FRAN. How mean'st thou? is he drunk?
BOY. I cannot tell; but I am sure he hath more liquor in him than a whole dicker of hides; he's soak'd throughly, i'faith.
FRAN. Well, go and call him; bid him bring me drink.
BOY. I will, sir.
[_Exit_.
FRAN. My mother pouts, and will look merrily Neither upon my father nor on me: He says she fell out with Mistress Barnes to-day; Then I am sure they'll not be quickly friends.
Good Lord, what kind of creatures women are!
Their love is lightly[277] won and lightly lost; And then their hate is deadly and extreme: He that doth take a wife betakes himself To all the cares and troubles of the world.
Now her disquietness doth grieve my father, Grieves me, and troubles all the house besides.
What, shall I have some drink? [_Horn sounded within_]--How now? a horn!
Belike the drunken knave is fall'n asleep, And now the boy doth wake him with his horn.
_Enter_ BOY.
How now, sirrah, where's the butler?
BOY. Marry, sir, where he was even now, asleep; but I wak'd him, and when he wak'd he thought he was in Master Barnes's buttery, for he stretch'd himself thus, and yawning, said, "Nick, honest Nick, fill a fresh bowl of ale; stand to it, Nick, and thou beest a man of God's making, stand to it;" and then I winded my horn, and he's horn-mad.
_Enter_ HODGE.
HOD. Boy, hey! ho, boy! and thou beest a man, draw.--O, here's a blessed moonshine, God be thanked!--Boy, is not this goodly weather for barley?
BOY. Spoken like a right malster, Hodge: but dost thou hear? thou art not drunk?
HOD. No, I scorn that, i'faith.
BOY.[278] But thy fellow Dick Coomes is mightily drunk.
HOD. Drunk! a plague on it, when a man cannot carry his drink well!
'sblood, I'll stand to it.
BOY. Hold, man; see, and thou canst stand first.
HOD. Drunk! he's a beast, and he be drunk; there's no man that is a sober man will be drunk; he's a boy, and he be drunk.
BOY. No, he's a man as thou art.
HOD. Thus 'tis, when a man will not be ruled by his friends: I bad him keep under the lee, but he kept down the weather two bows; I told him he would be taken with a planet, but the wisest of us all may fall.
BOY. True, Hodge. [_Boy trips him_.
HOD. Whoop! lend me thy hand, Dick, I am fall'n into a well; lend me thy hand, I shall be drowned else.
BOY. Hold fast by the bucket, Hodge.
HOD. A rope on it!
BOY. Ay, there is a rope on it; but where art thou, Hodge?
HOD. In a well; I prythee, draw up.
BOY. Come, give up thy body; wind up, hoist
HOD. I am over head and ears.
BOY. In all, Hodge, in all.
FRAN. How loathsome is this beast-man's shape to me, This mould of reason so unreasonable!-- Sirrah, why dost thou trip him down, seeing he's drunk?
BOY. Because, sir, I would have drunkards cheap.[279]
FRAN. How mean ye?
BOY. Why, they say that, when anything hath a fall, it is cheap; and so of drunkards.
FRAN. Go to, help him up: [_Knocking without_] but, hark, who knocks?
[BOY _goes to the door, and returns_.]
BOY. Sir, here's one of Master Barnes's men with a letter to my old master.
FRAN. Which of them is it?
BOY. They call him Nicholas, sir.
FRAN. Go, call him in.
[_Exit_ BOY.]
_Enter_ COOMES.
COOMES. By your leave, ho! How now, young master, how is't?
FRAN. Look ye, sirrah, where your fellow lies: He's[280] in a fine taking, is he not?
COOMES. Whoop, Hodge! where art thou, man, where art thou?
HOD. O, in a well.
COOMES. In a well, man! nay, then, thou art deep in understanding.
FRAN. Ay, once to-day you were almost so, sir.
COOMES. Who, I! go to, young master, I do not like this humour in ye, I tell ye true; give every man his due, and give him no more: say I was in such a case! go to, 'tis the greatest indignation that can be offered to a man; and, but a man's more godlier given, you were able to make him swear out his heart-blood. What, though that honest Hodge have cut his finger here, or, as some say, cut a feather: what, though he be mump, misled, blind, or as it were--'tis no consequent to me: you know I have drunk all the ale-houses in Abington dry, and laid the taps on the tables, when I had done: 'sblood, I'll challenge all the true rob-pots in Europe to leap up to the chin in a barrel of beer, and if I cannot drink it down to my foot, ere I leave, and then set the tap in the midst of the house, and then turn a good turn on the toe on it, let me be counted nobody, a pingler,[281]--nay, let me be[282] bound to drink nothing but small-beer seven years after--and I had as lief be hanged.