But men of thy condition feed on floth,

As doth the beetle on the dung fhe breeds in,
Not caring how the mettal of your minds
Is eaten with the ruft of idleness.

Now, afore me, whate'er he be, that fhould
Relieve a person of thy quality,

While thou infifts in this loofe defperate courfe,
I would efteem the fin, not thine, but his.

Brai. Faith, fir, I would gladly find fome other courfe, if fo

Kno. I, you'd gladly find it, but you will not feek it. Brai. Alas, fir, where fhould a man feek? in the wars, there's no afcent by defert in these days; but and for fervice, would it were as foon purchaft, as wifht for (the air's my comfort) I know what I would fay.

Kno. What's thy name?

Brai. Please you, Fitz-Sword, fir.

Kno. Fitz-Sword?

Say that a man fhould entertain thee now,

Wouldst thou be honest, humble, juft, and true?
Brai. Sir, by the place and honour of a foldier-
Kno. Nay, nay, I like not thefe affected oaths;
Speak plainly man; what think'ft thou of my words?
Brai. Nothing, fir, but wifh my fortunes were as
happy, as my fervice fhould be honest.

Kno. Well, follow me, I'll prove thee, if thy deeds Will carry a proportion to thy words.

Brai. Yes, fir, ftraight, I'll but garter my hofe. Oh that my belly were hoopt now, for I am ready to burft with laughing! never was bottle or bagpipe fuller. 'Slid, was there ever feen a fox in years to betray himself thus now fhall I be poffeft of all his counfels: and by that conduit, my young mafter. Well, he is refolv'd to prove my honefty; faith, and I'm refolv'd to prove his patience: Oh, I fhall abufe him intolerably. This fmall piece of fervice will bring him clean

out

out of love with the foldier for ever.

a

He will never

come within the fign of it, the fight of a caffock, or musket-reft again. He will hate the mufters at Mile-end for it, to his dying day. It's no matter, let the world think me a bad counterfeit, if I cannot give him the flip, at an inftant: why, this is better than to have ftaid his journey! well, I'll follow him: Oh, how I long to be employed!

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Matthew, Well-bred, Bobadill, Ed. Kno'well, Stephen.

Mat.

YES

ES faith, fir, we were at your lodging to feek you too.

Wel. Oh, I came not there to-night.

Bob. Your brother delivered us as much.

Wel. Who? my brother Downright?

Bob. He! Mr. Well bred, I know not in what kind you hold me; but let me fay to you this: as fure as honour, I efteem it fo much out of the fun-fhine of reputation, to throw the leaft beam of regard upon fuch a

Wel. Sir, I must hear no ill words of my brother. Bob. I proteft to you, as I have a thing to be fav'd about me, I never faw any gentleman-like-part

8 The fight of a CASSOCK, or MUSKET-REST again.] Caffock, in the fenfe it is here ufed, is not to be met with in our common dictionaries it fignifies a foldier's loofe outward coat, and is taken in that acceptation by the writers of Jonfon's times. Thus Shakespear in All's well that ends well; "Half of the which dare not shake the "fnow from their caffocks." A mufket-refi was a support stuck before the foldiers into the ground to lay their guns on; for at the first invention of gun-powder, their fire-arms were extremely long, and could not be cafily fupported without this affiflance.

Wel.

Wel. Good' captain, faces about

other difcourfe.

to fome

Bob. With your leave, Sir, an' there were no more men living upon the face of the earth, I fhould not fancy him, by St. George.

Mat. Troth, nor I, he is of a ruftical cut, I know not how; he doth not carry himfelf like a gentleman of fafhion.

Wel. Oh, mr. Matthew, that's a grace peculiar but to a few; quos æquus amavit Jupiter.

Mat. I understand you, Sir,

Wel. No queftion, you do, or you do not, fir.
Enter young Kno'well.

Ned Kno'well! by my foul, welcome; how doft thou fweet spirit, my Genius? 'Slid I fhall love Apollo, and the mad Thespian girls the better, while I live, for this; my dear Fury: now, I fee there's fome love in thee! Sirrah, thefe be the two I writ to thee of (nay, what a drowsy humour is this now? why doft thou not fpeak?)

