Ben Jonson
Every Man In His Humour, folio version
Every Man In His Humor
Jonson, Ben. “ <<Every Man In His Humour.>> ” [Online]. Edited by David Bevington. In: Butler, Martin; Bevington, David; Britland, Karen; Donaldson, Ian; Gants, David L.; and Giddens, Eugene (ed.). <<The Cambridge Edition of the Works of Ben Jonson Online>> . Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014. https://universitypublishingonline.org/cambridge/benjonson/k/works/emi/facing/#
Joan Oleza Simó
(Investigador principal)
FaltaTraductor
(Traductor)
Bevington, David
(Editor de la edición crítica)
Tronch Pérez, Jesús
(Editor digital)
English · Verso · 47 versos
https://playcode.fly.dev/plays/EMOTHE0715_EveryManInHisHumourFolioVersion
Note on this digital edition
This publication is part of the research project «Teatro español y europeo de los siglos XVI y XVII: patrimonio y bases de datos», referencia PID2019-104045GB-C54 (acronym EMOTHE), funded by MICIN/AEI/10.13039/501100011033.
The Cambridge Edition of the Works of Ben Jonson Online is ©Cambridge University Press 2014. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. It has been developed by King's College London Department of Digital Humanities, with the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation and Cambridge University Press. Numbering in this EMOTHE edition is by speeches within each scene instead of by lines (verse and prose) as in the Cambridge Online edition. Its prose speeches are encoded here as paragraphs without reproducing and encoding their line breaks.
EVERY MAN IN HIS HUMOUR TO THE MOST LEARNED, AND MY HONOURED FRIEND, Master Camden, Clarenceux Sir, There are, no doubt, a supercilious race in the world who will esteem all office done you in this kind an injury, so solemn a vice it is with them to use the authority of their ignorance to the crying down of poetry or the professors. But my gratitude must not leave to correct their error, since I am none of those that can suffer the benefits conferred upon my youth to perish with my age. It is a frail memory that remembers but present things; and, had the favour of the times so conspired with my disposition as it could have brought forth other or better, you had had the same proportion and number of the fruits, the first. Now I pray you to accept this, such wherein neither the confession of my manners shall make you blush nor of my studies repent you to have been the instructor; and for the profession of my thankfulness, I am sure it will with good men find either praise or excuse. Your true lover, Ben Jonson
Prologue
Though need make many poets, and some such As art and nature have not bettered much, Yet ours, for want, hath not so loved the stage As he dare serve th’ill customs of the age, Or purchase your delight at such a rate 5 As, for it, he himself must justly hate: To make a child, now swaddled, to proceed Man, and then shoot up in one beard and weed Past threescore years; or, with three rusty swords, And help of some few foot-and-half-foot words, Fight over York and Lancaster’s long jars, And in the tiring-house bring wounds to scars. He rather prays you will be pleased to see One such today as other plays should be: Where neither Chorus wafts you o’er the seas, Nor creaking throne comes down, the boys to please, Nor nimble squib is seen, to make afeard The gentlewomen, nor rolled bullet heard To say it thunders, nor tempestuous drum Rumbles, to tell you when the storm doth come; But deeds and language such as men do use, And persons such as Comedy would choose When she would show an image of the times, And sport with human follies, not with crimes – Except we make ’em such by loving still Our popular errors, when we know they’re ill. I mean such errors as you’ll all confess, By laughing at them, they deserve no less – Which, when you heartily do, there’s hope left then You that have so graced monsters may like men.
The Persons of the Play
KNOWELL
an old gentleman
EDWARD KNOWELL
his son
BRAINWORM
the father’s man
MASTER STEPHEN
a country gull [ Knowell’s nephew ]
[GEORGE] DOWNRIGHT
a plain squire
WELLBRED
his half-brother
JUSTICE CLEMENT
an old merry magistrate
ROGER FORMAL
his clerk
[THOMAS] KITELY
a merchant
DAME KITELY
his wife [ Wellbred’s sister ]
MISTRESS BRIDGET
his sister
MASTER MATTHEW
the town gull
[THOMAS] CASH
Kitely’s man
[OLIVER] COB
a waterbearer
TIB
his wife
CAPTAIN BOBADILL
a Paul’s man
[SERVANTS and ATTENDANTS]
1 SERVANT of CLEMENT
LORENZO
ALL
1.1
([Enter] KNOWELL [and] BRAINWORM.)
KNOWELL
A goodly day toward, and a fresh morning!
1
Brainworm,
Call up your young master. Bid him rise, sir.
Tell him I have some business to employ him.
BRAINWORM
I will, sir, presently.
2
KNOWELL
But hear you, sirrah:
3
If he be at his book, disturb him not.
BRAINWORM
Well, sir.
4
([Exit.])
KNOWELL
How happy yet should I esteem myself
5
Could I by any practice wean the boy
From one vain course of study he affects!
He is a scholar, if a man may trust
The liberal voice of fame in her report,
Of good account in both our universities,
Either of which hath favoured him with graces;
But their indulgence must not spring in me
A fond opinion that he cannot err.
Myself was once a student and, indeed,
Fed with the self-same humour he is now,
Dreaming on naught but idle poetry,
That fruitless and unprofitable art,
Good unto none, but least to the professors,
Which then I thought the mistress of all knowledge;
But since, time and the truth have waked my judgement,
And reason taught me better to distinguish
The vain from th’useful learnings.
([Enter] Master STEPHEN.)
Cousin Stephen!
What news with you, that you are here so early?
STEPHEN
Nothing but e’en come to see how you do, uncle.
KNOWELL
That’s kindly done. You are welcome, coz.
STEPHEN
Ay, I know that, sir; I would not ha’ come else. How do my cousin Edward, uncle?
KNOWELL
Oh, well, coz. Go in and see. I doubt he be scarce stirring yet.
STEPHEN
Uncle, afore 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.
KNOWELL
Why, I hope you will not a-hawking now, will you?
STEPHEN
No, wusse, but I’ll practise against 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.
KNOWELL
Oh, most ridiculous!
STEPHEN
Nay, look you now, you are angry, uncle. Why, you know, an a man have not skill in the hawking and hunting languages nowadays, 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 ’em; and, by gad’s lid, I scorn it, I, so I do, to be a consort for every humdrum. Hang ’em, scroyles! There’s nothing in ’em i’the world. What do you talk on it? Because I dwell at Hoxton, I shall keep company with none but the archers of Finsbury, or the citizens that come a-ducking 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.
KNOWELL
You are a prodigal, absurd coxcomb. Go to!
15
Nay, never look at me; it’s I that speak.
Take’t as you will, sir, I’ll not flatter you.
Ha’ you not yet found means enough to waste
That which your friends have left you, but you must
Go cast away your money on a kite,
And know not how to keep it when you ha’ done?
Oh, it’s 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 are told on it,
You look another way.
STEPHEN
What would you ha’ me do?
16
KNOWELL
What would I have you do? I’ll tell you, kinsman:
17
Learn to be wise and practise how to thrive,
That would I have you do, and not to spend
Your coin on every bauble that you fancy,
Or every foolish brain that humours you.
I would not have you to invade each place,
Nor thrust yourself on all societies,
Till men’s affections or your own desert
Should worthily invite you to your rank.
He that is so respectless in his courses
Oft sells his reputation at cheap market.
Nor would I you should melt away yourself
In flashing bravery, lest, while you affect
To make a blaze of gentry to the world,
A little puff of scorn extinguish it
And you be left like an unsavoury snuff,
Whose property is only to offend.
I’d ha’ you sober and contain yourself,
Not that your sail be bigger than your boat;
But moderate your expenses now at first,
As you may keep the same proportion still;
Nor stand so much on your gentility,
Which is an airy and mere borrowed thing
From dead men’s dust and bones, and none of yours
Except you make or hold it. Who comes here?
1.2
([Enter a] SERVANT.)
SERVANT
Save you, gentlemen.
STEPHEN
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’s hope he will. I have a pretty living o’mine own, too, beside, hard by here.
SERVANT
In good time, sir.
STEPHEN
‘In good time, sir’? Why, and in very good time, sir. You do not flout, friend, do you?
SERVANT
Not I, sir.
STEPHEN
Not you, sir? You were not best, 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.
SERVANT
Why, sir, let this satisfy you: good faith, I had no such intent.
STEPHEN
Sir, an I thought you had, I would talk with you, and that presently.
SERVANT
Good Master Stephen, so you may, sir, at your pleasure.
STEPHEN
And so I would, sir, good my saucy companion, an you were out o’mine uncle’s ground, I can tell you – though I do not stand upon my gentility, neither, in’t.
KNOWELL
Cousin, cousin, will this ne’er be left?
STEPHEN
Whoreson base fellow! A mechanical servingman! By this cudgel, an ’twere not for shame, I would –
KNOWELL
What would you do, you peremptory gull?
13
If you cannot be quiet, get you hence!
You see the honest man demeans himself
Modestly towards you, giving no reply
To your unseasoned, quarrelling, rude fashion;
And still you huff it, with a kind of carriage
As void of wit as of humanity.
Go, get you in! ’Fore heaven, I am ashamed
Thou hast a kinsman’s interest in me.
([Exit Stephen.])
SERVANT
I pray you, sir, is this Master Knowell’s house?
KNOWELL
Yes, marry, is it, sir.
SERVANT
I should inquire for a gentleman here, one Master Edward Knowell. Do you know any such, sir, I pray you?
KNOWELL
I should forget myself else, sir.
SERVANT
Are you the gentleman? Cry you mercy, sir. I was required by a gentleman i’the city, as I rode out at this end o’the town, to deliver you this letter, sir.
([He gives a letter.])
KNOWELL
To me, sir? What do you mean? Pray you, remember your court’sy. [He reads.] ‘To his most selected friend, Master Edward Knowell.’ What might the gentleman’s name be, sir, that sent it? Nay, pray you, be covered.
SERVANT
One Master Wellbred, sir.
KNOWELL
Master Wellbred! A young gentleman, is he not?
SERVANT
The same, sir. Master Kitely married his sister – the rich merchant i’the Old Jewry.
KNOWELL
You say very true. – Brainworm!
([Enter] BRAINWORM.)
BRAINWORM
Sir?
24
KNOWELL
Make this honest friend drink here.
25
[To the Servant] Pray you, go in.
([Exeunt Servant and Brainworm.])
This letter is directed to my son.
Yet I am Edward Knowell too, and may
With the safe conscience of good manners use
The fellow’s error to my satisfaction.
Well, I will break it ope – old men are curious –
Be it but for the style’s sake and the phrase,
To see if both do answer my son’s praises,
Who is almost grown the idolater
Of this young Wellbred.
[He opens the letter.] What have we here? What’s this?
[He reads] the letter. ‘Why, Ned, I beseech thee, hast thou forsworn all thy friends i’the Old Jewry, or dost thou think us all Jews that inhabit there yet? If thou dost, come over and but see our frippery; change an old shirt for a whole smock with us. Do not conceive that antipathy between us and Hoxton as was between Jews and hogs’ flesh. 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 ’em, would ha’ 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 Signor)! One is a rhymer, sir, o’your own batch, your own leaven, but doth think himself poet-major o’the town, willing to be shown and worthy to be seen. The other – I will not venture his description with you till you come, because I would ha’ you make hither with an appetite. If the worst of ’em be not worth your journey, draw your bill of charges as unconscionable as any Guildhall verdict will give it you, and you shall be allowed your viaticum. From the Windmill.’
From the bordello it might come as well,
The Spital, or Pict-hatch! Is this the man
My son hath sung so for the happiest wit,
The choicest brain the times hath sent us forth?
I know not what he may be in the arts,
Nor what in schools, but surely for his manners
I judge him a profane and dissolute wretch,
Worse by possession or such great good gifts,
Being the master of so loose a spirit.
Why, what unhallowed ruffian would have writ
In such a scurrilous manner to a friend?
Why should he think I tell my apricots,
Or play th’Hesperian dragon with my fruit,
To watch it? Well, my son, I had thought
You’d had more judgement t’have made election
Of your companions than t’have ta’en on trust
Such petulant, jeering gamesters, that can spare
No argument or subject from their jest.
But I perceive affection makes a fool
Of any man too much the father. – Brainworm!
([Enter] BRAINWORM.)
BRAINWORM
Sir?
26
KNOWELL
Is the fellow gone that brought this letter?
27
BRAINWORM
Yes, sir, a pretty while since.
28
KNOWELL
And where’s your young master?
29
BRAINWORM
In his chamber, sir.
30
KNOWELL
He spake not with the fellow, did he?
31
BRAINWORM
No, sir, he saw him not.
32
KNOWELL
[Giving the letter] Take you this letter and deliver it my son,
33
But with no notice that I have opened it, on your life.
BRAINWORM
Oh, Lord, sir, that were a jest indeed!
34
([Exit.])
KNOWELL
I am resolved I will not stop his journey,
35
Nor practise any violent mean to stay
The unbridled course of youth in him, for that,
Restrained, grows more impatient, and in kind,
Like to the eager but the generous greyhound,
Who, ne’er so little from his game withheld,
Turns head and leaps up at his holder’s throat.
There is a way of winning more by love,
And urging of the modesty, than fear;
Force works on servile natures, not the free.
He that’s compelled to goodness may be good,
But ’tis but for that fit, where others, drawn
By softness and example, get a habit.
Then, if they stray, but warn ’em, and the same
They should for virtue have done they’ll do for shame.
([Exit.])
1.3
([Enter] EDWARD KNOWELL [with the letter, and] BRAINWORM.)
EDWARD KNOWELL
Did he open it, sayest thou?
BRAINWORM
Yes, o’my word, sir, and read the contents.
EDWARD KNOWELL
That scarce contents me. What countenance, prithee, made he i’the reading of it? Was he angry or pleased?
BRAINWORM
Nay, sir, I saw him not read it, nor open it, I assure Your Worship.
EDWARD KNOWELL
No? How know’st thou then that he did either?
BRAINWORM
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 it revealed.
EDWARD KNOWELL
That’s true. Well, I thank thee, Brainworm.
([Enter] master stephen [unnoticed by Edward Knowell, who is occupied with reading his letter].)
STEPHEN
Oh, Brainworm, didst thou not see a fellow here in a what-sha’-call-him doublet? He brought mine uncle a letter e’en now.
BRAINWORM
Yes, Master Stephen, what of him?
STEPHEN
Oh, I ha’ such a mind to beat him! Where is he, canst thou tell?
BRAINWORM
Faith, he is not of that mind.
STEPHEN
Gone? Which way? When went he? How long since?
BRAINWORM
He is rid hence. He took horse at the street door.
STEPHEN
And I stayed i’the fields! Whoreson scanderbag rogue! Oh, that I had but a horse to fetch him back again!
BRAINWORM
Why, you may ha’ my mistress’s gelding, to save your longing, sir.
STEPHEN
But I ha’ no boots, that’s the spite on’t.
BRAINWORM
Why, a fine wisp of hay rolled hard, Master Stephen –
STEPHEN
No, faith, it’s no boot to follow him now. Let him e’en go, and hang. Pray thee, help to truss me a little. He does so vex me –
BRAINWORM
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.
STEPHEN
By my faith, and so I will, now thou tell’st me on’t. How dost thou like my leg, Brainworm?
BRAINWORM
A very good leg, Master Stephen; but the woollen stocking does not commend it so well.
STEPHEN
Foh! The stockings be good enough, now summer is coming on, for the dust. I’ll have a pair of silk again’ winter, that I go to dwell i’the town. I think my leg would show in a silk hose.
BRAINWORM
Believe me, Master Stephen, rarely well.
STEPHEN
In sadness, I think it would. I have a reasonable good leg.
BRAINWORM
You have an excellent good leg, Master Stephen, but I cannot stay to praise it longer now, and I am very sorry for’t.
STEPHEN
Another time will serve, Brainworm. Gramercy for this.
