A Tale of a Tub ACT 4. SCENE 3. by Ben Jonson Lyrics

Tub, Hilts.

Tub.
Make haste then: we will wait here thy re-
turn.
This luck unlook'd for, hath reviv'd my hopes,
Which were opprest with a dark melancholy.
In happy time, we linger'd on the way,
To meet these Summons of a better sound,
Which are the Essence of my Soul's Content.

Hil.
This heartless fellow; shame to Serving-men;
Stain of all Liveries; what Fear makes him do!
How sordid, wretched, and unworthy things;
Betray his Masters Secrets, ope' the Closet
Of his Devices, force the foolish Justice,
Make way for your Love, plotting of his own:
Like him that digs a Trap, to catch another,
And falls into 't himself!
Tub.
So wou'd I have it;
And hope 'twill prove a Jest to twit the Justice with.

Hil.
But that this poor white-liver'd Rogue should do't?
And meerly out of fear?

Tub.
And hope of Money, Hilts.
A valiant Man will nibble at that Bait.

Hil.
Who, but a Fool, will refuse Money proffer'd?

Tub.
And sent by so good chance. Pray Heaven he
speed.

Hil.
If he come empty-handed, let him count
To go back empty-headed; I'll not leave him
So much of Brain in's Pate, with Pepper and Vinegar,
To be serv'd in for Sawce to a Calves Head.

Tub.
Thou serv'st him rightly, Hilts.
Hil.
I'll seal as much
With my Hand, as I dare say now with my Tongue;
But if you get the Lass from Dargison,
What will you do with her?

Tub.
We'll think o' that
When once we have her in possession, Governour.