E. Kno. Oh, you are a fine gallant, you fent me a rare letter!

Wel. Why, was't not rare?

E. Kno. Yes, I'll be fworn, I was ne'er guilty of

Good captain (FACES ABOUT) to fome other difcourfe.] The laft editor feems to have been extremely puzzled with the two words he hath put in a parenthefis; which were fubmitted, I fuppofe, to the reader, to be used or dropt at pleasure; but they are neither without a meaning, nor deftitute of humour. Bobadill, in the prefence of Well-bred, begins to difparage Downright: to this he answers, that he must hear no ill words of his brother. The other perfifts in his difcourfe; and Well-bred, willing to change the fubject, addreffes the captain in the true military ftile, Good captain, faces about,to fome other difcourfe. The reader now fees, that these words are quite in character, when applied to Bobadili; and that they are of the fame import with our modern phrafe, which, by the dropping of a letter, is corrupted to Face about. We meet with the expreflion in Fletcher's Knight of the burning pestle, where Ralph is exercifing his men; "Double your files: as you were; faces about."

read

reading the like; match it in all Pliny, or Symmachus epiftles, and I'll have my judgment burn'd in the ear for a rogue: make much of thy vein, for it is inimit able. But I marle what camel it was, that had the carriage of it for, doubtlefs, he was no ordinary beast that brought it!

Wel. Why?

E. Kno. Why, fay'ft thou? why doft thou think that any reasonable creature, efpecially in the morning (the fober time of the day too) could have mifta'en my father for me?

Wel. 'Slid, you jeft, I hope.

E. Kno. Indeed, the best use we can turn it to, is to make a jeft on't, now but I'll affure you, my father had the full view o' your flourishing ftile, fome hour before I faw it.

Wel. What a dull flave was this? But, firrah, what faid he to it, i'faith?

E. Kno. Nay, I know not what he faid: but I have a fhrewd guess what he thought.

Wel. What? what?

E. Kno. Marry, that thou art some strange diffolute young fellow, and I a grain or two better, for keeping thee company.

Wel. Tut, that thought is like the moon in her laft quarter, 'twill change fhortly: but, firrah, I pray thee be acquainted with my two hang-by's here; thou wilt take exceeding pleafure in 'em, if thou hear'ft 'em once go: my wind-inftruments. I'll wind them up. but what ftrange piece of filence is this? the fign of the dumb man?

E. Kno. Oh, fir, a kinfman of mine, one that may make your mufick the fuller, an' he pleafe; he has his humour, fir.

Wel. 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 apprehenfion: I'll

leave him to the mercy o' your fearch, if you can take him, fo.

Wel. Well, captain Bobadill, mr. Matthew 'pray you know this gentleman here, he is a friend of mine, and one that will deferve your affection. I know not your name, fir, but I fhall be glad of any occafion, to render me more familiar to you. [To mafter Stephen.

Step. My name is mr. Stephen, fir, I am this gentleman's own coufin, fir, his father is mine uncle, fir: I am fomewhat melancholy, but you shall command me, fir, 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 fake (you may embrace it at what height of favour you pleafe) I do communicate with you, and conceive you to be a gentleman of fome parts; I love few words. [To Kno'well. E. Kno. And I fewer, fir, I have fcarce enough to thank you.

Mat. But are you indeed, fir, so given to it? [To mafter Stephen. Step. I, truly, fir, I am mightily given to melancholy.

Mat. Oh, it's your only fine humour, fir, your true melancholy breeds your perfect fine wit, fir: I am melancholy my felf, divers times, fir, and then do I nomore but take pen and paper presently, and overflow you half a score, or a dozen of fonnets at a fitting,

E. Kno. (Sure he utters them then by the grofs.) Step. Truly, fir, and I love fuch things out of measure.

2 Your true melancholy breeds your perfect fine wit, fir.] Defigned as a fneer upon the fantaftic behaviour of the gallants in that age, who affected the appearing melancholy, and abstracted from common objects. The reafon affigned, as its being the phyfical caufe of wit, which, I believe, is as old as Ariftotle himfelf, was likewife generally received by thofe who had no other pretence to genius to boast of.

E. Kno: