Actus ij, Scæna j

[Dobinet Doughtie.]
D. DOUGH.
Where is the house I goe to, before or behinde?
I know not where nor when nor how I shal it finde.
If I had ten mens bodies and legs and strength,
This trotting that I haue must needes lame me at length.
And nowe that my maister is new set on wowyng,
I trust there shall none of vs finde lacke of doyng:
Two paire of shoes a day will nowe be too litle
To serue me, I must trotte to and fro so mickle.
Go beare me thys token, carrie me this letter,
Nowe this is the best way, nowe that way is better.
Vp before day sirs, I charge you, an houre or twaine,
Trudge, do me thys message, and bring worde quicke againe,
If one misse but a minute, then his armes and woundes,
I woulde not haue slacked for ten thousand poundes.
Nay see I beseeche you, if my most trustie page,
Goe not nowe aboute to hinder my mariage,
So feruent hotte wowyng, and so farre from wiuing,
I trowe neuer was any creature liuyng,
With euery woman is he in some loues pang,
Then vp to our lute at midnight, twangledome twang,
Then twang with our sonets, and twang with our dumps,
And heyhough from our heart, as heauie as lead lumpess:
Then to our recorder with toodleloodle poope
As the howlet out of an yuie bushe should hoope.
Anon to our gitterne, thrumpledum, thrumpledum thrum,
Thrumpledum, thrumpledum, thrumpledum, thrumpledum thrum.
Of Songs and Balades also he is a maker,
And that can he as finely doe as Iacke Raker,
Yea and extempore will he dities compose,
Foolishe Marsias nere made the like I suppose,
Yet must we sing them, as good stuffe I vndertake,
As for such a pen man is well fittyng to make.
Ah for these long nights, heyhow, when will it be day?
I feare ere I come she will be wowed away.
Then when aunswere is made that it may not bee,
O death why commest thou not? by and by (sayth he)
But then, from his heart to put away sorowe,
He is as farre in with some newe loue next morowe.
But in the meane season we trudge and we trot,
From dayspring to midnyght, I sit not, nor rest not.
And now am I sent to dame Christian Custance:
But I feare it will ende with a mocke for pastance.
I bring hir a ring, with a token in a cloute,
And by all gesse, this same is hir house out of doute.
I knowe it nowe perfect, I am in my right way.
And loe yond the olde nourse that was wyth vs last day.