A King, and No King Part 61

A friend of mine you rascall, I was never wearier of doing nothing, then kicking these two foote-bals.

_Ser_.

Heres a good cudgell Sir.

_Bac_.

It comes too late; I am wearie, prethee doe thou beate um.

_2_.

My Lord this is foule play ifaith, to put a fresh man upon us; Men, are but men.

_Bac_.

That jest shall save your bones, up with your rotten regiment, and be gone; I had rather thresh, then be bound to kicke these raskals, till they cride hold: _Bessus_ you may put your hand to them now, and then you are quit. Farewell, as you like this, pray visit mee againe, twill keepe me in good breath.

2.

Has a divellish hard foote, I never felt the like.

1.

Nor I, and yet Ime sure I ha felt a hundred.

2.

If he kicke thus ith dog-daies, he will be drie founderd: what cure now Captaine, besides oyle of bayes?

_Bess_.

Why well enough I warrant you, you can goe.

2.

Yes, G.o.d be thanked; but I feele a shrewd ach, sure he has sprang my huckle bone.

1.

I ha lost a haunch.

_Bess_.

A little b.u.t.ter friend, a little b.u.t.ter; b.u.t.ter and pa.r.s.elie is a soveraigne matter: _probatum est_.

1.

Captaine, we must request your hands now to our honours.

_Bess_.

Yes marrie shall ye, and then let all the world come, we are valiant to our selves, and theres an end.

1.

Nay, then we must be valiant; O my ribbes.

2.

O my small guts, a plague upon these sharpe toe'd shooes, they are murderers.

_Exeunt_.

_Enter Arbaces with his Sword drawne_.

_Arb_.

It is resolv'd, I bore it whilst I could, I can no more, h.e.l.l open all thy gates, And I will thorough them; if they be shut, Ile batter um, but I will find the place Where the most d.a.m.n'd have dwelling; ere I end, Amongst them all they shall not have a sinne, But I may call it mine: I must beginne With murder of my friend, and so goe on To an incestuous ravis.h.i.+ng, and end My life and sinnes with a forbidden blow Upon my selfe.

_Enter Mardonius_.

_Mardo_.

What Tragedie is here?

That hand was never wont to draw a Sword, But it cride dead to something:

_Arb_.

_Mar_. have you bid _Gobrius_ come?

_Mar_.

How doe you Sir?

_Arb_.

Well, is he comming?

_Mar_.

Why Sir are you thus?

Why does your hand proclaime a lawlesse warre Against your selfe?

_Arb_.

Thou answerest me one question with another, Is _Gobrius_ comming?

_Mar_.