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Well. Where bought you it, Master Stephen? | Step. Of a scurvy rogue soldier (a hundred of Lice go with him); he swore it was a Toledo. Bob. A poor provant rapier, no better.

Mat. Mass, I think it be, indeed! now I look on't better.

E. Kno. Nay, the longer you look on't the worse. Put it up, put it up!

Step. Well, I will put it up ; but by—(I have forgot the captain's oath, I thought to have sworn by it) an' e'er I meet him

Well. O, 'tis past help now, sir; you must have patience.

Step. Whoreson coney-catching rascal! I could eat the very hilts for anger.

E. Kno. A sign of good digestion; you have an ostrich stomach, cousin.

Step. A stomach! I would I had him here! you should see an' I had a stomach.

Well. It is better as it is. Come, gentlemen, shall we go?

Enter BRAIN-WORM.

E. Kno. A miracle, cousin! look here! look here!

Step. O, god'slid, by your leave, do you know me, sir?

Brain. Ay, sir, I know you by sight.
Step. You sold me a rapier, did you not?
Brain. Yes, marry, did I, sir.
Step. You said it was a Toledo, ha?
Bruin. True, I did so.

Step. But it is none !

Brain. No, sir, I confess it is none. Step. Do you confess it? Gentlemen, bear witness, he has confessed it. By God's will, an' you had not confessed it

E. Kno. Oh, cousin, forbear, forbear.
Step. Nay, I have done, cousin.

Well. Why, you have done like a gentleman; he has confessed it, what would you more? Step. Yet, by his leave, he is a rascal, under his favour, do you see.

E. Kno. Ay, by his leave, he is, and under favour. A pretty piece of civility! Sirrah, how dost like him?

Well. Oh, it's a most precious fool, make much of him. I can compare him to nothing more happily, than a drum; for every one may play upon him.

E. Kno. No, no, a child's whistle were far the fitter.

Brain. Sir, shall I entreat a word with you? E. Kno. With me, sir! You have not another Toledo to sell, have you?

Brain. You are conceited, sir; your name is Master Kno'well, as I take it?

E. Kno. You are in the right. You mean not to proceed in the catechism, do you?

Brain. No, sir, I am none of that coat. E. Kno. Of as bare coat, though. Well, say, sir? Brain. Faith, sir, I am but a servant to the drum extraordinary; and indeed, this smoky varnish being washed off, and three or four patches

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removed, I appear your worship's in reversion, after the decease of your good father-Brain

worm.

E. Kno. Brain-worm! 'Slight, what breath of a conjurer hath blown thee hither in this shape? Brain. The breath o' your letter, sir, this morning: the same, that blew you to the Windmill, and your father after you.

E. Kno. My father!

Brain. Nay, never start; 'tis true; he has followed you over the fields by the foot, as you would do a hare i' the snow.

E. Kno. Sirrah, Well-bred, what shall we do, sirrah? My father is come over after me. Well. Thy father! Where is he?

Brain. At justice Clement's house, here, in Coleman-street, where he but stays my return; and then

Well. Who's this? Brain-worm?

Brain. The same, sir.

Well. Why, how, i' the name of wit, com'st thou transmuted thus?

Brain. Faith, a device! a device! Nay, for the love of reason, gentlemen, and avoiding the danger, stand not here; withdraw, and I'll tell you all.

Well. But art thou sure he will stay thy return?

Brain. Do I live, sir? what a question is that! Well. We'll prorogue his expectation, then, a little. Brain-worm, thou shalt go with us. Come on, gentlemen; nay, I pray thee, sweet Ned, droop not. 'Heart, an' our wits be so wretchedly dull, that one old plotting brain can outstrip us all, would we were e'en pressed to make porters of, and serve out the remnant of our days in Thames-street, or at Customhousekey, in a civil war against the car-men.

Brain. Amen, amen, amen, say I. [Exeunt.

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night.

Kite. O, that's well: fetch me my cloak, my cloak.

