The Bodleian First Folio

If you heare a child crie in the night you must

call to the nurse, and bid her still it.

How if the nurse be asleepe and will not

heare vs?

Why then depart in peace, and let the childe

wake her with crying, for the ewe that will not heare

her Lambe when it baes, will neuer answere a calfe when

he bleates.

'Tis verie true.

This is the end of the charge: you constable

are to present the Princes owne person, if you meete the

Prince in the night, you may staie him.

Nay birladie that I thinke a cannot.

Fiue shillings to one on't with anie man that

knowes the Statutes, he may staie him, marrie not with­

out the prince be willing, for indeed the watch ought to

offend no man, and it is an offence to stay a man against

his will.

Birladie I thinke it be so.

Ha, ah ha, well masters good night, and there be

anie matter of weight chances, call vp me, keepe your

fellowes counsailes, and your owne, and good night,

come neighbor.

Well masters, we heare our charge, let vs go

sit here vpon the Church bench till two, and then all to

bed.

One word more, honest neighbors. I pray you

watch about signior Leonatoes doore, for the wedding be­

ing there to morrow, there is a great coyle to night,

adiew, be vigitant I beseech you.

What, Conrade?

Peace, stir not.

Conrade I say.

Here man, I am at thy elbow.

Mas and my elbow itcht, I thought there would

a scabbe follow.

I will owe thee an answere for that, and now

forward with thy tale.

Stand thee close then vnder this penthouse, for it

drissels raine, and I will, like a true drunkard, vtter all to

thee.

Some treason masters, yet stand close.

Therefore know, I haue earned of Don Iohn a

thousand Ducates.

Is it possible that anie villanie should be so deare?

Thou should'st rather aske if it were possible a­

nie villanie should be so rich ? for when rich villains haue

neede of poore ones, poore ones may make what price

they will.

I wonder at it.

That shewes thou art vnconfirm'd, thou knowest

that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloake, is no­

thing to a man.

Yes, it is apparel.

I meane the fashion.

Yes the fashion is the fashion.

Tush, I may as well say the foole's the foole, but

seest thou not what a deformed theefe this fashion is?

I know that deformed, a has bin a vile theefe,

this vii. yeares, a goes vp and downe like a gentle man:

I remember his name.

Did'st thou not heare some bodie?

No, 'twas the vaine on the house.

Seest thou not (I say) what a deformed thiefe

this fashion is, how giddily a turnes about all the Hot­

blouds, betweene foureteene & fiue & thirtie, sometimes

fashioning them like Pharaoes souldiours in the rechie

painting, sometime like god Bels priests in the old

Church window, sometime like the shauen Hercules in

the smircht worm‑eaten tapestrie, where his cod‑peece

seemes as massie as his club.

All this I see, and see that the fashion weares out

more apparrell then the man; but art not thou thy selfe

giddie with the fashion too that thou hast shifted out of

thy tale into telling me of the fashion?

Not so neither, but know that I haue to night

wooed Margaret the Lady Heroes gentle‑woman, by the

name of Hero, she leanes me out at her mistris chamber‑

vvindow window , bids me a thousand times good night: I tell

this tale vildly. I should first tell thee how the Prince

Claudio and my Master planted, and placed, and possessed

by my Master Don Iohn, saw a far off in the Orchard this

amiable incounter.

And thought thy Margaret A line of ink runs through part of this word. was Hero?

Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio, but the

diuell my Master knew she was Margaret and partly by

his oathes, which first possest them, partly by the darke

night which did deceiue them, but chiefely, by my villa­

nie, which did confirme any slander that Don Iohn had

made, away vvent went Claudio enraged, swore hee vvould would

meete her as he was apointed next morning at the Tem­

ple, and there, before the whole congregation shame her

with vvhat what he saw o're night, and send her home againe

vvithout without a husba nd.

We charge you in the Princes name stand.

Call vp the right master Constable, vve we haue

here recouered the most dangerous peece of lechery, that

euer vvas was knowne in the Common‑wealth.

And one Deformed is one of them, I know

him, a vveares weares a locke.

Masters, masters.

Youle be made bring deformed forth I war­

rant you,

Masters, neuer speake, vve we charge you, let vs o­

bey you to goe vvith with vs.

We are like to proue a goodly commoditie, be­

ing taken vp of these mens bils.

A commoditie in question I warrant you, come

vveele weele obey you.

Good Vrsula wake my cosin Beatrice, and de­

sire her to rise.

I will Lady.

And bid her come hither.

Well.

Troth I thinke your other rebato were better.

No pray thee good Meg, Ile vveare weare this.

By my troth's not so good, and I vvarrant warrant your

cosin vvill will say so.

My cosin's a foole, and thou art another, ile

vveare weare none but this.

I like the new tire vvithin within excellently, if the

haire vvere were a thought browner: and your gown's a most

rare fashion yfaith, I saw the Dutchesse of Millaines

gowne that they praise so.

O that exceedes they say. An ink mark follows the end of this line.

By my troth's but a night‑gowne in respect of

yours, cloth a gold and cuts, and lac'd with siluer, set with

pearles, downe sleeues, side sleeues, and skirts, round vn­

derborn with a blewish tinsel, but for a fine queint grace­

full and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't.