Well. Why?

E. Kno. Why, sayest thou? Why, dost thou think that any reasonable creature, especially in the morning, the sober time of the day too, could have mistaken my father for me?

Well. 'Slid, you jest, I hope.

E. Kno. Indeed, the best use we can turn it to, is to make a jest on't now; but I'll assure you, my father had the full view of your flourishing style, before I saw it.

Well. What a dull slave was this! But, sirrah, what said he to it, i'faith?

Step. Cousin, it is well; I am melancholy enough?

E. Kno. O, ay, excellent!

Well. Captain Bobadil, why muse you so?
E. Kno. He is melancholy too.

Bob. Faith, sir, I was thinking of a most honourable piece of service was performed, to-morrow, being St Mark's day, shall be some ten years now.

E. Kno. In what place, captain?

Bob. Why, at the beleaguering of Strigonium, where, in less than two hours, seven hundred re

Well. What, what?

E. Kno. Marry, that thou art some strange, dissolute young fellow, and I not a grain or two better, for keeping thee company.

Well. Tut! that thought is like the moon in her last quarter, 'twill change shortly. But, sirrah, I pray thee be acquainted with my two hang-bys here; thou wilt take exceeding pleasure in them, if thou hearest them once go: my wind-instruments. I'll wind them up-But what strange piece of silence is this? The sign of the dumb man?

E. Kno. Oh, sir, a kinsman of mine, one that may make your music the fuller, an' he please; he has his humour, sir.

Well. Oh, what is't, what is't?

E. Kno. Nay, I'll neither do your judgment, nor his folly, that wrong, as to prepare your apprehension. I'll leave him to the mercy of your search, if you can take him so.

Well. Well. Captain Bobadil, Master Matthew, I pray you know this gentleman here; he is a friend of mine, and one, that will deserve your affection. I know not your name, sir, but shall be glad of any occasion to render me more familiar to you.

Step. My name is Master Stephen, sir; I am this gentleman's own cousin, sir: his father is mine uncle, sir; I am somewhat melancholy, but you shall command me, sir, in whatsoever is incident to a gentleman.

Bob. Sir, I must tell you this, I am no general man; but for Mr Well-bred's sake (you may embrace it at what height of favour you please) I do communicate with you; and conceive you to be a gentleman of some parts. I love few words. E. Kno, And I fewer, sir. I have scarce enow to thank you.

Mat. But are you indeed, sir, so given to it? [To Master STEPHEN. Step. Ay, truly, sir, I am mightily given to melancholy.

Mat. Oh, it is your only fine humour, sir; your true melancholy breeds your perfect fine wit, sir: I am melancholy myself, divers times, sir; and then do I no more but take a pen and paper presently, and overflow you half a score or a dozen of sonnets at a sitting.

their lives upon the breach. I'll tell you, gentlemen; it was the first, but the best leagure, that ever I beheld with these eyes, except the taking of what do you call it, last year, by the Genoese; but that (of all others) was the most fatal and dangerous exploit that ever I was ranged in, since I first bore arms before the face of the enemy, as I am a gentleman and a soldier.

Step. 'So, I had as lief as an angel, I could swear as well as that gentleman!

E. Kno. Then you were a servitor at both, it seems; at Strigonium, and what do you call it?

Bob. Oh, lord, sir! by St George, I was the first mau that entered the breach; and had I not effected it with resolution, I had been slain, if I had had a million of lives.

E. Kno. It was a pity you had not ten; a cat's, and your own, i'faith. But was it possible? Mat. Pray you, mark this discourse, sir. Step. So I do.

Bob. I assure you, upon my reputation, it is true, and yourself shall confess.

E. Kno. You must bring me to the rack first.

Bob. Observe me judicially, sweet sir: they had planted me three demi-culverins, just in the mouth of the breach: now, sir, as we were to give on, their master-gunner (a man of no mean skill and mark, you must think) confronts me with his linstock, ready to give fire: I, spving his intendment, discharged my petrionel in his bosom, and with these single arms, my poor rapier, ran violently upon the Moors that guarded the ordnance, and put them all, pell-mell, to the sword.