Stay, let me see; an hour to go and come;
Ay, that will be the least; and then 'twill be
An hour before I can dispatch with him,
Or very near: well, I will say two hours.
Two hours! ha! things, never dreamt of yet,
May be contrived, ay, and effected too,
In two hours absence. Well, I will not go.
Two hours! No, fleering opportunity!
I will not give your subtlety that scope.
Who will not judge him worthy to be robbed,
That sets his doors wide open to a thief,
And shews the felon where his treasure lies?
Again, what earthly spirit but will attempt

To taste the fruit of beauty's golden tree,
When leaden sleep seals up the dragon's eyes?
I will not go. Business, go by for once.
No, beauty, no; you are of too good caract
To be left so, without a guard, or open!
Your lustre too'll inflame at any distance,
Draw courtship to you, as a jet doth straws;
Put motion in a stone, strike fire from ice,
Nay, may a porter leap you with his burden.
You must be then kept up close, and well watch'd!
For, give you opportunity, no quick-sand
Devours or swallows swifter! He, that lends
His wife, if she be fair, or time, or place,
Compels her to be false. I will not go.
The dangers are too many. And then the dressing
Is a most main attractive! Our great heads
Within the city, never were in safety
Since our wives wore those little caps: I'll
change 'em,

I'll change 'em straight in mine. Mine shall no

more

Wear three-piled acorns, to make my horns ake.
Nor will I go. I am resolved for that.
Carry in my cloak again. Yet stay. Yet, do so.
I will defer going, on all occasions.

Cash. Sir, Snare, your scrivener, will be there with the bonds.

Kite. That's true! fool on me! I had clean forgot it! I must go. What's o'clock ? Cash. Exchange time, sir.

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swear.

What should I think of it? Urge him again,

Kite. 'Heart! then will Well-bred presently be And by some other way? I will do so.

here too,

With one or other of his loose consorts.

I am a knave, if I know what to say,
What course to take, or which way to resolve.
My brain, methinks, is like an hour-glass,
Wherein my imagination runs, like sands,
Filling up time; but then are turned, and turned;
So that I know not what to stay upon,
And less to put in act. It shall be so.
Nay, I dare build upon his secrecy;
He knows not to deceive me.

Cash. Sir.

Thomas!

Well, Thomas, thou hast sworn not to disclose;
Yes, you did swear?

Cash. Not yet, sir, but I will,
Please you

Kite. No, Thomas, I dare take thy word;
But if thou wilt swear, do-as thou think'st good;
I am resolved without it: at thy pleasure.

Cash. By my soul's safety, then, sir, I protest
My tongue shall ne'er take knowledge of a word,
Delivered me in nature of your trust.

Kite. It is too much; these ceremonies need not;

Kite, Yet now, I have bethought, too, I will I know thy faith to be as firm as rock.

not

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Thomas, come hither, near; we cannot be
Too private in this business. So it is,-
(Now he has sworn, I dare the safelier venture)
I have of late, by divers observations
But whether his oath can bind him, yea or no,
Being not taken lawfully? Ha! say you?
I will ask counsel ere I do proceed.
Thomas, it will be now too long to stay;
I'll spy some fitter time soon, or to-morrow,
Cash. Sir, at your pleasure.

Kite. I will think. And, Thomas,
pray you search the books, 'gainst my return,
For the receipts 'twixt me and Traps.
Cash. I will, sir.

Kite. And, hear you, if your mistress's brother,
Well-bred,

Chance to bring hither any gentlemen,
Ere I come back, let one straight bring me word.
Cash. Very well, sir.

Kite. To the Exchange; do you hear?
Or here in Coleman-street, to Justice Clement's.

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much;

It was a trial of you, when I meant
So deep a secret to you: I mean not this,
But that I have to tell you. This is nothing, this.
But, Thomas, keep this from my wife, I charge you.
Locked up in silence, midnight, buried here-
No greater hell than to be slave to fear. [Exit.
Cash. Locked up in silence, midnight, buried
here!

Whence should this flood of passion, trow, take heed? ha?

Best dream no longer of this running humour,
For fear I sink! the violence of the stream
Already hath transported me so far,
That I can feel no ground at all! But soft,
Here is company: now must I-

[Exit.

Enter WELL-BRED, EDW. KNO’WELL, BRAIN

WORM, BOBADIL, STEPHEN.

Well. Beshrew me, but it was an absolute good jest, and exceedingly well carried.

E. Kno. Ay, and our ignorance maintained it as well, did it not?

Well. Yes, faith; but was it possible thou should'st not know him? I forgive Master Stephen, for he is stupidity itself.

