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Down. How, then? what should he do? Would I had lost this finger, at a venture,
Bob. Gentleman of the house, it is to you: is So Well-bred had ne'er lodged within my house. he within, sir?
Why, it cannot be, where there is such resort Kite. He came not to his lodgings to-night, sir, Of wanton gallants, and young revellers, I assure you.
That any woman should be honest long.
Is't like, that factious beauty will preserve
When such strong motives muster, and make (Ereunt BOBADIL and MATTHEW.
head Dean. How! scavenger! stay, sir, stay ! Against her single peace? No, no. Beware. Kite. Nay, brother Downright!
When mutual appetite doth meet to treat, Down. 'Heart! stand you away, an' you love And spirits of one kind and quality me.
Come once to parley, in the pride of blood, Kite
. You shall not follow him, now, I pray It is no slow conspiracy that follows. you, brother; good faith, you shall not: I will Well, to be plain, if I but thought the time overrule you.
Had answered their affections, all the world Down. Ha ! scavenger ! Well, go to, I say lit. Should not persuade me, but I were a cuckold ! tle: but, by this good day, (God forgive me I Marry, I hope they have not got that start; should swear), if I put up so, say, I am the rank- For opportunity hath baulked them yet, est cow that ever pissed. 'Sdains, and I swallow And shall do still, while I have eyes and ears this, I'll ne'er draw my sword in the sight of To attend the impositions of my heart. Fleet-street again, while I live. I'll sit in a barn My presence shall be as an iron-bar, with Madge Howlet, and catch mice first. Sca- 'Twixt the conspiring motions of desire : venger! Heart, and I'll go near to fill that huge Yea, every look or glance mine eyes eject, tumbrel-slop of yours, with somewhat, an'I have Shall check occasion, as one doth his slave, good luck. "Your Garagantua breech cannot car When he forgets the limits of prescription. ry it away so. Kite. Oh ! do not fret yourself thus ! never
Enter Dame KITELY. think on it.
Dame. Sister Bridget, pray you fetch down the Doan. These are my brother's consorts, these! rose-water above in the closet. Sweetheart, will these are his comrades, his walking mates! he is you come in to breakfast ? a gallant, a cavaliero, too, right hangman cut! Kite. An' she have overheard me now! (Aside. Let me not live, an' I could not find in my heart Dame. I pray thee, good muss, we stay for you. to swinge the whole gang of them, one after ano Kite. By Heaven, I would not for a thousand ther, and begin with him first. I am grieved it
(dside. should be said he is my brother, and take these Dame. What ail you, sweetheart? are you not courses. Well, as he brews, so he shall drink, well ? Speak, good muss. for George, again. Yet, he shall hear on it, and Kite. Troth, my head aches extremely, on a that tightly, too, an' I live, in faith.
sudden. Kite. But, brother, let your reprehension, then, Dame. Oh, the lord! Run in an easy current, not o'er high
Kite. How now! what! Carried with rashness, or devouring choler; Dame. Alas, how it burns ! Muss, keep you But rather use the soft persuading way,
warm; good truth it is this new disease! there's More winning than enforcing the consent. a number are troubled withal ! For love's sake,
Down. Ay, ay, let me alone for that, I warrant sweetheart, come in out of the air. you.
(Bell rings. Kite. How simple, and how subtle are her anKite. How now! Oh, the bell rings for break
A new disease, and many troubled with it! Brother, I pray you, go in, and bear my wife Why true! she heard me, all the world to noCompany till I come; I'll but give order
thing. For some dispatch of business to my servants. Dame. I pray thee, good sweetheart, come in;
(Exit Down. the air will do you harm, in troth.
Kite. The air! she has me in the wind ! SweetEnter COB, with a Tankard.
heart, I'll come to you presently; 'twill away, Kite. What, Cob! our maids will have you by I hope. the back, i'faith,
Dame. Pray Heaven it do.
(Erit. For coming so late this morning.
Kite. A new disease! I know not new or old, Cob. Perhaps so, sir; take heed, somebody But it may well be called poor mortals' plague : have not them by the belly, for walking so late For, like a pestilence, it doth infect is the evening.
The houses of the brain. First, it begins Kite. Well, yet my troubled spirit's somewhat Solely to work upon the phantasy, eased,
Filling her seat with such pestiferous air Though not reposed in that security
As soon corrupts the judgment, and from thence As I could wish; but, I must be content. Sends like contagion to the memory; Howe'er I set a face on't to the world,
Still to each other giving the infection,
Which, as a subtle vapour, spreads itself
E. Kno. How by St Peter? I do not conceive Confusedly through every sensive part,
that. Till not a thought, or motion in the mind, Step. Marry, St Peter, to make up the metre. Be free from the black poison of suspect.
E. Kno. Well, there the saint was your good Ah, but what misery it is to know this !
patron; he helped you at your need: thank him, Or, knowing it, to want the mind's direction thank him. In such extremes! Well, I will once more strive, Brain. I cannot take leave of them so; I will In spite of this black cloud, myself to be, venture, come what will.Gentlemen, please And shake the fever off, that thus shakes me. you change a few crowns, for a very excellent
(Exit. good blade, here? I am a poor gentleman, a sol
dier, one that, in the better state of my fortunes, SCENE II.-Moorfields.
scorned so mean a refuge, but now it is the hu
mour of necessity to have it so. You seem to Enter BRAIN-WORM, disguised as a Soldier.
be, gentlemen, well affected to martial men, else Brain. 'Slid, I cannot choose but laugh to see should I rather die with silence than live with myself translated thus. From a poor creature to shame : however, vouchsafe to remember, it is a creator; for now must I create an intolerable my want speaks, not myself. This condition asort of lies, or my present profession loses the grees not with my spirit. grace; and yet the lie to a man of my coat, is as E. Kno. Where hast thou served ? ominous a fruit as the Fico. O, sir, it holds for Brain. May it please you, sir, in all the late good polity ever, to have that outwardly in viiest wars of Bohemia, Hungaria, Dalmatia, Poland ; estimation, that inwardly is most dear to us. So where not, sir? I have been a poor servitor by much for my borrowed shape.--Well, the troth sea and land, any time these fourteen years, and is, my old master intends to follow my young,
followed the fortunes of the best commanders in dry-foot, over Moorfields to London this morn Christendom. I was twice shot at the taking of ing: now I, knowing of this hunting match, or Aleppo, once at the relief of Vienna; I have rather conspiracy, and to insinuate with my been at Marseilles, Naples, and the Adriatic young master (for so must we, that are blue-wait-Gulf; a gentleman-slave in the galleys thrice, ers, and men of hope and service do, or perhaps where I was most dangerously shot in the head, we may wear motley at the year's end, and who through both the thighs, and yet being thus wears motley, you know,) have got me afore in maimed, I am void of maintenance; nothing left this disguise, determining here to lie in ambus me but my scars, the noted marks of my resolucade, and intercept him in the mid-way. If I can tion. but get his cloak, his purse, his hat, nay any thing Step. How will you sell this rapier, friend? to cut him off, that is, to stay his journey—Veni,
Brain. Generous sir, I refer it to your own vidi, vici, I may say with captain Cæsar ; I am judgment; you are a gentleman, give me what made for ever, i'faith. Well, now must I practise you please. to get the true garb of one of those lance-knights, Step. True, I am a gentleman, I know that, my arm here, and my – Young master! and his friend: but what though? I pray you say, what cousin, master Stephen, as I am a true counter- would you ask? feit man of war, and no soldier! (Retires. Bruin. I assure you the blade may become the
side, or thigh, of the best prince in Europe. Enter Ed. Kno’WELL and Muster STEPHEX.
E. Kno. Aye, with a velvet scabbard, I think. E. Kno. So, sir, and how then, coz?
Step. Nay, an't be mine, it shall have a velvet Step. S'foot, I have lost my purse, I think. scabbard, coz, that's fiat: I would not wear it as E. Kno. How ! lost your purse! Where!-- | 'tis, an' you would give me an angel. When had you it?
Brain. At your worship’s pleasure, sir; nay, Step. I cannot tell : stay.
'tis a most pure Toledo. Bruin. 'Slid, I am afraid they will know me! Step. I had rather it were a Spaniard; but tell Would I could get by them!
me, what shall I give you for it? An' it had a silE. Kno. What, ha' you it?
ver hiltStep. No, I think I was bewitched, I
E. Kno. Come, come, you shall not buy it ; E. Kno. Nay, do not weep the loss ; hang it, hold, there's a shilling, fellow; take thy rapier.
Step. Why, but I will buy it now, because yon Step. Oh, 'tis here--No, an' it had been lost, say so; and there's another shilling, fellow, I I had not cared, but for a jet ring Mistress Mary scorn to be outbidden. What, shall I walk with
a cudgel, like a higginbottom, and may have a ra-. E. Kno. A jet ring! oh, the poesy, the poesy! pier for money?