([Exit Brainworm.])
EDWARD KNOWELL
(Laughs, having read the letter) Ha, ha, ha!
STEPHEN
’Slid, I hope he laughs not at me. An he do –
EDWARD KNOWELL
[Oblivious still of Stephen’s presence] Here was a letter indeed, to be intercepted by a man’s father, and do him good with him! He cannot but think most virtuously both of me and the sender, sure, that make the careful costermonger of him in our ‘ Familiar Epistles’. Well, if he read this with patience, I’ll be gelt, and troll ballads for Master John Trundle, yonder, the rest of my mortality. It is true and likely my father may have as much patience as another man, for he takes much physic, and oft taking physic makes a man very patient. But would your packet, Master Wellbred, had arrived at him in such a minute of his patience; then we had known the end of it, which now is doubtful, and threatens – [Noticing Stephen, but not speaking to him] What, my wise cousin! Nay, then, I’ll furnish our feast with one gull more toward the mess. He writes to me of a brace, and here’s one: that’s three. Oh, for a fourth! Fortune, if ever thou’lt use thine eyes, I entreat thee –
STEPHEN
Oh, now I see who he laughed at: he laughed at somebody in that letter. By this good light, an he had laughed at me –
EDWARD KNOWELL
[Aloud] How now, cousin Stephen, melancholy?
STEPHEN
Yes, a little. I thought you had laughed at me, cousin.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Why, what an I had, coz? What would you ha’ done?
STEPHEN
By this light, I would ha’ told mine uncle.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Nay, if you would ha’ told your uncle, I did laugh at you, coz.
STEPHEN
Did you, indeed?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Yes, indeed.
STEPHEN
Why, then –
EDWARD KNOWELL
What then?
STEPHEN
I am satisfied; it is sufficient.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Why, be so, gentle coz. And, I pray 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; it’s but crossing over the fields to Moorgate. Will you bear me company? I protest, it is not to draw you into bond, or any plot against the state, coz.
STEPHEN
Sir, that’s all one, an ’twere; you shall command me twice so far as Moorgate to do you good in such a matter. Do you think I would leave you? I protest –
EDWARD KNOWELL
No, no, you shall not protest, coz.
STEPHEN
By my fackins, but I will, by your leave; I’ll protest more to my friend than I’ll speak of at this time.
EDWARD KNOWELL
You speak very well, coz.
STEPHEN
Nay, not so, neither, you shall pardon me; but I speak to serve my turn.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Your turn, coz? Do you know what you say? A gentleman of your sort, parts, carriage, and estimation, to talk o’your ‘turn’ i’this company, and to me alone, like a tankard-bearer at a conduit? Fie! A wight that hitherto his every step hath left the stamp of a great foot behind him, as every word the savour of a strong spirit! And he, this man, so graced, gilded, or, to use a more fit metaphor, so tinfoiled by nature, as not ten housewives’ pewter again’ a good time shows more bright to the world than he! And he – as I said last, so I say again, and still shall say it – this man, to conceal such real ornaments as these, and shadow their glory as a milliner’s wife does her wrought stomacher with a smoky lawn or a black cyprus? Oh, 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 i’your face, that men may read i’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?
STEPHEN
Why, I do think of it, and I will be more proud and melancholy and gentleman-like than I have been, I’ll ensure you.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Now, if I can but 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 pound. –
STEPHEN
I’ll follow you.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Follow me? You must go before.
STEPHEN
Nay, an I must, I will. Pray you, show me, good cousin.
([Exeunt.])
1.4
([Enter] Master MATTHEW.)
MATTHEW
I think this be the house. [He knocks.] What ho!
([Enter] COB [as he opens the door].)
COB
Who’s there? Oh, Master Matthew! Gi’ Your Worship good morrow.
MATTHEW
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.
MATTHEW
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 o’the monarchs o’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 harrots’ books. His cob was my great-great-mighty-great grandfather.
MATTHEW
Why mighty? Why mighty, I pray thee?
COB
Oh, it was a mighty while ago, sir, and a mighty great cob.
MATTHEW
How know’st thou that?
COB
How know I? Why, I smell his ghost ever and anon.
MATTHEW
Smell a ghost? Oh, unsavoury jest! And the ghost of a herring cob!
COB
Ay, sir. With favour of Your Worship’s nose, Master Matthew, why not the ghost of a herring cob as well as the ghost of rasher bacon?
MATTHEW
Roger Bacon, thou wouldst say?
COB
I say rasher bacon. They were both broiled o ’the coals; and a man may smell broiled meat, I hope? You are a scholar; upsolve me that, now.
MATTHEW
Oh, raw ignorance! Cob, canst thou show me of a gentleman, one Captain Bobadill, where his lodging is?
COB
Oh, my guest, sir, you mean?
MATTHEW
Thy guest? Alas! Ha, ha!
COB
Why do you laugh, sir? Do you not mean Captain Bobadill?
MATTHEW
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 gi’ it him.
COB
I will not give it him, though, sir. Mass, I thought somewhat was in’t; we could not get him to bed all night. Well, sir, though he lie not o’my bed, he lies o’my bench; an’t please you to go up, sir, you shall find him with two cushions under his head and his cloak wrapped 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 tonight.
MATTHEW
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. [Calling offstage] Gi’ me my tankard there, ho! – God b’wi’you, sir. It’s six o’clock; I should ha’ carried two turns by this. [Calling offstage] What ho! My stopple, come!
MATTHEW
Lie in a waterbearer’s house, a gentleman of his havings? Well, I’ll tell him my mind.
([TIB appears at the door with a tankard and stopple for Cob.])
COB
What, Tib, show this gentleman up to the Captain. [Exit Matthew with Tib.] Oh, an my house were the Brazen Head now! Faith, it would e’en speak, ‘Mo fools yet!’ You should ha’ some now would take this Master Matthew 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 wriggle into acquaintance with all the brave gallants about the town, such as my guest is – oh, 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, i’the Old Jewry; and here’s the jest, he is in love with my master’s sister, Mistress Bridget, and calls her ‘mistress’. And there he will sit you a whole afternoon sometimes, reading o’these same abominable, vile – a pox on ’em, I cannot abide them! – rascally verses, poyetry, poyetry, and speaking of interludes; ’twill make a man burst to hear him. And the wenches, they do so jeer and tee-hee 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 waterbearers shall you hear swear such an oath? Oh, I have a guest, he teaches me, he does swear the legiblest of any man christened: ‘By Saint 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 tunnels. Well, he owes me forty shillings my wife lent him out of her purse by sixpence 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, uptails all, and a louse for the hangman!
([Exit.])
1.5
(BOBADILL is discovered lying on his bench.)
BOBADILL
Hostess! Hostess!
([Enter] TIB.)
TIB
What say you, sir?
BOBADILL
A cup o’thy small beer, sweet hostess.
TIB
Sir, there’s a gentleman below would speak with you.
BOBADILL
A gentleman! ’Ods so, I am not within.
TIB
My husband told him you were, sir.
BOBADILL
What a plague! What meant he?
MATTHEW
[Within] Captain Bobadill!
BOBADILL
[Calling] Who’s there? – Take away the basin, good hostess. – Come up, sir!
TIB
[At the door, calling as though down to Matthew] He would desire you to come up, sir. [Enter] MATTHEW [with a book]. You come into a cleanly house here.
MATTHEW
Save you, sir. Save you, Captain.
BOBADILL
Gentle Master Matthew, is it you, sir? Please you sit down.
MATTHEW
Thank you, good Captain; you may see I am somewhat audacious.
BOBADILL
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.
MATTHEW
Vouchsafe me by whom, good Captain.
BOBADILL
Marry, by young Wellbred and others. – Why, hostess, a stool here for this gentleman.
MATTHEW
No haste, sir, ’tis very well.
BOBADILL
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? You can tell.
MATTHEW
Faith, some half hour to seven. Now trust me, you have an exceeding fine lodging here, very neat and private.
BOBADILL
Ay, sir, sit down, I pray you. [Exit Tib.] Master Matthew, in any case possess no gentlemen of our acquaintance with notice of my lodging.
MATTHEW
Who I, sir? No.
BOBADILL
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.
MATTHEW
True, Captain, I conceive you.
BOBADILL
For do you see, sir, by the heart of valour 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.
MATTHEW
Oh, Lord, sir! I resolve so.
BOBADILL
I confess I love a cleanly and quiet privacy above all the tumult and roar of fortune. What new book ha’ you there? What, ‘Go by, Hieronimo!’
MATTHEW
Ay, did you ever see it acted? Is’t not well penned?
BOBADILL
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, pitiful, barren fellows that live upon the face of the earth again.
MATTHEW
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?
BOBADILL
’Tis good.
MATTHEW
[Reciting] To thee, the purest object to my sense,
31
The most refinèd 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.
(Bobadill is making him ready all this while.)
BOBADILL
Nay, proceed, proceed. Where’s this?
MATTHEW
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 show you some very good things I have done of late. – That boot becomes your leg passing well, Captain, methinks.
BOBADILL
So, so. It’s the fashion gentlemen now use.
MATTHEW
Troth, Captain, and now you speak o’the fashion, Master Wellbred’s elder brother and I are fall’n 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.
BOBADILL
Squire Downright, the half-brother, was’t not?
MATTHEW
Ay, sir, he.
BOBADILL
Hang him, rook. He! Why, he has no more judgement than a malt-horse. By Saint 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 hobnails of.
MATTHEW
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.
BOBADILL
How? He the bastinado ? How came he by that word, trow?
MATTHEW
Nay, indeed, he said ‘cudgel’ me. I termed it so for my more grace.
BOBADILL
That may be, for I was sure it was none of his word. But when? When said he so?
MATTHEW
Faith, yesterday, they say. A young gallant, a friend of mine, told me so.
BOBADILL
By the foot of Pharaoh, an ’twere my case now, I should send him a chartel presently. The bastinado ? A most proper and sufficient dépendence , warranted by the great Carranza. Come hither. You shall chartel him. I’ll show you a trick or two you shall kill him with at pleasure: the first stoccata , if you will, by this air.
MATTHEW
Indeed, you have absolute knowledge i’the mystery, I have heard, sir.
BOBADILL
Of whom? Of whom ha’ you heard it, I beseech you?
46
MATTHEW
Troth, I have heard it spoken of divers that you have very rare and un-in-one-breath-utterable skill, sir.
47
BOBADILL
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 professed it more for noblemen and gentlemen’s use than mine own practice, I assure you. [Calling offstage] Hostess, accommodate us with another bedstaff here quickly. [Enter TIB.] Lend us another bedstaff! [Exit Tib.] The woman does not understand the words of action. [He flourishes a bedstaff.] Look you, sir, exalt not your point above this state at any hand, and let your poniard maintain your defence thus. [TIB returns with another bedstaff.] Give it the gentleman, and leave us. [She hands the bedstaff to Matthew.] [Exit Tib.] So, sir, come on. [They engage in fencing practice.] Oh, twine your body more about, that you may fall to a more sweet, comely, gentleman-like guard. [Another pass.] So, indifferent. Hollow your body more, sir, thus. [He demonstrates.] Now stand fast o’your left leg. Note your distance; keep your due proportion of time. [Matthew tries it.] Oh, you disorder your point most irregularly!
MATTHEW
[Trying again] How is the bearing of it now, sir?
BOBADILL
Oh, out of measure ill! A well-experienced hand would pass upon you at pleasure.
MATTHEW
How mean you, sir, ‘pass upon’ me?
BOBADILL
Why, thus, sir, make a thrust at me: 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 passada : a most desperate thrust, believe it.
MATTHEW
Well, come, sir.
([They fence again.])
BOBADILL
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 judgement renders you tedious.
MATTHEW
But one venue, sir.
BOBADILL
‘ Venue ’? Fie! Most gross denomination as ever I heard. Oh, the stoccata , while you live, sir. Note that. 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. 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 judgement of the eye, hand, and foot, to control any enemy’s point i’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 ha’ you about you, Master Matthew?
MATTHEW
Faith, I ha’ not past a two shillings or so.
BOBADILL
’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 young Wellbred. Perhaps we shall meet the Corydon his brother there, and put him to the question.
([Exeunt.])
2.1
([Enter] KITELY, CASH, [and] DOWNRIGHT.)
KITELY
Thomas, come hither.
1
There lies a note within upon my desk;
Here, take my key. It is no matter, neither.
Where is the boy?
CASH
Within, sir, i’the warehouse.
2
KITELY
Let him tell over straight that Spanish gold
3
And weigh it with th’pieces of eight. Do you
See the delivery of those silver stuffs
To Master Lucre. Tell him, if he will,
He shall ha’ the grograns at the rate I told him,
And I will meet him on the Exchange anon.
CASH
Good, sir.
4
([Exit.])
KITELY
Do you see that fellow, brother Downright?
5
DOWNRIGHT
Ay, what of him?
6
KITELY
He is a jewel, brother.
7
I took him of a child up at my door,
And christened him, gave him mine own name: Thomas;
Since bred him at the Hospital, where proving
A toward imp, I called him home and taught him
So much as I have made him my cashier,
And giv’n 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.
DOWNRIGHT
So would not I in any bastards, brother –
8
As it is like he is – although I knew
Myself his father. But you said you had somewhat
To tell me, gentle brother. What is’t? What is’t?
KITELY
Faith, I am very loath to utter it,
9
As fearing it may hurt your patience,
But that I know your judgement is of strength
Against the nearness of affection –
DOWNRIGHT
What need this circumstance? Pray you, be direct.
10
KITELY
I will not say how much I do ascribe
11
Unto your friendship, nor in what regard
I hold your love; but let my past behaviour
And usage of your sister but confirm
How well I’ve been affected to your –
DOWNRIGHT
You are too tedious. Come to the matter, the matter.
12
KITELY
Then, without further ceremony, thus:
13
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 him,
But all he did became him as his own,
And seemed as perfect, proper, and possessed
As breath with life or colour with the blood.
But now his course is so irregular,
So loose, affected, and deprived of grace,
And he himself withal so far fall’n off
From that first place, as scarce no note remains
To tell men’s judgements 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 humour and diseasèd riot.
And here, as in a tavern or a stews,
He and his wild associates spend their hours
In repetition of lascivious jests,
Swear, leap, drink, dance, and revel night by night,
Control my servants, and indeed what not?
DOWNRIGHT
’Sdeynes, I know not what I should say to him i’the whole world! He values me at a cracked three-farthings, for aught I see. It will never out o’the flesh that’s bred i’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, ’fore George. Let him spend, and spend, and domineer till his heart ache. An he think to be relieved by me when he is got into one o’your city pounds, the Counters, 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 o’my halfpenny ere I part with’t to fetch him out, I’ll assure him.
KITELY
Nay, good brother, let it not trouble you thus.
DOWNRIGHT
’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?
KITELY
Oh, there are divers reasons to dissuade, brother.
17
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 savour less of stomach or of passion.
You are his elder brother, and that title
Both gives and warrants you 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 tott’ring 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 humour
And overflowing of the vapour 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 upon every word,
Gesture, or look I use; mock me all over,
From my flat cap unto my shining shoes;
And out of all their impetuous riotous fant’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 quarrelled
My brother purposely, thereby to find
An apt pretext to banish them my house.
DOWNRIGHT
Mass, perhaps so. They’re like enough to do it.
18
KITELY
Brother, they would, believe it. So should I,
19
Like one of these penurious quacksalvers,
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 –
2.2
([Enter] MATTHEW [and] BOBADILL.)
MATTHEW
[To Bobadill] I will speak to him –
BOBADILL
[To Matthew] Speak to him? Away, by the foot of Pharaoh! You shall not, you shall not do him that grace. [To Kitely] The time of day to you, gentleman o’the house. Is Master Wellbred stirring?
DOWNRIGHT
How then? What should he do?
BOBADILL
[To Kitely] Gentleman of the house, it is to you. Is he within, sir?
