A Yorkshire Tragedy.
Oh beggery, beggery, to what base vses dost thou put a man.
I think the diuell scornes to be a Bawd.
He beares himselfe more proudly, has more care on his credite.
Base, slauish, abiect, filthy pouerty.
I think the diuell scornes to be a Bawd.
He beares himselfe more proudly, has more care on his credite.
Base, slauish, abiect, filthy pouerty.
Wi, Good sir, by all our vowes I doe beseech you,
Shew me the true cause of your discontent?
Shew me the true cause of your discontent?
Hus. Mony, mony, mony, & thou must supply mee.
Wi. Alasse, I am the least cause of your discontent,
Yet what is mine, either in rings or iewels,
Vse to your owne desire, but I beseech you,
As you are a gentleman by many bloods,
Though I my selfe be out of your respect,
Thinke on the state of these three louely boyes
You haue bin father to.
Yet what is mine, either in rings or iewels,
Vse to your owne desire, but I beseech you,
As you are a gentleman by many bloods,
Though I my selfe be out of your respect,
Thinke on the state of these three louely boyes
You haue bin father to.
Hu. Puh, Bastards, Bastards, Bastards, begot in tricks,
begot in tricks.
begot in tricks.
Wi. Heauen knowes how those words wrong me,
But Ile endure these griefes among a thousand more
Oh call to minde your Lands already morgadge,
Your selfe woond into debts, your hopefull brother,
At the Vniuersity in bonds for you
Like to be ceaz'd vpon. And ———
But Ile endure these griefes among a thousand more
Oh call to minde your Lands already morgadge,
Your selfe woond into debts, your hopefull brother,
At the Vniuersity in bonds for you
Like to be ceaz'd vpon. And ———
Hu. Ha done thou harlot,
Whom though for fashion I married,
I neuer could abide. Thinkst thou thy words
Shall kill my pleasures, fall of to thy friends,
Thou and thy bastards beg, I will not bate
A whit in humor; Midnight still I loue you,
Whom though for fashion I married,
I neuer could abide. Thinkst thou thy words
Shall kill my pleasures, fall of to thy friends,
Thou and thy bastards beg, I will not bate
A whit in humor; Midnight still I loue you,
And
