liner's wife does her wrought stomacher, with a smoaky lawn, or a black cyprus! O, coz! it cannot be answered; go not about it: Drake's old ship at Deptford may sooner circle the world again. 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 portrayed in your face, that men may read in your physnomy, here within this place is to be seen the true, rare, and accomplished monster, or miracle 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 gentlemanlike, than I have been, I'll insure you.

E. Know. Why, that's resolute, master Stephen! Now, if I can but hold him up to his height, as it is happily begun, it will do well for a suburb humor: we may hap have a match with the city, and play him for forty pound. Come, coz.

Step. I'll follow you.

E. Know. Follow me! you must go before. Step. Nay, an I must, I will. Pray you shew me, good cousin. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. ·

The Lane before Con's House.

Enter MASTER MATHEW.

Mat. I think this be the house: what, ho! Enter COB.

Cob. Who's there? O, master Mathew! 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 have kept a poor house here, in our days.

Mat. Thy lineage, monsieur Cob! what lineage, what lineage?

Cob. Why, sir, an ancient lineage, and a princely. Mine ance'try came from a king's belly, no worse man; and yet no man neither, by your worship's leave, I did lie in that, but herring, the king of fish, (from his belly I proceed,) one of the monarchs of the world, I assure you. The first red herring that was broiled in Adam and Eve's kitchen, do I fetch my pedigree from, by the harrot's book. His cob was my great, great, mighty great grandfather.

Mat. Why mighty, why mighty, I pray thee? Cob. O, it was a mighty while ago, sir, and a mighty great cob.

Mat. How know'st thou that?

Cob. How know I! why, I smell his ghost ever and anon.

Mat. Smell a ghost! O unsavory jest! and the ghost of a herring cob?

Cob. Ay, sir: With favor of your worship's nose, master Mathew, why not the ghost of a herring cob, as well as the ghost of Rasher Bacon?

Mat. Roger Bacon, thou wouldst say.

Cob. I say Rasher Bacon. They were both broiled on the coals; and a man may smell broiled meat, I hope! you are a scholar, upsolve me that now.

Mat. O raw ignorance! - Cob, canst thou

show me of a gentleman, one captain Bobadill, where his lodging is?

Cob. O, my guest, sir, you mean.
Mat. Thy guest! alas, ha, ha, ha!

Cob. Why do you laugh, sir? do you not mean captain Bobadill?

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'dst 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 lie not on my bed, he lies on my bench: an't please you to go up, sir, you shall find him with twc cushions under his head, and his cloak wrapt about him, as though he had neither won nor lost, and yet, I warrant, he ne'er 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 tankard there, ho! God be wi' you, sir. It's six o'clock: I should have carried two turns by this. What ho! my stopple; come.

Enter TIB with a water-tankard. Mat. Lie in a water-bearer's house! a gentleman of his havings! Well, I'll tell him my mind

Cob. What, Tib; shew this gentleman up to the captain. [Exit TIB with MASTER MATHEW.] Oh, an my house were the Brazen-head now! faith it would e'en speak Moe fools yet. You should have some now would take this Master Mathew to be a gentleman, at the least. His father's an honest man, a worshipful fishmonger and so forth; and now does he creep and wrig. gle into acquaintance with all the brave gallants about the town, such as my guest is, (O, my guest is a fine man!) and they flout him invincibly. He useth every day to a merchant's house where I serve water, one master Kitely's, in the Old Jewry; and here's the jest, he is in love with my master's sister, Mrs. Bridget, and calls her mistress; and there he will sit you a whole afternoon sometimes, reading of these same abominable, vile (a pox on 'em! I cannot abide them,) rascally verses, poctrie, poetrie, and speaking of interludes; 'twill make a man burst to hear him. And the wenches, they do so jeer and ti-he at him- Well, should they do so much to me, I'd forswear them all, by the foot of Pharaoh! There's an oath! How many water-bearers shall you hear swear such an oath? O, I have a guest he teaches me-he does swear the legiblest of any man christened By St. George! the foot of Pharaoh! the body of me! as I am a gentleman and a soldier! such dainty oaths! and withal he does take this same filthy roguish tobacco, the finest and cleanliest ! it would do a man good to see the fume come forth at's tonnels. Well, he owes me forty shillings, my wife lent him out of her purse, by sixpence at a time, besides his lodging: I would I had it! I shall have it, he rays, the next

[Exit.

