And now I got to tell from the most shame of all I almost did on this once carouse with my Will Kempe, from what almost happened with this kurveh wench in this Southwark stew The Cardinal's Hat, this kurveh they called Mutton Jane, which it wasn't her true name, which I didn't know, but what they only called her.
What happened was I drank cup for cup with Will and our Essex men carpet knight gallants the sherry sack Bristol Milk, until it must be I fell to sleep, my head on the table just like our link boy already asleep there. Because I don't remember from when after Will did his performance up on a table like it was a stage until when he was shaking me hard awake to say I got to greet this kurveh jade wench was sitting by us on our bench. I must of been sleeping, and I waked, and was full cup-shot fap still, and Will Kempe was shouting in my ear at me to greet this kurveh named Mutton Jane.
He shaked me so I waked, and I seen him and this fattish kurveh whore sitting by us on our bench, and I seen our link boy still sleeping his head on our table, but our Essex men gallants treating the cost of this once carouse was gone I didn't know where then, but later knew it was up the stairs to cribs with kurveh they was gone to do filthy dalliances shtupping. And I seen most revelers was now gone from The Cardinal's Hat, and only a few gamesters still, and more quiet it was in the big room, not so much vile oaths and boisterous noise, the fire in the fireplace smaller, but Tom Tapster the bawd whoremonger was still there, and some from his kurveh wenches wearing only shifts was still filling cups from their kegs, but no more wasn't carrying meats from the kitchen cook-house.
My Will shaked me awake, and I seen all this, and he was saying to me, “Pinky, thou laggard, haggard, dismal-dreaming arrant hugger-mugger, ope' thine orbs and greet this smarmy lass would know you as well as any woman can a man!” And I looked close at this fattish kurveh jade, fat she was, and some old I think, she wore only a shift so I could see her big bosoms and almost into her placket if she wore one, which she didn't, only a shift, and she wasn't comely. Her hairs was dyed the yellow lots English kurveh did because English liked fair women best, but she wasn't true fair, her skin from her punim face was so swart as Will Kempe's, and dun her bosoms were which I could see, and she had by her lip a wen I don't think was a pox, except maybe.
She said to Will, “Aye, he lives, an' I did think him dead afore I heard him snore so. An' I'll make him lively if he's the price of it in that purse he holds so close it might be his child!” Which I was, holding our common purse with my hand, which I must of remembered to do when I fell to sleeping, even full fap, afraid from cut-purses and rogues in this Cardinal's Hat brothel stew.
To which Will Kempe said to her, “An' he'll prove himself goatish as any malmsey-nosed, right-rutting blind-worm, do ye apply your tender arts where they're best and most oft placed, Jane!” And to me he said, “Do ye wake, my pearl? Now here's a baggage doth know her way in full fell dark of night to any whoreson knave awaits if he'll but first tickle her palm with the proper coin, my sweet Pinky!”
To which, waked now and seeing and listening all this, I said to him, “Will, what's this wench doing by me on our bench? Where's gone our gallants paying the reckoning? Will, my head and also guts is pains, I think I could spew! Will, wake up our boy to light his link in the fireplace and show us home across the river, Will!” To which he only laughed like I was making gleeks.
To which this fattish kurveh Jane said, “What speech is this he speaks? That's no London nor country speech eke! What strange man is this you pander me to, Will Kempe?”
To which my Will, the same gleek as he did with Tom Tapster, said, “Why, Jane, he's an Ethiope come to us all the way 'cross oceans from Afrique to know our ways, and I'd have him know a stout English whore as only a randy man may!”:
Which I said, full waked now, still fap, “Will, don't say I'm a Ethiope, which I ain't one!”
Which this kurveh Jane said, “He's no Ethiope, for I knew me an Ethiope once, and he was a blackamoor, and this one's not more swart than a good wash might clear, no, no Moor's he!”
9