BRIS. And now thou hast[246] bargained with thy whey-faced wench, what hast thou gained by the project? nothing but wit.
HEATH. Yes, a silver bodkin and thimble, and as many curds as would serve the court ladies for a twelvemonth, besides the box laden with all the plate and household stuff that her pitchy fingers could stick to in six years' service, with which I believe she now waits for me at the appointed place. What we can't turn into money we will into ale, and drink it out. Mine host Welcome has a cup of blessed lull.[247]
BRIS. Away, make haste, we'll empty his cellar to-night, and draw his barrels out into our hogshead.
HEATH. I'll outfly the swift. [_Exit_ HEATH.
BRIS. But scarce outgo an owl. This fellow will I so tutor, that he shall rob Mercury himself, surpass Prometheus, and steal the sun from heaven! Filch away Venus's box of beauty, and pawn it to ladies, not to be redeemed but by the golden apple that Paris gave her! Jupiter's thunder, too, and sell it to besieged towns for granadoes!
O, here comes my precious Hanna, never so lovely as now, when she brings a bundle along with her! That beauty-spot makes her look fair. Come, my sweeting; every minute was an age till thou camest. But why so wrinkled? Those looks do not become a bride.
JEN. Is there no danger of drowning? I am ready to sink every time I think of the water. I cannot choose but quake ever since I was in the ducking-stool.
BRIS. Never fear it. Thou shalt be Queen o' th' Thames, and command the waves; be crowned with water-cresses, and enrobed in watered grogerum. The Nymphs shall curl thy hair, and Syrens sing thy nuptials. The sea shall drink thy health, till it spews and purges again, and swell with pride, that it can carry thee.
JEN. These lines are strong enough to hold an anchor.
BRIS. Dolphins shall bring musicians on their backs, and spout out cans of beer beyond the conduits on the Mayor's-day.
JEN. We'll have a fish-dinner, too, and the Lady o' th' Lobster shall be Mistress o' th' Feast.
BRIS. Yes, yes; and Triton's trumpet shall echo up each mess, while we sound the bottom of our ocean cups, and drown god Neptune in a sea of wine! But let not your sister Nancy hear of it for your ears. She'll raise a tempest will ship-wreck all our hopes; she'll storm louder than the winds. Meet me here two hours hence with all your tacklings. I'll see this bundle shall be safe. The ruddy sky promises a fair gale; if the winds fail us and blow enviously, we'll blast Æolus. [_Exeunt._