E. Kno. 'Fore God, not I, an' I might ha' been join'd patent with one of the seven wise masters for knowing him. He had so written himself into the habit of one of your poor infantry, your decayed, ruinous, worm-eaten gentlemen of the round; such as have vowed to sit on the skirts of the city, like your provost and his half-dozen of halbardiers, do what they can; and have translated begging out of the old hackney pace, to a fine easy amble, and make it run as smooth on the tongue as a shove-groat shilling. Into the likeness of one of these reformado's had he moulded himself so perfectly, observing every trick of their action, as varying the accent, swearing with an emphasis, indeed all with so special and exquisite a grace, that (hadst thou seen him,) thou would'st have sworn he might have been serjeant-major, if not lieutenant-colonel, of the regiment.

Well. Why, Brain-worm, who would have thought thou had'st been such an artificer?

E. Kno. An artificer? an architect! Except a man had studied begging all his life-time, and been a weaver of language from his infancy, for the clothing of it-I never saw his rival.

Well. Where got'st thou this coat, I marvel! Brain. Of a Houndsditch man, sir, one of the devil's near kinsmen, a broker.

Well. That cannot be, if the proverb hold, for a crafty knave needs no broker.

say.

Brain. True, sir, but I did need a broker: ergoWell. Well put off.-No crafty knave, you'll

E. Kno. Tut, he has more of these shifts. Brain. And yet where I have one, the broker has ten, sir.

Enter CASH.

Cash. Francis! Martin! ne'er a one to be found now? What a spite's this?

Well. How now, Thomas, is my brother Kitely within?

Cash. No, sir; my master went forth e'en now; but master Downright is within. Cob! what! Cob! Is he gone too?

Well. Whither went your master, Thomas, can'st thou tell?

Cash. I know not; to Justice Clement's, I think, sir. Cob! [Exit CASH. E. Kno. Justice Clement! What's he? Well. Why, dost thou not know him? He is a city magistrate, a justice here; an excellent good lawyer, and a great scholar; but the only mad and merry old fellow in Europe! I shewed you him the other day.

E. Kno. Oh, is that he? I remember him now. Good faith! and he has a very strange presence, methinks; it shews as if he stood out of the rank from other men. I have heard many of his jests in the university. They say, he will commit a man for taking the wall of his horse.

Well. Ay, or wearing his cloak on one shoulder, or serving of God. Any thing, indeed, if it come in the way of his humour.

Enter CASH.

Cash. Gasper, Martin, Cob! 'Heart! where should they be, trow?

Bob. Master Kitely's man, prithee vouchsafe us the lighting of this match.

Cash. Fire on your match, no time but now to vouchsafe! [Aside.] Francis! Cob!

Bob. Body of me! Here's the remainder of seven pound since yesterday was seven-night. It is your right Trinidado! Did you never take any, Master Stephen?

Step. No, truly, sir! but I'll learn to take it now, since you commend it so.

Bob. Sir, believe me, upon my relation; for what I tell you, the world shall not reprove. I have been in the Indies, where this herb grows, where neither myself, nor a dozen gentlemen more, of my knowledge, have received the taste of any other nutriment in the world, for the

space of one and twenty weeks, but the fume of this simple only. Therefore it cannot be, but 'tis most divine. Further, take it in the nature, in the true kind, so it makes an antidote, that had you taken the most deadly poisonous plant in all Italy, it should expel it, and clarify you, with as much ease as. I speak. And for your greenwound, your balsamum, and your St John's wort, are all mere gulleries and trash to it, especially your Trinadado; your Nicotian is good too. I could say what I know of the virtue of it, for the expulsion of rheums, raw humours, crudities, obstructions, with a thousand of this kind; but I profess myself no quacksalver. Only thus much; by Hercules, I do hold it, and will affirm it before any prince in Europe, to be the most sovereign and precious weed, that ever the earth tendered to the use of man.

E. Kno. This speech would have done decently in a tobacco-trader's mouth.

Enter CASH and COB.

Cash. At Justice Clement's he is, in the middle of Coleman-Street.

Cob. O, ho!

Bob. Where's the match I gave thee, Master Kitely's man?

foot, body of Cæsar! I shall never do it, sure; upon mine honour, and by St George! no, I have not the right grace.