Well. To the sword! to the rapier, captain! E. Kno. Oh, it was a good figure observed, sir! but did you all this, captain, without hurt ing your blade?

Bob. Without any impeach o' the earth: you shall perceive, sir. It is the most fortunate weapon that ever rid on poor gentleman's thigh, Shall I tell you, sir? You talk of Morglay, Excalibar, Durindana, or so? Tut, I lend no credit to what is fabled of them; I know the virtue of mine own, and therefore I dare the bolder maintain it.

Step. I marvel whether it be a Toledo, or no.
Bob. A most perfect Toledo, I assure you, sir.
Step. I have a countryman of his here.
Mat. Pray you, let's see, sir. Yes, faith, it is!

Bob. This a Toledo! pish.

Step. Why do you pish, captain?

Bob. A Fleming, by Heaven! I'll buy them for a guilder a piece, an' I would have a thousand of them.

E. Kno. How say you, cousin? I told you thus much.

Well. Where bought you it, Master Stephen? Step. Of a scurvy rogue soldier (a hundred of lice go with him); he swore it was a Toledo. Bob. A poor provant rapier, no better. Mat. Mass, I think it be, indeed! now I look

on't better.

E. Kno. Nay, the longer you look on't the worse. Put it up, put it up!

Step. Well, I will put it up but by-(I have forgot the captain's oath, I thought to have sworn by it) an' e'er I meet him

Well. O, 'tis past help, now, sir; you must have patience.

Step. Whoreson rascal! I could eat the very hilts for anger.

E. Kno. A sign of good digestion; you have an ostrich stomach, cousin.

Step. A stomach! I would I had him here! you should see an' I had a stomach.

Well. It is better as it is. Come, gentlemen, shall we go?

Enter BRAIN-WORM.

E. Kno. A miracle, cousin! look here! look here!

Brain. You are conceited. sir; your name is Mr Kno'well, as I take it?

E. Kno. You are in the right. You mean not to proceed in the catechism, do you? Brain. No, sir, I am none of that coat. E. Kno. Of as bare coat, though! Well say, sir?

Brain. Faith, sir, I am but a servant to the drum extraordinary, and indeed, this smoky varnish being washed off, and three or four patches removed, I appear your worship's in reversion, after the decease of your good father—Brain

Brain. Nay, never start; 'tis true; he has followed you over the fields by the foot, as you would do a hare i' the snow.

E. Kno. Sirrah, Well-bred, what shall we do, sirrah? My father is come over after me. Well. Thy father! Where is he?

Brain. At justice Clement's house, here, in Coleman-street, where he but stays my return; and then

Well. Who's this? Brain-worm?
Brain. The same, sir.

Well. Why, how, i' the name of wit, comest

me, sir?

Brain. No, sir, I confess it is none.

Step. Do you confess it? Gentlemen, bear witness, he has confessed it. By God's will, an' you had not confessed it

E. Kno. Oh, cousin, forbear, forbear.
Step Nay, I have done, cousin.

Well. Why, you have done like a gentleman; he has confessed it, what would you more? Step. Yet, by his leave, he is a rascal, under his favour, do you see.

E. Kno. Ay, by his leave, he is, and under favour. Pretty piece of civility! Sirrah, how dost like him?

Well. Oh, it's a most precious fool, make much of him. I can compare him to nothing more happily, than a drum; for every one may play upon him.

E. Kno. No, no, a child's whistle were far the fitter.

Brain. Sir, shall I entreat a word with you? E. Kno. With me, sir! You have not another Toledo to sell, have you?

Bruin. Faith, a device! a device! Nay, for the love of reason, gentlemen, and avoiding the danger, stand not here; withdraw, and I'll tell you all.

