: if discourse, wit, Iudgement, And all our vnderstanding faculties, Sit there in their high Court of Parliament, Enacting lawes to sway this humorous world: This little Ile of Man: needes must that crowne, |1460| Which stands vpon this supreame head, be faire, And helde inualuable, and that crowne’s the_ Haire: _The head that wants this honour stands awry, Is bare in name and in authority_.

_Sir Vau._ He meanes balde-pates Mistris Miniuers.

|1465| _Hor._ Haire, _tis the roabe which curious nature weaues, To hang vpon the head: and does adorne, Our bodies in the first houre we are borne: God does bestow that garment: when we dye, That (like a soft and silken Canopie) |1470| Is still spred ouer vs; In spight of death Our hayre growes in our graue, and that alone Lookes fresh, when all our other beauty’s gone. The excellence of_ Haire, _in this shines cleere, That the foure Elements take pride to weare |1475| The fashion of it: when_ Fire _most bright does burne, The flames to golden lockes doe striue to turne; When her lasciuious armes the_ Water _hurles, About the shoares wast, her sleeke head she curles: And rorid cloudes being suckt into the_ Ayre, |1480| _When downe they melt, hangs like fine siluer hayre. You see the_ Earth _(whose head so oft is shorne) Frighted to feele her lockes so rudely torne, Stands with her haire an end, and (thus afraide) Turnes euery haire to a greene naked blade. |1485| Besides, when (strucke with griefe) we long to dye, We spoile that most, which most does beautifie, We rend this_ Head-tyre _off. I thus conclude, Cullors set cullors out; our eyes iudge right, Of vice or vertue by their opposite: |1490| So, if faire haire to beauty ad such grace, Baldnes must needes be vgly, vile and base._

_Sir Vau._ True M. Horace, for a bald reason, is a reason that has no haires vpon’t, a scuruy scalded reason.

_Mi._ By my truely I neuer thought you could ha pickt such |1495| strange things out of haire before.

_Asini._ Nay my Ningle can tickle it, when hee comes too’t.

_Min._ Troth I shall neuer bee enameld of a bare-headed man for this, what shift so euer I make.

_Sir Vaug._ Then Mistris Miniuer S. Adams Prickshaft must not |1500| hit you; Peter take vp all the cloathes at the table and the Plums.

_Enter_ Tucca _and his boy_.

_Tuc._ Saue thee my little worshipfull Harper; how doe yee my little cracknels? how doe ye?

|1505| _Sir Vau._ Welcome M. Tucca, sit and shoote into your belly some Suger pellets.

_Tuc._ No, Godamercy Cadwallader, how doe you Horace?

_Ho._ Thankes good Captaine.

_Tu._ Wher’s the Sering thou carriest about thee? O haue I found |1510| thee my scowring-sticke; what’s my name Bubo?

_Asini._ Wod I were hang’d if I can call you any names but Captaine and Tucca.

_Tuc._ No Fye’st; my name’s Hamlet reuenge: thou hast been at Parris garden hast not?

|1515| _Hor._ Yes Captaine, I ha plaide Zulziman there.

_Sir Vau._ Then M. Horace you plaide the part of an honest man.

_Tuc._ Death of Hercules, he could neuer play that part well in’s life, no Fulkes you could not: thou call’st Demetrius Iorneyman Poet, but thou putst vp a Supplication to be a poore Iorneyman |1520| Player, and hadst beene still so, but that thou couldst not set a good face vpon’t: thou hast forgot how thou amblest (in leather pilch) by a play-wagon, in the high way, and took’st mad Ieronimoes part, to get seruice among the Mimickes: and when the Stagerites banisht thee into the Ile of Dogs, thou turn’dst Bandog |1525| (villanous Guy) & euer since bitest therefore I aske if th’ast been at Parris-garden, because thou hast such a good mouth; thou baitst well, read, _lege_, saue thy selfe and read.

_Hor._ Why Captaine these are _Epigrams_ compos’d on you.

_Tuc._ Goe not out Farding Candle, goe not out, for trusty _Damboys_ |1530| now the deed is done, Ile pledge this Epigram in wine, Ile swallow it, I, yes.

