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away like sheep: neither is this the black dog of Newgate."
Banks. No good-man son-fool; but the dog of hell-gate.
Cud. I say, good-man father-fool, it's a lie.
Cud. A gross lie, as big as myself. The devil in St. Dunstan's will as soon drink with this poor cur, as with any Temple-bar-laundress, that washes and wrings lawyers.
Dog. Bow, wow, wow, wow!
All. Oh, the dog's here, the dog's here!
Cud. The voice of a dog? if that voice were a dog's, what voice had my mother? so am I a dog: bow, wow, wow! It was I that bark'd so, father, to make coxcombs of these clowns.
Banks. However, we'll be coxcomb'd no longer: away, therefore, to the justice for a warrant; and then, Gammer Gurton, have at your needle of witchcraft.
Saw. And prick thine own eyes out. Go, pee[Exeunt BANKS, RAT. and Countrymen.
7 The black dog of Newgate.] This antient Cerberus is unknown to me. Perhaps he formed the sign of some noted tavern contiguous to that immanis aula: what advanced him to this bad eminence must be left to the discussion of future critics. The water spaniel, mentioned here and elsewhere by Cuddy, was an animal in great request. Islington, at that time, abounded in ponds, some of them of considerable size; and to hunt ducks in these, appears, from our old dramatists, to have been the favourite recreation of the holyday citizens. Islington formed at once the boundary of their travels and their pleasures. To advance farther, and hunt the stag, like their desperate descendants, in the unknown wilds of Epping Forest, would have appeared to these placid sportsmen like following Shah Allum to a tiger-hunt.
Cud. Ningle, you had like to have spoiled all with your bow-ings. I was glad to put them off with one of my dog-tricks, on a sudden; I am bewitched, little Cost-me-nought, to love thee,a pox,—that morrice makes me spit in thy mouth. -I dare not stay; farewell, ningle; you whoreson dog's nose! farewell, witch! [Exit.
Dog. Bow, wow, wow, wow!
Saw. Mind him not, he's not worth thy worrying; Run at a fairer game: that foul-mouth'd knight, Scurvy Sir Arthur, fly at him, my Tommy, And pluck out's throat.
Dog. No, there's a dog already biting,-his
Saw. That's a sure blood-hound. Come, let's home and play;
Our black work ended, we'll make holyday.
SCENE II.-A Bed-room in CARTER's House.FRANK in a Slumber.
Kath. Brother, brother! so sound asleep? that's well.
Frank. (Waking.) No, not I, sister; he that's wounded here,
As I am, (all my other hurts are bitings
Of a poor
flea,) but he that here once bleeds,
Is maim'd incurably.
Kath. My good sweet brother;
(For now my sister must grow up in you,)
Though her loss strikes you through, and that I
The blow as deep, I pray thee be not cruel
In your own helpless sorrow. Good love, sit up;
Kath. I thank you;
What do you look about you for?
Frank. Nothing, nothing;
But I was thinking, sister
Kath. Dear heart, what?
Frank. Who but a fool would thus be bound to
Having this room to walk in?
Kath. Why do you talk so?
Would you were fast asleep.
Frank. No, no; I am not idle.
But here's my meaning; being robb'd as I am, Why should my soul, which married was to her's, Live in divorce, and not fly after her?
Why should not I walk hand in hand with Death, To find my love out?
Kath. That were well, indeed,
Your time being come; when Death is sent to call you,
No doubt you shall meet her.
No, no, I am not idle.] i. e. Wandering. He judges from Katherine's speech, that she suspects him, as indeed she does, of being light-headed.
Frank. Why should not I
Go without calling?
Kath. Yes, brother, so you might;
Were there no place to go to when you're gone, But only this.
Frank. Troth, sister, thou say'st true;
For when a man has been an hundred years
Yet then were man more wretched than a beast;
Kath. 'Tis so, the best or worst; and I wish
To pay (and so I know it will) that traitor,
A pair of merciless slaves! speak no more of them.
Kath. I think this talking hurts you.
Eat if you cannot sleep; you have these two days Not tasted any food:-Jane, is it ready?
Frank. What's ready? what's ready?
Kath. I have made ready a roasted chicken for [Enter Maid with the chicken.
Sweet, wilt thou eat?
Frank. A pretty stomach on a sudden, yes.There's one i' th' house can play upon a lute;
Good girl, let's hear him too.
Kath. You shall, dear brother.
Would I were a musician, you should hear
How I would feast your ear!-[Lute plays within.] -stay, mend your pillow,
And raise you higher.
Frank. I am up too high,
Am I not sister, now?
Kath. No, no; 'tis well.
Fall to, fall to.-A knife! here's ne'er a knife.
Brother, I'll look out your's.
[Takes up his vest.
Enter Doo, shrugging as it were for joy, and dances.
Frank. Sister, O sister,
I'm ill upon a sudden, and can eat nothing.