Kite. What says he, Thomas? Did you speak with him?

Cash. He will expect you, sir, within this half hour.

Keit. Has he the money ready? Can you tell? Cash. Yes, sir, the money was brought in last night.

Kite. O, that's well: fetch me my cloak, my cloak.

Stay, let me sce; an hour to go and come;
Ay, that will be the least; and then 'twill be
An hour before I can dispatch him,
Or very near well, I will say two hours.
Two hours! ha! things, never dreamt of yet,
May be contrived, ay, and effected too,
In two hours absence. Well, I will not go.
Two hours! No, fleering opportunity!
I will not give your subtlety that scope.
Who will not judge him worthy to be robbed,
That sets his doors wide open to a thief,

Cash. I shall not, sir.

Kite. Be it your special business

Now to remember it.

Cash. Sir, I warrant you.

Well. How now, Thomas, is my brother Kitely within ?

Cash. No, sir; my master went forth e'en now; but master Downright is within. Cob! what, Cob! Is he gone too?

Well. Whither went your master, Thomas, can'st thou tell?

Cash. I know not; to Justice Clement's, I [Exit Cash.

I told you of.

Cash. No, sir, I do suppose it.

Kite. Believe me, it is not.
Cash. Sir, I do believe you.

Kite. By Heaven! it is not, that's enough.
But, Thomas,

I would not you should utter it, do you see,
To any creature living; yet I care not.
Well, I must hence. Thomas, conceive thus
much;

It was a trial of you, when I meant

So deep a secret to you: I mean not this,
But that I have to tell you. This is nothing, this,
But, Thomas, keep this from my wife, I charge you.
Locked up in silence, midnight, buried here-
No greater hell than to be slave to fear. [Exit.
Cash. Locked up in silence, midnight, buried
here!

Whence should this flood of passion, trow, take

head? ha!

Enter WELL-BRED, EDW. KNO'WELL,
WORM, BOBADIL, STEPHEN.
Well. Beshrew me, but it was an absolute
good jest, and exceedingly well carried.

E. Kno. Ay, and our ignorance maintained it as well, did it not?

Well. Yes, faith! but was it possible thou should'st not know him? I forgive Master Stephen, for he is stupidity itself.

E. Kno. Justice Clement! What's he? Well. Why, dost thou not know him? He is a city magistrate, a justice here; an excellent good lawyer, and a great scholar; but the only mad and merry old fellow in Europe! I shewed you him the other day.

E. Know. Oh, is that he? I remember him now. Good faith and he has a very strange presence, methinks; it shews as if he stood out of the rank from other men. I have heard many of his jests in the university. They say, he will commit a man for taking the wall of his horse.

Well. Ay, or wearing his cloak on one shoulder, or serving of God. Any thing, indeed, if it come in the way of his humour.

Enter CASH.

Cash. Gasper, Martin, Cob! 'Heart! where should they be, trow?

Bob. Master Kitely's man, prithee vouchsafe us the lighting of this match.

Cash. Fire on your match, no time but now to vouchsafe! [Aside.] Francis! Cob!

Bob, Body of me! Here's the remainder of seven pound since yesterday was seven-night. It is your right Trinidado! Did you never take any, Master Stephen?

Step. No, truly, sir! but I'll learn to take it now, since you commend it so.

Bob. Sir, believe me, upon my relation; for what I tell you, the world shall not reprove. I have been in the Indies, where this herb grows, where neither myself, nor a dozen gentlemen more, of my knowledge, have received the taste of any other nutriment in the world, for the space of one and twenty weeks, but the fume of this simple only. Therefore, it cannot be, but 'tis most divine, especially your Trinidado. Your

Well. Why, Brain-worm, who would have thought thou had'st been such an artificer?

E. Kno. An artificer! an architect! Except a man had studied begging all his life-time, and been a weaver of language from his infancy, for the clothing of it-I never saw his rival.

