And as I am an honest man, I think,

If he had a mind to her too, I should grant him, To make our friendship perfect: so I would not To every man. If he but hear me now,

And should come to me in a brave young shape, And take me at my word?

Enter Pug handsomely shaped and apparelled.

Ha! who is this?

Pug. Sir, your good pardon, that I thus presume Upon your privacy. I am born a gentleman, A younger brother, but in some disgrace Now with my friends; and want some little means To keep me upright, while things be reconciled.' Please you to let my service be of use to you, sir. Fitz. Service! 'fore hell, my heart was at my

mouth,

"Till I had view'd his shoes well: for those roses
Were big enough to hide a cloven foot."--[Aside.
No, friend, my number's full. I have one servant,
Who is my all, indeed; and from the broom
Unto the brush: for just so far I trust him.
He is my wardrobe-man, my cater, cook,
Butler, and steward: looks unto my horse;
And helps to watch my wife. He has all the places
That I can think on, from the garret downward,
Even to the manger, and the curry-comb.

Pug. Sir, I shall put your worship to no charge,

while things be reconciled.] i. e. until.

for those roses

Were big enough to hide a cloven foot.] I have already noticed, the preposterous size of this fashionable article of dress; (volˇiiì. p. 368;) a passage, which was then overlooked, may serve to shew, that the poet is guilty of no exaggeration in the description of it. "He hath in the shoe as much taffetie for the tyings, as would serve for an ancient:" i. e. an ensign. Nashe's Un fortunate Traveller, 1598.

More than my meat, and that but very little; I'll serve you for your love.

Fitz. Ha! without wages?

I'd hearken o' that ear, were I at leisure.
But now I am busy. Prithee, friend, forbear me→→
An thou hadst been a devil, I should say

Somewhat more to thee: thou dost hinder now
My meditations.

Pug. Sir, I am a devil.
Fitz. How!

Pug. A true devil, sir.
Fitz. Nay, now you lie;

Under your favour, friend, for I'll not quarrel.'
I look'd on your feet afore, you cannot cozen me,
Your shoe's not cloven, sir, you are whole hoof'd.
Pug. Sir, that's a popular error, deceives many:
But I am that I tell you.

Fitz. What's your name?

Pug. My name is Devil, sir.

Fitz. Say'st thou true?

Pug. Indeed, sir.

Fitz. 'Slid, there's some omen in this! What countryman?

Pug. Of Derbyshire, sir, about the Peak.

Fitz. That hole

Belong'd to your ancestors?

Pug. Yes, Devil's arse, sir.

Fitz. I'll entertain him for the name sake. Ha! And turn away my t'other man, and save

5 Under your favour, friend, &c] This was one of the qualifying expressions, by which, "according to the laws of the duello," the lie might be given, without subjecting the speaker to the absolute necessity of receiving a challenge. To this Fitzdott el alludes in the next hemistich-for I'll not quarrel. The remainder of the speech refers to the vulgar opinion 66 I respecting the devil, which is also noticed by Shakspeare, look down towards his feet;-but that's a fable." Othello.

Four pound a year by that! there's luck and thrift too!

The very Devil may come hereafter as well. [Aside.
Friend, I receive you: but, withal, I acquaint you
Aforehand, if you offend me, I must beat you.
It is a kind of exercise I use;
And cannot be without.

Pug. Yes, if I do not

Offend, you can, sure.

Fitz Faith, Devil, very hardly:

I'll call you by your surname, 'cause I love it.

Enter, behind, ENGINE, with a cloke on his arm, WITTIPOL, and MANLY.

Eng. Yonder he walks, sir, I'll go lift him for

you.

Wit. To him, good Engine, raise him up by degrees,

Gently, and hold him there too, you can do it.
Shew yourself now a mathematical broker.
Eng. I'll warrant you, for half a piece.
Wit. "Tis done, sir.

[Engine goes to Fitzdottrel and takes him aside. Man. Is't possible there should be such a man! Wit. You shall be your own witness; I'll not labour

To tempt you past your faith.
Man. And is his wife

So very handsome, say you?

Wit. I have not seen her

Since I came home from travel; and they say
She is not alter'd. Then, before I went,
I saw her once; but so, as she hath stuck
Still in my view, no object hath removed her.
Man. 'Tis a fair guest, friend, beauty; and
once lodged

Deep in the eyes, she hardly leaves the inn.
How does he keep her?

Wit. Very brave; however

Himself be sordid, he is sensual that way:
In every dressing he does study her.

Man. And furnish forth himself so from the

brokers?

Wit. Yes, that's a hired suit he now has on, To see the DEVIL IS AN ASs, to day, in.

This Engine gets three or four pound a week by him

He dares not miss a new play or a feast,

What rate soever clothes be at; and thinks
Himself still new, in other men's old.

Man. But stay,

Does he love meat so?

Wit. Faith, he does not hate it.

But that's not it: his belly and his palate
Would be compounded with for reason. Marry,
A wit he has, of that strange credit with him,
'Gainst all mankind; as it doth make him do
Just what it list: it ravishes him forth
Whither it please, to any assembly or place,
And would conclude him ruin'd, should he scape
One publick meeting, out of the belief

He has of his own great and catholic strengths,
In arguing and discourse. It takes, I see:
He has got the cloke upon him.

Fitz. [after saying on the cloke.] A fair garment, By my faith, Engine!

Eng. It was never made, sir,

For threescore pound, I assure you: 'twill yield thirty.

The plush, sir, cost three pound ten shillings a

yard:

And then the lace and velvet!

Fitz. I shall, Engine,

Be look'd at, prettily, in it: art thou sure
The play is play'd to-day?
Eng O here's the bill, sir:
I had forgot to give it you.
Fitz. Ha, the DEVIL!

[He gives him the

play-bill.

I will not lose you, sirrah. But, Engine, think you
The gallant is so furious in his folly,

So mad upon the matter, that he'll part
With's cloke upon these terms ?

Eng. Trust not your Engine,

Break me to pieces else, as you would do
A rotten crane, or an old rusty jack,

That has not one true wheel in him. Do but talk with him.

Fitz. I shall do that, to satisfy you, Engine, And myself too. [comes forward.]-With your leave, gentlemen.

Which of you is it,' is so mere idolater
To my wife's beauty, and so very prodigal
Unto my patience, that, for the short parley
Of one swift hour's quarter, with my wife,
He will depart with (let me see) this cloke here,
The price of folly ?-Sir, are you the man?
Wit. I am that venturer, sir.

Fitz Good time! your name

Is Wittipol?

Wit. The same, sir.

Fitz. And 'tis told me

You have travell❜d lately?

6 Which of you is it, &c.] This adventure of the cloke, as Langbaine observes, is from Boccacio, Day 3. Nov. 5. It is there told of Francisco Vergellesi, who parts with a horse on the conditions stipulated in the text. Jonson has judiciously adapted his bribe to the disposition of his characters; but for a person who is now, perhaps, for the first time indebted to a preceding writer for any part of his plót, the incident seems scarcely worth the borrowing.