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Gentlemen, the rarest scene of mirth towards! Suc. Where? how, good Grimes? Gr. Enter Timothie. Tim. Crac. Enter Alexander Lovell with a Bottle of Sacke and a Cup. Lov. Soe here I may be private, and privacie is best. I am the Steward and to be druncke in publicke, I say and I sayt, were to give ill examples.
Good shoulders enough, a little marked, traces of smallpox, perhaps, but white. . . . . Crac! from the sergent-de- ville's broad palm on the white shoulder! Now look! Vogue la galere!
Oh, hees fast enough; heele be ready to cast up his accounts the easier when my lady calls him. Crac. Come, come; who payes the Musicke? Captain, you have my purse. Suc. Truths a truth from Infidell or Pagan: I am in trust, and that's beleife, and so it shalbe saved. Pay the Musick? umh, where are they? let me see, how many's of you, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6: good, can any of you daunce? Mus. Daunce?
Ev'y nut you crac' now goin' cos' you a yell when you git 'long 'bout fawty an' fifty. You crack nuts now an' you'll holler den!" "Well, I guess I won't worry myself much now about what won't happen till I'm forty or fifty," said William. "My teeth 'll last MY time, I guess." That brought a chuckle from Mr. Genesis. "Jes' listen!" he exclaimed. "Young man think he ain' nev' goin' be ole man.
Crac. Suc. Tim. What wines that, fellow Grimes? Grimes. Sack by this light, the Emperor of liquors! Captaine, here tis well keepe of push of pike yet peirce like shott of Cannon: a Cup of this upon an onslaught, Captain? Suc. Is beveredge for a Generall: I doe use to drinke it when I am engagd against a squadron or a whole company. Grimes. He meanes of drunkards. Suc. Ha! Grimes.
As they could not whiten the back of her neck on account of all the delicate little curls of hair growing there, they had, in their love of exactitude, stopped the white plaster in a straight line, which might have been cut with a knife, and in consequence at the nape appears a square of natural skin of a deep yellow. An imperious note sounds on the guitar, evidently a summons! Crac!
I do protest unto you, beauteous Lady, You do not cast a favorable aspect. Bel. I am no Plannet. Crac. Captaine, you doe me palpable affront: She is the election of my understanding. Sir Geff. Retort not so abstrusly. Cla. Hey day, where did you borrow this? Crac. Baffeld before my Mrs? Death to fame! Captaine, good Captaine. Suc.
Good shoulders enough, a little marked, traces of smallpox, perhaps, but white. . . . . Crac! from the sergent-de- ville's broad palm on the white shoulder! Now look! Vogue la galere!
Call her, I care not if she heare me, I councell better than your physician: every night drinke a good cup of muscadine, you will not have moysture left to ingender spitle to cleanse thy mouth ith morning. Cla. Will you goe? Sister, I have shakd mine off. What stayes this nifle for? Crac. Nay, call me what you will, she is my prise, And I will keepe her. Captaine, to her Captaine. Suc.
Crac. Ladies, I must no more endure repulse; I come to be a suiter. Bel. For what? Crac. Why, that you would with Judgment overlooke This lovely countenance. Cla. The hangman shall doe't sooner. Crac. If you knew How many bewtious gentlewomen have sued To have my picture Cla. To hang at their beds head for a memento mori Crac. You would regard it with more curiosity.
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