KITELY
He came not to his lodging tonight, sir, I assure you.
DOWNRIGHT
[To Bobadill] Why, do you hear? You!
BOBADILL
The gentleman–citizen hath satisfied me. I’ll talk to no scavenger.
([He starts to leave.])
DOWNRIGHT
How, ‘scavenger’? Stay, sir, stay!
([Exeunt Bobadill and Matthew.])
KITELY
[Restraining him] Nay, brother Downright.
DOWNRIGHT
Heart! Stand you away, an you love me.
KITELY
You shall not follow him now, I pray you, brother; good faith, you shall not. I will overrule you.
DOWNRIGHT
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 pissed! ’Sdeynes, an I swallow this, I’ll ne’er draw my sword in the sight of Fleet Street again while I live. I’ll sit in a barn with Madge Owlet 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 Gargantua breech cannot carry it away so.
KITELY
Oh, do not fret yourself thus! Never think on’t.
DOWNRIGHT
These are my brother’s consorts, these! These are his cam’rades , his walking mates! He’s a gallant, a cavaliero too, right hangman cut! Let me not live an I could not find in my heart to swinge the whole ging 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 he shall drink, ’fore George, again. Yet he shall hear on’t, and that tightly too, an I live, i’faith.
KITELY
But brother, let your reprehension then
15
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 compose
Th’imperfect thoughts you labour to reclaim,
More winning than enforcing the consent.
DOWNRIGHT
Ay, ay, let me alone for that, I warrant you.
16
(Bell rings.)
KITELY
How now? Oh, the bell rings to breakfast.
17
Brother, I pray you, go in and bear my wife
Company till I come. I’ll but give order
For some dispatch of business to my servants –
([Exit Downright.])
2.3
([Enter] COB to them. He passes by with his tankard.)
KITELY
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.])
KITELY
Well, yet my troubled spirit’s somewhat eased,
3
Though not reposed in that security
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
When such strong motives muster and make head
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 ha’ not got that start;
For opportunity hath balked ’em 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 [with BRIDGET].)
DAME KITELY
Sister Bridget, pray you, fetch down the rose-water above in the closet. [Exit Bridget.] [To Kitely] Sweetheart, will you come in to breakfast?
KITELY
An she have overheard me now!
DAME KITELY
I pray thee, good muss, we stay for you.
KITELY
By heaven, I would not for a thousand angels.
DAME KITELY
What ail you, sweetheart? Are you not well? Speak, good muss.
KITELY
Troth, my head aches extremely on a sudden.
DAME KITELY
[Feeling his forehead] Oh, the Lord!
KITELY
How now? What?
DAME KITELY
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, sweetheart, come in out of the air.
KITELY
How simple and how subtle are her answers!
13
A new disease, and many troubled with it!
Why, true, she heard me, all the world to nothing.
DAME KITELY
I pray thee, good sweetheart, come in. The air will do you harm, in troth.
KITELY
‘The air’! She has me i’the wind. –
DAME KITELY
Pray heaven it do.
([Exit.])
KITELY
A new disease? I know not new or old,
17
But it may well be called poor mortals’ plague,
For like a pestilence it doth infect
The houses of the brain. First it begins
Solely to work upon the fantasy,
Filling her seat with such pestiferous air
As soon corrupts the judgement; and from thence
Sends like contagion to the memory,
Still each to other giving the infection,
Which, as a subtle vapour, 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.])
2.4
([Enter] BRAINWORM [disguised as a wounded veteran].)
BRAINWORM
’Slid, I cannot choose but laugh to see myself translated thus, from a poor creature to a 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. Oh, 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 truth is my old master intends to follow my young, 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 midway. If I can but get his cloak, his purse, his hat – nay, anything – to cut him off, that is, to stay his journey, ‘ Veni, vidi, vici ’, I may say with Captain Caesar; I am made for ever, i’faith. Well, now must I practise to get the true garb of one of these lance-knights. [He adopts a military posture.] My arm here, and my – young master! And his cousin, Master Stephen, as I am true counterfeit man of war and no soldier!
([Brainworm stands aside.])
([Enter] EDWARD KNOWELL [and] Master STEPHEN.)
EDWARD KNOWELL
[To Stephen] So, sir, and how then, coz?
STEPHEN
’Sfoot, I have lost my purse, I think.
EDWARD KNOWELL
How, lost your purse? Where? When had you it?
STEPHEN
I cannot tell. – Stay!
BRAINWORM
’Slid, I am afeard they will know me. Would I could get by them!
EDWARD KNOWELL
What, ha’ you it?
STEPHEN
No, I think I was bewitched, I –
EDWARD KNOWELL
Nay, do not weep the loss. Hang it, let it go.
STEPHEN
[Finding the purse] Oh, it’s here. No, an it had been lost, I had not cared, but for a jet ring Mistress Mary sent me.
EDWARD KNOWELL
A jet ring? Oh, the posy, the posy?
STEPHEN
Fine, i’faith:
Though fancy sleep,
My love is deep –
meaning that though I did not fancy her, yet she loved me dearly.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Most excellent!
13
STEPHEN
And then I sent her another, and my posy was
The deeper the sweeter,
I’ll be judged, by Saint Peter.
EDWARD KNOWELL
How, ‘by Saint Peter’? I do not conceive that.
STEPHEN
Marry, ‘Saint Peter’ to make up the metre.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Well, there the saint was your good patron; he helped you at your need. Thank him, thank him.
(He [Brainworm] is come back.)
BRAINWORM
I cannot take leave on ’em so; I will venture, come what will. –
EDWARD KNOWELL
Where hast thou served?
BRAINWORM
May it please you, sir, in all the late wars of Bohemia, Hungaria, Dalmatia, Poland – where not, sir? I have been a poor servitor by sea and land any time this fourteen years, and followed the fortunes of the best commanders in Christendom. I was twice shot at the taking of Aleppo, once at the relief of Vienna. I have been at Marseilles, Naples, and the Adriatic Gulf, a gentleman slave in the galleys thrice, where I was most dangerously shot in the head, through both the thighs; and yet, being thus maimed, I am void of maintenance, nothing left me but my scars, the noted marks of my resolution.
STEPHEN
[Examining Brainworm’s sword] How will you sell this rapier, friend?
BRAINWORM
Generous sir, I refer it to your own judgement. You are a gentleman; give me what you please.
STEPHEN
True, I am a gentleman, I know that, friend. But what though? I pray you say, what would you ask?
BRAINWORM
I assure you, the blade may become the side or thigh of the best prince in Europe.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Ay, with a velvet scabbard, I think.
STEPHEN
Nay, an’t be mine it shall have a velvet scabbard, coz, that’s flat. I’d not wear it as ’tis an you would give me an angel.
BRAINWORM
At Your Worship’s pleasure, sir. Nay, ’tis a most pure Toledo.
STEPHEN
I had rather it were a Spaniard. But tell me, what shall I give you for it? An it had a silver hilt –
EDWARD KNOWELL
Come, come, you shall not buy it. [To Brainworm, offering him a coin] Hold, there’s a shilling, fellow. Take thy rapier.
STEPHEN
Why, but I will buy it now because you say so. [To Brainworm] And there’s another shilling, fellow. I scorn to be outbidden. What, shall I walk with a cudgel, like Higginbottom, and may have a rapier for money?
EDWARD KNOWELL
You may buy one in the city.
STEPHEN
Tut, I’ll buy this i’the field, so I will; I have a mind to’t, because ’tis a field rapier. – Tell me your lowest price.
EDWARD KNOWELL
You shall not buy it, I say.
STEPHEN
By this money, but I will, though I give more than ’tis worth.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Come away. You are a fool.
STEPHEN
Friend, I am a fool, that’s granted; but I’ll have it for that word’s sake. [To Brainworm] Follow me for your money.
BRAINWORM
At your service, sir.
([Exeunt.])
2.5
([Enter] KNOWELL.)
KNOWELL
I cannot lose the thought yet of this letter
1
Sent to my son, nor leave t’admire the change
Of manners and the breeding of our youth
Within the kingdom since myself was one.
When I was young, he lived not in the stews
Durst have conceived a scorn and uttered it
On a grey head; age was authority
Against a buffoon, and a man had then
A certain reverence paid unto his years
That had none due unto his life – so much
The sanctity of some prevailed for others.
But now we all are fall’n: youth from their fear,
And age from that which bred it, good example.
Nay, would ourselves were not the first, even parents
That did destroy the hopes in our own children,
Or they not learned our vices in their cradles
And sucked in our ill customs with their milk.
Ere all their teeth be born, or they can speak,
We make their palates cunning. The first words
We form their tongues with are licentious jests.
Can it call ‘whore’? Cry ‘bastard’? Oh, then, kiss it;
A witty child! Can ’t swear? The father’s darling!
Give it two plums. Nay, rather than ’t shall learn
No bawdy song, the mother herself will teach it.
But this is in the infancy, the days
Of the long coat; when it puts on the breeches
It will put off all this. Ay, it is like,
When it is gone into the bone already.
No, no, this dye does deeper than the coat,
Or shirt, or skin. It stains unto the liver,
And heart in some. And, rather than it should not,
Note what we fathers do: look how we live,
What mistresses we keep, at what expense
In our sons’ eyes, where they may handle our gifts,
Hear our lascivious courtships, see our dalliance,
Taste of the same provoking meats with us,
To ruin of our states! Nay, when our own
Portion is fled, to prey on their remainder
We call them into fellowship of vice,
Bait ’em with the young chambermaid, to seal,
And teach ’em all bad ways, to buy affliction.
This is one path; but there are millions more
In which we spoil our own with leading them.
Well, I thank heaven I never yet was he
That travelled with my son, before sixteen,
To show him the Venetian courtesans,
Nor read the grammar of cheating I had made
To my sharp boy at twelve, repeating still
The rule: ‘Get money, still get money, boy,
No matter by what means; money will do
More, boy, than my lord’s letter.’ Neither have I
Dressed snails or mushrooms curiously before him,
Perfumed my sauces, and taught him to make ’em,
Preceding still with my grey gluttony
At all the ordinaries, and only feared
His palate should degenerate, not his manners.
These are the trade of fathers now. However,
My son, I hope, hath met within my threshold
None of these household precedents, which are strong
And swift to rape youth to their precipice.
But, let the house at home be ne’er so clean-
Swept, or kept sweet from filth – nay, dust and cobwebs –
If he will live abroad with his companions
In dung and laystalls, it is worth a fear;
Nor is the danger of conversing less
Than all that I have mentioned of example.
([Enter] BRAINWORM [disguised still as a soldier].)
BRAINWORM
My master! Nay, faith, have at you. I am fleshed now, I have sped so well. –
KNOWELL
I have not for you now.
BRAINWORM
By the faith I bear unto truth, gentleman, it is no ordinary custom in me, but only to preserve manhood. I protest to you, a man I have been, a man I may be, by your sweet bounty.
KNOWELL
Pray thee, good friend, be satisfied.
BRAINWORM
Good sir, by that hand, you may do the part of a kind gentleman in lending a poor soldier the price of two cans of beer, a matter of small value. The King of Heaven shall pay you, and I shall rest thankful. Sweet Worship –
KNOWELL
Nay, an you be so importunate –
BRAINWORM
Oh, tender sir, need will have his course. I was not made to this vile use. Well, the edge of the enemy could not have abated me so much. It’s hard when a man hath served in his prince’s cause and be thus – (He weeps.) Honourable Worship, let me derive a small piece of silver from you; it shall not be given in the course of time. By this good ground, I was fain to pawn my rapier last night for a poor supper; I had sucked the hilts long before, I am a pagan else, sweet Honour.
KNOWELL
Believe me, I am taken with some wonder
9
To think a fellow of thy outward presence
Should, in the frame and fashion of his mind,
Be so degenerate and sordid-base.
Art thou a man? And sham’st thou not to beg?
To practise such a servile kind of life?
Why, were thy education ne’er so mean,
Having thy limbs, a thousand fairer courses
Offer themselves to thy election.
Either the wars might still supply thy wants,
Or service of some virtuous gentleman,
Or honest labour. Nay, what can I name
But would become thee better than to beg?
But men of thy condition feed on sloth,
As doth the beetle on the dung she breeds in,
Not caring how the mettle of your minds
Is eaten with the rust of idleness.
Now, afore me, whate’er he be that should
Relieve a person of thy quality,
While thou insists in this loose, desperate course,
I would esteem the sin not thine, but his.
BRAINWORM
Faith, sir, I would gladly find some other course, if so –
KNOWELL
Ay, you’d gladly find it, but you will not seek it.
BRAINWORM
Alas, sir, where should a man seek? In the wars there’s no ascent by desert in these days, but – and for service, would it were as soon purchased as wished for, the air’s my comfort; I know what I would say –
KNOWELL
What’s thy name?
BRAINWORM
Please you, Fitzsword, sir.
KNOWELL
Fitzsword?
15
Say that a man should entertain thee now;
Wouldst thou be honest, humble, just, and true?
BRAINWORM
Sir, by the place and honour of a soldier –
KNOWELL
Nay, nay, I like not those affected oaths.
17
Speak plainly, man: what think’st thou of my words?
BRAINWORM
Nothing, sir, but wish my fortunes were as happy as my service should be honest.
KNOWELL
Well, follow me. I’ll prove thee, if thy deeds
19
Will carry a proportion to thy words.
BRAINWORM
Yes, sir, straight. I’ll but garter my hose. [Exit Knowell.] Oh, that my belly were hooped now! For I am ready to burst with laughing. Never was bottle or bagpipe fuller. ’Slid, was there ever seen a fox in years to betray himself thus? Now shall I be possessed of all his counsels, and, by that conduit, my young master. Well, he is resolved to prove my honesty; faith, and I am resolved to prove his patience. Oh, I shall abuse him intolerably! This small piece of service will bring him clean out of love with the soldier for ever. He will never come within the sign of it, the sight of a cassock or a musket-rest, again. He will hate the musters 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 slip at an instant. Why, this is better than to have stayed his journey. Well, I’ll follow him. Oh, how I long to be employed!
([Exit.])
3.1
([Enter] MATTHEW, WELLBRED, [and] BOBADILL.)
MATTHEW
[To Wellbred] Yes, faith, sir, we were at your lodging to seek you too.
WELLBRED
Oh, I came not there tonight.
BOBADILL
Your brother delivered us as much.
WELLBRED
Who, my brother Downright?
BOBADILL
He. Master Wellbred, I know not in what kind you hold me, but let me say to you this: as sure as honour, I esteem it so much out of the sunshine of reputation to throw the least beam of regard upon such a –
WELLBRED
Sir, I must hear no ill words of my brother.
BOBADILL
I protest to you, as I have a thing to be saved about me, I never saw any gentleman-like part –
WELLBRED
Good Captain, faces about: to some other discourse.
BOBADILL
With your leave, sir, an there were no more men living upon the face of the earth, I should not fancy him, by Saint George.
MATTHEW
Troth, nor I. He is of a rustical cut – I know not how. He doth not carry himself like a gentleman of fashion.
WELLBRED
Oh, Master Matthew, that’s a grace peculiar but to a few: quos aequus amavit Jupiter .
MATTHEW
I understand you, sir.
(Young KNOWELL enters [with] STEPHEN.)
WELLBRED
No question you do or you do not, sir. – Ned Knowell! By my soul, welcome! How dost thou, sweet spirit, my genius? ’Slid, I shall love Apollo and the mad Thespian girls the better while I live, for this. My dear fury, now I see there’s some love in thee. [Wellbred and Edward Knowell converse privately between themselves.] Sirrah, these be the two [Indicating Bobadill and Matthew] I writ to thee of. Nay, what a drowsy humour is this now? Why dost thou not speak?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Oh, you are a fine gallant! You sent me a rare letter.
WELLBRED
Why, was’t not rare?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Yes, I’ll be sworn I was ne’er guilty of reading the like; match it in all Pliny or Symmachus’ epistles, and I’ll have my judgement burned in the ear for a rogue. Make much of thy vein, for it is inimitable. But I mar’l what camel it was that had the carriage of it? For doubtless he was no ordinary beast that brought it.
WELLBRED
Why?
EDWARD KNOWELL
‘Why?’ sayest thou? Why, dost thou think that any reasonable creature, especially in the morning – the sober time of the day too – could have mista’en my father for me?
WELLBRED
’Slid, you jest, I hope.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Indeed, the best use we can turn it to is to make a jest on’t now. But I’ll assure you, my father had the full view o’your flourishing style some hour before I saw it.
WELLBRED
What a dull slave was this! But sirrah, what said he to it, i’faith?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Nay, I know not what he said; but I have a shrewd guess what he thought.
WELLBRED
What? What?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Marry, that thou art some strange, dissolute young fellow, and I a grain or two better for keeping thee company.
WELLBRED
Tut, that thought is like the moon in her last quarter; ’twill change shortly. But, sirrah, I pray thee be acquainted with my two hang-bys here. Thou wilt take exceeding pleasure in ’em if thou hear’st ’em once go: my wind- instruments. I’ll wind ’em up. But [Gesturing towards Stephen] what strange piece of silence is this? The sign of the Dumb Man?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Oh, sir, a kinsman of mine, one that may make your music the fuller, an he please. He has his humour, sir.
WELLBRED
Oh, what is’t? What is’t?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Nay, I’ll neither do your judgement nor his folly that wrong as to prepare your apprehension; I’ll leave him to the mercy o’your search. If you can take him, so.
([Wellbred and Edward Knowell join the others.])
WELLBRED
Well, Captain Bobadill, Master Matthew, pray you, know this gentleman here; he is a friend of mine and one that will deserve your affection. (To Master Stephen) I know not your name, sir, but I shall be glad of any occasion to render me more familiar to you.
STEPHEN
My name is Master Stephen, sir. I am this gentleman’s own cousin, sir; his father is mine uncle, sir. I am somewhat melancholy, but you shall command me, sir, in whatsoever is incident to a gentleman.
BOBADILL
(To [Edward] Knowell) Sir, I must tell you this: I am no general man. But for Master Wellbred’s sake – you may embrace it at what height of favour you please – I do communicate with you, and conceive you to be a gentleman of some parts. I love few words.
EDWARD KNOWELL
And I fewer, sir. I have scarce enough to thank you.
MATTHEW
(To Master Stephen) But are you indeed, sir, so given to it?
STEPHEN
Ay, truly, sir, I am mightily given to melancholy.
MATTHEW
Oh, it’s your only fine humour, sir. Your true melancholy breeds your perfect fine wit, sir. I am melancholy myself divers times, sir, and then do I no more but take pen and paper presently, and overflow you half a score or a dozen of sonnets at a sitting.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Sure, he utters them, then, by the gross.
STEPHEN
[To Matthew] Truly, sir, and I love such things out of measure.
EDWARD KNOWELL
I’faith, better than in measure, I’ll undertake.
MATTHEW
[To Stephen] Why, I pray you, sir, make use of my study. It’s at your service.
STEPHEN
I thank you, sir; I shall be bold, I warrant you. Have you a stool there, to be melancholy upon?
MATTHEW
That I have, sir, and some papers there of mine own doing at idle hours, that you’ll say there’s some sparks of wit in ’em when you see them.
WELLBRED
Would the sparks would kindle once and become a fire amongst ’em, I might see self-love burned for her heresy!
STEPHEN
[To Edward Knowell] Cousin, is it well? Am I melancholy enough?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Oh, ay, excellent.
WELLBRED
Captain Bobadill, why muse you so?
EDWARD KNOWELL
He is melancholy too.
BOBADILL
Faith, sir, I was thinking of a most honourable piece of service was performed, tomorrow being Saint Mark’s day, shall be some ten years now.
EDWARD KNOWELL
In what place, Captain?
BOBADILL
Why, at the beleag’ring of Strigonium, where, in less than two hours, seven hundred resolute gentlemen as any were in Europe lost their lives upon the breach. I’ll tell you, gentlemen, it was the first but the best leaguer that ever I beheld with these eyes, except the taking in of – what do you call it? – last year by the Genoese; but that of all other was the most fatal and dangerous exploit that ever I was ranged in since I first bore arms before the face of the enemy, as I am a gentleman and soldier.
STEPHEN
’So, I had as lief as an angel I could swear as well as that gentleman!
EDWARD KNOWELL
[To Bobadill] Then you were a servitor at both, it seems: at Strigonium and What-do-you-call’t?
BOBADILL
Oh, Lord, sir! By Saint George, I was the first man that entered the breach, and, had I not effected it with resolution, I had been slain if I had had a million of lives.
EDWARD KNOWELL
’Twas pity you had not ten: a cat’s and your own, i’faith. – But was it possible?
MATTHEW
[To Stephen] Pray you, mark this discourse, sir.
STEPHEN
So I do.
BOBADILL
I assure you, upon my reputation, ’tis true, and yourself shall confess.
EDWARD KNOWELL
You must bring me to the rack first.
BOBADILL
Observe me judicially, sweet sir: they had planted me three demi-culverins just in the mouth of the breach. Now, sir, as we were to give on, their master gunner – a man of no mean skill and mark, you must think – confronts me with his linstock ready to give fire. I, spying his intendment, discharged my petronel in his bosom, and with these single arms, [Indicating his weapon] my poor rapier, ran violently upon the Moors that guarded the ordnance and put ’em pell-mell to the sword.
WELLBRED
To the sword? To the rapier, Captain.
EDWARD KNOWELL
[To Wellbred] Oh, it was a good figure observed, sir. – But did you all this, Captain, without hurting your blade?
BOBADILL
Without any impeach o’the earth. You shall perceive, sir. It is the most fortunate weapon that ever rid on poor gentleman’s thigh. Shall I tell you, sir? You talk of Morglay, Excalibur, Durindana, or so; tut, I lend no credit to that is fabled of ’em. I know the virtue of mine own, and therefore I dare the boldlier maintain it.
STEPHEN
I mar’l whether it be a Toledo or no?
BOBADILL
A most perfect Toledo, I assure you, sir.
STEPHEN
I have a countryman of his here.
MATTHEW
Pray you, let’s see, sir. [Examining Stephen’s weapon] Yes, faith, it is!
BOBADILL
This a Toledo? Pish!
STEPHEN
Why do you ‘pish’, Captain?
BOBADILL
A Fleming, by heaven. I’ll buy them for a guilder apiece, an I would have a thousand of them.
EDWARD KNOWELL
[To Stephen] How say you, cousin? I told you thus much.
WELLBRED
Where bought you it, Master Stephen?
STEPHEN
Of a scurvy rogue soldier, a hundred of lice go with him! He swore it was a Toledo.
BOBADILL
A poor provant rapier, no better.
MATTHEW
Mass, I think it be, indeed, now I look on’t better.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Nay, the longer you look on’t, the worse. [To Stephen] Put it up, put it up.
STEPHEN
Well, I will put it up, but, by – I ha’ forgot the Captain’s oath; I thought to ha’ sworn by it – an ere I meet him –
WELLBRED
Oh, it is past help now, sir. You must have patience.
STEPHEN
Whoreson, coney-catching rascal! I could eat the very hilts for anger!
EDWARD KNOWELL
A sign of good digestion! You have an ostrich stomach, cousin.
STEPHEN
A stomach? Would I had him here! You should see an I had a stomach.
WELLBRED
It’s better as ’tis. – Come, gentlemen, shall we go?
3.2
([Enter ] BRAINWORM [in his soldier’s disguise].)
EDWARD KNOWELL
[To Stephen] A miracle, cousin. Look here! Look here!
STEPHEN
[To Brainworm] Oh, God’s lid, by your leave, do you know me, sir?
BRAINWORM
Ay, sir. I know you by sight.
STEPHEN
You sold me a rapier, did you not?
BRAINWORM
Yes, marry, did I, sir.
STEPHEN
You said it was a Toledo, ha?
BRAINWORM
True, I did so.
STEPHEN
But it is none?
BRAINWORM
No, sir, I confess it, it is none.
STEPHEN
Do you confess it? – Gentlemen, bear witness he has confessed it. – By God’s will, an you had not confessed it –
EDWARD KNOWELL
Oh, cousin, forbear, forbear.
STEPHEN
Nay, I have done, cousin.
WELLBRED
Why, you have done like a gentleman. He has confessed it; what would you more?
STEPHEN
Yet, by his leave, he is a rascal – under his favour, do you see?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Ay, ‘by his leave, he is,’ and ‘under favour’ – a pretty piece of civility! Sirrah, how dost thou like him?
WELLBRED
Oh, it’s a most precious fool! Make much on him. I can compare him to nothing more happily than a drum, for everyone may play upon him.
EDWARD KNOWELL
No, no, a child’s whistle were far the fitter.
BRAINWORM
[To Edward Knowell] Sir, shall I entreat a word with you?
EDWARD KNOWELL
With me, sir? You have not another Toledo to sell, ha’ you?
BRAINWORM
You are conceited, sir. [They converse privately.] Your name is Master Knowell, as I take it?
EDWARD KNOWELL
You are i’the right. You mean not to proceed in the catechism, do you?
BRAINWORM
No, sir, I am none of that coat.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Of as bare a coat, though. Well, say, sir.
BRAINWORM
Faith, sir, I am but servant to the drum extraordinary, and indeed – this smoky varnish being washed off and three or four patches removed – I appear Your Worship’s in reversion, after the decease of your good father – Brainworm!
([He gives Edward Knowell a glimpse of his identity.])
EDWARD KNOWELL
Brainworm! ’Slight, what breath of a conjurer hath blown thee hither in this shape?
BRAINWORM
The breath o’your letter, sir, this morning – the same that blew you to the Windmill and your father after you.
EDWARD KNOWELL
My father?
BRAINWORM
Nay, never start, ’tis true. He has followed you over the fields, by the foot, as you would do a hare i’the snow.
EDWARD KNOWELL
[Inviting Wellbred to join them] Sirrah Wellbred, what shall we do, sirrah? My father is come over after me.
WELLBRED
Thy father? Where is he?
BRAINWORM
At Justice Clement’s house here, in Coleman Street, where he but stays my return, and then –
WELLBRED
Who’s this? Brainworm?
BRAINWORM
The same, sir.
WELLBRED
Why, how i’the name of wit com’st thou transmuted thus?
BRAINWORM
Faith, a device, a device. Nay, for the love of reason, gentlemen, and avoiding the danger, stand not here! Withdraw, and I’ll tell you all.
EDWARD KNOWELL
But art thou sure he will stay thy return?
BRAINWORM
Do I live, sir? What a question is that?
WELLBRED
We’ll prorogue his expectation, then, a little. Brainworm, thou shalt go with us. [He calls to the others] Come on, gentlemen. [To Edward Knowell] Nay, I pray thee, sweet Ned, droop not; ’heart, an our wits be so wretchedly dull that one old, plodding brain can outstrip us all, would we were e’en pressed to make porters of, and serve out the remnant of our days in Thames Street or at Custom House quay, in a civil war against the carmen.
BRAINWORM
Amen, amen, amen, say I!
([Exeunt.])
3.3
([Enter] KITELY [and] CASH.)
KITELY
What says he, Thomas? Did you speak with him?
1
CASH
He will expect you, sir, within this half hour.
2
KITELY
Has he the money ready, can you tell?
3
CASH
Yes, sir. The money was brought in last night.
4
KITELY
Oh, that’s well. Fetch me my cloak, my cloak.
5
([Exit Cash.])
Stay, let me see: an hour to go and come,
Ay, that will be the least; and then ’twill be
An hour before I can dispatch with him,
Or very near. Well, I will say two hours.
Two hours? Ha? Things never dreamt of yet
May be contrived, ay, and effected too,
In two hours’ absence. Well, I will not go.
Two hours. No, fleering Opportunity,
I will not give your subtlety that scope.
Who will not judge him worthy to be robbed
That sets his doors wide open to a thief
And shows the felon where his treasure lies?
Again, what earthy spirit but will attempt
To taste the fruit of beauty’s golden tree
When leaden sleep seels up the dragon’s eyes?
I will not go. Business, go by for once.
No, Beauty, no: you are of too good caract
To be left so, without a guard, or open.
Your lustre too’ll inflame at any distance,
Draw courtship to you as a jet doth straws,
Put motion in a stone, strike fire from ice,
Nay, make a porter leap you with his burden!
You must be then kept up, close and well-watched,
For, give you opportunity, no quicksand
Devours or swallows swifter. He that lends
His wife, if she be fair, or time or place,
Compels her to be false. I will not go;
The dangers are too many. And then the dressing
Is a most main attractive! Our great heads
Within the city never were in safety
Since our wives wore these little caps. I’ll change ’em,
I’ll change ’em straight, in mine. Mine shall no more
Wear three-piled acorns, to make my horns ache.
Nor will I go. I am resolved for that.
([Enter CASH with Kitely’s cloak.])
Carry in my cloak again. Yet stay! Yet do, too!
I will defer going on all occasions.
CASH
Sir, Snare, your scrivener, will be there with th’bonds.
6
KITELY
That’s true. Fool on me! I had clean forgot it;
7
I must go. What’s o’clock?
CASH
Exchange time, sir.
8
KITELY
Heart, then will Wellbred presently be here too,
9
With one or other of his loose consorts.
I am a knave if I know what to say,
What course to take, or which way to resolve.
My brain, methinks, is like an hourglass,
Wherein my imaginations run like sands,
Filling up time, but then are turned and turned,
So that I know not what to stay upon,
And less, to put in act. It shall be so.
Nay, I dare build upon his secrecy;
He knows not to deceive me. –
CASH
Sir?
10
KITELY
Yet, now I have bethought me, too, I will not. –
11
Thomas, is Cob within?
CASH
I think he be, sir.
12
KITELY
But he’ll prate too; there’s no speech of him.
13
No, there were no man o’the earth to Thomas,
If I durst trust him; there is all the doubt.
But should he have a chink in him, I were gone,
Lost i’my fame for ever, talk for th’Exchange.
The manner he hath stood with till this present
Doth promise no such change. What should I fear, then?
Well, come what will, I’ll tempt my fortune once. –
Thomas – you may deceive me, but I hope –
Your love to me is more –
CASH
Sir, if a servant’s
14
Duty with faith may be called love, you are
More than in hope; you are possessed of it.
KITELY
I thank you heartily, Thomas; gi’ me your hand;
15
With all my heart, good Thomas. I have, Thomas,
A secret to impart unto you – but
When once you have it, I must seal your lips up.
So far I tell you, Thomas.
CASH
Sir, for that –
16
KITELY
Nay, hear me out. Think I esteem you, Thomas,
17
When I will let you in thus to my private.
It is a thing sits nearer to my crest
Than thou art ware of, Thomas. If thou shouldst
Reveal it, but –
CASH
How, I reveal it?
18
KITELY
Nay,
19
I do not think thou wouldst, but if thou shouldst,
’Twere a great weakness.
CASH
A great treachery!
20
Give it no other name.
KITELY
Thou will not do’t, then?
21
CASH
Sir, if I do, mankind disclaim me ever.
22
KITELY
He will not swear. He has some reservation,
23
Some concealed purpose and close meaning, sure;
Else, being urged so much, how should he choose
But lend an oath to all this protestation?
He’s no precisian, that I am certain of,
Nor rigid Roman Catholic. He’ll play
At fayles and tick-tack; I have heard him swear.
What should I think of it? Urge him again,
And by some other way? I will do so. –
Well, Thomas, thou hast sworn not to disclose.
Yes, you did swear?
CASH
Not yet, sir, but I will,
24
Please you –
KITELY
No, Thomas, I dare take thy word.
25
But if thou wilt swear, do as thou think’st good;
I am resolved without it; at thy pleasure.
