angry women of Abington.
find how I did loose my self, And wander vp & down, mistaking
so, Giue me thy hand Mall, I will neuer leaue.
Till I haue made your mothers friends againe,
And purchast to ye both your hearts delight,
And for this same one bad, many a good night,
Twill not be long ere that Aurora will,
Deckt in the glory of a goldon sunne,
Open the christall windowes of the East,
To make the earth enamourde of thy face,
When we shall haue cleare light to see our way,
Exeunt.Come, night being done, expect a happy day.
so, Giue me thy hand Mall, I will neuer leaue.
Till I haue made your mothers friends againe,
And purchast to ye both your hearts delight,
And for this same one bad, many a good night,
Twill not be long ere that Aurora will,
Deckt in the glory of a goldon sunne,
Open the christall windowes of the East,
To make the earth enamourde of thy face,
When we shall haue cleare light to see our way,
Exeunt.Come, night being done, expect a happy day.
Enter mistresse Barnes
Mis. Ba O what a race this peeuish girle hath led me?
How fast I ran and now how weary I am,
I am so out of breath I scarce can speake.
What shall I doe? and cannot ouertake her,
It is late and darke, and I am far from home.
May there not theeues lye watching heere about,
Intending mischiefe vnto them they meete,
There may, and I am much affrayde of them,
Being alone without all company,
I doe repent me of my comming foorth,
And yet I do not, they had else been married,
And that I would not for ten times more labour.
But what a winter of colde feare I stole,
Freecing my heart least danger should betide me,
What shal I do to purchase company?
I heare some hollow here about the fields,
Then here Ile set my Torch vpon this hill,
Whose light shall Beacon-like conduct them to it,
They that haue lost theyr way seeing a light,
Will come to it, well, here ile lye vnseene,
For it may be seene farre off in the night,
And looke who comes, and chuse my company,
Perhaps my daughter may first come to it.
How fast I ran and now how weary I am,
I am so out of breath I scarce can speake.
What shall I doe? and cannot ouertake her,
It is late and darke, and I am far from home.
May there not theeues lye watching heere about,
Intending mischiefe vnto them they meete,
There may, and I am much affrayde of them,
Being alone without all company,
I doe repent me of my comming foorth,
And yet I do not, they had else been married,
And that I would not for ten times more labour.
But what a winter of colde feare I stole,
Freecing my heart least danger should betide me,
What shal I do to purchase company?
I heare some hollow here about the fields,
Then here Ile set my Torch vpon this hill,
Whose light shall Beacon-like conduct them to it,
They that haue lost theyr way seeing a light,
Will come to it, well, here ile lye vnseene,
For it may be seene farre off in the night,
And looke who comes, and chuse my company,
Perhaps my daughter may first come to it.
Mi. Gour. Where am I now? nay where was I euen now,
Nor now, nor then, nor where I shall be, know I,
I thinke I am going home I may as well
Be going from home, tis so very darke,
I cannot see how to direct a step,
Nor now, nor then, nor where I shall be, know I,
I thinke I am going home I may as well
Be going from home, tis so very darke,
I cannot see how to direct a step,
I lost
