ALL'S ONE,
OR,
One of the foure Plaies in one, called a
Yorkshire Tragedy. As it was plaid by
the Kings Maiesties Players.
Enter Oliuer and Raphe, two seruingmen.
Liuer. Sirrah Raphe, my young Mistris is in such a pittifull passionate humour
for the long absence of her loue.
Raphe. Why can you blame her, why,
Apples hanging longer on the tree thē
when they are ripe, makes so many fallings, viz. Mad
wenches because they are not gathered in time, are
faine to drop of themselues, and then tis common
you know for euery man to take them vp.
Apples hanging longer on the tree thē
when they are ripe, makes so many fallings, viz. Mad
wenches because they are not gathered in time, are
faine to drop of themselues, and then tis common
you know for euery man to take them vp.
Oliuer. Masse thou saist true, tis common indeede,
but sirrah, is neyther our young Master returned, nor
our fellow Sam come from London?
but sirrah, is neyther our young Master returned, nor
our fellow Sam come from London?
Raphe. Neyther of eyther, as the Puritan Bawde
sayes. Slid I heare Sam, Sam's come, heere tarry;
come ifaith, now my nose itches for newes.
sayes. Slid I heare Sam, Sam's come, heere tarry;
come ifaith, now my nose itches for newes.
Oliver. And so doth mine elbow.
Sam cals within. Where are you there?
Sam. Boy, looke you walke my horse with discreti-
on,