Mat. Master Stephen, will you any? By this air, the most divine tobacco that ever I drunk! Step. None, I thank you, sir. Oh, this gen. tleman does it rarely too, but nothing like the other. By this air, as I am a gentleman: byBrain. Master, glance, glance! Master Well

bred.

test.

Step. As I have somewhat to be saved, I pro-
[Practising at a post.
Well. You are a fool, it needs no affidavit.
E. Kno. Cousin, will you any tobacco?
Step. Aye, sir! Upon my reputation-
E. Kno. How now, cousin!

Step. I protest, as I am a gentleman, but no soldier, indeed

Well. No, Master Stephen? As I remember your name is entered in the Artillery Garden. Step. Aye, sir, that's true. Cousin, may I swear, as I am a soldier;' by that?

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E. Kno. O yes, that you may; it's all you have for your money.

Step. Then, as I am a gentleman, and a soldier, it is divine tobacco.

Well. But soft, where is Mr Mathew? gone!
Brain. No, sir: they went in here.

Cash. Would his match and he, and pipe and
all, were at Sancto Domingo! I had forgot it.
Cob. But God's me, I mar'le what pleasure or
felicity they have in taking this roguish tobacco!
it is good for nothing but to choke a man, and
fill him full of smoke and embers. There were
four died out of one house last week with taking
of it, and two more the bell went for yester-
night; one of them (they say,) will ne'er 'scape
it; he voided a bushel of soot yesterday, upward
and downward. By the stocks, an there were
no wiser men than I, I'd have it present whip-ply drawn out with oaths.
ping, man or woman, that should but deal with a
tobacco-pipe. Why it will stifle them all in the
end, as many as use it. It's little better than
ratsbane or rosacker.

Well. O, let us follow them: Master Matthew is gone to salute his mistress in verse. We shall have the happiness to hear some of his poetry now. He never comes unfurnished. Brain-worm? Step. Brain-worm? Where is this Brain-worm? E. Kno. Ay, cousin, no words of it, upon your gentility.

[BOBADIL beats him with a cudgel, MAT-
THEW runs away.

All. Oh, good captain! hold! hold!
Bob. You base scullion, you.
Cash. Come, thou must need be talking too;
thour't well enough served.

Cob. Nay, he will not meddle with his match,
I warrant you. Well, it shall be a dear beat-
ing; an' I live, I will have justice for this.
Bob. Do you prate? Do you murmur?
[BOBADIL beats him off.
E. Kno. Nay, good captain, will you regard
the humour of a fool?

Well. Thomas, get him away.

Bob. A whoreson filthy slave, a dung-worm, an excrement! Body o' Cæsar, but that I scorn to let forth so mean a spirit, I'd have stabbed him to the earth.

Well. Marry, the law forbid, sir.

Bob. By Pharaoh's foot, I would have done it.
[Exit.

Step. Oh, he swears admirably! By Pharaoh's
VOL. III.

Step. Not I, body of me! by this air, St George, and the foot of Pharaoh !

Well. Rare! your cousin's discourse is sim

E. Kno. "Tis larded with them. A kind of French dressing, if you love it. [Exeunt.

SCENE III-A Hall in Justice CLEMENT'S
House.

Enter KITELY and COB.

Kite. Ha? How many are there, say'st thou ? Cob. Marry, sir, your brother, Master Wellbred

Kite. Tut, beside him: what strangers are there, man?

Cob. Strangers! let me see; one, two-mass,
I know not well, there are so many.
Kite. How, so many!

Cob. Ay, there are some five or six of them, at the most.

Kite. A swarm, a swarm!

Spite of the devil! how they sting my head
With forked stings, thus wide and large! But,
Cob,

How long hast thou been coming hither, Cob?
Cob. A little while, sir.

Kite. Didst thou come running?
Cob. No, sir.

Kite. Nay, then I am familiar with thy haste!

B

Bane to my fortunes! What meant I to marry ?
I, that before was ranked in such content,
My mind at rest too in so soft a peace,
Being free master of my own free thoughts,
And now become a slave? What, never sigh!
Be of good cheer, man, for thou art a cuckold.
'Tis done, 'tis done! Nay, when such flowing

store,

Plenty itself, falls into my wife's lap,
The cornucopia will be mine, I know. But, Cob,
What entertainment had they? I am sure
My sister and my wife would bid them welcome!
Ha!

