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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. Kno. 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 do did either?
E. Kno. Here was a letter, indeed, to be interBruin. 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-inonger 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. my 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 : O, for a fourth! Fortune! if ever thou'lt fellow here, in a what sha'-call him doublet? He use thine eyes, I entreat theebrought mine uncle a letter e'en now,
Step. O, now I see who he laughs at. He Brain. Yes, master Stephen, what of him? laughs at somebody in that letter. By this good
Step. Oh! I ha' such a mind to beat him light, an' he had laughed at mewhere is he? can'st thou tell ?
E. Kno. How now, cousin Stephen, melanBrain. Faith, he is not of that mind: he is choly? gone, master Stephen.
Siep. 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 Ďrain. 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 uns 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 ngw; 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 am 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 Moor-gate, 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 stocking 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
t at me; an'
to be interbut think
of him in the end of 25-what? rnish out
ess. He ne, thar er thou
ld shew in a silk 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 betStephen, rarely
E. 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? uld; I have a
, 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 cood leg, master
at a conduit! fie! a wight, that, hitherto, his such device, sir: I have nothing to do withal. raise it longer every step hath left the stamp of a great foot be- I deal with water, and not with wine. Give me
[Erit hind him, at every word the savour of a strong my bucket there, hoa. God be with you, sir, it Brain-worm. spirit; and be! 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.
racle of nature,' which is all one. What think this Mr Matthew to be gentleman at the least.
His father is an honest man, a worshipful fishender, sure, Step. 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. George happily 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. I'll 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 is good 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
ter, hang sorrow, care 'll kill a cat, up-tails all,
SCENE IV.A Room in Cob's House. Bo-
APIL discovered upon a bench. TiB enters
Mat. What, Cob! Ilow dost thou, good Cob? Bob, Hostess, hostess !
Tib. Sir, there's a gentleman below would
Tib. My husband told him you were, sir.
Bob. What a plaguem-what meant he ?
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,
Cób. I will not give it him, 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 yon, 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. two cushions under his head, and his cloak wrap Bob. Not so, sir. I was requested to supper,
say you, sir?
Jast night, by a sort of gallants, where you were such an animal ! the most peremptory absurd wished for, and drank to, I assure you.
clown of Christendom, this day, he is holden. I Mat. Vouchsafe me by whom, good captain. protest to you, as I am a gentleman and a solBob. Marry, by young Well-bred, and others. dier, I ne'er changed words with his like. By Why, hostess! a stool here for this gentleman, his discourse, he should cat nothing but hay. Mat. No baste, sir, 'tis very well.
He was born for the manger, pannier or packBob. Body of me! It was so late ere we par- saddle ! He has not so much as a good phrase in ted last night, I can scarce open my eyes yet: 1 his belly, but all old iron and rusty proverbs! a was but new risen as you came. How passes good commodity for some smith to make hobthe day abroad, sir? can you tell ?
nails of. Mat. Faith, some half hour to seven. Now Mat. Ay, and he thinks to carry
with trust me, you have an exceeding fine lodging his manhood still, where he comes. He brags he 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 he 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 termMat. 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 was for the cabin is convenient; but in regard I 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
lant, a friend of mine, told me so. Mat. True, captain, I conceive you.
Bob. By the foot of Pharaoh, an' 'twere my Bov. For, do you see, sir, by the heart of case now, I should send him a challenge, prevalour in me, except it be to some peculiar and sently. The bastinado ! A most proper, and choice spirits, to whom I am extraordinarily enga- i/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-billing 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 von 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, şir. 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, O, 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,
sir, thus. Now, stand fast o' your left leg; note Dlat. 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 so—and have a bitworkmanship, was most peremptory-beautiful, ha' you about you, Master Matthew ? and gentleman-like; yet he condemned, and cri Nat. 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. Ilang him, rook! lle! why, he has no upon young Wellbred. Perhaps we shall meet more judgment than a malt-horse. By St. the Corydon, his brother, there, and put him to Gcorge, I wonder you'd lose a thought upon the question. Come along, Master Matthew.
zure, it mai said he si 1 young gal
АСТ II. , he is holden. 1 eman and a sole th his like. By SCENE I.A warehouse belonging to KITELY. But now his course is so irregular,
So loose, affected, and deprived of grare, othing but has
Enter Kitely, Casu, and DOWNRIGHT. annier or pack
And he himself, withal, so far fallen off
From that first place, as scarce no note remains, 1 good phrase is
There lies a note within, upon my desk ; To tell men's judgments where he lately stood. sty proverbs!
Here, take my key... It is no matter, neither. He's grown a stranger to all due respect;
Forgetful of his friends; and, not content
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 how came he
And weigh it, with the pieces of eight. Do you for giddy humour, and diseased riot :
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 :
Down. 'Sdains, I know not what I should say Down. Ay, what of him?
him in the whole world! he values me at a crack'twere my Kite. He is a jewel, brother.-
cd three-farthings, for aught I see. It will never enge, pre I took him of a child, up, at my door,
out of the flesh, that's bred in the bone! I have pper, And christened him; gave him my own name, told him cnough, one would think, if that would the LTEN Thomas;
serve. Well! he knows what to trust to, for Since bred him, at the hospital; where proving George. Let him spend and spend, and domiA toward imp, I called hiin home, and taught him neer, 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 Iedge ?
That I durst trust my life into his hands. by the ear, i' faith, and claps bis 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,
ere I part with it, to fetch him out, I'll assure
Down. 'Sdeath, he made mem-I could eat my the
But that, I know, your judgment is of strength, very spur-leathers, for anger ! But, why are you
so tame? Why do not you speak to him, and tell
kite. O, there are divers reasons to dissuade,
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 circumstance, And usage of your sister, but conorm
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.
Both gives and warrants vou authority;
That, in the rearing, would come tottering down,
With the false breath of telling what (lisgraces
And low disparagements I had put upon him. And seemed as perfect, proper, and possest,
Whilst they, sir, to relieve him in the table, As breath with life, or colour with the blood : Make their loose comments 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 coine; I'll but give order Kite. Brother, they would, believe it: so should I, For some dispatch of business to my servant Like one of these penurious quack-salvers, Down. I will-Scavenger! Scavenger! But set the bills up to mine own disgrace,
(Exit DOWNRIGHT. 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
Of wanton gallants, and young reveilers, 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 spiri-s 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,
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, vou, 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 Madye 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 Down. 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 hanginan 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 he is my brother, and take these sudden,