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Then, if they stray, but warn them; and the the town. I think my leg would shew in a silk
hose. They would for virtue do, they will do for shame. Brain. Believe me, master Stephen, rarely
Step. In sadness, I think it would; I have a SCENE II.-Young Kno'well's Study. reasonable good leg.
Brain. You have an excellent good leg, master Enter Edward KNO'WELL and BRAIN-WORM,
Stephen; but I cannot stay to praise it longer E. Kno. Did he open it, say'st thou?
now; I am very sorry for't.
(Erit. Brain. Yes, o' my word, sir, and read the con Step. Another time will serve, Brain-worm.
Gra-mercy, for this, E. Kna. That's bad. What countenance, pray thee, made he in the reading of it? Was he angry,
Enter Young Kno'well, or pleased?
Brain. Nay, sir, I saw him not read it, nor E. Kno. Ha, ha, ha! open it, I assure your worship.
Step. 'Slid! I hope he laughs not at me; an' E. Kno. No! how know'st thou, then, that he he dodid either?
E. Kno. Here was a letter, indeed, to be interBrain, Marry, sir, because he charged me, oncepted by a man's father! He cannot but think my life, to tell nobody that he opened it: which, most virtuously both of me and the sender, sure, unless he had done, he would never fear to have that make the careful coster-monger of him in 'trevealed.
our familiar epistles. I wish I knew the end of E. Kno. That's true : well, I thank thee, Brain- it, which now is doubtful, and threatens—what !
[Exit. ny wise cousin! nay, then, I will furnish our
feast with one gull more toward the mess. He Enter Master STEPHEN,
writes to me of a brace, and here's one, that's Step: Oh! Brain-worm, did'st thou not see a three : 0, for a fourth! Fortune! if ever thou'lt fellow here, in a what sha'-call him doublet? He use thine eyes, I entreat thee brought mine uncle a letter e'en now.
Step. O, now I see who he laughs at. He
E. Kno. How now, cousin Stephen, melan-
Step. Yes, a little. I thought you had laughed Step. Gone! which way? when went he? how at me, cousin. long since ?
E. Kno. Why, what an'I had, coz, what would Brain. He is rid hence. He took horse at the you ha' done? street door.
Step. By this light, I would ha' told mine unStep. And I staid i' the fields! whoreson, scan cle. derberg rogue! O that I had but a horse to fetch E. Kno. Nay, if you would ha' told your un him back again!
cle, I did laugh at you, coz. Brain. Why, you may ha' my master's gelding,
indeed? to save your longing, sir.
E. Kno. Yes, indeed. Step. But I ha' no boots, that's the spite on't. Step. Why, then
Brain. Why, a fine wisp of hay, rolled hard, E. Kno. What then? master Stephen.
Step. I am satisfied; it is sufficient. Step. No, faith, it's no boot to follow him now; E. Kno. Why, be so, gentle coz. let him c'en go and hang. Prithee, help to truss you, let me entreat a courtesy of you. I ain sent me a little. He does so vex me
for, this morning, by a friend i'the Old Jewry, to Brain. You'll be worse vexed, when you are come to him: 'tis but crossing o'er the field to trussed, master Stephen. Best keep unbraced, Moor-gate : will you bear me company? I proand walk yourself till you be cold; your choler test, it is not to draw you into bond, or any plot may founder you else.
against the state, coz. Step. By my faith, and so I will, now thou Step. Sir, that's all one, an' 'twere; you shall tell'st me on't. How dost thou like my leg, command me, twice so far as Moorgate, to do Brain-worm?
you good, in such a matter. Do you think I Brain. A very good leg, master Stephen; but would leave you? I protestthe woollen sticking does not commend it so E. Kno. No, no, you shall not protest, coz. well.
