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| First Musician |
Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be gone. |
| Nurse |
Honest goodfellows, ah, put up, put up; |
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For, well you know, this is a pitiful case. |
| First Musician |
Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended. |
| Peter |
Musicians, O, musicians, 'Heart's ease, Heart's |
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ease:' O, an you will have me live, play 'Heart's ease.' |
| First Musician |
Why 'Heart's ease?' |
| Peter |
O, musicians, because my heart itself plays 'My |
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heart is full of woe:' O, play me some merry dump, |
| First Musician |
Not a dump we; 'tis no time to play now. |
| Peter |
You will not, then? |
| Peter |
I will then give it you soundly. |
| First Musician |
What will you give us? |
| Peter |
No money, on my faith, but the gleek; |
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I will give you the minstrel. |
| First Musician |
Then I will give you the serving-creature. |
| Peter |
Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on |
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your pate. I will carry no crotchets: I'll re you, |
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I'll fa you; do you note me? |
| First Musician |
An you re us and fa us, you note us. |
| Second Musician |
Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit. |
| Peter |
Then have at you with my wit! I will dry-beat you |
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with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger. Answer |
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'When griping grief the heart doth wound, |
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And doleful dumps the mind oppress, |
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Then music with her silver sound'-- |
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why 'silver sound'? why 'music with her silver |
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sound'? What say you, Simon Catling? |
| Musician |
Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound. |
| Peter |
Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck? |
| Second Musician |
I say 'silver sound,' because musicians sound for silver. |
| Peter |
Pretty too! What say you, James Soundpost? |
| Third Musician |
Faith, I know not what to say. |
| Peter |
O, I cry you mercy; you are the singer: I will say |
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for you. It is 'music with her silver sound,' |
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because musicians have no gold for sounding: |
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'Then music with her silver sound |
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With speedy help doth lend redress.' |
| First Musician |
What a pestilent knave is this same! |
| Second Musician |
Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the |
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mourners, and stay dinner. |
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