Fed with the self-same humour, he is now, But since, time and the truth have waked my judgment, And reason taught me better to distinguish Enter Master STEPHEN. Cousin Stephen! What news with you, that you are here so early? Step. Nothing, but e'en come to see how you do, uncle. Kno. That's kindly done, you are welcome, COZ. Step. Ay, I know that, sir. I would not ha' come else. How doth my cousin Edward, uncle? Kno. O, well, coz, go in and see: I doubt he be scarce stirring yet. Step. Uncle, after I go in, can you tell me an' he have e'er a book of the sciences of hawking and hunting? I would fain borrow it. Kno. Why, I hope you will not a hawking now, will you? Step. No wosse, but I'll practise against the next year, uncle. I have bought me a hawk, and a hood, and bells, and all; I lack nothing but a book to keep it by. Kno. O, most ridiculous! Step. Nay, look you now, you are angry, uncle. Why, you know, an' a man have not skill in the hawking and hunting languages now-adays, I'll not give a rush for him. They are more studied than the Greek, or the Latin. He is for no gallant's company without them. And by Gad's lid I scorn it, I, so I do, to be a consort for every hum-drum; hang them scroyls, there's nothing in them, in the world. What do you talk on it? Because I dwell at Hogsdet., I shall keep company with none but the archers of Finsbury! or the citizens, that come a duking to Islington ponds! A fine jest i'faith! slid, a gentleman mun show himself like a gentleman. Uncle, I pray you be not angry. I know what I have to do; I trow, I am no novice. Kno. You are a prodigal, absurd coxcomb: go Nay, never look at me, 'tis I that speak. must Go cast away your money on a kite, And know not how to keep it, when you've done? O, 'tis comely! this will make you a gentleman! Well, cousin, well! I see you are e'en past hope Of all reclaim. Ay, so, now you're told on it, You look another way. Step. What would you ha' me do! Kno. What would I have you do! I'll tell you, Learn to be wise, and practise how to thrive; Except you make, or hold it. Who comes here? Serv. 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 is 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 best not, 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 of my uncle's ground, I can tell you; though I do not stand upon my gentility neither in it. Kno. Cousin! cousin! Will this ne'er be left? Step. Whoreson, base fellow? a mechanical serving man? By this cudgel, an' 'twere not for shame, I would Kno. What would you do, you peremptory If you cannot be quiet, get you hence. To your unseasoned, quarrelling, rude fashion: Go, get you in! 'fore Heaven, I am ashamed [Exit STEPHEN. Serv. I pray you, sir, is this master Kno'well's house? Kno. Yes, marry, is it, 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 your mer-I cy, sir: I was required by a gentleman in 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. Serv. The same, sir; Master Kitely married his Brain. Sir. Kno. Make this honest friend drink here. [Exeunt BRAINWORM and Servant. This letter is directed to my son : Well, I will break it ope (old men are curious) Of this young Well-bred: What have we here? [The letter.] 'Why, Ned, I beseech thee, hast thou foresworn all thy friends i' the 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 'saved 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 'them would have served. But prithee, 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 have 'you make hither with an appetite. If the worst of them be not worth your journey, draw your 'bill of charges, as unconscionable as any Guild'hall verdict will give it you, and you shall be 'allowed your Viaticum. From the Windmill. From the Burdello, it might come as well; know not what he may be in the arts; ners, I judge him a profane and dissolute wretch: tion Of your companions, than to have taken on trust Brain. Sir. Kno. Is the fellow gone, that brought this let Brain. Yes, sir, a pretty while since. Kno. He spake not with the fellow, did he? Kno. Take you this letter, seal it, and deliver it to my son; But with no notice, that I have opened it, on your life. Brain. O lord, sir, that were a jest indeed! Nor practise any violent means to stay Then, if they stray, but warn them; and the | the town. I think my leg would shew in a silk E. Kno. That's bad. What countenance, pray thee, made he in the reading of it? Was he angry, or pleased? Brain. Nay, sir, I saw him not read it, nor open it, I assure your worship. E. Kno. No! how know'st thou, then, that he did either? Brain. Marry, sir, because he charged me, on my life, to tell nobody that he opened it: which, unless he had done, he would never fear to have * trevealed. E. Kno. That's true: well, I thank thee, Brain[Exit. worm, Enter Master STEPHEN, Step. Oh! Brain-worm, did'st thou not see a fellow here, in a what sha'-call him doublet? He brought mine uncle a letter e'en now. Brain. Yes, master Stephen, what