CASH
By my soul’s safety, then, sir, I protest,
26
My tongue shall ne’er take knowledge of a word
Delivered me in nature of your trust.
KITELY
It’s too much; these ceremonies need not.
27
I know thy faith to be as firm as rock.
Thomas, come hither, near; we cannot be
Too private in this business. So it is –
Now he has sworn, I dare the safelier venture –
I have of late by divers observations –
But whether his oath can bind him, yea or no,
Being not taken lawfully? Ha? Say you?
I will ask counsel ere I do proceed. –
Thomas, it will be now too long to stay;
I’ll spy some fitter time soon, or tomorrow.
CASH
Sir, at your pleasure.
28
KITELY
I will think; and, Thomas,
29
I pray you, search the books ’gainst my return,
For the receipts ’twixt me and Traps.
CASH
I will, sir.
30
KITELY
And hear you: if your mistress’ brother Wellbred
31
Chance to bring hither any gentlemen
Ere I come back, let one straight bring me word.
CASH
Very well, sir.
32
KITELY
To the Exchange, do you hear?
33
Or here in Coleman Street, to Justice Clement’s.
Forget it not, nor be not out of the way.
CASH
I will not, sir.
34
KITELY
I pray you have a care on’t.
35
Or whether he come or no, if any other,
Stranger or else, fail not to send me word.
CASH
I shall not, sir.
36
KITELY
Be’t your special business,
37
Now, to remember it.
CASH
Sir, I warrant you.
38
KITELY
But Thomas, this is not the secret, Thomas,
39
I told you of.
CASH
No, sir, I do suppose it.
40
KITELY
Believe me, it is not.
41
CASH
Sir, I do believe you.
42
KITELY
By heaven, it is not; that’s enough. But Thomas,
43
I would not you should utter it, do you see,
To any creature living; yet I care not.
Well, I must hence. Thomas, conceive thus much:
It was a trial of you when I meant
So deep a secret to you. I mean not this,
But that I have to tell you; this is nothing, this.
But, Thomas, keep this from my wife, I charge you,
Locked up in silence, midnight, buried here.
No greater hell than to be slave to fear.
([Exit].)
CASH
‘Locked up in silence, midnight, buried here’?
44
Whence should this flood of passion, trow, take head? Ha?
Best dream no longer of this running humour,
For fear I sink! The violence of the stream
Already hath transported me so far
That I can feel no ground at all. But soft –
Oh, ’tis our waterbearer. Somewhat has crossed him now.
3.4
([Enter ] COB [unaware at first of Cash].)
COB
Fasting days? What tell you me of fasting days? ’Slid, would they were all on a light fire for me! They say the whole world shall be consumed with fire one day, but would I had these Ember weeks and villainous Fridays burnt in the meantime, and then –
CASH
Why, how now, Cob, what moves thee to this choler, ha?
COB
Collar, Master Thomas? I scorn your collar. I, sir, I am none o’your cart- horse, though I carry and draw water. An you offer to ride me with your collar, or halter either, I may hap show you a jade’s trick, sir.
CASH
Oh, you’ll slip your head out of the collar? Why, goodman Cob, you mistake me.
COB
Nay, I have my rheum, and I can be angry as well as another, sir.
CASH
Thy rheum, Cob? Thy humour, thy humour; thou mistak’st.
COB
‘Humour’? Mack, I think it be so, indeed. What is that ‘humour’? Some rare thing, I warrant.
CASH
Marry, I’ll tell thee, Cob: it is a gentleman-like monster bred in the special gallantry of our time by affectation, and fed by folly.
COB
How? Must it be fed?
CASH
Oh, ay, humour is nothing if it be not fed. Didst thou never hear that? It’s a common phrase, ‘Feed my humour.’
COB
I’ll none on it. Humour, avaunt! I know you not; be gone. Let who will make hungry meals for your monstership; it shall not be I. Feed you, quoth he? ’Slid, I ha’ much ado to feed myself, especially on these lean rascally days too. An’t had been any other day but a fasting day – a plague on them all, for me! By this light, one might have done the commonwealth good service and have drowned them all i’the flood two or three hundred thousand years ago. Oh, I do stomach them hugely! I have a maw, now, an ’twere for Sir Bevis his horse, against ’em.
CASH
I pray thee, good Cob, what makes thee so out of love with fasting days?
COB
Marry, that which will make any man out of love with ’em, I think: their bad conditions, an you will needs know. First, they are of a Flemish breed, I am sure on’t, for they raven up more butter than all the days of the week beside. Next, they stink of fish and leek porridge miserably. Thirdly, they’ll keep a man devoutly hungry all day, and at night send him supperless to bed.
CASH
Indeed, these are faults, Cob.
COB
Nay, an this were all, ’twere something. But they are the only known enemies to my generation. A fasting day no sooner comes but my lineage goes to rack. Poor cobs, they smoke for it, they are made martyrs o’the gridiron, they melt in passion, and your maids too know this, and yet would have me turn Hannibal and eat my own fish and blood! (He pulls out a red herring [and addresses it].) My princely coz, fear nothing. I have not the heart to devour you, an I might be made as rich as King Cophetua. Oh, that I had room for my tears! I could weep salt water enough now to preserve the lives of ten thousand of my kin; but I may curse none but these filthy almanacs, for, an ’twere not for them, these days of persecution would ne’er be known. I’ll be hanged an some fishmonger’s son do not make of ’em, and puts in more fasting days than he should do because he would utter his father’s dried stockfish and stinking conger.
CASH
’Slight, peace! Thou’lt be beaten like a stockfish else. [Seeing an approaching group] Here is Master Matthew. Now must I look out for a messenger to my master.
([Exeunt Cob and Cash.])
3.5
([Enter] WELLBRED, EDWARD KNOWELL, BRAINWORM, BOBADILL, MATTHEW, [and] STEPHEN. [Wellbred, Edward Knowell, and Brainworm converse privately among themselves. The rest have pipes and equipment for smoking.])
WELLBRED
Beshrew me, but it was an absolute good jest, and exceedingly well carried.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Ay, and our ignorance maintained it as well, did it not?
WELLBRED
Yes, faith; but was’t possible thou shouldst not know him? I forgive Master Stephen, for he is stupidity itself.
EDWARD KNOWELL
’Fore God, not I, an I might have been joined patent with one of the seven wise masters for knowing him. He had so writhen himself into the habit of one of your poor infantry, your decayed, ruinous, worm-eaten gentlemen of the round, such as have vowed to sit on the skirts of the city (let your provost and his half-dozen of halberdiers do what they can), and have translated begging out of the old hackney pace to a fine, easy amble, and made it run as smooth off the tongue as a shove-groat shilling. Into the likeness of one of these reformados had he moulded himself so perfectly, observing every trick of their action – as varying the accent, swearing with an emphasis , indeed all with so special and exquisite a grace – that, hadst thou seen him, thou wouldst have sworn he might have been sergeant-major, if not lieutenant- colonel, to the regiment.
WELLBRED
Why, Brainworm, who would have thought thou hadst been such an artificer?
EDWARD KNOWELL
An artificer? An architect! Except a man had studied begging all his lifetime and been a weaver of language from his infancy for the clothing of it, I never saw his rival.
WELLBRED
Where got’st thou this coat, I mar’l?
BRAINWORM
Of a Houndsditch man, sir, one of the devil’s near kinsmen: a broker.
WELLBRED
That cannot be, if the proverb hold, for ‘A crafty knave needs no broker.’
BRAINWORM
True, sir, but I did need a broker, ergo –
WELLBRED
Well put off. No crafty knave, you’ll say.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Tut, he has more of these shifts.
BRAINWORM
And yet, where I have one, the broker has ten, sir.
([Enter] CASH.)
CASH
[Calling] Francis! Martin! – Ne’er a one to be found now. What a spite’s this?
WELLBRED
How now, Thomas? Is my brother Kitely within?
CASH
No, sir, my master went forth e’en now, but Master Downright is within. [Calling] Cob! What, Cob! – Is he gone too?
WELLBRED
Whither went your master, Thomas, canst thou tell?
CASH
I know not; to Justice Clement’s, I think, sir. [Calling] Cob!
([Exit.])
EDWARD KNOWELL
Justice Clement – what’s he?
WELLBRED
Why, dost thou not know him? He is a city magistrate, a justice here, an excellent good lawyer and a great scholar, but the only mad, merry old fellow in Europe. I showed him you the other day.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Oh, is that he? I remember him now. Good faith, and he has a very strange presence, methinks. It shows as if he stood out of the rank from other men. I have heard many of his jests i’the university. They say he will commit a man for taking the wall of his horse.
WELLBRED
Ay, or wearing his cloak of one shoulder, or serving of God – anything, indeed, if it come in the way of his humour.
(CASH goes in and out, calling.)
CASH
[Calling] Gasper, Martin, Cob! – Heart, where should they be, trow?
BOBADILL
Master Kitely’s man, pray thee, vouchsafe us the lighting of this match.
([He hands a match to Cash.])
CASH
Fire on your match! No time but now to ‘vouchsafe’? [Calling] Francis! Cob!
([Exit.])
BOBADILL
Body of me, here’s the remainder of seven pound since yesterday was sevennight. ’Tis your right Trinidado. Did you never take any, Master Stephen?
STEPHEN
No, truly, sir, but I’ll learn to take it now, since you commend it so.
BOBADILL
Sir, believe me, upon my relation, for what I tell you the world shall not reprove. I have been in the Indies, where this herb grows, where neither myself nor a dozen gentlemen more of my knowledge have received the taste of any other nutriment in the world for the space of one-and-twenty weeks but the fume of this simple only. Therefore, it cannot be but ’tis most divine. Further, take it in the nature, in the true kind so, it makes an antidote that, had you taken the most deadly poisonous plant in all Italy, it should expel it and clarify you with as much ease as I speak. And for your green wound, your balsamum and your Saint John’s wort are all mere gulleries and trash to it, especially your Trinidado. Your Nicotian is good, too. I could say what I know of the virtue of it for the expulsion of rheums, raw humours, crudities, obstructions, with a thousand of this kind, but I profess myself no quacksalver. Only thus much, by Hercules: I do hold it and will affirm it before any prince in Europe to be the most sovereign and precious weed that ever the earth tendered to the use of man.
EDWARD KNOWELL
This speech would ha’ done decently in a tobacco-trader’s mouth!
([Enter] CASH [and] COB.)
CASH
[To Cob] At Justice Clement’s he is, in the middle of Coleman Street.
COB
Oh, oh!
BOBADILL
Where’s the match I gave thee, Master Kitely’s man?
CASH
Would his match, and he, and pipe, and all were at Sancto Domingo! I had forgot it.
([Exit.])
COB
By God’s me , I mar’l what pleasure or felicity they have in taking this roguish tobacco. It’s good for nothing but to choke a man and fill him full of smoke and embers. There were four died out of one house last week with taking of it, and two more the bell went for yesternight. One of them, they say, will ne’er scape it; he voided a bushel of soot yesterday, upward and downward. By the stocks, an there were no wiser men than I, I’d have it present whipping, man or woman, that should but deal with a tobacco pipe. Why, it will stifle them all in the end, as many as use it; it’s little better than ratsbane or rosaker.
(Bobadill beats him [Cob] with a cudgel.)
([Enter CASH. ])
ALL
Oh, good Captain, hold, hold!
BOBADILL
You base cullion, you!
([He is restrained.])
CASH
[Handing the lighted match back to Bobadill] Sir, here’s your match. [To Cob] Come, thou must needs be talking, too. Thou’rt well enough served.
COB
Nay, he will not meddle with his match, I warrant you. Well, it shall be a dear beating, an I live.
BOBADILL
[Menacing Cob] Do you prate? Do you murmur?
EDWARD KNOWELL
[To Bobadill] Nay, good Captain, will you regard the humour of a fool? [To Cob] Away, knave!
WELLBRED
Thomas, get him away.
([Exeunt Cash and Cob.])
BOBADILL
A whoreson, filthy slave, a dung-worm, an excrement! Body o’ Caesar, but that I scorn to let forth so mean a spirit, I’d ha’ stabbed him to the earth.
WELLBRED
Marry, the law forbid, sir.
BOBADILL
By Pharaoh’s foot, I would have done it.
STEPHEN
[To himself] Oh, he swears admirably! ‘By Pharaoh’s foot’, ‘body of Caesar’ – I shall never do it, sure. ‘Upon mine honour’, and ‘by Saint George’ – no, I ha’ not the right grace.
([The men smoke.])
MATTHEW
[Offering tobacco] Master Stephen, will you any? By this air, the most divine tobacco that ever I drunk!
STEPHEN
None, I thank you, sir. [To himself] Oh, this gentleman does it rarely too, but nothing like the other. (Master Stephen is practising to the post.) ‘By this air!’ ‘As I am a gentleman!’ ‘By –’
([Exeunt Bobadill and Matthew.])
BRAINWORM
[To Edward Knowell] Master, glance, glance! – Master Wellbred!
STEPHEN
As I have somewhat to be saved, I protest –
WELLBRED
You are a fool; it needs no affidavit.
EDWARD KNOWELL
[To Stephen] Cousin, will you any tobacco?
STEPHEN
[Taking tobacco] Ay, sir! Upon my reputation –
EDWARD KNOWELL
How now, cousin?
STEPHEN
I protest, as I am a gentleman, but no soldier, indeed –
WELLBRED
No, Master Stephen? As I remember, your name is entered in the Artillery Garden?
STEPHEN
Ay, sir, that’s true. – Cousin, may I swear ‘as I am a soldier’ by that?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Oh, yes, that you may. It’s all you have for your money.
STEPHEN
Then, as I am a gentleman and a soldier, it is divine tobacco!
WELLBRED
But soft, where’s Master Matthew? Gone?
BRAINWORM
No, sir, they went in here.
WELLBRED
Oh, let’s follow them. Master Matthew is gone to salute his mistress in verse. [To Edward Knowell] We shall ha’ the happiness to hear some of his poetry now. He never comes unfurnished. – Brainworm!
STEPHEN
Brainworm? Where? Is this Brainworm?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Ay, cousin. No words of it, upon your gentility.
STEPHEN
Not I, body of me, by this air, Saint George, and the foot of Pharaoh!
WELLBRED
Rare! Your cousin’s discourse is simply drawn out with oaths.
EDWARD KNOWELL
’Tis larded with ’em. A kind of French dressing, if you love it.
([Exeunt.])
3.6
([Enter] KITELY [and] COB.)
KITELY
Ha! How many are there, sayest thou?
COB
Marry, sir, your brother, Master Wellbred –
KITELY
Tut, beside him: what strangers are there, man?
COB
Strangers? Let me see: one, two – mass, I know not well, there are so many.
KITELY
How? So many?
COB
Ay, there’s some five or six of them at the most.
KITELY
A swarm, a swarm!
7
Spite of the devil, how they sting my head
With forkèd stings, thus wide and large! –
How long hast thou been coming hither, Cob?
COB
A little while, sir.
8
KITELY
Didst thou come running?
9
COB
No, sir.
10
KITELY
Nay, then, I am familiar with thy haste.
11
Bane to my fortunes! What meant I to marry?
I that before was ranked in such content,
My mind at rest, too, in so soft a peace,
Being free master of mine own free thoughts,
And now become a slave? What, never sigh;
Be of good cheer, man, for thou art a cuckold.
’Tis done, ’tis done. Nay, when such flowing store,
Plenty itself, falls in my wife’s lap,
The cornucopiae will be mine, I know. –
What entertainment had they? I am sure
My sister and my wife would bid them welcome, ha?
COB
Like enough, sir; yet I heard not a word of it.
12
KITELY
No, their lips were sealed with kisses, and the voice,
13
Drowned in a flood of joy at their arrival,
Had lost her motion, state, and faculty. –
Cob, which of them was’t that first kissed my wife?