_Sir Vau._ God blesse vs, will he be drunke with nittigrams now.

_Tuc._ So, now arise sprite ath Buttry; no Herring-bone Ile not pull thee out, but arise deere Eccho rise, rise deuill or Ile coniure |1535| thee vp.

_Min._ Good Master Tucca lets ha no coniuring heere.

_Sir Vau._ Vddes bloud you scald gouty Captaine, why come you to set encombrances heere betweene the Ladies.

_Tuc._ Be not so tart my precious Metheglin, be not (my old |1540| whore a Babilon, sit fast.)

_Min._ O Iesu if I know where abouts in London Babilon stands.

_Tuc._ Feede and be fat my faire Calipolis, stir not my beauteous wriggle-tailes, Ile disease none of you, Ile take none of you vp, but onely this table-man, I must enter him into some filthy |1545| sincke point, I must.

_Hor._ Captaine, you doe me wrong thus to disgrace me.

_Tuc._ Thou thinkst thou maist be as sawcy with me as my Buffe Ierkin, to sit vpon me, dost?

_Ho._ Dam me, if euer I traduc’d your name, |1550| What imputation can you charge me with?

_Sir Vau._ Sblud, I, what cõputations can you lay to his sarge? answer, or by Sesu Ile canuas your coxcombe Tucky.

_Min._ If they draw sweet hearts, let vs shift for our selues.

_Tuc._ My noble swaggerer, I wil not fall out with thee, I cannot |1555| my mad Cumrade, finde in my heart to shed thy bloud.

_Sir Vau._ Cumrade? by Sesu call me Cumrade againe, and Ile Cumrade ye about the sinnes and shoulders; ownds, what come you to smell out heere? did you not dine and feede horribly well to day at dinner, but you come to munch heere, and giue vs |1560| winter-plummes? I pray depart, goe marse, marse, marse out a doores.

_Tuc._ Adew Sir Eglamour, adew Lute-stringe, Curtin-rod, Goose-quill; heere, giue that full-nos’d Skinker, these rimes; & harke, Ile tagge my Codpeece point with thy legs, spout-pot Ile |1565| empty thee.

_Asin._ Dost threaten mee? Gods lid Ile binde thee to the good forbearing.

_Sir Vau._ Will you amble Hobby-horse, will you trot and amble?

|1570| _Tuc._ Raw Artichocke I shall sauce thee.

_Exit._

_Min._ I pray you Master Tucca, will you send me the fiue pound you borrowed on me; O you cannot heare now, but Ile make you heare me and feele me too in another place, to your shame I warrant you, thou shalt not conny-catch mee for fiue pounds; |1575| he tooke it vp Sir Vaughan in your name, hee swore you sent for it to Mum withall, twas fiue pound in gold, as white as my kercher.

_Sir Vaughan._ Ownds, fiue pound in my name to Mum about withall.

|1580| _Min._ I, to Mum withall, but hee playes mum-budget with me.

_Sir Vau._ Peter Salamander, tye vp your great and your little sword, by Sesu Ile goe sing him while tis hot. Ile beate fiue pound out of his leather pilch: Master Horace, let your wittes inhabite in your right places; if I fall hansomely vpon the Widdow, |1585| I haue some cossens Garman at Court, shall beget you the reuersion of the Master of the Kings Reuels, or else be his Lord of Mis-rule nowe at Christmas: Come Ladyes, whoreson Stragling Captaine, Ile pound him.

_Exeunt._

_Manet_ Horace _and_ Asinius.

|1590| _Hor._ How now? what ail’st thou, that thou look’st so pale.

_Asin._ Nay nothing, but I am afraide the Welsh Knight has giuen me nothing but purging Comfits: this Captaine stickes pockily in my stomack; read this scroule, he saies they’r rimes, and bid me giue them you.

|1595| _Hor._ Rimes? tis a challenge sent to you.

_Asin._ To me?

_Hor._ He saies heere you divulg’d my Epigrams.

_Asin._ And for that dares he challenge me?

_Hor._ You see he dares, but dare you answer him?

|1600| _Asin._ I dare answer his challenge, by word of mouth, or by writing, but I scorne to meete him, I hope he and I are not Paralels.

_Hor._ Deere Bubo, thou shalt answere him; our credites Lye pawn’d vpon thy resolution, |1605| Thy vallor must redeeme them; charge thy spirits, To waite more close, and neere thee: if he kill thee, Ile not suruiue; into one Lottery We’ll cast our fates; together liue and dye.

_Asi._ Content, I owe God a death, and if he will make mee |1610| pay’t against my will, Ile say tis hard dealing.

_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Sir Adam, Tucca, _with two pistols by his sides, his boy laden with swords and bucklers._

_Tuc._ Did Apolloes Freeze gowne watchman (boy, dost heare Turkie-cockes tayle, haue an eye behinde, least the enemie assault |1615| our Rere-ward) on proceede Father Adam; did that same tiranicall-tongu’d rag-a-muffin Horace, turne bald-pates out so naked?

_Sir Ad._ He did, and whipt them so with nettles, that The Widdow swore that a bare-headed man, |1620| Should not man her: the Ladie Petula Was there, heard all, and tolde me this.

_Tuc._ Goe too. Thy golde was accepted, it was, and she shall bring thee into her Paradice, she shall small Adam, she shall.

_Sir Ada._ But how? but how Capten?

|1625| _Tuc._ Thus, goe, couer a table with sweet meates, let all the Gentlewomen, and that same Pasquils-mad-cap (mother Bee there) nibble, bid them bite: they will come to gobble downe Plummes; then take vp that paire of Basket hiltes, with my commission, I meane Crispinus and Fannius; charge one of |1630| them to take vp the Bucklers, against that hayre-monger Horace, and haue a bout or two, in defence of balde-pates: let them cracke euerie crowne that has haire on’t: goe, let them lift vp baldenes to the skie, and thou shalt see, twill turne Miniuers heart quite against the haire.

|1635| _Sir Ada._ Excellent, why then M. Tucca----

_Tuc._ Nay, whir, nymble Prickshaft; whir, away, I goe vpon life and death, away, flie Scanderbag flie.

_Exit._

_Enter_ Asinius Bubo, _and_ Horace _aloofe_.

_Boy._ Arme Captaine, arme, arme, arme, the foe is come downe.

|1640| Tucca _offers to shoote_.

_Asi._ Hold Capten Tucca holde, I am Bubo, & come to answer any thing you can lay to my charge.

_Tuc._ What, dost summon a parlie my little Drumsticke? tis too late; thou seest my red flag is hung out, Ile fill thy guts |1645| with thine owne carrion carcas, and then eate them vp in steed of Sawsages.

_Asin._ Vse me how you will; I am resolute, for I ha made my Will.

_Tuc._ Wilt fight Turke-a-ten-pence? wilt fight then?

|1650| _Asini._ Thou shalt finde Ile fight in a Godly quarrell, if I be once fir’d.

_Tuc._ Thou shalt not want fire, Ile ha thee burnt when thou wilt, my colde Cornelius: but come: _Respice funem_; looke, thou seest; open thy selfe my little Cutlers Shoppe, I challenge thee |1655| thou slender Gentleman, at foure sundrie weapons.

_Asi._ Thy challenge was but at one, and Ile answere but one.

_Boy._ Thou shalt answer two, for thou shalt answer me and my Capten.

_Tuc._ Well said Cockrell out-crowe him: art hardy noble Huon? |1660| art Magnanimious? licke-trencher; looke, search least some lye in ambush; for this man at Armes has paper in’s bellie, or some friend in a corner, or else hee durst not bee so cranke.

_Boy._ Capten, Capten, Horace stands sneaking heere.

_Tuc._ I smelt the foule-fisted Morter-treader, come my most |1665| damnable fastidious rascall, I haue a suite to both of you.

_Asi._ O holde, most pittifull Captaine holde.

_Hor._ Holde Capten, tis knowne that Horace is valliant, & a man of the sword.

_Tuc._ A Gentleman or an honest Cittizen, shall not Sit in your |1670| pennie-bench Theaters, with his Squirrell by his side cracking nuttes; nor sneake into a Tauerne with his Mermaid; but he shall be Satyr’d, and Epigram’d vpon, and his humour must run vpo’th Stage: you’ll ha _Euery Gentleman in’s humour_, and _Euery Gentleman out on’s humour_: wee that are heades of Legions and |1675| Bandes, and feare none but these same shoulder-clappers, shall feare you, you Serpentine rascall.

_Hor._ Honour’d Capten.

_Tuc._ Art not famous enough yet, my mad _Horastratus_, for killing a Player, but thou must eate men aliue? thy friends? Sirra |1680| wilde-man, thy Patrons? thou Anthropophagite, thy Mecænasses?

_Hor._ Captaine, I’m sorry that you lay this wrong So close vnto your heart: deare Captaine thinke I writ out of hot bloud, which (now) being colde, I could be pleas’d (to please you) to quaffe downe, |1685| The poyson’d Inke, in which I dipt your name.

_Tuc._ Saist thou so, my _Palinodicall_ rimester?

_Hor._ Hence forth Ile rather breath out _Solœcismes_ (To doe which Ide as soone speake blasphemie) Than with my tongue or pen to wound your worth, |1690| Beleeue it noble Capten; it to me Shall be a Crowne, to crowne your actes with praize, Out of your hate, your loue Ile stronglie raize.

_Tuc._ I know now th’ast a number of these _Quiddits_ to binde men to’th peace: tis thy fashion to flirt Inke in euerie mans face; and |1695| then to craule into his bosome, and damne thy selfe to wip’t off agen: yet to giue out abroad, that hee was glad to come to composition with thee: I know _Monsieur Machiauell_ tis one a thy rules; My long-heel’d T_roglodite_, I could make thine eares burne now, by dropping into them, all those hot oathes, to which, thy selfe |1700| gau’st voluntarie fire, (whē thou wast the man in the Moone) that thou wouldst neuer squib out any new Salt-peter Iestes against honest Tucca, nor those Maligo-tasters, his _Poetasters_; I could Cinocephalus, but I will not, yet thou knowst thou hast broke those oathes in print, my excellent infernall.

|1705| _Ho._ Capten.

_Tuc._ Nay I smell what breath is to come from thee, thy answer is, that there’s no faith to be helde with Heritickes & Infidels, and therfore thou swear’st anie thing: but come, lend mee thy hand, thou and I hence forth will bee _Alexander_ and _Lodwicke_, the |1710| Gemini: sworne brothers, thou shalt be _Perithous_ and Tucca _Theseus_; but Ile leaue thee i’th lurch, when thou mak’st thy voiage into hell: till then, T_hine-assuredly_.

_Hor._ With all my soule deare Capten.

_Tuc._ Thou’lt shoote thy quilles at mee, when my terrible |1715| backe’s turn’d for all this, wilt not Porcupine? and bring me & my Heliconistes into thy Dialogues to make vs talke madlie wut not Lucian?

_Hor._ Capten, if I doe----

_Tuc._ Nay and thou dost, hornes of Lucifer, the _Parcell-Poets_ |1720| shall Sue thy wrangling Muse, in the Court of Pernassus, and neuer leaue hunting her, till she pleade in _Forma Pauperis_: but I hope th’ast more grace: come: friendes, clap handes, tis a bargaine; amiable Bubo, thy fist must walke too: so, I loue thee, now I see th’art a little Hercules, and wilt fight; Ile Sticke thee |1725| now in my companie like a sprig of Rosemary.

_Enter_ Sir Rees ap Vaughan _and_ Peter Flash.

_Fla._ Draw Sir Rees he’s yonder, shall I vpon him?

_Sir Vau._ Vpon him? goe too, goe too Peter Salamander; holde, in Gods name holde; I will kill him to his face, because I meane he |1730| shall answer for it; being an eye-witnes; one vrde Capten Tucky.

_Tuc._ Ile giue thee ten thousand words and thou wilt, my little Thomas Thomasius.

_Sir Vau._ By Sesu, tis best you giue good vrdes too, least I beate out your tongue, and make your vrde nere to bee taken |1735| more; doe you heare, fiue pounds, fiue pounds Tucky.

_Tuc._ Thou shalt ha fiue, and fiue, and fiue, and thou wantst money my Iob.