of him? Step. Oh! I ha' such a mind to beat himwhere is he? can'st thou tell? Brain, Faith, he is not of that mind: he is gone, master Stephen. Step. Gone! which way? when went he? how long since? Brain. He is rid hence. He took horse at the street door. Step. And I staid i' the fields! whoreson, scanderberg rogue! O that I had but a horse to fetch him back again! Brain. Why, you may ha' my master's gelding, to save your longing, sir. Step. But I ha' no boots, that's the spite on't. Brain. Why, a fine wisp of hay, rolled hard, master Stephen. Step. No, faith, it's no boot to follow him now; let him e'en go and hang. Prithee, help to truss me a little. He does so vex me Brain. You'll be worse vexed, when you are trussed, master Stephen. Best keep unbraced, and walk yourself till you be cold; your choler may founder you else. Step. By my faith, and so I will, now thou tell'st me on't. How dost thou like my leg, Brain-worm? Brain. A very good leg, master Stephen; but the woollen stocking does not commend it so well. Step. Foh, the stockings be good enough, now summer is coming on, for the dust: I will have a pair of silk against winter, that I go to dwell in Step. 'Slid! I hope he laughs not at me; an' he do E. Kno. Here was a letter, indeed, to be intercepted by a man's father! He cannot but think most virtuously both of me and the sender, sure, that make the careful coster-monger of him in our familiar epistles. I wish I knew the end of it, which now is doubtful, and threatens-what! my wise cousin! nay, then, I will furnish our feast with one gull more toward the mess. He writes to me of a brace, and here's one, that's three: O, for a fourth! Fortune! if ever thou❜lt use thine eyes, I entreat thee Step. O, now I see who he laughs at. He laughs at somebody in that letter. By this good light, an' he had laughed at me E. Kno. How now, cousin Stephen, melancholy? Step. Yes, a little. I thought you had laughed at me, cousin, E. Kno. Why, what an' I had, coz, what would you ha' done? cle. Step. By this light, I would ha' told mine un E. Kno. Nay, if you would ha' told your uncle, I did laugh at you, coz. Step. Did you, indeed? E. Kno. Yes, indeed. Step. Why, then E. Kno. What then? And I pray Step. I am satisfied; it is sufficient. E. Kno. Why, be so, gentle coz. you, let me entreat a courtesy of you. I am sent for, this morning, by a friend i' the Old Jewry, to come to him: 'tis but crossing o'er the field to Moor-gate will you bear me company? I protest, it is not to draw you into bond, or any plot against the state, coz. Step. Sir, that's all one, an' 'twere; you shall command me, twice so far as Moor-gate, to do you good, in such a matter. Do you think I would leave you? I protest E. Kno. No, no, you shall not protest, coz. Step. By my fackins, but I will, by your leave; I will protest more to my friend, than I will speak of at this time. E. Kno. You speak very well, coz, 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. E. Kno. Your turn, coz! Do you know what you say? A gentleman of your sort, parts, carriage, and estimation, to talk of your turn in this company, and to me, alone, like a water-bearer at a conduit! fie! a wight, that, hitherto, his every step hath left the stamp of a great foot behind him, at every word the savour of a strong spirit; and he! this man, so graced, so gilded, or, as I may say, so tinfoyled by nature! Come, come, wrong not the quality of your desert, with looking downward, coz; but hold up your head, so; and let the idea of what you are be pourtrayed in your face, that men may read in your physiognomy, here, within this place, is to be seen the true and accomplished monster, or mi'racle of nature,' which is all one. What think you of this, coz! Step. Why, I do think of it; and I will be more proud, and melancholy, and gentleman-like, than I have been, I'll assure you. E. Kno. Why, that's resolute, master Stephen! Now, if I can hold him up to his height, as it is happily begun, it will do well for a suburb-humour: we may hap have a match with the city, and play him for forty pounds. Come, coz. Step. I'll follow you. E. Kno. Follow me; you must go before. Step. Nay, an' I must, I will. Pray you, shew me, good cousin. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-The street before COB's house. Enter Master MATTHEW. Mat. I think this be the house. What, hoa! Enter COB, from the House. Cob. Who is there? O, Master Matthew! give your worship good morrow. Mat. What, Cob! How dost thou, good Cob? Dost thou inhabit here, Cob? Cob. Ay, sir, I and my lineage ha' kept a poor house here in our days. Mat. Cob, canst thou shew me of a gentleman, one Captain Bobadil, where his lodging is? Cob. O, my guest, sir, you mean? Mat. Thy guest! Alas! ha, ha. Cob. Why do you laugh, sir? Do you not mean Captain Bobadil? Mat. Cob, pray thee, advise thyself well: do not wrong the gentleman and thyself too. I dare be sworn he scorns thy house. He! he lodge in such a