Page:The Plays of William Shakspeare (1778).djvu/95

Rh becaue you can doe nothing ele. Thirdly you mightily direlih the audience, and digrace the author: marry, you take up (though it be at the wort hand) a trong opinion of your owne judgement, and inforce the poet to take pity of your weakenee, and by ome dedicated onnet to bring you into a better paradice, onely to top your mouth. If you can (either for love or money) provide yourelfe a lodging by the water ide: for above the conveniencie it brings to hun houlder-clapping, and to hip away your cockatrice betimes in the morning, it addes a kind of tate unto you, to be carried from thence to the taires of your play-houe: hate a culler (remember that) wore then to be acquainted with one ath’ cullery. No, your oares are your onely ea-crabs, boord them, and take heed you never go twice together with one paire: often hifting is a great credit to gentlemen: and that dividing of your fare wil make the poore waternaks be ready to pul you in peeces to enjoy your cutome. No matter whether upon landing you have money or no; you may wim in twentie of their boates over the river upon ticket: mary, when ilver comes in, remember to pay trebble their fare, and it will make your flounder-catchers to end more thankes after you, when you doe not draw, then when you doe: for they know, it will be their owne another daie. Before the play begins, fall to cardes; you may win or looe (as fencers doe in a prize) and beate one another by confederacie, yet hare the money when you meete at upper: notwithtanding, to gul the ragga-muffins that tand a loofe gaping at you, throw the cards (having firt torne foure or five of them) round about the tage, jut upon the third ound, as though you had lot: it kils not if the foure knaves ly on their backs, and outface the audience, there’s none uch fooles as dare take exceptions at them, becaue ere the play go off, better knaves than they, will fall into the company. Now, Sir, if the writer be a fellow that hath either epigram’d you, or hath had a flirt at your mitris, or hath brought either your feather, or your red beard, or your little legs, &c. on the tage, you hall digrace him wore then by toing him in a blanket, or giving him the batinado in a taverne, if in the middle of his play, (bee it patorall or comedy, morall or tragedic) you rie with a kreud and dicontented face from your toole to be gone: no matter whether the cenes be good or no; the better they are, the Rh