Step. Fine, i'faith! • Though funcy sleep, my E. Kno. You may buy one in the city, loce is deep;' meaning, that though I did not Step. Tut, I'll buy this i' the field, so I will; I. fancy her, yet she loved me dearly.
have a mind to't, because 'tis a field rapier. Tell E. Kno. Most excellent !
me your lowest price. Step. And, then, I sent her another, and my Ě. Kno. You shall not buy it, I say. poesy was : • The deeper the sweeter, I'll be Step: By this money but I will, though I give judged by St Peter.'
more than 'tis worth,
let it go.
E. Kno. Come away, you are a fool.
Drest snails or mushrooms curiously before him, Step. Friend, I am a fool, that's granted: but Perfum'd my sauces, and taught him to make I'll here it for that word's sake. Follow me for your money.
Preceding still with my gray gluttony, Brain. At your service, sir. (Exeunt. At all the ord’naries, and only fear'd Enter KNO'WELL.
His palate should degenerate, not his manners.
These are the trades of fathers now. However, Kno. I cannot lose the thought yet of this let- My son, I hope, hath met within my threshold ter,
None of these household precedents; which are Sent to my son ; nor leave to admire the change
Strong Of manners, and the breeding of our youth And swift, to rape youth to their precipice. Within the kingdom, since myself was one. But let the house at home be ne'er so clean When I was young, he lived not in the stews, Swept, or kept sweet from filth, nay dust and Durst have conceived a scoin, and uttered it,
cobwebs, On a grey head: age was authority
If he will live abroad with his companions, Against a buffoon; and a man had then In dung and leystals, it is worth a fear, A certain reverence paid unto his years, Nor is the danger of conversing less That had none due unto his life. So much Than all that I have mentioned ot example. The sanctity of some prevailed for others. But now we are fallen; youth from their fear,
Enter BRAIN-WORM. And age from that, which bred it, good example. Brain. My master ! nay, faith, have at you; I Nay, would ourselves were not the first, even pa am fleshed now, I have sped so well; though I rents,
must attack you in a different way. Worshipful That did destroy the hopes in our own children; sir, I beseech you, respect the state of a poor solOr they not learned our vices in their cradles, dier! I am ashamed of this base course of life, And suck'd in our ill customs with their milk. (God's my comfort) but extremity provokes me Ere all their teeth be born, or they can speak, to't: what remedy? We make their pallats cunning. The first words Kno. I have not for you. We form their tongues with, are licentious jests. Brain. By the faith I bear unto truth, gentleCan it call whore? Cry bastard ? 0, then kiss it, man, it is no ordinary custom in me, but only A witty child! Can't swear? The father's dar. to preserve manhood. I protest to you, a man ling!
I have been, a man I may be, by your sweet Give it two plums. Nay, rather than it shall bounty. learn
Kno. Prithce, good friend, be satisfied. No bawdy song, the mother herself will teach it! Brain. Good sir, by that hand you may do the But this is in the infancy; the days
part of a kind gentleman, in lending a poor solOf the long coat: when it puts on the brecches, dier the price of two cans of beer, a matter of It will put off all this. Ay, it is like;
small value; the King of Heaven shall pay you, When it is gone into the bone already!
and I shall rest thankful: sweet worship No, no : this dye goes deeper than the coat, kno. Nay, an' you be so importunate Or sbirt, or skin ; it stains unto the liver
Brain. Oh, tender sir, need will have his course! And beart, in some: and rather than it should I was not made to this vile use ! Well, the edge not,
of the enemy could not have abated me so much. Note what we fathers do! look how we live! [He weeps.) It's hard, when a man hath served What mistresses we keep! at what expence ! in his prince's cause, to be thus-honourable In our son's eyes! Where they may handle our worship, let me derive a small piece of silver gifts,
from you; it shall not be given in the course of Hear our lascivious courtships, see our dalliance, time.' By this good ground, I was fain to pawn Taste of the same provoking meats with us, my rapier last night for a poor supper; I had To niin of our state! Nay, when our own 4 sucked the hilt long before, I am a pagan else: Portion is fled to prey on their remainder, sweet honour ! We call them into fellowship of vice:
Kno. Believe me, I am taken with some wonBait 'em with the young chambermaid to seal,
der, And teach 'em all bąd ways to buy affection. To think a fellow of thy outward presence, This is one path ; but there are millions more, Should, in the frame and fashion of his mind, In which we spoil our own, with leading them. Be so degenerate and sordid base! Well, I thank Heaven, I never yet was he, Art thou a man, and sham’st thou not to beg? That travelled with my son before sixteen, To practise such a servile kind of life? To shew him the Venetian courtezans,
Why, were thy education ne'er so mean, Nor read the grammar of cheating, I had made, Having thy limbs, a thousand fairer courses To my sharp boy at twelve; repeating still Offer themselves to thy election. The rule, get money, still get money, boy, Either the wars might still supply thy wants, No matter by what means. Money will do Or service of some virtuous gentleman, Blore, boy, than my lord's letter. Neither have I Or honest labour: nay, what can I name,
But would become thee better than to beg! Speak plainly, man: what think’st thou of my
Kno. Well, follow me; I will prove thee, if
(Exit. While thou insist in this loose desperate course, Brain. Yes, sir, straight : I will but garter my I would esteem the sin not thine, but his. hose. Oh! that my belly were hooped now, for
Brain. Faith, sir, I would gladly find some I am ready to burst with laughing! Never was a other course, if so
bottle or bag-pipe fuller. S’lid ! was there ever Kno. Aye, you would gladly find it, but you seen a fox in years to betray himself thus ? Now will not seek it.