Cob. Like enough, sir; yet I heard not a word of it.

Kite. No; their lips were sealed with kisses, and the voice,

Drowned in a flood of joy at their arrival,
Had lost her motion, state, and faculty.

Cob. By my troth, sir, will you have the truth of it?

Kite. Ay, good Cob, I pray thee heartily.

Cob. Then I am a vagabond, and fitter for Bridewell than your worship's company, if I saw any body to be kissed, unless they would have kissed the post in the middle of the warehouse; for there I left them all, at their tobacco, with a pox!

Kite. How! were they not gone in then, ere thou cam'st?

Cob. O, no, sir!

Kite. Spite of the devil! What do I stay here then? Cob, follow me. [Exit.

Cob. Nay, soft and fair, I have eggs on the spit. Now am I, for some five and fifty reasons, hammering, hammering revenge! Nay, an' he had not lain in my house, 'twould never have grieved me; but being my guest, one that, I'll be

Cob, which of them was't that first kissed my sworn, I loved and trusted, and he, to turn

wife?

My sister, I should say, my wife, alas!

I fear not her. Ha! Who was it, say'st thou ?

monster of ingratitude, and strike his lawful host! Well, I hope to raise up an host of fury for it. I'll to Justice Clement for a warrant. Strike his lawful host!

[Exit.

ACT. IV.

SCENE I.-A Room in KITELY's House.

Enter DOWNRIGHT and Dame KITELY. Down. Well, sister, I tell you true; and you will find it so, in the end.

Dame. Alas, brother, what would you have me to do? I cannot help it. You see my brother brings them in here; they are his friends.

Down. His friends! his friends! 'Slud, they do nothing but haunt him up and down, like a sort of unlucky spirits, and tempt him to all manner of villany that can be thought of. Well, by this light, a little thing would make me play the devil with some of them. An' 'twere not more for your husband's sake, than any thing else, I'd make the house too hot for the best of them. They should say, and swear, hell were broken loose, ere they went hence. But, by God's will, 'tis nobody's fault but yours; for an' you had done as you might have done, they should have been parboiled, and baked too, every mother's son, ere they should ha' come in e'er a one of them.

Dame. God's my life! did you ever hear the like? What a strange man is this! Could I keep out all them, think you? I should put myself against half a dozen men, should I? Good faith, you'd mad the patient'st body in the world, to hear you talk so without any sense or reason.

Enter Mrs BRIDGET, Master MATTHEW, WELLBRED, STEPHEN, EDWARD KNO'WELL, BOBADIL, and CASH.

Bridget. Servant, in troth, you are too prodigal Of your wit's treasure, thus to pour it forth Upon so mean a subject as my worth.

Mat. You say well, mistress; and I mean as well.

Down. Hey-day, here is stuff!

Well. O, now stand close. Pray Heaven she can get him to read; he should do it of his own natural impudence.

Bridg. Servant, what is this same, I pray you? Mat. Marry, an elegy! an elegy! an odd toyDown. To mock an ape withal. O, I could sew up his mouth now.

Dame. Sister, I pray you let's hear it.
Down. Are you rhyme-given too?
Mat. Mistress, I'll read it if you please.
Bridg. Pray you do, servant.

Down. O, here's no foppery! Death! I can endure the stocks better.

E. Kno. What ails thy brother? Can he not bear the reading of a ballad?

Well. O, no: a rhyme to him is worse than cheese, or a bag-pipe. But, mark, you lose the protestation.

Bob. Master Matthew, you abuse the expectation of your dear mistress, and her fair sister. Fie, while you live avoid this prolixity.

Mat. I shall, sir.

Rare creature! let me speak without offence: Would Heaven my rude words had the influence To rule thy thoughts, as thy fair looks do mine, Then shouldst thou be his prisoner, who is thine.

[Master STEPHEN answers with shaking his head.]

E. Kno. 'Slight, he shakes his head like a bottle, to feel an' there be any brain in it!

Well. Sister, what ha' you here? Verses?Pray you, let us see. Who made these verses? They are excellent good.

Mat. O, Master Well-bred, 'tis your disposi

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