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?

• 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 plot, the incident seems scarcely worth the borrowing.

Wit. That I have, sir.

Fitz. Truly,

Your travels may have alter'd your complexion; But sure your wit stood still.

Wit. It may well be, sir;

All heads have not like growth.

Fitz. The good man's gravity,

That left you land, your father, never taught you These pleasant matches.

Wit. No, nor can his mirth,

With whom I make them, put me off.

Fitz. You are

Resolved then?

Wit. Yes, sir.

Fitz. Beauty is the saint,

You'll sacrifice your self into the shirt to? Wit. So I may still clothe and keep warm your wisdom.

Fitz. You lade me, sir!'

Wit. I know what you will bear, sir.

Fitz. Well, to the point. 'Tis only, sir, you say,

To speak unto my wife?

Wit. Only to speak to her. Fitz. And in my presence? Wit. In your very presence. Fitz. And in my hearing? Wit. In your hearing; so You interrupt us not.

Fitz. For the short space

You do demand, the fourth part of an hour,
I think I shall, with some convenient study,
And this good help to boot, [shrugs himself up in
the cloke.] bring myself to't.

Wit. I ask no more.

7 You lade me, sir!] This is equivalent to the modern phrase, you do not spare me. You lay what imputations you please upon me. The word occurs again in this sense, p. 35.

Fitz. Please you, walk toward my house, Speak what you list; that time is yours; my right I have departed with: but not beyond

A minute, or a second, look for. Length, And drawing out may advance much to these matches.

And I except all kissing: kisses are

Silent petitions still with willing lovers.

Wit. Lovers! how falls that o' your phantasy? Fitz. Sir,

I do know somewhat; I forbid all lip-work. Wit. I am not eager at forbidden dainties: Who covets unfit things, denies himself.

Fitz. You say well, sir; 'twas prettily said, that

same:

He does indeed. I'll have no touches therefore,
Nor takings by the arms, nor tender circles
Cast 'bout the waste, but all be done at distance.
Love is brought up with those soft migniard
handlings:

His pulse lies in his palm; and I defend
All melting joints and fingers, that's my bargain,
I do defend them any thing like action.'

But talk, sir, what you will. Use all the tropes And schemes, that prince Quintilian cau afford you:

And much good do your rhetoric's heart. You are welcome, sir. [Opens the door of his house. Engine, God be wi' you!

* I do defend them any thing like action.] To defend, from the Fr. defendre, is to forbid. This sense of the word is common in our old writers. Thus Chaucer, in The Wife of Bath's Prologue, ▼. 59,

"Where can you say in any manir age
That ever God defendid marriage?"

And Spenser,

"That, O ye heavens, defend! and turn away."

Faerie Queene, B. 5. Č. 8. St. 10.