out your bussing base, and we will quiddle upon it.
[Grim singeth Buss.
Jack sings. Too nidden and too nidden.
Will sings. Too nidden and toodle toodle doo nidden;
Is not Grim the collier most finely shaven?
Grim. Why, my fellows, think ich am a cow, that you make such toying?
Jack. Nay, by ’r Lady, you are no cow, by your singing;
Yet your wife told me you were an ox.
Grim. Did she so? ’tis a pestens quean,[125] she is full of such mocks.
But go to, let us sing out our song merrily.
The Song at the shaving of the Collier.
Jack. Such barbers God send you at all times of need.
Will. That can dress you [so] finely, and make such quick speed;
Jack. Your face like an inkhorn now shineth so gay—
Will. That I with your nostrils of force must needs play,
With too nidden and too nidden.
Jack. With too nidden and todle todle doo nidden.
Is not Grim the collier most finely shaven?
Will. With shaving you shine like a pestle of pork.[126]
Jack. Here is the trimmest hog’s flesh from London to York.
Will. It would be trim bacon to hang up awhile.
Jack. To play with this hoglin of course I must smile,
With too nidden and too nidden.
Will. With too nidden and todle, &c.
Grim. Your shaving doth please me, I am now your debtor.
Will. Your wife now will buss you, because you are sweeter.
Grim. Near would I be polled, as near as cham shaven.
Will. Then out of your jerkin needs must you be shaken.
With too nidden and too nidden, &c.
Grim. It is a trim thing to be wash’d in the court.
Will. Their hands are so fine, that they never do hurt.
Grim. Me-think ich am lighter than ever ich was.
Will. Our shaving in the court hath brought this to pass.
With too nidden and too nidden.
Jack. With too nidden and todle todle doo nidden.
Is not Grim the collier most finely[127] shaven?
Grim. This is trimly done: now chill pitch my coals not far hence,
And then at the tavern shall bestow whole tway pence.
[Exit Grim.
Jack. Farewell, [by] Cock. Before the collier again do us seek,
Let us into the court to part the spoil, share and share [a]like.
Will. Away then.
[Exeunt.
Here entereth Grim.
Grim. Out alas, where shall I make my moan?
My pouch, my benters, and all is gone;
Where is that villain that did me shave?
H’ ath robbed me, alas, of all that I have.
Here entereth Snap.
Snap. Who crieth so at the court-gate?
Grim. I, the poor collier, that was robbed of late.
Snap. Who robbed thee?
Grim. Two of the porter’s men that did shave me.
Snap. Why, the porter’s men are no barbers.
Grim. A vengeance take them, they are quick carvers.
Snap. What stature were they of?
Grim. As little dapper knaves, as they trimly could scoff.
Snap. They are lackeys, as near as I can guess them.
Grim. Such lackeys make me lack; an halter beswinge them!
Cham undone, they have my benters too.
Snap. Dost thou know them, if thou seest them?
Grim. Yea, that I do.
Snap. Then come with me, we will find them out, and that quickly.
Grim. I follow, mast tipstaff; they be in the court, it is likely.
Snap. Then cry no more, come away.
[Exeunt.
Here entereth Carisophus and Aristippus.
Carisophus. If ever you will show your friendship, now is the time,
Seeing the king is displeased with me of my part without any crime.
Aristippus. It should appear, it comes of some evil behaviour,
That you so suddenly are cast out of favour.
Carisophus. Nothing have I done but this; in talk I overthwarted Eubulus,
When he lamented Pithias’ case to King Dionysius.
Which to-morrow shall die, but for that false knave Damon,
He hath left his friend in the briars, and now is gone.
We grew so hot in talk, that Eubulus protested plainly,
Which[128] held his ears open to parasitical flattery.
And now in the king’s ear like a bell he rings,
Crying that flatterers have been the destroyers of kings.
Which talk in Dionysius’ heart hath made so deep impression,
That he trusteth me not, as heretofore, in no condition:
And some words brake from him, as though that he
Began to suspect my truth and honesty,
Which you of friendship I know will defend, how so ever the world goeth:
My friend—for my honesty will you not take an oath?
Aristippus. To swear for your honesty, I should lose mine own.
Carisophus. Should you so, indeed? I would that were known.
Is your void friendship come thus to pass?
Aristippus. I follow the proverb: Amicus usque ad aras.
Carisophus. Where can you say I ever lost mine honesty?
Aristippus. You never lost it, for you never had it, as far as I know.
Carisophus. Say you so, friend Aristippus, whom I trust so well?
Aristippus. Because you trust me, to you the truth I tell.
Carisophus. Will you not stretch one point, to bring me in favour again?
Aristippus. I love no stretching; so I may breed mine own pain.
Carisophus. A friend ought to shun no pain, to stand his friend in stead.
Aristippus. Where true friendship is, it is so in very deed.
Carisophus. Why, sir, hath not the chain of true friendship linked us two together?
Aristippus. The chiefest link lacked thereof, it must needs dissever.
Carisophus. What