A Select Collection of Old English Plays
Chapter 245 : DALILAH. What can ye say by Master Iniquity?I love him and his name most heartily.INIQ

DALILAH. What can ye say by Master Iniquity?

I love him and his name most heartily.

INIQUITY. G.o.d-a-mercy, Dalilah, good luck, I warrant thee, I will shrive you both by and by.

[_He kisseth her_.

ISMAEL. Come on, but first let us have a song.

DALILAH. I am content, so that it be not long.

[_Iniquity and Dalilah sing_:

INIQUITY. _Gold locks, She must have knocks, Or else I do her wrong_.

DALILAH. _When ye have your will Ye were best lie still, The winter nights be long_.

INIQUITY. _When I ne may, Another a.s.say; I will take it for no wrong_:

DALILAH. _Then, by the rood, A bone in your hood I shall put, ere it be long_.

ISMAEL. She matcheth you, sirrah!

INIQUITY. By Gog's blood, she is the best wh.o.r.e in England.

DALILAH. It is knavishly praised; give me your hand.

INIQUITY. I would thou hadst such another.

ISMAEL. By the ma.s.s, rather than forty pound, brother.

INIQUITY. Here, sirs, come on; seven--[_They set him_.

Eleven[225] at all[226]--

ISMAEL. Do ye nick us?[227] beknave your noly!--

INIQUITY. Ten mine--

ISMAEL (_casteth dice_). Six mine, Have at it, and it were for all my father's kine.

It is lost by his wounds,[228] and ten to one!

INIQUITY. Take the dice, Dalilah, cast on-- [_She casteth, and they set_.

DALILAH. Come on; five!

Thrive at fairest--

ISMAEL. Gup, wh.o.r.e, and I at rest [_he loseth_].

By Gog's blood, I ween G.o.d and the devil be against me--

INIQUITY. If th' one forsake thee, th' other will take thee!

ISMAEL. Then is he a good fellow; I would not pa.s.s,[229]

So that I might bear a rule in h.e.l.l, by the ma.s.s: To toss firebrands at these pennyfathers'[230] pates; I would be porter, and receive them at the gates.

In boiling lead and brimstone I would seeth them each one: The knaves have all the money, good fellows have none.

DALILAH. Play, brother, have ye lost all your money now?

ISMAEL. Yea, I thank that knave and such a wh.o.r.e as thou.

'Tis no matter, I will have money, or I will sweat; By Gog's blood, I will rob the next I meet-- Yea, and it be my father.

[_He goeth out_.

INIQUITY. Thou boy, by the ma.s.s, ye will climb the ladder, Ah, sirrah, I love a wench that can be wily, She perceived my mind with a twink of mine eye, If we two play boody on any man, We will make him as bare as Job anon, Well, Dalilah, let see what ye have won.

[_They tell_.

DALILAH. Sir, I had ten s.h.i.+llings when I begon, And here is all--every farthing.

INIQUITY. Ye lie like a wh.o.r.e, ye have won a pound!

DALILAH. Then the devil strike me to the ground!

INIQUITY. I will feel your pocket, by your leave, mistress--

DALILAH. Away, knave, not mine, by the ma.s.s--

INIQUITY. Yes, by G.o.d, and give you this to boot-- [_He giveth her a box_.

DALILAH. Out, wh.o.r.eson knave, I beshrew thy heart-root!

Wilt thou rob me and beat me too?

INIQUITY. In the way of correction, but a blow or two!

DALILAH. Correct thy dogs, thou shalt not beat me, I will make your knave's flesh cut, I warrant thee.

Ye think I have no friends; yes, I have in store A good fellow or two, perchance more.

Yea, by the ma.s.s, they shall box you for this gear, A knave I found thee, a knave I leave thee here.

[_She goeth out_.

INIQUITY. Gup, wh.o.r.e; do ye hear this jade?

Loving, when she is pleased: When she is angry, thus shrewd: Thief, brother: sister, wh.o.r.e; Two graffs of an ill tree, I will tarry no longer here, Farewell, G.o.d be with ye!

[_He goeth out_.

DALILAH _cometh in ragged, her face hid, or disfigured, halting on a staff_.

Alas, wretched wretch that I am, Most miserable caitiff that ever was born, Full of pain and sorrow, crooked and lorn: Stuff'd with diseases, in this world forlorn.

My sinews be shrunken, my flesh eaten with pox: My bones full of ache and great pain: My head is bald, that bare yellow locks; Crooked I creep to the earth again.

Mine eyesight is dim, my hands tremble and shake: My stomach abhorreth all kind of meat: For lack of clothes great cold I take, When appet.i.te serveth, I can get no meat Where I was fair and amiable of face, Now am I foul and horrible to see; All this I have deserved for lack of grace; Justly for my sins G.o.d doth plague me.

My parents did tiddle[231] me: they were to blame; Instead of correction, in ill did me maintain: I fell to[232] naught, and shall die with shame; Yet all this is not half of my grief and pain.

The worm of my conscience, that shall never die, Accuseth me daily more and more: So oft have I sinned wilfully, That I fear to be d.a.m.ned evermore.