you in private still, or how?
_Spa_.
What do you mean?
_Lyg_.
Do you take mony? are you come to sell sin yet? perhaps I can
help you to liberal Clients: or has not the King cast you off
yet? O thou vile creature, whose best commendation is, that thou
art a young whore, I would thy Mother had liv'd to see this, or
rather that I had died ere I had seen it; why didst not make me
acquainted when thou wert first resolv'd to be a whore, I would
have seen thy hot lust satisfied more privately: I would have
kept a dancer and a whole consort of musicians in my own house
only to fiddle thee.
_Spa_.
Sir, I was never whore.
_Lyg_.
If thou couldst not say so much for thy self, thou shouldst be
carted.
_Tigr_.
_Lygones_, I have read it, and I like it, you shall deliver it.
_Lyg_.
Well Sir, I will: but I have private business with you.
_Tigr_.
Speak, what is't?
_Lyg_. How has my age deserv'd so ill of you, that you can
pick no strumpets i'th' land, but out of my breed?
_Tigr_.
Strumpets, good _Lygones_?
_Lyg_.
Yes, and I wish to have you know, I scorn to get a whore for any
prince alive, and yet scorn will not help methinks: my Daughter
might have been spar'd, there were enow besides.
_Tigr_.
May I not prosper but she's innocent as morning light for me, and
I dare swear for all the world.
_Lyg_.
Why is she with you then? can she wait on you better than your
man, has she a gift in plucking off your stockings, can she make
Cawdles well or cut your cornes? Why do you keep her with you?
For a Queen I know you do contemn her, so should I, and every
subject else think much at it.
_Tigr_.
Let 'em think much, but 'tis more firm than earth: thou see'st
thy Queen there.
_Lyg_.
Then have I made a fair hand, I call'd her Whore. If I shall
speak now as her Father, I cannot chuse but greatly rejoyce that
she shall be a Queen: but if I shall speak to you as a
States-man, she were more fit to be your whore.
_Tigr_.
Get you about your business to _Arbaces_, now you talk idlely.
_Lyg_.
Yes Sir, I will go, and shall she be a Queen? she had more wit
than her old Father, when she ran away: shall she be Queen? now
by my troth 'tis fine, I'le dance out of all measure at her
wedding: shall I not Sir?
_Tigr_.
Yes marry shalt thou.
_Lyg_.
I'le make these withered kexes bear my body two hour
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