I shall be possessed of all his counsels! and by Brain. Alas! sir, where should a man seek? | that conduct my young master. Well, he is rein the wars there's no ascent by desert in these solved to prove my honesty; faith, and I am redays, but—and for service, would it were as soon solved to prove his patience. Oh, I shall abuse purchased as wished for! (the air's my comfort) him intolerably! This small piece of service will I know what I would say
bring him clean out of love with the soldier for Kno. What's thy name?
He will never come within the sight of a Bruin. Please you, Fitz-Sword, sir.
red coat, or a musket-rest again. He will hate Kno. Fitz-Sword,
the musters at Mile-end to his dying day. It's Say that a man should entertain thee now, no matter; let the world think me a bad counWould'st thou be honest, humble, just, and true! terfeit, if I cannot give him the slip at an instant.
Bruin. Sir, by the place and honour of a sol Why, this is better than to have staid his jourdier
ney! Well, I will follow him. Oh, how I long kno. Nay, nay, I like not those affected oaths ! to be employed !
Apollo and the mad Thespian girls the better, Enter MATTHEW, WELL-BRED, and BOBADIL. there's some love in thee! Sirrah, these be the
while I live for this, my dear fury. Now I see Mat. Yes, faith, sir! we were at your lodging two I writ to thee of. Nay, what a drowsy hu to seek you too.
mour is this now! Why dost thou not speak? Well. Oh, I came not there to-night.
E. Kno. Oh, you are a fine gallant; you sent
Well. Why, was it not rare?
hold me; but let me say to you this : of reading the like. Match it in all Pliny's episas sure as honour, I esteem it so much out of tles, and I'll have my jercłgment burned in the ear the sunshine of reputation, to throw the least for a rogue; make much of thy vein, for it is beam of regard upon such a
inimitable. But I marvel what camel it was that Well. Sir, I must hear no ill words of my bro- had the carriage of it, for, doubtless, he was no ther.
ordinary beast that brought it. Bob. I protest to you, as I have a thing to be Well. Why? saved about me, I never saw any gentleman-like E. Kno. Why, sayest thou ? Why, dost thou part
think that any reasonable creature, especially in Well. Good captain, (faces about.] to some the morning, the sober time of the day too, could other discourse.
have mistaken my father for me? Bob. With your leave, sir, an' there were no Well. 'Slid, you jest, I hope. more men living upon the face of the earth, I E. Kno. Indeed, the best use we can turn it should not fancy him, by St George.
to, is to make a jest on't now; but I'll assure
Well. What a dull slave was this ! But, sirrah,
I have a shrewd guess what he thought.
Well. What, what?
