Mat. This, sir? a toy o' mine own, in my nonage : the infancy of my muses. But, when will you come and see my study? Good faith, I can shew you some very good things I have done of late-That boot becomes your leg, passing well, captain, methinks. Bob. So, so; it's the fashion gentlemen now use. Mat. Troth, captain, and now you speak o' the fashion, Master Well-bred's elder brother and I are fall'n out exceedingly: this other day, I happen'd to enter into some discourse of a hanger, which I assure you, both for fashion and workmanship, was most peremptory-beautiful, and gentleman-like; yet he condemn'd, and cry'd it down, for the most pied and ridiculous that ever he saw.

Bob. 'Squire Downright, the half-brother, was't

not ?

Mat. Ay, sir, George Downright.

Bob. Hang him, rook! He! why, he has no more judgment than a malt-horse. By St. George, I wonder you'd lose a thought upon such an animal! The most peremptory absurd clown of Christendom, this day, he is holden. I protest to you, as I am a gentleman and a soldier, I ne'er chang'd words with his like. By his discourse, he should eat nothing but hay. He was born for the manger, pannier, or packsaddle! He has not so much as a good phrase in his belly, but all old iron and rusty proverbs! a good commodity for some smith to make hob-nails of.

Mat. Ay, and he thinks to carry it away with his

manhood still, where he comes. He brags he will gi' me the bastinado, as I hear.

Bob. How he the bastinado! how came he by that word, trow?

Mat. Nay, indeed, he said cudgel me; I term'd it so, for my more grace.

Bob. That may be: for I was sure, it was none of his word. But when! when said he so?

Mat. Faith, yesterday, they say: a young gallant, a friend of mine, told me so.

Bob. By the foot of Pharaoh, an' 'twere my case now, I should send him a challenge, presently. The bastinado! A most proper, and sufficient dependence, warranted by the great Caranza. Come hither, you shall challenge him. I'll shew you a trick or two, you shall kill him with, at pleasure: the first stoccata, if you will, by this air.

Mat. Indeed, you have absolute knowledge i’the mystery, I have heard, sir.

Bob. Of whom? Of whom ha' you heard it, I beseech you?

Mat. Troth, I have heard it spoken of by divers, that you have very rare and un-in-one-breath-utterable skill, sir.

Bob. By Heaven, no, not I; no skill i' the earth: some small rudiments i' the science, as to know my time, distance, or so. I have profest it more for noblemen, and gentlemen's use than mine own practice, I assure you. I'll give you a lesson. Look you, sir.

Exalt not your point above this state, at any hand; so, sir. Come on! O, twine your body more about, that you may fall to a more sweet, comely, gentleman-like guard. So, indifferent. Hollow your body more, sir, thus. Now, stand fast o' your left leg; note your distance; keep your due proportion of time -Oh, you disorder your point most irregularly ! Come, put on your cloak, and we'll go to some private place, where you are acquainted, some tavern or so and have a bit-What money ha' you about you, Mr. Matthew?

Mat. Faith, I ha' not past a two shillings, or so.

Bob. 'Tis somewhat with the least: but come, we will have a bunch of raddishes, and salt, to taste our wine; and a pipe of tobacco, to close the orifice of the stomach: and then we'll call upon young Wellbred. Perhaps we shall meet the Corydon, his brother, there, and put him to the question. Come along, Mr. Matthew [Exeunt.

ACT II. SCENE I.

A Warehouse, belonging to KITELY. Enter KITELY, CASH, and DOWNRIGHT

THOMAS, Come hither.

Kitely

There lies a note within, upon my desk,

Here, take my key-It is no matter, neither.
Where is the boy?

Cash. Within, sir, i' the warehouse.

Kite. Let him tell over, straight, that Spanish gold, And weigh it, with the pieces of eight.

See the delivery of those silver stuffs

To Mr. Lucar.

Tell him, if he will,

Do you

He shall ha' the grograns at the rate I told him,
And I will meet him, on the Exchange, anon.

Cash. Good, sir.

[Exit.

Kite. Do you see that fellow, brother Downright? Dow. Aye, what of him?

Kite. He is a jewel, brother,

I took him of a child, up, at my door,

And christened him; gave him my own name, Thomas;
Since bred him, at the hospital; where proving
A toward imp, I call'd him home, and taught him
So much, as I have made him my cashier,
And find him, in his place, so full of faith,
That I durst trust my life into his hands.

Dow. So would not I in any bastard's brother,
As, it is like, he is, although I knew

Myself his father. But you said you'd somewhat
To tell me, gentle brother, what is't? what is't?
Kite. Faith, I am very loth to utter it,

As fearing it may hurt your patience :
But that I know your judgment is of strength,

Against the nearness of affection.

Dow. What need this circumstance? Pray you be direct.

"Kite. I will not say how much I do ascribe "Unto your friendship; nor, in what regard "I hold your love: but let my past behaviour, "And usage of your sister, but confirm

"How well I've been affected to your

Dow. "You are too tedious," come to the matter, the matter.

Kite. Then, without further ceremony, thus.
My brother, Well-bred, sir, I know not how,
Of late, is much declin'd in what he was,
And greatly alter'd in his disposition.

When he came first to lodge here in my house,
Ne'er trust me, if I were not proud of him:
"Methought he bare himself in such a fashion,
"So full of man, and sweetness in his carriage,
"And what was chief, it shew'd not borrow'd in him,
"But all he did, became him as his own,

"And seem'd as perfect, proper, and possest,
“As breath with life, or colour with the blood :"
But now his course is so irregular,

So loose, affected, and depriv'd of grace,

"And he himself withal so far fall'n off

"From that first place, as scarce no note remains,
"To tell men's judgments where he lately stood.
"He's grown a stranger to all due respect;
"Forgetful of his friends, and not content
"To stale himself in all societies,"

He makes my house here, common, as a mart,
A theatre, a public receptacle

For giddy humour, and diseased riot: