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EVERY MAN IN HIS HUMOUR.
Tho' need make many poets, and some such Nor nimble squib is seen, to make afear'd
And persons, such as comedy would choose, To make a child now swaddled, to proceed
When she would shew an image of the times, Man, and then shoot up in one beard and weed, And sport with human follies, not with crimes; Past three-score years : or, with three rusty Except we make 'em such, by loving still swords,
Our popular errors, when we know they're ill. And help of some few foot and half-foot words, I mean such errors as you'll all confess, Fight over York and Lancaster's long jars, By laughing at them, they deserve no less : And in the tiring-house bring wounds to scars. Which, when you heartily do, there's hope left He rather prays, you will be pleased to see
then, One such to-day, as other plays should be; You, that have so graced monsters, may like Where neither chorus wafts you o'er the seas, Nor creaking throne comes down, the boys to
ROGER FORMAL, his Clerk.
Master MATTHEW, the Town Gull.
COB, a Water-bearer.
Dame KITELY. DOWNRIGHT, a plain Squire.
Mrs BRIDGET, Sister to Kitely. WELL-BRED, his Half Brother.
Tie, Cob's Wife. Just ice CLEMENT, un old merry Magistrate.
SCENE,-London. VOL. III.
SCENE I.-A Court-yard before Kno'well's talk on it? Because I dwell at Hogsden, I shall House.
keep company with none but the archers of Fins
bury! or the citizens, that come a-ducking to Enter KNO'WELL and BRAINWORM.
Islington ponds ! A fine jest, i'faith! slid, a genKno. A Goodly day toward ! and a fresh tleman mun shew himself like a gentleman.-, morning! Brain-worm,
Uncle, I pray you be not angry. I know what I Call up your young master. Bid him rise, sir. have to do; I trow, I am no novice. Tell him, I have some business to employ him. Kno, You are a prodigal, absurd coxcomb: go to ! Brain. I will, sir, presently.
Nay, never look at me, 'tis I that speak. Kno. But hear you, sirrah!
Take't as you will, sir, I'll not flatter you. If he be at his book, disturb him not.
Have you not yet found means enow to waste Brain. Well, sir.
[Erit. That, which your friends have left you, but your Kno. How happy, yet, should I esteem myself,
must Could I, by any practice, wean the boy
Go cast away your money on a kite, From one vain course of study he affects. And know not how to keep it, when you've done? He is a scholar, if a man may trust
O, 'tis comely! this will make you a gentleman ! The liberal voice of Fame in her report,
Well, cousin, well! I see you are e'en past hope Of good account in both our universities; Of all reclaim. Ay, so, now you're told on it, Either of which have favoured him with graces.
You look another way.
Kno. What would í have you do! I'll tell you, Myself was once a student; and, indeed,
kinsman; Fed with the self-same humour he is now, Learn to be wise, and practise how to thrive ; Dreaming on nought but idle poetry,
That would I have you do; and not to spend That fruitless and unprofitable art,
Your coin on every bauble, that you fancy, Good unto none, but least to the professors, On every foolish brain, that humours you. Which, then, I thought the mistress of all know. I would not have you to invade each place; ledge:
Nor thrust yourself on all societies, But since, time and the truth have waked my Till men's aftections, or your own desert, judgment,
Should worthily invite you to your rank. And reason taught me better to distinguish He, that is so respectless in his courses, The vain from the useful learnings
Oft sells his reputation at cheap market.
Nor would I you should melt away yourself Enter Master STEPHEN.
In flashing bravery, lest, while you affect Cousin Stephen!
To make a blaze of gentry to the world, What news with you, that you are here so early? A little puff of scorn extinguish it,
Step. Nothing, but e'en come to see how you And you be left like an unsavoury spuff, do, uncle.
Whose property is only to offend.
Step. Ay, I know that, sir. I would not ha' Not, that your sail be bigger than your boat: come else. How doth my cousin Edward, uncle? But moderate your expences now (at first),
Kno. O, well, coz, go in and see: I doubt he As you may keep the same proportion still. be scarce stirring yet.
Nor stand so much on your gentility, Step. Uncle, afore I go in, can you tell me an' Which is an airy, mere borrowed thing, he have e'er a book of the sciences of hawking From dead men's dust and bones ; and none of and hunting? I would fain borrow it.
yours, Kno. Why, I hope you will not a hawking Except you make, or hold it. Who comes here? now, will you? Step. No wosse, but I'll practise against the
Enter a Servant. next year, uncle. I have bought me a hawk, Sero. Save you, gentlemen. and a hood, and bells, and all; I lack nothing Step. Nay, we do not stand much on our genbut a book to keep it by.
tility, friend ; yet, you are welcome, and I askno. O, most ridiculous !
sure you, mine uncle here is a man of a thousand Step. Nay, look you now, you are angry, un- a-year, Middlesex land; he has but one son in all cle. Why, you know, an' a man have not skill the world; I am his next heir (at the conthon in the hawking and hunting languages now-a-law) Master Stephen, as simple as I stand here ; days, I'll not give a rush for 'em. They are if my cousin die (as there is hope he will). I have a more studied than the Greek, or the Latin. He pretty living o' my own, too, beside, hard by here. is for no gallant's company without them. And Serv. In good time, sir. by Gad's lid I scorn it, I, so I do, to be a consort Step: In good time, sir! why, and in very for every hum-drum; hang them scroyls, there's good time, sir. You do not fout, friend, do you? nothing in them in the world. What do you Sero. Not I, sir.