My sister, I should say. My wife! Alas,
I fear not her. Ha? Who was it, say’st thou?
COB
By my troth, sir, will you have the truth of it?
14
KITELY
Oh, ay, good Cob, I pray thee heartily.
15
COB
Then, I am a vagabond, and fitter for Bridewell than Your Worship’s company, if I saw anybody to be kissed, unless they would have kissed the post in the middle of the warehouse. For there I left them all at their tobacco – with a pox!
KITELY
How? Were they not gone in, then, ere thou cam’st?
COB
Oh, no, sir.
KITELY
Spite of the devil! What do I stay here, then?
19
Cob, follow me.
([Exit Kitely.])
COB
Nay, soft and fair! I have eggs on the spit; I cannot go yet, sir. Now am I for some five-and-fifty reasons hammering, hammering revenge. Oh, for three or four gallons of vinegar to sharpen my wits! Revenge, vinegar revenge, vinegar and mustard revenge! Nay, an he had not lain in my house, ’twould never have grieved me. But being my guest – one that, I’ll be sworn, my wife has lent him her smock off her back while his one shirt has been at washing, pawned her neckerchers for clean bands for him, sold almost all my platters to buy him tobacco – and he to turn monster of ingratitude and strike his lawful host! Well, I hope to raise up an host of fury for’t. Here comes Justice Clement.
3.7
([Enter] CLEMENT, KNOWELL, [and] FORMAL.)
CLEMENT
What, ’s Master Kitely gone? – Roger!
FORMAL
Ay, sir.
CLEMENT
Heart of me, what made him leave us so abruptly? [Seeing Cob] How now, sirrah, what make you here? What would you have, ha?
COB
An’t please Your Worship, I am a poor neighbour of Your Worship’s –
CLEMENT
A poor neighbour of mine? Why, speak, poor neighbour.
COB
I dwell, sir, at the sign of the water-tankard, hard by the Green Lattice. I have paid scot and lot there any time this eighteen years.
CLEMENT
To the Green Lattice?
COB
No, sir, to the parish. Marry, I have seldom scaped scot-free at the Lattice.
CLEMENT
Oh, well. What business has my poor neighbour with me?
COB
An’t like Your Worship, I am come to crave the peace of Your Worship.
CLEMENT
Of me, knave? Peace of me, knave? Did I e’er hurt thee? Or threaten thee? Or wrong thee? Ha?
COB
No, sir; but Your Worship’s warrant for one that has wronged me, sir. His arms are at too much liberty. I would fain have them bound to a treaty of peace, an my credit could compass it with Your Worship.
CLEMENT
Thou goest far enough about for’t, I am sure.
KNOWELL
[To Cob] Why, dost thou go in danger of thy life for him, friend?
COB
No, sir, but I go in danger of my death every hour by his means; an I die within a twelvemonth and a day, I may swear by the law of the land that he killed me.
CLEMENT
How, how, knave? Swear he killed thee? And by the law? What pretence, what colour hast thou for that?
COB
Marry, an’t please Your Worship, both black and blue – colour enough, I warrant you. I have it here to show Your Worship.
([He shows his bruises.])
CLEMENT
What is he that gave you this, sirrah?
COB
A gentleman and a soldier he says he is, o’the city here.
CLEMENT
A soldier o’the city? What call you him?
COB
Captain Bobadill.
CLEMENT
Bobadill? And why did he bob and beat you, sirrah? How began the quarrel betwixt you, ha? Speak truly, knave, I advise you.
COB
Marry, indeed, an please Your Worship, only because I spake against their vagrant tobacco as I came by ’em when they were taking on’t; for nothing else.
CLEMENT
Ha? You speak against tobacco? – Formal, his name.
FORMAL
What’s your name, sirrah?
COB
Oliver, sir; Oliver Cob, sir.
CLEMENT
Tell Oliver Cob he shall go to the jail, Formal.
FORMAL
Oliver Cob, my master, Justice Clement, says you shall go to the jail.
COB
Oh, I beseech Your Worship, for God’s sake, dear Master Justice!
CLEMENT
Nay, God’s precious, an such drunkards and tankards as you are come to dispute of tobacco once, I have done. – Away with him!
COB
Oh, good Master Justice! [To Knowell] Sweet old gentleman!
KNOWELL
Sweet Oliver, would I could do thee any good. – Justice Clement, let me entreat you, sir.
CLEMENT
What? A threadbare rascal, a beggar, a slave that never drunk out of better than pisspot metal in his life? And he to deprave and abuse the virtue of an herb so generally received in the courts of princes, the chambers of nobles, the bowers of sweet ladies, the cabins of soldiers? Roger, away with him, by God’s precious. – I say, go to.
COB
Dear Master Justice, let me be beaten again – I have deserved it – but not the prison, I beseech you!
KNOWELL
Alas, poor Oliver!
CLEMENT
Roger, make him a warrant. – He shall not go; I but fear the knave.
FORMAL
Do not stink, sweet Oliver. You shall not go; my master will give you a warrant.
COB
Oh, the Lord maintain His Worship, His worthy Worship!
CLEMENT
Away, dispatch him. [Exit Formal with Cob.] How now, Master Knowell! In dumps? In dumps? Come, this becomes not.
KNOWELL
Sir, would I could not feel my cares –
CLEMENT
Your cares are nothing; they are like my cap, soon put on and as soon put off. What, your son is old enough to govern himself; let him run his course. It’s the only way to make him a staid man. If he were an unthrift, a ruffian, a drunkard, or a licentious liver, then you had reason, you had reason to take care; but being none of these, mirth’s my witness, an I had twice so many cares as you have, I’d drown them all in a cup of sack. Come, come, let’s try it. I muse your parcel of a soldier returns not all this while.
([Exeunt.])
4.1
([Enter] DOWNRIGHT [and] DAME KITELY.)
DOWNRIGHT
Well, sister, I tell you true, and you’ll find it so in the end.
DAME KITELY
Alas, brother, what would you have me to do? I cannot help it; you see, my brother brings ’em in here; they are his friends.
DOWNRIGHT
His friends? His fiends! ’Slud, they do nothing but haunt him up and down like a sort of unlucky sprites, and tempt him to all manner of villainy that can be thought of. Well, by this light, a little thing would make me play the devil with some of ’em. An ’twere not more for your husband’s sake than anything else, I’d make the house too hot for the best on ’em. They should say and swear hell were broken loose ere they went hence. But, by God’s will, ’tis nobody’s fault but yours. For, an you had done as you might have done, they should have been parboiled, and baked too, every mother’s son, ere they should ha’ come in, e’er a one of ’em!
DAME KITELY
God’s my life, did you ever hear the like? What a strange man is this! Could I keep out all them, think you? I should put myself against half a dozen men, should I? Good faith, you’d mad the patient’st body in the world to hear you talk so, without any sense or reason.
4.2
([Enter] MISTRESS BRIDGET, MASTER MATTHEW [holding papers], [and] BOBADILL, [followed at a distance by] WELLBRED, STEPHEN, EDWARD KNOWELL, [and] BRAINWORM.)
BRIDGET
[To Matthew] Servant, in troth, you are too prodigal Of your wit’s treasure, thus to pour it forth Upon so mean a subject as my worth.
MATTHEW
You say well, mistress; and I mean as well.
DOWNRIGHT
Hoyday, here is stuff!
EDWARD KNOWELL
Oh, now stand close. Pray heaven she can get him to read. He should do it of his own natural impudency.
BRIDGET
[Indicating Matthew’s papers] Servant, what is this same, I pray you?
MATTHEW
Marry, an elegy, an elegy, an odd toy –
DOWNRIGHT
To mock an ape withal. Oh, I could sew up his mouth now!
DAME KITELY
Sister, I pray you, let’s hear it.
DOWNRIGHT
Are you rhyme-given, too?
MATTHEW
Mistress, I’ll read it, if you please.
BRIDGET
Pray you do, servant.
DOWNRIGHT
Oh, here’s no foppery! Death, I can endure the stocks better.
([Exit.])
EDWARD KNOWELL
What ails thy brother? Can he not hold his water at reading of a ballad?
WELLBRED
Oh, no, a rhyme to him is worse than cheese or a bagpipe. But mark. You lose the protestation.
MATTHEW
Faith, I did it in an humour. I know not how it is, but, please you, come near, sir. This gentleman [Indicating Stephen] has judgement; he knows how to censure of a – [To Stephen] Pray you, sir, you can judge.
STEPHEN
Not I, sir – upon my reputation, and by the foot of Pharaoh.
WELLBRED
Oh, chide your cousin for swearing.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Not I, so long as he does not forswear himself.
BOBADILL
Master Matthew, you abuse the expectation of your dear mistress and her fair sister. Fie, while you live, avoid this prolixity.
MATTHEW
I shall, sir. Well, incipere dulce .
EDWARD KNOWELL
How? Insipere dulce ? ‘A sweet thing to be a fool’, indeed.
WELLBRED
What, do you take incipere in that sense?
EDWARD KNOWELL
You do not? You? This was your villainy, to gull him with a mot .
WELLBRED
Oh, the benchers’ phrase: pauca verba, pauca verba .
MATTHEW
[Reads] ‘Rare creature, let me speak without offence.
25
Would God my rude words had the influence
To rule thy thoughts, as thy fair looks do mine;
Then shouldst thou be his prisoner, who is thine.’
LORENZO
This is in Hero and Leander !
WELLBRED
Oh, ay, peace. We shall have more of this.
MATTHEW
‘Be not unkind and fair. Misshapen stuff
28
Is of behaviour boisterous and rough –’
WELLBRED
[To Stephen] How like you that, sir?
(Master Stephen answers with shaking his head.)
EDWARD KNOWELL
’Slight, he shakes his head like a bottle, to feel an there be any brain in it!
MATTHEW
But observe the catastrophe now:
31
‘And I in duty will exceed all other
As you in beauty do excel Love’s mother.’
([He presents the verses to Bridget.])
EDWARD KNOWELL
Well, I’ll have him free of the wit- brokers, for he utters nothing but stol’n remnants.
WELLBRED
Oh, forgive it him.
EDWARD KNOWELL
A filching rogue, hang him! And from the dead? It’s worse than sacrilege.
WELLBRED
Sister, what ha’ you here? Verses? Pray you, let’s see.
MATTHEW
Oh, Master Wellbred, ’tis your disposition to say so, sir. They were good i’the morning; I made ’em extempore this morning.
WELLBRED
How, extempore?
MATTHEW
Ay, would I might be hanged else. Ask Captain Bobadill. He saw me write them at the – pox on it! – the Star, yonder.
BRAINWORM
Can he find in his heart to curse the stars so?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Faith, his are even with him: they ha’ cursed him enough already.
STEPHEN
Cousin, how do you like this gentleman’s verses?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Oh, admirable! The best that ever I heard, coz.
STEPHEN
Body o’Caesar, they are admirable! The best that ever I heard, as I am a soldier.
([Enter] DOWNRIGHT.)
DOWNRIGHT
I am vexed. I can hold ne’er a bone of me still! Heart, I think they mean to build and breed here!
WELLBRED
[To Bridget] Sister, you have a simple servant here, that crowns your beauty with such encomions and devices. You may see what it is to be the mistress of a wit that can make your perfections so transparent that every blear eye may look through them and see him drowned over head and ears in the deep well of desire. – Sister Kitely, I marvel you get you not a servant that can rhyme and do tricks, too.
DOWNRIGHT
Oh, monster! Impudence itself!
DAME KITELY
Tricks, brother? What tricks?
BRIDGET
Nay, speak, I pray you, what tricks?
DAME KITELY
Ay, never spare anybody here, but say, what tricks?
BRIDGET
Passion of my heart! ‘Do tricks’?
WELLBRED
’Slight, here’s a trick, vied and revied. Why, you monkeys, you, what a caterwauling do you keep! Has he not given you rhymes and verses and tricks?
DOWNRIGHT
Oh, the fiend!
WELLBRED
[To Bridget] Nay, you, lamp of virginity, that take it in snuff so, come and cherish this tame poetical fury in your servant; you’ll be begged else shortly for a concealment. Go to, reward his muse. You cannot give him less than a shilling, in conscience, for the book he had it out of cost him a teston at least. – How now, gallants? Master Matthew? Captain? What, all sons of silence? No spirit?
DOWNRIGHT
[Aloud, to Wellbred] Come, you might practise your ruffian tricks somewhere else and not here, I wuss. This is no tavern, nor drinking school, to vent your exploits in.
WELLBRED
How now! Whose cow has calved?
DOWNRIGHT
Marry, that has mine, sir. Nay, boy, never look askance at me for the matter. I’ll tell you of it; ay, sir, you and your companions, mend yourselves when I ha’ done.
WELLBRED
My companions?
DOWNRIGHT
Yes, sir, your companions , so I say. I am not afraid of you, nor them neither, your hang-bys here. You must have your poets and your potlings, your soldados and foolados , to follow you up and down the city, and here they must come to domineer and swagger. [To Matthew] Sirrah, you ballad- singer, and Slops, your fellow there, get you out! Get you home or, by this steel, I’ll cut off your ears, and that presently.
WELLBRED
[To Matthew and Bobadill, as they shy away] ’Slight, stay. Let’s see what he dare do. [To Downright] Cut off his ears? Cut a whetstone. You are an ass, do you see? Touch any man here and, by this hand, I’ll run my rapier to the hilts in you.
DOWNRIGHT
Yea, that would I fain see, boy.
(They all draw.)
DAME KITELY
Oh, Jesu! Murder! Thomas, Gaspar!
BRIDGET
Help, help, Thomas!
(And they [ CASH and other SERVANTS ] of the house [enter and] make out to part them.)
EDWARD KNOWELL
Gentlemen! Forbear, I pray you.
BOBADILL
[To Downright] Well, sirrah, you, Holofernes: by my hand, I will pink your flesh full of holes with my rapier for this; I will, by this good heaven! They offer to fight again, and are parted. Nay, let him come, let him come, gentlemen; by the body of Saint George, I’ll not kill him.
CASH
Hold, hold, good gentlemen!
DOWNRIGHT
[To Bobadill] You whoreson bragging coistrel!
4.3
([Enter] KITELY to them.)
KITELY
Why, how now? What’s the matter? What’s the stir here?
1
Whence springs the quarrel? – Thomas! – Where is he? –
Put up your weapons and put off this rage.
My wife and sister, they are cause of this. –
What, Thomas! – Where is this knave?
CASH
Here, sir.
WELLBRED
[To Edward Knowell and the rest] Come, let’s go. This is one of my brother’s ancient humours, this.
STEPHEN
I am glad nobody was hurt by his ancient humour.
([Exeunt Wellbred, Edward Knowell, Brainworm, Stephen, Bobadill, Matthew, and Servants.])
KITELY
Why, how now, brother, who enforced this brawl?
DOWNRIGHT
A sort of lewd rakehells, that care neither for God nor the devil. And they must come here to read ballads, and roguery, and trash. I’ll mar the knot of ’em ere I sleep, perhaps, especially Bob there, he that’s all manner of shapes, and Songs and Sonnets, his fellow.
BRIDGET
Brother, indeed, you are too violent,
7
Too sudden in your humour; and you know
My brother Wellbred’s temper will not bear
Any reproof, chiefly in such presence
Where every slight disgrace he should receive
Might wound him in opinion and respect.
DOWNRIGHT
Respect? What talk you of respect ’mong such as ha’ nor spark of manhood nor good manners? ’Sdeynes, I am ashamed to hear you. Respect?
([Exit.])
BRIDGET
Yes, there was one, a civil gentleman,
9
And very worthily demeaned himself.
KITELY
Oh, that was some love of yours, sister.
10
BRIDGET
A love of mine? I would it were no worse, brother.
11
You’d pay my portion sooner than you think for.
DAME KITELY
Indeed, he seemed to be a gentleman of an exceeding fair disposition, and of very excellent good parts.
([Exeunt Bridget and Dame Kitely.])
KITELY
Her love, by heaven! My wife’s minion!
‘Fair disposition’? ‘Excellent good parts’?
Death, these phrases are intolerable.
‘Good parts’? How should she know his parts?
His parts? Well, well, well, well, well, well!
It is too plain, too clear. –
What, are they gone?
CASH
Ay, sir, they went in.
14
My mistress and your sister –
KITELY
Are any of the gallants within?
CASH
No, sir, they are all gone.
KITELY
Art thou sure of it?
CASH
I can assure you, sir.
KITELY
What gentleman was that they praised so, Thomas?
CASH
One, they call him Master Knowell, a handsome young gentleman, sir.
KITELY
Ay, I thought so; my mind gave me as much.
21
I’ll die but they have hid him i’the house
Somewhere; I’ll go and search. –
Be true to me, and thou shalt find me a master.
([Exeunt.])
4.4
([Enter] COB.)
COB
[Knocking] What, Tib! Tib, I say!
TIB
[Within] How now, what cuckold is that knocks so hard? [Enter] TIB. Oh, husband, is’t you? What’s the news?
COB
Nay, you have stunned me, i’faith! You ha’ giv’n me a knock o’the forehead will stick by me. Cuckold? ’Slid, cuckold?
TIB
Away, you fool! Did I know it was you that knocked? Come, come, you may call me as bad when you list.
COB
May I? Tib, you are a whore.
TIB
You lie in your throat, husband.
COB
How, the lie? And in my throat too? Do you long to be stabbed, ha?
TIB
Why, you are no soldier, I hope.
COB
Oh, must you be stabbed by a soldier? Mass, that’s true. When was Bobadill here, your captain? That rogue, that foist, that fencing Burgullian! I’ll tickle him, i’faith.
TIB
Why, what’s the matter, trow?
COB
Oh, he has basted me rarely, sumptuously! But I have it here in black and white, for his black and blue, shall pay him. Oh, the Justice! The honestest old brave Trojan in London! I do honour the very flea of his dog. A plague on him, though; he put me once in a villainous, filthy fear. Marry, it vanished away like the smoke of tobacco, but I was smoked soundly first, I thank the devil and his good angel, my guest. Well, wife, or Tib, which you will, get you in and lock the door, I charge you; let no body in to you, wife, no body in to you; those are my words. Not Captain Bob himself, nor the fiend in his likeness. You are a woman; you have flesh and blood enough in you to be tempted; therefore, keep the door shut upon all comers.
TIB
I warrant you, there shall no body enter here without my consent.
COB
Nor with your consent, sweet Tib; and so I leave you.
TIB
It’s more than you know, whether you leave me so.
COB
How?
TIB
Why, sweet.
COB
Tut, sweet or sour, thou art a flower. Keep close thy door; I ask no more.
([Exeunt.])
4.5
([Enter] EDWARD KNOWELL, WELLBRED, STEPHEN, [and] BRAINWORM [disguised as a soldier. They confer out of Stephen’s hearing.])
EDWARD KNOWELL
Well, Brainworm, perform this business happily and thou makest a purchase of my love for ever.
WELLBRED
[To Brainworm] I’faith, now let thy spirits use their best faculties. But, at any hand, remember the message to my brother, for there’s no other means to start him.
BRAINWORM
I warrant you, sir, fear nothing. I have a nimble soul has waked all forces of my fant’sy by this time and put ’em in true motion. What you have possessed me withal, I’ll discharge it amply, sir. Make it no question.
WELLBRED
Forth and prosper, Brainworm. [Exit Brainworm.] Faith, Ned, how dost thou approve of my abilities in this device?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Troth, well, howsoever, but it will come excellent if it take.
WELLBRED
Take, man? Why, it cannot choose but take, if the circumstances miscarry not. But tell me ingenuously: dost thou affect my sister Bridget, as thou pretend’st?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Friend, am I worth belief?
WELLBRED
Come, do not protest. In faith, she is a maid of good ornament and much modesty; and, except I conceived very worthily of her, thou shouldest not have her.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Nay, that, I am afraid, will be a question yet, whether I shall have her or no.
WELLBRED
’Slid, thou shalt have her; by this light, thou shalt.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Nay, do not swear.
WELLBRED
By this hand, thou shalt have her. I’ll go fetch her presently. Point but where to meet, and, as I am an honest man, I’ll bring her.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Hold, hold. Be temperate.
WELLBRED
Why, by – what shall I swear by? Thou shalt have her, as I am –
EDWARD KNOWELL
Pray thee, be at peace. I am satisfied, and do believe thou wilt omit no offered occasion to make my desires complete.
WELLBRED
Thou shalt see and know I will not.
([Exeunt.])
4.6
([Enter] FORMAL [and] KNOWELL, [meeting] BRAINWORM [disguised as a soldier].)
FORMAL
Was your man a soldier, sir?
KNOWELL
Ay, a knave. I took him begging o’the way,
2
This morning, as I came over Moorfields. [Seeing Brainworm.] Oh, here he is! – You’ve made fair speed, believe me.
Where, i’the name of sloth, could you be thus –
BRAINWORM
Marry, peace be my comfort, where I thought I should have had little comfort of Your Worship’s service.
KNOWELL
How so?
BRAINWORM
Oh, sir! Your coming to the city, your entertainment of me, and your sending me to watch – indeed, all the circumstances, either of your charge or my employment, are as open to your son as to yourself.
KNOWELL
How should that be? Unless that villain Brainworm
Have told him of the letter and discovered
All that I strictly charged him to conceal? ’Tis so.
BRAINWORM
I am partly o’the faith ’tis so indeed.
7
KNOWELL
But how should he know thee to be my man?
8
BRAINWORM
Nay, sir, I cannot tell, unless it be by the black art. Is not your son a scholar, sir?
KNOWELL
Yes, but I hope his soul is not allied
10
Unto such hellish practice. If it were,
I had just cause to weep my part in him
And curse the time of his creation.
But where didst thou find them, Fitzsword?
BRAINWORM
You should rather ask where they found me, sir, for I’ll be sworn I was going along in the street, thinking nothing, when of a sudden a voice calls, ‘Master Knowell’s man!’; another cries ‘Soldier!’; and thus half a dozen of ’em, till they had called me within a house, where I no sooner came but they seemed men, and out flew all their rapiers at my bosom, with some three or four score oaths to accompany ’em, and all to tell me I was but a dead man if I did not confess where you were, and how I was employed, and about what. Which, when they could not get out of me – as, I protest, they must ha’ dissected and made an anatomy o’ me first, and so I told ’em – they locked me up into a room i’the top of a high house, whence by great miracle, having a light heart, I slid down by a bottom of packthread into the street and so scaped. But, sir, thus much I can assure you, for I heard it while I was locked up: there were a great many rich merchants and brave citizens’ wives with ’em at a feast, and your son, Master Edward, withdrew with one of ’em, and has pointed to meet her anon at one Cob’s house, a waterbearer that dwells by the wall. Now there Your Worship shall be sure to take him, for there he preys, and fail he will not.
KNOWELL
Nor will I fail to break his match, I doubt not.
12
Go thou along with Justice Clement’s man,
And stay there for me. At one Cob’s house, say’st thou?
BRAINWORM
Yes? Invisible? Much wench or much son! ’Slight, when he has stayed there three or four hours, travailing with the expectation of wonders, and at length be delivered of air – oh, the sport that I should then take to look on him if I durst! But now I mean to appear no more afore him, in this shape; I have another trick to act yet. Oh, that I were so happy as to light on a nupson now of this Justice’s novice!
FORMAL
Not a whit, sir. Pray you, what do you mean, sir?
BRAINWORM
I was putting up some papers.
FORMAL
You ha’ been lately in the wars, sir, it seems.
BRAINWORM
Marry, have I, sir, to my loss and expense of all, almost –
FORMAL
Troth, sir, I would be glad to bestow a pottle of wine o’you, if it please you to accept it –
BRAINWORM
Oh, sir –
FORMAL
But to hear the manner of your services and your devices in the wars. They say they be very strange, and not like those a man reads in the Roman histories or sees at Mile End.
BRAINWORM
And more too, somewhat.
FORMAL
No better time than now, sir. We’ll go to the Windmill. There we shall have a cup of neat grist, we call it. I pray you, sir, let me request you to the Windmill.
BRAINWORM
– And make grist o’you, if I have good luck.
([Exeunt.])
4 7.
([Enter] MATTHEW, EDWARD KNOWELL, BOBADILL, [and] STEPHEN.)
MATTHEW
[To Edward Knowell] Sir, did your eyes ever taste the like clown of him where we were today, Master Wellbred’s half-brother? I think the whole earth cannot show his parallel, by this daylight.
EDWARD KNOWELL
We were now speaking of him. Captain Bobadill tells me he is fall’n foul o’you, too.
MATTHEW
Oh, ay, sir, he threatened me with the bastinado.
BOBADILL
Ay, but I think I taught you prevention this morning for that. You shall kill him, beyond question, if you be so generously minded.
MATTHEW
Indeed, it is a most excellent trick!
([He practises fencing.])
BOBADILL
Oh, you do not give spirit enough to your motion. You are too tardy, too heavy. Oh, it must be done like lightning. Hay!
((He practises at a post.))
MATTHEW
Rare, Captain!
BOBADILL
Tut, ’tis nothing, an’t be not done in a – punto!
EDWARD KNOWELL
Captain, did you ever prove yourself upon any of our masters of defence here?
MATTHEW
Oh, good sir! Yes, I hope he has.
BOBADILL
I will tell you, sir. Upon my first coming to the city, after my long travail, for knowledge in that mystery only there came three or four of ’em to me at a gentleman’s house, where it was my chance to be resident at that time, to entreat my presence at their schools, and withal so much importuned me that – I protest to you, as I am a gentleman – I was ashamed of their rude demeanour out of all measure. Well, I told ’em that to come to a public school, they should pardon me, it was opposite in diameter to my humour; but if so they would give their attendance at my lodging, I protested to do them what right or favour I could, as I was a gentleman, and so forth.
EDWARD KNOWELL
So, sir, then you tried their skill?
BOBADILL
Alas, soon tried! You shall hear, sir. Within two or three days after, they came; and, by honesty, fair sir, believe me, I graced them exceedingly, showed them some two or three tricks of prevention have purchased ’em since a credit to admiration! They cannot deny this. And yet now they hate me; and why? Because I am excellent, and for no other vile reason on the earth.
EDWARD KNOWELL
This is strange and barbarous as ever I heard!
BOBADILL
Nay, for a more instance of their preposterous natures, but note, sir. They have assaulted me, some three, four, five, six of them together, as I have walked alone in divers skirts i’the town, as Turnbull, Whitechapel, Shoreditch, which were then my quarters, and since upon the Exchange, at my lodging, and at my ordinary, where I have driven them afore me the whole length of a street in the open view of all our gallants, pitying to hurt them, believe me. Yet all this lenity will not o’ercome their spleen; they will be doing with the pismire, raising a hill a man may spurn abroad with his foot at pleasure. By myself, I could have slain them all, but I delight not in murder. I am loath to bear any other than this bastinado for ’em, yet I hold it good polity not to go disarmed, for, though I be skilful, I may be oppressed with multitudes.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Ay, believe me, may you, sir, and in my conceit our whole nation should sustain the loss by it, if it were so.
BOBADILL
Alas, no. What’s a peculiar man to a nation? Not seen.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Oh, but your skill, sir!
BOBADILL
Indeed, that might be some loss, but who respects it? I will tell you, sir, by the way of private and under seal: I am a gentleman and live here obscure and to myself. But were I known to Her Majesty and the lords, observe me, I would undertake, upon this poor head and life, for the public benefit of the state, not only to spare the entire lives of her subjects in general, but to save the one half – nay, three parts – of her yearly charge in holding war and against what enemy soever. And how would I do it, think you?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Nay, I know not, nor can I conceive.
BOBADILL
Why, thus, sir. I would select nineteen more to myself throughout the land; gentlemen they should be of good spirit, strong and able constitution. I would choose them by an instinct, a character that I have. And I would teach these nineteen the special rules – as your punto , your reverso , your stoccata , your imbroccata , your passada , your montanto – till they could all play very near or altogether as well as myself. This done, say the enemy were forty thousand strong: we twenty would come into the field the tenth of March or there-abouts, and we would challenge twenty of the enemy. They could not in their honour refuse us. Well, we would kill them; challenge twenty more, kill them; twenty more, kill them; twenty more, kill them too. And thus would we kill every man his twenty a day, that’s twenty score; twenty score, that’s two hundred; two hundred a day, five days a thousand. Forty thousand – forty times five, five times forty – two hundred days kills them all up, by computation. And this will I venture my poor gentleman-like carcass to perform – provided there be no treason practised upon us – by fair and discreet manhood; that is, civilly, by the sword.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Why, are you so sure of your hand, Captain, at all times?
BOBADILL
Tut, never miss thrust, upon my reputation with you.
EDWARD KNOWELL
I would not stand in Downright’s state, then, an you meet him, for the wealth of any one street in London.
BOBADILL
Why, sir, you mistake me. If he were here now, by this welkin, I would not draw my weapon upon him. Let this gentleman do his mind, but I will bastinado him, by the bright sun, wherever I meet him.
MATTHEW
Faith, and I’ll have a fling at him, at my distance.
(DOWNRIGHT walks over the stage.)
EDWARD KNOWELL
Godso , look where he is! Yonder he goes.
DOWNRIGHT
What peevish luck have I, I cannot meet with these bragging rascals!
([Exit.])
BOBADILL
It’s not he, is it?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Yes, faith, it is he.
MATTHEW
I’ll be hanged, then, if that were he.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Sir, keep your hanging good for some greater matter, for I assure you that was he.
STEPHEN
Upon my reputation, it was he.
BOBADILL
Had I thought it had been he, he must not have gone so. But I can hardly be induced to believe it was he, yet.
EDWARD KNOWELL
That I think, sir. [Enter] DOWNRIGHT. But see, he is come again!
DOWNRIGHT
[To Bobadill] Oh, Pharaoh’s foot, have I found you? Come, draw; to your tools. Draw, gypsy, or I’ll thrash you.
BOBADILL
Gentleman of valour, I do believe in thee; hear me –
DOWNRIGHT
Draw your weapon, then.
BOBADILL
Tall man, I never thought on it till now: body of me, I had a warrant of the peace served on me even now as I came along, by a waterbearer. This gentleman saw it – Master Matthew.
DOWNRIGHT
’Sdeath, you will not draw, then?
(He beats him and disarms him. Matthew runs away.)
BOBADILL
Hold, hold! Under thy favour, forbear!
DOWNRIGHT
Prate again as you like this, you whoreson foist, you! You’ll control the point, you? Your consort is gone? Had he stayed, he had shared with you, sir.
([Exit Downright, mistakenly leaving his cloak behind him.])
BOBADILL
Well, gentlemen, bear witness I was bound to the peace, by this good day.
EDWARD KNOWELL
No, faith, it’s an ill day, Captain; never reckon it other. But say you were bound to the peace, the law allows you to defend yourself. That’ll prove but a poor excuse.
BOBADILL
I cannot tell, sir. I desire good construction, in fair sort. I never sustained the like disgrace, by heaven. Sure I was struck with a planet thence, for I had no power to touch my weapon.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Ay, like enough. I have heard of many that have been beaten under a planet. Go, get you to a surgeon. ’Slid, an these be your tricks, your passadas and your montantos , I’ll none of them. [Exit Bobadill.] O manners! That this age should bring forth such creatures! That Nature should be at leisure to make ’em! – Come, coz.
STEPHEN
[Taking up Downright’s cloak] Mass, I’ll ha’ this cloak.
EDWARD KNOWELL
God’s will, ’tis Downright’s.
STEPHEN
Nay, it’s mine now; another might have ta’en up as well as I. I’ll wear it, so I will.