base, obscure place as thy house! Tut, I know his disposition so well, he would not lie in thy bed, if thou would'st give it him. Cob. I will not give it him, though, sir. Mass, I thought somewhat was in it we could not get him to-bed, all night! Well, sir, though he lies not on my bed, he lies on my bench. And if it please you to go in, sir, you shall find him with two cushions under his head, and his cloak wrap nor lost; and yet, I warrant, he never cast better in his life, than he has done to-night. Mat. Why, was he drunk? Cob. Drunk, sir! you hear not me say so. Perhaps he swallowed a tavern-token, or some such device, sir: I have nothing to do withal. I deal with water, and not with wine. Give me my bucket there, hoa. God be with you, sir, it is six o'clock: I should have carried two turns by this. What hoa! my stopple! come. Mat. Lie in a water-bearer's house! A gentleman of his havings! Well, I will tell him my mind. Cob. What, Tib! shew this gentleman up to the captain.-[Tib_shews Master Mat. into the house. You should have some now, would take this Mr Matthew to be gentleman at the least. His father is an honest man, a worshipful fishmonger, and so forth; and now does he creep, and wriggle into acquaintance with all the brave gallants about the town, such as my guest is. O, my guest is a fine man! he does swear the legiblest of any man christened: by St. Georgethe foot of Pharaoh-the body o' me,-as I am a gentleman and a soldier; such dainty oaths! and withall, he does take this same filthy roguish tobacco, the finest and cleanliest! it would do a man good to see the fume come forth out at's tonnels! Well, he owes me forty shillings, my wife lent him out of her purse by six-pence a time, besides his lodging. I would I had it! I shall ha' it, he says, the next action. Helter skelter, hang sorrow, care 'll kill a cat, up-tails all, and a louse for the hangman! [Exit. SCENE IV-A Room in COB's House. BOBADIL discovered upon a bench. TIв enters to him. Bob. Hostess, hostess! Tib. What say you, sir? Bob. A cup o' thy small-beer, sweet hostess. Tib. Sir, there's a gentleman below would speak with you. Bob. A gentleman! 'ods so, I'm not within. Tib. My husband told him you were, sir. Bob. What a plague what meant he? Mat. [Within.] Captain Bobadil! Bob. Who's there?-Take away the bason, good hostess. Come up, sir. Tib. He would desire you to come up, sir. You come into a cleanly house here. Enter Master MATTHEW. Mat. 'Save you, sir; 'save you, captain, Bob. Gentle Master Matthew! is it you, sir? Please you, sit down. Mat. Thank you, good captain; you may see I am somewhat audacious. Bob. Not so, sir. I was requested to supper, last night, by a sort of gallants, where you were wished for, and drank to, I assure you. Mat. Vouchsafe me by whom, good captain. Bob. Marry, by young Well-bred, and others. Why, hostess! a stool here for this gentleman. Mat. No haste, sir, 'tis very well. Bob. Body of me! It was so late ere we parted last night, I can scarce open my eyes yet: I was but new risen as you came. How passes the day abroad, sir? can you tell? Now Mat. Faith, some half hour to seven. Bob. Ay, sir: sit down. I pray you, Master Bob. Not that I need to care who know it, for the cabin is convenient; but in regard I would not be too popular and generally visited, as some are. | 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 changed 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, ed 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. Mat. True, captain, I conceive you. Bob. By the foot of Pharaoh, an' 'twere my Bob. 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-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 with, at pleasure : the first stoccata, if you will, by this air. Mat. O lord, sir, I resolve so. [Pulls out a paper, and reads. Bob. I confess, I love a cleanly and quiet privacy, above all the tumult and roar of fortune. What new piece ha' you there? Read it. Mat. [Reads.] To thee, the purest object of my sense, ، The most refined essence Heaven covers, Bob. 'Tis good; proceed, proceed. Where's this? 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 | | | 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 onebreath-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 Mat. 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, I happened 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 condemned, and cried it down, for the most pied and ridiculous that ever he saw. use. Bob. 'Squire Downright, the half-brother, was't not ? 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, Master Matthew ? Mat. Faith, I have not past a two shillings, or 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 Mat. Ay, sir, George Downright. the orifice of the stomach: and then we will call Bob. Hang him, rook! He! 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 George, I wonder you'd lose a thought upon the question. Come along, Master Matthew. [Exeunt. |