E. Kno. Marry, that thou art some strange,
liar to you.
her last quarter, 'twill change shortly. But, sir Bob. Faith, sir, I was thinking of a most horah, I pray thee be acquainted with my two nourable piece of service was performed to-morhang-bys here; thou wilt take exceeding plea- row, being St Mark's day, shall be some ten years sure in them, if thou hearest them once go: my wind-instruments. I'll wind them up -But E. Kno. In what place, captain ? what strange piece of silence is this ? 'The sign Bob. Why, at the beleaguering of Strigonium, of the dumb man?
where, in less than two hours, seven hundred reE. Kno. Oh, sir, a kinsman of mine, one that solute gentlemen, as any were in Europe, lost may make your music the fuller, an' he please; their lives upon the breach. I'll tell you, gentlehe has his humour, sir.
men; it was the first, but the best leaguer, that Well. Oh, what is't, what is't?
ever I beheld with these eyes, except the taking E. Kno. Nay, I'll neither do your judgment, of what do you call it, last year, by the Ge. nor his folly, that wrong, as to prepare your ap- noese ; but thať (of all others) was the most fatal prehension. I'll leave him to the mercy of your and dangerous exploit that ever I was ranged in, search, if you can take him so.
since I first bore arms before the face of the eneWell. Well, Captain Bobadil, Master Matthew, my, as I am a gentleman and a soldier. I pray you know this gentleman here; he is a Step. 'So, I had as lief as an angel, I could friend of mine, and one that will deserve your swear as well as that gentleman ! affection. I know not your name, sir, but shall E. Kno. Then you were a servitor at both, it be glad of any occasion to render me more fami- seems; at Strigonium, and what do you call it?
Bob. Oh, lord, sir ! by St George, I was the Step. My name is Master Stephen, sir ; I am first man that entered the breach; and had I not this gentleman's own cousin, sir: his father is effected it with resolution, I had been slain, if I mine uncle, sir; I am somewhat melancholy, had had a million of lives. but you shall command me, sir, in whatsoever is E. Kno. It was a pity you had not ten; a cat's, incident to a gentleman.
and your own, i'faith. But was it possible ? Bob. Sir, I must tell you this, I am no general Mat. Pray you, mark this discourse, sir. man; but for Mr Well-bred's sake (you may em
Step. So I do. brace it at what height of favour you please) I do Bob. I assure you, upon my reputation, it is communicate with you ; and conceive you to be true, and yourself shall confess. a gentleman of some parts. I love few words. E. Kno. You must bring me to the rack first.
E. Kno. And I fewer, sir. I have scarce enow Bob. Observe me judicially, sweet sir: they to thank you.
had planted me three demi-culverins, just in the Mat. But are you indeed, sir, so given to it? mouth of the breach: now, sir, as we were to
[To Master STEPHEN. give on, their master-gunner (a man of no mean Step. Ay, truly, sir, I am mightily given to skill and mark, you must think) confronts me melancholy.
with his linstock, ready to give fire: I, spying his Mat. Óh, it is your only fine humour, sir; intendment, discharged my petrionel in his boyour true melancholy breeds your perfect fine som, and with these single arms, my poor rapier, wit, sir: I am melancholy myself, divers times, ran violently upon the Moors that guarded the sir; and then do I no more but take a pen and ordnance, and put them all, pell-mell, to the paper presently, and overflow you half a score or sword. a dozen of sonnets at a sitting.
Well. To the sword ! to the rapier, captain ! E. Kno. Sure he utters then then by the gross. E. Kno. Oh, it was a good figure observed,
(Aside. sir ! but did you all this, captain, without hurtStep. Truly, sir, and I love such things out of ing your blade? measure.
Bob. Without any impeach o’the earth : you E. Kno. l'faith, better than in measure, I'll shall perceive, sir. It is the most fortunate weaundertake.
pon that ever rid on poor gentleman's thigh. Mat. Why, I pray you; sir, make use of my Shall I tell you, sir ? You talk of Morglay, Exstudy, it's at your service.
calibar, Durindana, or so ? Tut, I lend no credit Step. I thank you, sir, I shall be bold, I war to what is fabled of them; I know the virtue of rant you; bave you a stool there to be melan mine own, and therefore I dare the bolder maincholy upon ?
tain it. Alat. That I have, sir, and some papers of my Step. I marvel whether it be a Toledo, or no. own doing, at idle hours, that you'll say there's Bob. A most perfect Toledo, I assure you, sir, sorne sparks of wit in 'em, when you see 'em. Step. I have a countryman of his here.
Well. Would the sparks would kindle once, Mat. Pray you, let's see, sir. Yes, faith, it is! and become a fire among 'em, I might see self Bob. This a Toledo! pish. love burnt for her heresy.
Step. Why do you pish, captain? Step. Cousin, is it well? am I melancholy Bob. A Fleming, by Heaven! I'll buy them for enough?
a guilder a-piece, an' I would have a thiousand of E. Kno. O, ay, excellent !
them. Well, Captain Bobadil, why muse you so ? E. Kno. How say you, cousin? I told you thus E. Kne. He is melancholy, too.