Of all reclaim. Ay, so, now you're told on it,

You look another way.

Or

Step. What would you ha' me do?

Kno. What would I have you do! I'll tell you, kinsman;

Learn to be wise, and practise how to thrive;
That would I have thee do: and not to spend
Your coin on every bawble that you fancy,
every
foolish brain that humours you.
"I would not have you to invade each place,
"Nor thrust yourself on all societies,
"Till men's affections, or your own desert,
"Should worthily invite you to your rank.
"He that is so respectless in his courses,
"Oft sells his reputation at cheap market.
"Nor would I you should melt away yourself
"In flashing bravery, lest while you
affect
"To make a blaze of gentry to the world,
"A little puff of scorn extinguish it,
"And you be left like an unsavory snuff,
"Whose property is only to offend.”
I'd ha' you sober and contain yourself:
Not, that your sail be bigger than your boat:
But mod'rate your expences now (at first)
As you may keep the same proportion still.
Nor stand so much on your gentility,

Which is an airy, and mere borrow'd thing,

From dead men's dust and bones: and none of yours:

Except you make, or hold it. Who comes here?

Enter a Servant.

Sero. Save you, gentlemen.

Step. Nay, we do not stand much on our gentility, friend; yet, you are welcome; and I assure you mine uncle here is a man of a thousand a-year, Middlesex land he has but one son in all the world; I am his next heir (at the common law) master Stephen, as simple as I stand here; if my cousin die (as there's hope he will). I have a pretty living o' my own too, beside, hard by here.

Serv. In good time, sir.

Step. In good time, sir! why? and in very good time, sir. You do not flout, friend, do you?

Serv. Not I, sir.

Step. Not you, sir! you were not best, sir; an' you should, here be them can perceive it, and that quickly too: go to. And they can give it again soundly too, an' need be.

Serv. Why, sir, let this satisfy you: good faith, I had no such intent.

Step. Sir, an' I thought you had, I would talk with you, and that presently.

Serv. Good master Stephen, so you may, sir, at your pleasure.

Step. And so I would, sir, good my saucy companion? an' you were out o' my uncle's ground, I can tell you; though I do not stand upon my gentility neither in't.

Kno. Cousin! cousin! will this ne'er be left?

Step. Whoreson, base fellow? a mechanical serving 'man? By this cudgel, and 'twere not for shame, I would

Kno. What would you do, you peremptory gull ?
If you cannot be quiet, get you hence.
You see, the honest man demeans himself
Modestly towards you, giving no reply

To your unseason'd, quarrelling, rude fashion:
And still you huff it, with a kind of carriage,
As void of wit, as of humanity.

Go, get you in, 'fore heaven, I am asham'd
Thou hast a kinsman's interest in me.

[Exit Step. Serv. I pray you, sir, is this Master Kno'well's house?

Kno. Yes, marry, is't, sir.

Serv. I should inquire for a gentleman here, one Master Edward Kno'well: do you know any such, sir, I pray you?

Kno. I should forget myself else, sir.

Serv. Are you the gentleman: cry you mercy, sir: I was requir'd by a gentleman i' the city, as I rode out at this end of the town, to deliver you this letter, sir.

Kno. To me, sir! [To his most selected friend, Master Edward Kno'well.] What might the gentleman's name be, sir, that sent it?

Serv. One Master Well-bred, sir.

Kno. Master Well-bred! A young gentleman? Is

he not?

Serv. The same, sir; Master Kitely married his sister the rich merchant i' the Old Jewry.

Kno. You say very true.

Brain-worm.

Enter BRAIN-WORM.

Brain. Sir.

Kno. Make this honest friend drink here.Pray

you go in.

[Exeunt Brain. and Servant.

This letter is directed to my son :

Yet I am Edward Kno'well too, and may,
With the safe conscience of good manners, use
The fellow's error to my satisfaction.

Well, I will break it ope (old men are curious)
Be it but for the stile's sake, and the phrase,
To see if both do answer my son's praises,
Who is, almost, grown the idolater

Of this young Well-bred: What have we here?—
What's this?

[The Letter.]

Why, Ned, I beseech thee, hast thou forsworn all thy friends i' th' Old Jewry? or dost thou think us all Jews that inhabit there? Leave thy vigilant father alone, to number over his green apricots, evening and morning, o' the north-west wall: an' I had been his son, I had sav'd him the labour long since; if, taking in all the young wenches that pass by, at the back door, and coddling every kernel of the fruit for 'em would ha' served. But pr'ythee, come over to me, quickly, this morning: I have such a present for thee (our Turkey company never sent the like to

the Grand Signior). One is a rhimer, sir, o' your own batch, your own leven; but doth think himself poet-major o'the town; willing to be shewn, and worthy to be seen. The other-I will not venture his description with you till you come, because I would ha' you make hither with an appetite. If the worst of 'em be not worth your journey, draw your bill of charges, as unconscionable as any Guildhall verdict will give it you, and you shall be allow'd your Viaticum.

From the Windmill.

From the Burdello, it might come as well;
The Spittal is this the man,

My son hath sung so, for the happiest wit,
The choicest brain, the times hath sent us forth?
I know not what he may be in the arts;

Nor what in schools: but surely, for his manners,
I judge him a profane and dissolute wretch:
Worse, by profession of such great good gifts,
Being the master of so loose a spirit.

Why, what unhallow'd ruffian would have writ,
In such a scurrilous manner, to a friend?
Why should he think, I tell my apricots ?
Or play th' Hesperian dragon with my fruit,
To watch it? Well, my son, I 'ad thought
You'd had more judgment, t' have made election
Of your companions, "than t' have ta'en on trust
"Such petulant, jeering gamesters, that can spare
"No argument, or subject from their jest.”
But I perceive, affection makes a fool

Of any man, too much the father. Brain-worm.