Step. By my fackins, but I will, by your leave; Step. Foh, the stockings be good enough, now I will protest more to my friend, than I will summer is coming on, for the dust: I will have a speak of at this time. pair of silk against winter, that I go to dwell in E. Kno. You speak very well, coz,
And I pray
Step. Nay, not so, neither; you shall pardon ped about him, as though he had neither won me: but I speak to serve my turn.
nor lost; and yet, I warrant, he never cast betE. Kno. Your turn, coz! Do you know what ter in his life, than he has done to-night. you say? A gentleman of your sort, parts, car- Mat. Why, was he drunk? riage, and estimation, to talk of your turn in this Cob. Drunk, sir! you hear not me say so. company, and to me, alone, like a water-bearer Perhaps he swallowed a tavern-token, or some at a conduit! fie! a wight, that, hitherto, his such device, sir : I have nothing to do withal. every step hath left the stamp of a great foot be- I deal with water, and not with wine. Give me hind him, at every word the savour of a strong my bucket there, hoa. God be with you, sir, it spirit; and he! this man, so graced, so gilded, is six o'clock : I should have carried two turns or, as I may say, so tinfoyled by nature ! Come, by this. What hoa! my stopple ! come. come, wrong not the quality of your desert, with Mat. Lie in a water-bearer's house! A genlooking downward, coz; but hold up your head, tleman of his havings! Well, I will tell him my so; and let the idea of what you are be pour
mind. trayed in your face, that men may read in your Cob. What, Tib! shew this gentleman up to physiognomy, ' here, within this place, is to be the captain.- Tib shews Master Mat. into the
seen the true and accomplished monster, or mi house. You should have some now, would take "racle of nature,' which is all one. What think this Mr Matthew to be gentleman at the least. you of this, coz!
His father is an honest man, a worshipful fishStep. Why, I do think of it; and I will be more monger, and so forth; and now does he creep, proud, and melancholy, and gentleman-like, than and wriggle into acquaintance with all the brave I have been, I'll assure you.
gallants about the town, such as my guest is. O, E. Kno. Why, that's resolute, master Stephen! my guest is a fine man ! he does swear the legiNow, if I can hold him up to his height, as it is blest of any man christened: by St. Georgehappily begun, it will do well for a suburb-hu- the foot of Pharaoh-the body o' me,--as I am mour: we may hap have a match with the city, a gentleman and a soldier; such dainty oaths ! and play him for forty pounds. Come, coz. and withall, he does take this same filthy roguish Step. ill follow you.
tobacco, the finest and cleanliest! it would do a E. Kno. Follow me; you must go before. man good to see the fume come forth out at's
Step. Nay, an' I must, I will. Pray you, shew tonnels! Well, he owes me forty shillings, my me, good cousin.
[Exeunt. wife lent him out of her purse by six-pence a
time, besides his lodging. I would I had it! I SCENE III.- The street before CoB's house. shall ha' it, he says, the next action. Helter skel
ter, hang sorrow, care 'll kill a cat, up-tails all, Enter Master MATTHEW. and a louse for the hangman !
[Erit. Mat. I think this be the house. What, hoa ! Enter Cob, from the House.
SCENE IV.-A Room in CoB's House. BobCob. Who is there? O, Master Matthew ! |
ADIL discovered upon a bench. TIB: enters
to him. give your worship good morrow.
Mlat. What, Cob! How dost thou, good Cob? Bob. Hostess, hostess ! Dost thou inhabit here, Cob?
Tib. What say you, sir? Cob. Ay, sir, I and my lineage ha' kept a poor Bob. A cup o' thy small-beer, sweet hostess. house here in our days.
Tib. Sir, there's a gentleman below would Mat. Cob, canst thou shew me of a gentle speak with you. man), one Captain Bobadil, where his lodging is? || Bob. A gentleman ! 'ods so, I'm not within. Cob. O, my guest, sir, you mean?
Tib. My husband told him you were, sir. Mat. Thy guest! Alas! ha, ha.
Bob. What a plague- what meant he? Cob. Why do you laugh, sir? Do you not Mat. [Within.) Captain Bobadil! mean Captain Bobadil?
Bob. Who's there -Take away the bason, Mat. Cob, pray thee, advise thyself well : do good hostess. Come up, sir. not wrong the gentleman and thyself too. I dare Tib. He would desire you to come up, sir. You be sworn he scorns thy house. He ! he lodge come into a cleanly house here. in such a base, obscure place as thy house ! Tut, I know his disposition so well, he would not lie
Enter Master MATTHEW. in thy bed, if thou would'st give it him.