Well. Where got'st thou this coat, I marvel! Brain. Of a Houndsditch man, sir, one of the devil's near kinsmen, a broker.

Enter CASH.

Cash. Francis! Martin! ne'er a one to be found now? What a spite's this?

firm it before any prince in Europe, to be the most sovereign and precious weed, that ever the earth tendered to the use of man.

E. Know. This speech would have done decently in a tobacco-trader's mouth.

Enter CASH and Coв.

Cash. At Justice Clement's he is, in the middle of Coleman-Strect.

Cob. O, ho!

Bob. Where's the match I gave thee, Master Kitely's man?

Cash. Here it is, sir.

Cob. By God's me! I marvel what pleasure

or felicity they have in taking this roguish tobacco! it is good for nothing but to choke a man, and to fill him full of smoke and embers.

[BOBADIL beats him with a cudgel, MAT

THEW runs away.

All. Oh, good captain! hold! hold!
Bob. You base scullion, you.

Cash. Come, thou must need be talking too; thou'rt well enough served.

Cob. Well, it shall be a dear beating; an' I live, I will have justice for this.

Bob. Do you prate? Do you murmur? [BOBADIL beats him off. E. Kno. Nay, good captain, will you regard the humour of a fool?

Bob. A whoreson filthy slave, a dung-worm, an excrement! Body o' Cæsar, but that I scorn to let forth so mean a spirit, I'd have stabbed him to the earth.

Well. Marry, the law forbid, sir.

Bob. By Pharaoh's foot, I would have done it. [Exit. Step. Oh, he swears admirably! By Pharaoh's foot, body of Cæsar! I shall never do it, sure; upon mine honour, and by St George! no, I have not the right grace.

Well. But soft, where is Mr Matthew? gone! Brain. No, sir; they went in here. Well. O, let us follow them: Master Matthew is gone to salute his mistress in verse. We shall have the happiness to hear some of his poetry now. He never comes unfurnished. Brain-worm! Step. Brain-worm? Where is this Brainworm? E. Kno. Ay, cousin, no words of it, upon your gentility.

Step. Not I, body of me! by this air, St George, and the foot of Pharaoh !

Well. Rare! your cousin's discourse is simply drawn out with oaths.

E. Kno. 'Tis larded with them. A kind of French dressing, if you love it. Come, let us in. Come, cousin. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.—A hall in Justice CLEMENT'S

house.

Enter KITELY and COB.

Kite. Ha! How many are there, say'st thou? Cob. Marry, sir, your brother, Master Wellbred

Kite. Tut, beside him: what strangers are there, man?

Cob. Strangers! let me see; one, two-mass, I know not well, there are so many.

Kite. How, so many!

Kite. A swarm, a swarm!

Spite of the devil! how they sting my head
With forked stings, thus wide and large! But
Cob,

How long hast thou been coming hither, Cob?
Cob. A little while, sir.

Kite. Didst thou come running?

Cob. No, sir.

Kite. Nay, then I am familiar with thy haste!
Bane to my fortunes! What meant I to marry?
I, that before was ranked in such content,
My mind at rest too in so soft a peace,
Being free master of my own free thoughts,
And now become a slave? What, never sigh!
Be of good cheer, man, for thou art a cuckold.
'Tis done, 'tis done! Nay, when such flowing
store,

Plenty, itself, falls into my wife's lap,
The cornucopia will be mine, I know. But,
Cob,

What entertainment had they? I am sure
My sister and my wife would bid them welcome!

Ha!

Cob. Nay, soft and fair, I have eggs on the spit. Now am I, for some five and fifty reasons, hammering, hammering revenge! Nay, an' he had not lain in my house, 'twould never have grieved me; but, being my guest, one that, I'll be sworn, I loved and trusted; and he, to turn monster of ingratitude, and strike his lawful host! Well, I hope to raise up an host of fury

Strike his lawful host!

[Exit.