SCENE IV. — A Room in COB's House.

BOBADILL discovered lying on a bench. Bob. Hostess, hostess!

Enter TIB.

Tib. What say you, sir?

Bob. A cup of thy small beer, sweet hostess. Tib. Sir, there's a gentleman below would speak with you.

Bob. A gentleman! 'odso, I am not within. Tib. My husband told him you were, sir. Bob. What a plague-what meant he? Mat. (below.) Captain Bobadill!

Bob. Who's there? - Take away the basin, good hostess; - Come up, sir.

Tib. He would desire you to come up, sir. You come into a cleanly house, here!

Enter MATHEW.

Mat. Save you, sir; save you, captain! Bob. Gentle master Mathew! Is it you, sir? please you to 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 drunk to, I assure you.

Mat. Vouchsafe me, by whom, good captain? Bob. Marry, by young Wellbred, and others. Why, hostess, a stool here for this gentleman. Mat. No haste, sir, 'tis very well.

Bob. Body o' 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? you can tell.

Mat. Faith, some half hour to seven: Now, trust me, you have an exceeding fine lodging here, very neat and private.

Bob. Ay, sir: sit down, I pray you. Master Mathew, in any case possess no gentleman of our acquaintance with notice of my lodging. Mat. Who, I, sir? no.

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.

Mat. True, captain, I conceive you.

Bob. For, do you see, sir, by the heart of valor in me, except it be to some peculiar and choice spirits, to whom I am extraordinarily engaged, as yourself, or so, I could not extend thus far.

Mat. O Lord, sir! I resolve so.

Bob. I confess I love a cleanly and quiet privacy, above all the tumult and roar of fortune. What new book have you there? What! Go by, Hieronymo ?

Mat. Ay: did you ever see it acted? Is't not well pennod?

Bob. Well penned! I would fain see all the poets of these times pen such another play as that was: they'll prate and swagger, and keep a stir of art and devices, when, as I am a gentleman, read 'em, they are the most shallow, piti

[While MASTER MATHEW reads, BOBADILL makes himself ready.]

Mat. Indeed here are a number of fine speeches in this book. O eyes, no eyes, but fountains fraught with tears! there's a conceit! fountains fraught with tears! O life, no life, but lively form of death! another. O world, no world, but mass of public wrongs! a third. Confused and filled with murder and misdeeds! a fourth. O, the muses! Is't not excellent? Is't not simply the best that ever you heard, captain? Ha! how do you like it?

Bob. "Tis good.

Mat. To thee, the purest object to my sense,

The most refined essence heaven covers, Send I these lines, wherein I do commence

The happy state of turtle-billing lovers. If they prove rough, unpolished, harsh, and rude, Haste made the waste: thus mildly I conclude.

Bob. Nay, proceed, proceed. Where's this? Mat. This, sir! a toy of 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

use.

Mat. Troth, captain, and now you speak of the fashion, master Wellbred's elder brother 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 gentlemanlike: yet he condemned, and cried it down for the most pied and ridiculous that ever he saw.

Bob. Squire Downright, the half brother, was't not?

Mat. Ay, sir, he.

Bob. Hang him, rook! he! why he has no more judgment than a malt-horse: By St. George, I wonder you'd lose a thought upon 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 pack-saddle. 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 give 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 termed 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 gal lant, a friend of mine, told me so.

Bob. By the foot of Pharaoh, an 'twere my case now, I should send him a chartel presently The bastinado! a most proper and sufficient

air.

Mat. Indeed, you have absolute knowledge in the mystery, I have heard, sir.

Bob. Of whom, of whom, have you heard it, I beseech you?

Mat. Troth, I have heard it spoken of divers, that you have very rare, and un-in-one-breathutterable skill, sir.

Bob. By heaven, no, not I; no skill in the earth; some small rudiments in the science, as to know my time, distance, or so. I have professed it more for noblemen and gentlemen's use, than mine own practice, I assure you. Hostess, accommodate us with another bed-staff here quickly. Lend us another bed-staff the woman does not understand the words of action. -Look you, sir: exalt not your point above this state, at any hand, and let your poniard maintain your defence, thus: - give it the gentleman, and leave us. [Exit TIB.] So, sir. Come on : 0, 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 your distance, keep your due proportion of time oh, you disorder your point most irregularly.

Mat. How is the bearing of it now, sir? Bob. O, out of measure ill: a well-experienced hand would pass upon you at pleasure.

Mat. How mean you, sir, pass upon me? Bob. Why, thus, sir, make a thrust at me [MASTER MATHEW pushes at BOBADILL,] come in upon the answer, control your point, and make a full career at the body: The best-practised gallants of the time name it the passado; a most desperate thrust, believe it.

Mat. Well, come,

sir.

Bob. Why, you do not manage your weapon with any facility or grace to invite me. I have no spirit to play with you; your dearth of judgment renders you tedious.

Mat. But one venue, sir.

Bob. Venue! fie; most gross denomination as ever I heard: O, the stoccata, while you live, sir; note that. - Come, put on your cloke, and we'll go to some private place where you are acquainted; some tavern, or so and have a bit. I'll send for one of these fencers, and he shall breathe you, by my direction; and then I will teach you your trick: you shall kill him with it at the first, if you please. Why, I will learn you, by the true judgment of the eye, hand, and foot, to control any enemy's point in the world. Should your adversary confront you with a pistol, 'twere nothing, by this hand! you should, by the same rule, control his bullet, in a line, except it were hail-shot, and spread. What money have you about you, master Mathew? Mat. Faith, I have not past a two shilling

or so.

Bob. "Tis somewhat with the least; but come; we will have a bunch of radish and salt to taste our wine, and a pipe of tobacco to close the orifice of the stomach: and then we'll call upon

So much, as I have made him my cashier,
And given him, who had none, a surname, Cash:
And find him in his place so full of faith,
That I durst trust my life into his hands.

Dow. So would not I in any bastard's, brother,
As it is like he is, although I knew [what
Myself his father. But you said you had some-
To tell me, gentle brother; what is't, what is't ?
Kit. Faith, I am very loath to utter it,
As fearing it may hurt your patience:
But that I know your judgment is of strength.
Against the nearness of affection

Dow. What need this circumstance? pray you. be direct.

Kit. I will not say how much I do ascribe Unto your friendship, nor in what regard I hold your love; but let my past behavior And usage of your sister, [both] confirm How well I have been affected to yourDow. You are too tedious; come to the matter, the matter.

Kit. Then, without further ceremony, thus. My brother Wellbred, sir, I know not how, Of late is much declined in what he was, And greatly altered in his disposition. When he came first to lodge here in my house, Ne'er trust me if I were not proud of him : Methought he bare himself in such a fashion, So full of man, and sweetness in his carriage, And what was chief, it showed not borrowed in But all he did became him as his own, [him, And seemed as perfect, proper, and possest, As breath with life, or color with the blood But now, his course is so irregular, So loose, affected, and deprived of grace, And he himself withal so far fallen off From that first place, as scarce nɔ note remain

To tell men's judgments where he lately stood.
He's grown a stranger to all due respect,
Forgetful of his friends; and not content
To stale himself in all societies,

He makes my house here common as a mart,
A theatre, a public receptacle
For giddy humor, and diseased riot;
And here, as in a tavern or a stews,

He and his wild associates spend their hours,
In repetition of lascivious jests,
[night,
Swear, leap, drink, dance, and revel night by
Control my servants; and, indeed, what not?
Dow. 'Sdeins, I know not what I should say
to him, in the whole world! He values me at a
cracked three-farthings, for aught I see. It will
never out of the flesh that's bred in the bone.
I have told him enough, one would think, if
that would serve; but counsel to him is as good
as a shoulder of mutton to a sick horse. Well!
he knows what to trust to, for George: let him
spend, and spend, and domineer, till his heart
ake; and he think to be relieved by me, when
he is got into one o' your city pounds, the count-
ers, he has the wrong sow by the ear, i' faith;
and claps his dish at the wrong man's door: I'll
lay my hand on my halfpenny, ere I part with
it to fetch him out, I'll assure him.

Kit. Nay, good brother, let it not trouble you thus.

Dow. 'Sdeath! he mads me; I could eat my very spur-leathers for anger! But, why are you so tame? why do not you speak to him, and tell him how he disquiets your house?