Cob. I will not give it bim, though, sir. Mass, Mat. 'Save you, sir; 'save you, captain. I thought somewhat was in it we could not get Bob. Gentle Master Matthew! is it you, sir! him to-bed, all night! Well, sir, though he lies Please you, sit down. not on my bed, he lies on my bench. And if it Mat. Thank you, good captain; you may see please you to go in, sir, you shall find him with I am somewhat audacious. Iwo cushions under his head, and his cloak wrap- Bob. Not so, sir. I was requested to supper, last night, by a sort of gallants, where you were such an animal! the most peremptory absui wished for, and drank to, I assure you.
clown of Christendom, this day, he is holden. Mat. Vouchsafe me by whom, good captain. protest to you, as I am a gentleman and a so Bob. Marry, by young Well-bred, and others. dier, I ne'er changed words with his like. Why, hostess! a stool here for this gentleman. his discourse, he should eat nothing but ha Mat. No haste, sir, 'tis very well.
He was born for the manger, pannier or pack Bob. Body of me! It was so late ere we par- saddle! He has not so much as a good phrase i ted last night, I can scarce open my eyes yet: 1 his belly, but all old iron and rusty proverbs! was but new risen as you came. How passes good commodity for some smith to make hoh the day abroad, sir? can you tell ?
nails of. Mat. Faith, some half hour to seven. Now Mat. Ay, and he thinks to carry it away wit trust me, you have an exceeding fine lodging his manhood still, where he comes. He brags hi here, very neat, and private !
will gi' me the bastinado, as I hear. Bob. Ay, sir: sit down. I pray you, Master
Bob. How! he the bastinado! how came hi Matthew, in any case, possess no gentleman of by that word, trow? our acquaintance with notice of my lodging. Mat. Nay, indeed, he said cudgel me; I term Mat. Who? I, sir? No
ed it so, for my more grace. Bob. Not that I need to care who know it, Bob. That may be : for I was sure, it wa: for the cabin is convenient; but in regard 1 none of his word. But when?' when said he so would not be too popular and generally visited, Mat. Faith, yesterday, they say: a young gal: as some are.
lant, a friend of mine, told me so. Mat. True, captain, I conceive you.
Bob. By the foot of Pharaoh, an' 'twere my Bob. For, do you see, sir, by the heart of case now, I should send him a challenge, pre valour in me, except it be to some peculiar and sently. The bastinado ! A most proper, and choice spirits, to whom I am extraordinarily enga- sufficient dependence, warranted by the great ged, as yourself, or so, I could not extend thus Caranza. Come hither, you shall challenge him far.
I'll shew you a trick or two, you shall kill him Mat. O lord, sir, I resolve so.
with, at pleasure: the first stoccata, if you will, (Pulls out a paper, and reads. by this air
. Bob. I confess, I love a cleanly and quiet Mat. Indeed, you have absolute knowledge i' privacy, above all the tumult and roar of for- the mystery, I have heard, sir. tune. What new piece ha' you there? Read it. Bob. of whom? Of whom ha' you heard it, Mat. (Reads.] “To thee, the purest object of I beseech you? my sense,
Mat. Troth, I have heard it spoken of by • The most refined essence Heaven covers, divers, that you have very rare and un-in one'Send I these lines, wherein I do commence
breath-utterable skill, sir. ' The happy state of turtle-hilling lovers. Bob, By Heaven, no, not I; no skill i' the
Bob. 'Tis good ; proceed, proceed. Where's earth! some small rudiments i' the science, as to this?
know my time, distance, or so. I have profest it Mat. This, sir? a toy o' mine own, in my non- more for noblemen and gentlemen's use than age: the infancy of my muses. But, when will mine own practice, I assure you. I'll give you a you come and see my study? Good faith, I can lesson. Look you, sir. Exalt not your point shew you some very good things, I have done of above this state, at any hand; so, sir, Come on! late-That boot becomes your leg, passing well, 0, twine your body more about, that you may captain, methinks.
fall to a more sweet, comely, gentleman-like Bob. So, so; it's the fashion gentlemen now guard. So, indifferent. Hollow your body more, use.
sir, thus. Now, stand fast o' your left leg; note Mat. Troth, captain, and now you speak o' your distance; keep your due proportion of time the fashion, Master Well-bred's elder brother -Oh, you disorder your point most irregularly! and I are fallen out exceedingly: this other day, Come, put on your cloak, and we'll go to some I happened to enter into some discourse of a private place, where you are acquainted; some hanger, which I assure you, both for fashion and tavern or soand have a bit-What money workmanship, was most peremptory-beautiful, ha' you about you, Master Matthew ? and gentleman-like; yet he condemned, and cri- Mat. Faith, I have not past a two shillings, or ed it down, for the most pied and ridiculous that ever he saw.
Bob. 'Tis somewhat with the least : but come, Bob. 'Squire Downright, the half-brother, was't we will have a bunch of raddishes, and salt, to not?
taste our wine; and a pipe of tobacco, to close Mat. Ay, sir, George Downright.
the orifice of the stomach : and then we will call Bob. Hang him, rook ! He ! why, he has no upon young Wellbred. Perhaps we shall meet more judgment than a malt-horsc. By St. the Corydon, his brother, there, and put him to George, I wonder you'd lose a thought upon the question. Come along, Master Matthew.
SCENE I.-A warehouse belonging to KITELY. | But now his course is so irregular,
So loose, affected, and deprived of grace, Enter KITELY, Cash, and DownRIGHT.
And he himself, withal, so far fallen off Kite, THOMAS, come hither.
From that first place,' as scarce no note remains, There lies a note within, upon my desk;
To tell men's judgments where he lately stood. Here, take my key' It is no matter, neither. He's grown a stranger to all due respect; Where is the boy?
Forgetful of his friends; and, not content Cash. Within, sir, in the warehouse.
To stale himself in all societies, Kite. Let him tell over, straight, that Spanish He makes my house, here, common as a mart, gold,
A theatre, a public receptacle
And here, as in a tavern or a stew,
He and his wild associates spend their hours He shall have the grograns at the rate I told him, In repetition of lascivious jests : And I will meet him, on the Exchange, anon. Swear, leap, drink, dance, and revel night by Cash. Good, sir.
[Erit. night, Kite. Do you see that fellow, brother Down Controul my servants; and, indeed, what not! right?
Down. 'Sdains, I know not what I should say to Down. Ay, what of him?
him in the whole world! he values me at a crackKite. He is a jewel, brother.
ed three-farthings, for aught I see. It will never I took him of a child, up, at my door,
out of the flesh, that's bred in the bone! I have And christened him; gave him my own name, told him enough, one would think, if that would Thomas;
serve. Well! he knows what to trust to, for Since bred bim, at the hospital; where proving George. Let him spend and spend, and domiA toward imp, I called him home, and taught him néer, till his heart ach; an' he think to be reSo much, as I have made him my cashier, lieved by me, when he is got into one of your And find him, in his place, so full of faith, city-ponds, the counters, he has the wrong sow That I durst trust my life into his hands. by the ear, i faith, and claps his dish at a wrong
Down. So would not I in any bastard's, brother, man's door. I'll lay my hand o' my halfpenny, As, it is like, he is, although I knew
ere I part with it, to fetch bim vut, I'll assure Myself his father. But you said you'd somewhat him. To tell me, gentle brother; what is't? what is't? Kite. Nay, good brother, let it not trouble you, Kite. Faith, I am very loth to utter it,
thus. As fearing it may hurt your patience:
Down. 'Sdeath, he made me I could eat my But that, I know, your judgment is of strength, very spur-leathers, for anger ! But, why are you Against the nearness of affection
so tanie? Why do not you speak to him, and tell Down What need this circumstance? Pray you him how he disquiets your house? be direct.
Kite. O, there are divers reasons to dissuade, Kite. I will not say how much I do ascribe
brother; Unto your friendship; nor, in what regard But, would yourself vouchsafe to travail in it, I hold your love; but, let my past behaviour, Though but with plain and easy circunstance, And asage of your sister, but confirm
It would both come much better to his sense, How well I've been affected to your
And savour less of stomach, or of passion. Down. You are too tedious; come to the mat You are his elder brother, and that title ter, the matter.
Both gives and warrants vou authority; Kite. Then, without further ceremony, thus. Whereas, if I should intimate the least, My brother Well-bred, sir, I know not how, It would but add contempt to his neglect, Of late, is much declined in what he was, Hcap worse on ill, make up a pile of hatred, And greatly altered in his disposition.
That, in the rearing, would come tottering down, When he came first to lodge, here, in my house, And in the ruin bury all our love. Ne'er trust me, if I were not prond of him: Nav, more than this, brother; if I should speak, Methought he bare himself in such a fashion, He would be ready, from his heat of humour, So full of man, and sweetness in his carriage. And over-flowing of the vapour in him, And, what was chief, it shewed not borrowed in | To blow the ears of his fainiliars him,
With the false breath of telling what disgraces But all he did became him as his own,
And low disparagements I had put upon him. And seemed as perfect, proper, and possest, Whilst they, sir, to relieve him in the fable, As breath with life, or colour with the blood : | Make their loose cominents upon every word,
Gesture, or look, I use; mock me all o'er; courses. Well, as he brews, so he shall drink,
But rather use the soft persuading way,
[Bell rings. My brother purposely, thereby to find
Kite. How now! Oh, the bell rings for An apt pretext to banish them my house.
breakfast. Down. Mass, perhaps so : they're like enough | Brother, I pray you, go in, and bear my wife to do it."
Company till I come; I'll but give order Kite. Brother, they would, believe it: so should I, For some dispatch of business to my servantLike one of these penurious quack-salvers,
Down. I will-Scavenger! Scavenger! But set the bills up to mine own disgrace,
[Exit DoWNRIGAT. And try experiments upon myself :
Kite. Well, though my troubled spirit's someLend scorn and envy opportunity
what eased, To stab my reputation and good name,
'Tis not reposed in that security
As I could wish : but, I must be content.
Howe'er I set a face on't to the world,
Would I had lost this finger, at a venture, Bob, Speak to him! Away! by the foot of So Well-bred had ne'er lodged within my house. Pharoah, you shall not; you shall not do him why it cannot be, where there is such resort that grace.
Of wanton gallants, and young revellers, Kite. What's the matter, sirs ?
That any woman should be honest long. Bob. The time of day to you, gentleman of Is't like, that factious beauty will preserve the house. Is Mr Well-bred stirring?
The public weal of chastity unshaken, Down. How, then? what should he do? When such strong motives muster, and make
Bob. Gentleman of the house, it is you : is he head * within, sir?
Against her single peace? No, no. Beware. Kite. He came not to his lodgings to-night, sir, When mutual appetite doth meet to treat, I assure you.
And spirits of one kind and quality
Come once to parley, in the pride of blood,
Well, to be plain, if I but thought the time
Marry, I hope they have not got that start; Down. 'Heart! stand you away, an' you love For opportunity hath baulked them yet, me.
And shall do still, while I have eyes and ears Kite. You shall not follow him now, I pray To attend the impositions of my heart. you, brother; good faith you shall not: I will My presence shall be as an iron-bar, overrule you.
| Twixt the conspiring motions of desire : Down. Ha ! scavenger! Well, go to, I say lit- | Yea, every look or glance mine eye ejects, tle: but, by this good day, (God forgive me I Shall check occasion, as one doth his slave, should swear) if I put up so, say, I am the rank- When he forgets the limits of prescription. est coward ever lived. "'Sdains, and I swallow this, I'll ne'er draw my sword in the sight of
Enter Dame KITELY. Fleet-street again, while I live; I'll sit in a barn Dame. Sister Bridget, pray you fetch down the with Madge Howlet, and catch mice first. Sca- rose-water above in the closet. Sweetheart, will venger!
you come in to breakfast? Kite. Oh, do not fret yourself thus! never Kite. An' she have overheard me now! [ Aside. think on it.
Dame. I pray thee, good muss, we stay for Doun. These are my brother's consorts, these ! you. these are his comrades, his walking mates! he is Kite. By Heaven, I would not for a thousand a gallant, a cavaliero, too, right hangman cut! angels. .
[ Aside. Let me not live, an' I could not find in my heart Dame. What ails you, sweetheart? are you to swinge the whole gang of them, one after ano not well? Speak, good muss. ther, and begin with him first, I am grieved it | Kite. Troth, my head aches extremely, on a should be said be iş my brother, and take these sudden.