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Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744

"A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 2"


Yet, peace, methinketh Jacob is coming indeed:
And my mind giveth me at his hand I shall speed,
For he is as gentle and loving as can be,
As full of compassion and pity.
But let me see, doth he come? no, I warrant you.
He come, quod I? tush, he come? then hang Esau!
For there is not this day in all the world round
Such another hodypeak wretch to be found,
And Ragan my man, is not that a fine knave?
Have any mo masters such a man as I have?
So idle, so loit'ring, so trifling, so toying?
So prattling, so trattling, so chiding, so boying?
So jesting, so wresting, so mocking, so mowing?
So nipping, so tripping, so cocking, so crowing?
So knappish, so snappish, so elvish, so froward?
So crabbed, so wrabbed, so stiff, so untoward?
In play or in pastime so jocund, so merry?
In work or in labour so dead or so weary?
O, that I had his ear between my teeth now,
I should shake him, even as a dog that lulleth a sow.
But in faith, if ever I recover myself,
There was never none trounced, as I shall trounce that elf.
He and Jacob are agreed, I daresay, I,
Not to come at all, but to suffer me here to die.
Which if they do, they shall find this same word true
That, after I am dead, my soul shall them pursue.
I will be avenged on all foes, till I die:
Yea, and take vengeance, when I am dead too, I.
For, I mistrust, against me agreed they have:
For thone is but a fool, and thother a stark knave.
_Enter_ RAGAN _and_ JACOB _behind, conversing_.


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