of certain ribbons and gloves.
I was promised them against the feast; but they come
not too late now.
He hath promised you more than that, or there be liars.
He hath paid you all he promised you; may be, he has
paid you more, which will shame you to give him again.
Is there no manners left among maids? will they
wear their plackets where they should bear their
faces? Is there not milking-time, when you are
going to bed, or kiln-hole, to whistle off these
secrets, but you must be tittle-tattling before all
our guests? 'tis well they are whispering: clamour
your tongues, and not a word more.
I have done. Come, you promised me a tawdry-lace
and a pair of sweet gloves.
Have I not told thee how I was cozened by the way
and lost all my money?
And indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad;
therefore it behoves men to be wary.
Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose nothing here.
I hope so, sir; for I have about me many parcels of charge.
What hast here? ballads?
Pray now, buy some: I love a ballad in print o'
life, for then we are sure they are true.
Here's one to a very doleful tune, how a usurer's
wife was brought to bed of twenty money-bags at a
burthen and how she longed to eat adders' heads and
toads carbonadoed.
Is it true, think you?
Very true, and but a month old.
Bless me from marrying a usurer!
Here's the midwife's name to't, one Mistress
Tale-porter, and five or six honest wives that were
present. Why should I carry lies abroad?
Pray you now, buy it.
Come on, lay it by: and let's first see moe
ballads; we'll buy the other things anon.
Here's another ballad of a fish, that appeared upon
the coast on Wednesday the four-score of April,
forty thousand fathom above water, and sung this
ballad against the hard hearts of maids: it was
thought she was a woman and was turned into a cold
fish for she would not exchange flesh with one that
loved her: the ballad is very pitiful and as true.
Is it true too, think you?
Five justices' hands at it, and witnesses more than
my pack will hold.
Lay it by too: another.
This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one.
Let's have some merry ones.
Why, this is a passing merry one and goes to
the tune of 'Two maids wooing a man:' there's
scarce a maid westward but she sings it; 'tis in
request, I can