Kit. O, there are divers reasons to dissuade me. But, would yourself vouchsafe to travail in it, (Though but with plain and easy circumstance,) It would both come much better to his sense, And savor less of stomach, or of passion. You are his elder brother, and that title Both gives and warrants your authority, Which, by your presence seconded, must breed A kind of duty in him, and regard: Whereas, if I should intimate the least, It would but add contempt to his neglect, Heap worse on ill, make up a pile of hatred, That in the rearing would come tottering down, And in the ruin bury all our love. Nay, more than this, brother; if I should speak, He would be ready, from his heat of humor, And overflowing of the vapor in him, To blow the ears of his familiars, With the false breath of telling what disgraces, And low disparagements, I had put upon him. Whilst they, sir, to relieve him in the fable, Make their loose comments upou every word, Gesture, or look, I use; mock me all over, From my flat cap unto my shining shoes; And, out of their impetuous rioting phant'sies, Beget some slander that shall dwell with me. And what would that be, think you? marry, this: They would give out, because my wife is fair, Myself but lately married, and my sister Here sojourning a virgin in my house, That I were jealous! nay, as sure as death, That they would say: and, how that I had quarMy brother purposely, thereby to find An apt pretext to banish them my house." Dow. Mass, perhaps so; they're like enough to do it.

[relled

Kit. Brother, they would, believe it; so should Like one of these penurious quack-salvers, [1, But set the bills up to mine own disgrace, And try experiments upon myself; Lend scorn and envy opportunity To stab my reputation and good name

Enter MASTER Mathew struggling with BOBADILL Mat. I will speak to him.

Bob. Speak to him! away! By the foot of Pharaoh, you shall not! you shall not do him that grace. The time of day to you, gentleman o' the house. Is master Wellbred stirring? Dow. How then? what should he do? Bob. Gentleman of the house, it is to you: is he within, sir?

Kit. He came not to his lodging to-night, sir, I assure you.

Dow. Why, do you hear? you!

Bob. The gentleman citizen hath satisfied me; I'll talk to no scavenger. [Exeunt BOB and MAT. Dow. How! scavenger! stay, sir, stay! Kit. Nay, brother Downright.

Dow. 'Heart! stand you away, an you love me. Kit. You shall not follow him now, I pray you, brother, good faith you shall not; I will overrule you.

Dow. Ha! scavenger! well, go to, I say little : but, by this good day, (God forgive me I should swear), if I put it up so, say I am the rankest cow that ever pist. 'Sdeins, an I swallow this, I'll ne'er draw my sword in the sight of Fleetstreet again while I live; I'll sit in a barn with madge-howlet, and catch mice first. Scavenger! heart! and I'll go near to fill that huge tumbrel-slop of yours with somewhat, an I have good luck your Garagantua breech cannot carry it away so.

-

Kit. Oh, do not fret yourself thus; never

think on't.

Dow. These are my brother's consorts, these! these are his camerades, his walking mates! he's a gallant, a cavaliero too, right hangman cut! Let men ot live, an I could not find in my heart to swinge the whole gang of 'em, one after another, and begin with him first. I am grieved it should be said he is my brother, and take these courses: Well, as he brews, so shall he drink, for George, again. Yet he shall hear on't, and that tightly too, and I live, l' faith.

[pose

Kit. But, brother, let your reprehension, then, Run in an easy current, not o'er high Carried with rashness, or devouring choler; But rather use the soft persuading way, Whose powers will work more gently, and com. The imperfect thoughts you labor to reclaim; More winning, than enforcing the consen Dow. Ay, ay, let me alone for that, I warrant you.

Kit. How now! [Bell rings.] Oh, the bell rings to breakfast. Brother, I pray you go in, and bear my wife company till I come; I'll but give order for some despatch of business to my [Exit DOWNRIGHT

servants.

Enter COB, with his tankard. Kit. What, Cob! our maids will have you by the back, i' faith, for coming so late this morning Cob. Perhaps so, sir; take heed somebody

have not them by the belly, for walking so late
in the evening.
[Exit.
Kit. Well; yet my troubled spirit's somewhat
Though not reposed in that security [eased,

As I could wish: but I must be content,
Howe'er I set a face on't to the world.
Would I had lost this finger at a venture,
So Wellbred had ne'er lodged within my house.
Why't cannot be, where there is such resort
Of wanton gallants, and young revellers,
That any woman should be honest long.
Is't like, that factious beauty will preserve
The public weal of chastity unshaken, [head
When such strong motives muster, and make
Against her single peace? No, no: beware.
When mutual appetite doth meet to treat,
And spirits of one kind and quality
Come once to parley in the pride of blood,
It is no slow conspiracy that follows.
Well, to be plain, if I but thought the time
Had answered their affections, all the world
Should not persuade me but I were a cuckold.
Marry, I hope they have not got that start;
For opportunity hath balked them yet,
And shall do still, while I have eyes and ears
To attend the impositions of my heart.
My presence shall be as an iron bar,
"Twixt the conspiring motions of desire:
Yea, every look or glance mine eye ejects,
Shall check occasion, as one doth his slave,
When he forgets the limits of prescription.

Enter DAME KITELY and BRIDGET.
Dame K. Sister Bridget, pray you fetch down
.ne rose-water above in the closet. [Exit BRID-
GET.]-Sweet-heart, will you come in to break-

ast?

Kit. An she have overheard me now! Dame K. I pray thee, good muss, we stay for you.

Kit. By heaven, I would not for a thousand angels.

Dame K. What ail you, sweet-heart? are you not well? speak, good muss.

Kit.Troth my head akes extremely on a sudden. Dame K. [putting her hand to his forehead.] O, the Lord!

Kit. How now! What?

Dame K. Alas, how it burns! Muss, keep you warm; good truth it is this new disease, there's a number are troubled withal. For love's sake, sweet-heart, come in, out of the air. [swers! Kit. How simple, and how subtle are her anA new disease, and many troubled with it? Why true; she heard me, all the world to nothing.

Dame K. I pray thee, good sweet-heart, come in; the air will do you harm, in troth.

Kit. The air! she has me in the wind. Sweet-heart, I'll come to you presently; 'twill away, I hope.

Dame K. Pray Heaven it do.

[Exit.

Kit. A new disease! I know not, new or old, But it may well be called poor mortal's plague; For, like a pestilence, it doth infect The houses of the brain. First it begins Solely to work upon the phantasy,

Filling her seat with such pestiferous air,

As soon corrupts the judgment; and from thence,

Sends like contagion to the memory:
Still each to other giving the infection,
Which as a subtle vapor spreads itself
Confusedly through every sensive part,
Till not a thought or motion in the mind
Be free from the black poison of suspect.
Ah! but what misery is it to know this?
Or, knowing it, to want the mind's erection
In such extremes? Well, I will once more strive
In spite of this black cloud, myself to be,
And shake the fever off that thus shakes me.
[Exit

Enter BRAINWORM disguised like a maimed soldier Brai. 'Slid, I cannot choose but laugh to sec myself translated thus, from a poor creature to e creator; for now must I create an intolerable sort of lies, or my present profession loses the grace. and yet the lie, to a man of my coat, is as ominous a fruit as the fico. O, sir, it holds for good polity ever, to have that outwardly in vilest estimation, that inwardly is most dear to us: so much for my borrowed shape. Well, the troth is, my old master intends to follow my young master, dryfoot, over Moorfields to London, this morning; now, I knowing of this hunting-match, or rather conspiracy, and to insinuate with my young master (for so must we that are blue waiters, and men of hope and service do, or perhaps we may wear motley at the year's end, and who wears motley, you know), have got me afore in this disguise, determining here to lie in ambuscado, and intercept him in the mid-way. If I can but get his cloke, his purse, his hat, nay, any thing to cut him off, that is, to stay his journey, Veni, vidi, vici, I may say with captain Cæsar, I am made for ever, i' faith. Well, now must I practise to get the true garb of one of these lanceknights, my arm here, and my . Odso! my young master, and his cousin, master Stephen, as I am true counterfeit man of war, and no soldier !

Enter E. KNOWELL and STEPHEN.

E. Know. So, sir! and how then coz? Step. 'Sfoot! I have lost my purse, I think. E. Know. How! lost your purse? where? when had you it?

Step. I cannot tell; stay.

Brai. 'Slid, I am afeard they will know me: would I could get by them!

E. Know. What, have you it?
Step. No; I think I was bewitched, I