SCENE III.

_Franceschina's lodging._

_Enter_ FRANCESCHINA _melancholy_, COCLEDEMOY _leading her_.

_Coc._ Come, catafugo, Frank o' Frank-hall! who, who ho! Excellent! Ha, here's a plump-rump'd wench, with a breast softer than a courtier's tongue, an old lady's gums, or an old man's _mentula_. My fine rogue----

_Fra._ Pah, you poltroon!

_Coc._ Goody fist,[85] flumpum pumpum; ah, my fine wag-tail, thou art as false, as prostituted, and adulterate as some translated manuscript. Buss, fair whore, buss!

_Fra._ God's sacrament, pox! 10

_Coc._ _Hadamoy key_, dost thou frown, _medianthon teukey_? Nay, look here._ Numeron key_, silver _blithefor cany, os cany_ goblet: _us key ne moy blegefoy oteeston pox_, on you gosling!

_Fra._ By me fait, dis bin very fine langage; ick sall bush ye now; ha, be garzon, vare had you dat plate?

_Coc._ _Hedemoy key_, get you gone, punk rampant, _key_, common up-tail!

_Enter_ MARY FAUGH _in haste_.

_Mar._ O daughter, cousin, niece, servant, mistress!

_Coc._ Humpum, plumpum squat, I am gone. 20

[_Exit_ COCLEDEMOY.

_Mar._ There is one Master Malheureux at the door desires to see you. He says he must not be denied, for he hath sent this ring; and withal says 'tis done.

_Fra._ Vat sall me do now, God's sacrament! Tell him two hours hence he sall be most affectionately velcome; tell him (vat sall me do?), tel him ick am bin in my bate, and ick sall perfume my feets, mak a mine body so delicate for his arm, two hours hence.

_Mar._ I shall satisfy him: two hours hence, well. 29

[_Exit_ MARY.

_Fra._ Now ick sall revange; hay, begar, me sal tartar de whole generation! Mine brain vork it. Freevill is dead, Malheureux sall hang; and mine rival, Beatrice, ick sall make run mad.

_Enter_ MARY FAUGH.

_Mar._ He's gone, forsooth, to eat a caudle of cock-stones, and will return within this two hours.

_Fra._ Verie vel, give monies to some fellow to squire me; ick sal go abroad.

_Mar._ There's a lusty bravo beneath, a stranger, but a good stale[86] rascal. He swears valiantly, kicks a bawd right virtuously, and protests with an empty pocket right desperately. He'll squire you. 41

_Fra._ Very velcom; mine fan; ick sall retorn presantly. Now sal me be revange; ten tousant devla! der sall be no got in me but passion, no tought but rage, no mercy but bloud, no spirit but divla in me. Dere sal noting tought good for me, but dat is mischievous for others.

[_Exit._

[85] Ed. 2. "fiest."--See note, p. 42. [Transcriber's Note: Footnote [46]]

[86] Quy. "tall"?