([He puts it on.])
EDWARD KNOWELL
How an he see it? He’ll challenge it, assure yourself.
STEPHEN
Ay, but he shall not ha’ it. I’ll say I bought it.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Take heed you buy it not too dear, coz.
([Exeunt.])
4.8
([Enter] KITELY, WELLBRED, DAME KITELY, [and] BRIDGET.)
KITELY
Now trust me, brother, you were much to blame
T’incense his anger and disturb the peace
Of my poor house, where there are sentinels
That every minute watch to give alarms
Of civil war, without adjection
Of your assistance or occasion.
WELLBRED
No harm done, brother, I warrant you; since there is no harm done. Anger costs a man nothing; and a tall man is never his own man till he be angry. To keep his valour in obscurity is to keep himself, as it were, in a cloak-bag. What’s a musician unless he play? What’s a tall man unless he fight? For, indeed, all this my wise brother stands upon absolutely, and that made me fall in with him so resolutely.
DAME KITELY
Ay, but what harm might have come of it, brother!
WELLBRED
Might, sister? So might the good warm clothes your husband wears be poisoned, for anything he knows, or the wholesome wine he drunk even now at the table –
KITELY
Now, God forbid! Oh, me, now I remember:
5
My wife drunk to me last and changed the cup,
And bade me wear this cursèd suit today.
See if heav’n suffer murder undiscovered! –
I feel me ill. Give me some mithridate;
Some mithridate and oil, good sister, fetch me.
Oh, I am sick at heart! I burn, I burn.
If you will save my life, go fetch it me.
WELLBRED
Oh, strange humour! My very breath has poisoned him.
BRIDGET
[To Kitely] Good brother, be content. What do you mean?
7
The strength of these extreme conceits will kill you.
DAME KITELY
Beshrew your heart-blood, brother Wellbred, now,
8
For putting such a toy into his head!
WELLBRED
Is a fit simile a toy? Will he be poisoned with a simile? – Brother Kitely, what a strange and idle imagination is this! For shame, be wiser. O’ my soul, there’s no such matter.
KITELY
Am I not sick? How am I then not poisoned?
10
Am I not poisoned? How am I then so sick?
DAME KITELY
If you be sick, your own thoughts make you sick.
11
WELLBRED
His jealousy is the poison he has taken.
12
([Enter] BRAINWORM. (He comes disguised like Justice Clement’s man.))
BRAINWORM
Master Kitely, my master, Justice Clement, salutes you and desires to speak with you with all possible speed.
KITELY
I must seek them out and set ’em sentinels till I return. –
([Exit.])
WELLBRED
[Conferring privately with Brainworm] This is perfectly rare, Brainworm. But how got’st thou this apparel of the Justice’s man?
BRAINWORM
Marry, sir, my proper fine penman would needs bestow the grist o’me at the Windmill, to hear some martial discourse, where so I marshalled him that I made him drunk, with admiration. And because too much heat was the cause of his distemper, I stripped him stark naked, as he lay along asleep, and borrowed his suit to deliver this counterfeit message in, leaving a rusty armour and an old brown bill to watch him till my return – which shall be when I ha’ pawned his apparel and spent the better part o’the money, perhaps.
WELLBRED
Well, thou art a successful merry knave, Brainworm. His absence will be a good subject for more mirth. I pray thee, return to thy young master and will him to meet me and my sister Bridget at the Tower instantly; for here, tell him, the house is so stored with jealousy there is no room for love to stand upright in. We must get our fortunes committed to some larger prison, say; and than the Tower, I know no better air, nor where the liberty of the house may do us more present service. Away!
([Exit Brainworm.])
([Enter KITELY and] CASH, [oblivious of the presence of Dame Kitely and Wellbred].)
KITELY
Come hither, Thomas. Now my secret’s ripe,
18
And thou shalt have it. Lay to both thine ears;
Hark what I say to thee. I must go forth, Thomas.
Be careful of thy promise. Keep good watch;
Note every gallant, and observe him well,
That enters in my absence to thy mistress.
If she would show him rooms, the jest is stale.
Follow ’em, Thomas, or else hang on him,
And let him not go after. Mark their looks;
Note if she offer but to see his band
Or any other amorous toy about him,
But praise his leg or foot, or if she say
The day is hot, and bid him feel her hand,
How hot it is – oh, that’s a monstrous thing!
Note me all this, good Thomas; mark their sighs,
And if they do but whisper, break ’em off.
I’ll bear thee out in it. Wilt thou do this?
Wilt thou be true, my Thomas?
CASH
As truth’s self, sir.
19
KITELY
Why, I believe thee. Where is Cob, now? – Cob!
20
([Exit Kitely.])
DAME KITELY
He’s ever calling for Cob. I wonder how he employs Cob so.
WELLBRED
Indeed, sister, to ask how he employs Cob is a necessary question for you that are his wife, and a thing not very easy for you to be satisfied in. But this I’ll assure you: Cob’s wife is an excellent bawd, sister, and oftentimes your husband haunts her house – marry, to what end I cannot altogether accuse him. Imagine you what you think convenient. But I have known fair hides have foul hearts ere now, sister.
DAME KITELY
Never said you truer than that, brother; so much I can tell you for your learning. – Thomas, fetch your cloak and go with me; I’ll after him presently. I would to fortune I could take him there, i’faith! I’d return him his own, I warrant him.
([Exeunt Cash and Dame Kitely.])
WELLBRED
So, let ’em go; this may make sport anon. – Now, my fair sister-in- law: that you but knew how happy a thing it were to be fair and beautiful!
BRIDGET
That touches not me, brother.
WELLBRED
That’s true; that’s even the fault of it. For, indeed, beauty stands a woman in no stead unless it procure her touching. But sister, whether it touch you or no, it touches your beauties, and I am sure they will abide the touch. An they do not, a plague of all ceruse, say I! And it touches me too in part, though not in the –. Well, there’s a dear and respected friend of mine, sister, stands very strongly and worthily affected toward you, and hath vowed to inflame whole bonfires of zeal at his heart in honour of your perfections. I have already engaged my promise to bring you where you shall hear him confirm much more. Ned Knowell is the man, sister. There’s no exception against the party. You are ripe for a husband, and a minute’s loss to such an occasion is a great trespass in a wise beauty. What say you, sister? On my soul, he loves you. Will you give him the meeting?
BRIDGET
Faith, I had very little confidence in mine own constancy, brother, if I durst not meet a man. But this motion of yours savours of an old knight– adventurer’s servant a little too much, methinks.
WELLBRED
What’s that, sister?
BRIDGET
Marry, of the squire.
WELLBRED
No matter if it did. I would be such an one for my friend. But see who is returned to hinder us!
([Enter KITELY.])
KITELY
What villainy is this? Called out on a false message?
31
This was some plot! I was not sent for. – Bridget,
Where’s your sister?
BRIDGET
I think she be gone forth, sir.
32
KITELY
How! Is my wife gone forth? Whither, for God’s sake?
33
BRIDGET
She’s gone abroad with Thomas.
34
KITELY
Abroad with Thomas? Oh, that villain dors me!
35
He hath discovered all unto my wife.
Beast that I was, to trust him! Whither, I pray you,
Went she?
BRIDGET
I know not, sir.
36
WELLBRED
I’ll tell you, brother,
37
Whither I suspect she’s gone.
KITELY
Whither, good brother?
38
WELLBRED
To Cob’s house, I believe; but keep my counsel.
39
KITELY
I will, I will. To Cob’s house? Doth she haunt Cob’s?
40
She’s gone o’purpose now to cuckold me
With that lewd rascal, who, to win her favour,
Hath told her all.
([Exit.])
WELLBRED
Come, he’s once more gone.
41
Sister, let’s lose no time; th’affair is worth it.
([Exeunt.])
4.9
([Enter] MATTHEW [and] BOBADILL.)
MATTHEW
I wonder, Captain, what they will say of my going away, ha?
BOBADILL
Why, what should they say, but as of a discreet gentleman, quick, wary, respectful of nature’s fair lineaments, and that’s all?
MATTHEW
Why, so, but what can they say of your beating?
BOBADILL
A rude part, a touch with soft wood, a kind of gross battery used, laid on strongly, borne most patiently, and that’s all.
MATTHEW
Ay, but would any man have offered it in Venice, as you say?
BOBADILL
Tut, I assure you, no. You shall have there your nobilis , your gentilezza , come in bravely upon your reverse, stand you close, stand you firm, stand you fair, save your retricato with his left leg, come to the assalto with the right, thrust with brave steel, defy your base wood. But wherefore do I awake this remembrance? I was fascinated, by Jupiter, fascinated! But I will be unwitched, and revenged by law.
MATTHEW
Do you hear? Is’t not best to get a warrant, and have him arrested and brought before Justice Clement?
BOBADILL
It were not amiss. Would we had it!
([Enter] BRAINWORM [disguised as the Justice’s clerk, Formal].)
MATTHEW
Why, here comes his man. Let’s speak to him.
BOBADILL
Agreed. Do you speak.
MATTHEW
[To Brainworm] Save you, sir.
BRAINWORM
With all my heart, sir.
MATTHEW
Sir, there is one Downright hath abused this gentleman and myself, and we determine to make our amends by law. Now, if you would do us the favour to procure a warrant to bring him afore your master, you shall be well considered, I assure you, sir.
BRAINWORM
Sir, you know my service is my living. Such favours as these gotten of my master is his only preferment, and therefore you must consider me as I may make benefit of my place.
MATTHEW
How is that, sir?
BRAINWORM
Faith, sir, the thing is extraordinary, and the gentleman may be of great account . Yet, be what he will, if you will lay me down a brace of angels in my hand, you shall have it; otherwise, not.
([Matthew and Bobadill converse apart.])
MATTHEW
How shall we do, Captain? He asks for a brace of angels. You have no money?
BOBADILL
Not a cross, by fortune.
MATTHEW
Nor I, as I am a gentleman, but two pence, left of my two shillings in the morning for wine and radish. Let’s find him some pawn.
BOBADILL
Pawn? We have none to the value of his demand.
MATTHEW
Oh, yes, I’ll pawn this jewel in my ear, and you may pawn your silk stockings, and pull up your boots. They will ne’er be missed. It must be done now.
BOBADILL
Well, an there be no remedy, I’ll step aside and pull ’em off.
([He takes off his stockings as Matthew removes his earring.])
MATTHEW
[To Brainworm] Do you hear, sir? We have no store of money at this time, but you shall have good pawns – look you, sir, this jewel and that gentleman’s silk stockings – because we would have it dispatched ere we went to our chambers.
BRAINWORM
I am content, sir. I will get you the warrant presently. What’s his name, say you? Downright?
MATTHEW
Ay, ay, George Downright.
BRAINWORM
What manner of man is he?
MATTHEW
A tall, big man, sir. He goes in a cloak most commonly of silk russet laid about with russet lace.
BRAINWORM
’Tis very good, sir.
MATTHEW
Here, sir, here’s my jewel.
BOBADILL
And here are stockings.
([They present their pawn.])
BRAINWORM
Well, gentlemen, I’ll procure you this warrant presently. But who will you have to serve it?
MATTHEW
That’s true, Captain. That must be considered.
BOBADILL
Body o’me, I know not. ’Tis service of danger!
BRAINWORM
Why, you were best get one o’the varlets o’the city, a sergeant. I’ll appoint you one, if you please.
MATTHEW
Will you, sir? Why, we can wish no better.
BOBADILL
We’ll leave it to you, sir.
([Exeunt Bobadill and Matthew.])
BRAINWORM
This is rare! Now will I go pawn this cloak of the Justice’s man at the broker’s for a varlet’s suit, and be the varlet myself, and get either more pawns or more money of Downright for the arrest.
([Exit.])
4.10
([Enter] KNOWELL.)
KNOWELL
Oh, here it is. I am glad I have found it now.
1
[He knocks] Ho! Who is within here?
([TIB opens the door a crack.])
TIB
I am within, sir. What’s your pleasure?
2
KNOWELL
To know who is within besides yourself.
3
TIB
Why, sir, you are no constable, I hope?
4
KNOWELL
Oh, fear you the constable? Then I doubt not
5
You have some guests within deserve that fear.
I’ll fetch him straight.
TIB
O’God’s name, sir!
6
KNOWELL
Go to. Come, tell me, is not young Knowell here?
7
TIB
Young Knowell? I know none such, sir, o’mine honesty.
8
KNOWELL
Your honesty? Dame, it flies too lightly from you.
9
There is no way but fetch the constable.
TIB
The constable? The man is mad, I think.
10
([She claps to the door. Knowell starts to leave.])
([Enter] CASH [and] DAME KITELY. [Knowell stands aside, unobserved by them.])
CASH
Ho! Who keeps house here?
KNOWELL
Oh, this is the female copesmate of my son.
12
Now shall I meet him straight.
DAME KITELY
Knock, Thomas, hard.
13
CASH
[Knocking] Ho, good wife!
14
TIB
[Within] Why, what’s the matter with you?
15
DAME KITELY
Why, woman, grieves it you to ope your door?
16
Belike you get something to keep it shut.
([Enter] TIB.)
TIB
What mean these questions, pray ye?
17
DAME KITELY
So strange you make it? Is not my husband here?
18
KNOWELL
Her husband?
19
DAME KITELY
My tried husband, Master Kitely.
20
TIB
I hope he needs not to be tried here.
21
DAME KITELY
No, dame, he does it not for need, but pleasure.
22
TIB
Neither for need nor pleasure is he here.
23
KNOWELL
This is but a device to balk me withal.
24
Soft, who is this? ’Tis not my son, disguised?
([Enter] KITELY [in his cloak]. She [Dame Kitely] spies her husband come, and runs to him.)
DAME KITELY
Oh, sir, have I forestalled your honest market?
25
Found your close walks? You stand amazed now, do you?
I’faith, I am glad I have smoked you yet at last.
What is your jewel, trow? In, come, let’s see her.
[To Tib] Fetch forth your huswife, dame!
[To Kitely] If she be fairer,
In any honest judgement, than myself,
I’ll be content with it. But she is change,
She feeds you fat, she soothes your appetite,
And you are well? Your wife, an honest woman,
Is meat twice sod to you, sir? Oh, you treacher!
KNOWELL
She cannot counterfeit thus palpably.
26
KITELY
[To Dame Kitely] Out on thy more than strumpet’s impudence!
27
Steal’st thou thus to thy haunts? And have I taken
Thy bawd and thee and thy companion,
(Pointing to Old Knowell) This hoary-headed lecher, this old goat,
Close at your villainy? And wouldst thou ’scuse it
With this stale harlot’s jest, accusing me?
(To him) Oh, old incontinent, dost not thou shame,
When all thy powers’ inchastity is spent,
To have a mind so hot, and to entice
And feed th’enticements of a lustful woman?
DAME KITELY
Out! I defy thee, I, dissembling wretch!
28
KITELY
Defy me, strumpet? (By Thomas.) Ask thy pander here.
29
Can he deny it? Or that wicked elder?
([Indicating Knowell])
KNOWELL
Why, hear you, sir –
30
KITELY
Tut, tut, tut, never speak.
31
Thy guilty conscience will discover thee.
KNOWELL
What lunacy is this that haunts this man?
32
KITELY
[To Tib] Well, goodwife B, A, D, Cob’s wife; [To Dame Kitely] and you,
33
That make your husband such a hoddy-doddy;
[To Cash and Knowell] And you, young apple-squire, and old cuckold- maker,
I’ll ha’ you every one before a justice.
Nay, you shall answer it. I charge you, go.
KNOWELL
Marry, with all my heart, sir; I go willingly,
34
Though I do taste this as a trick put on me
To punish my impertinent search, and justly;
And half forgive my son for the device.
KITELY
[To Dame Kitely] Come, will you go?
35
DAME KITELY
Go? To thy shame, believe it.
36
([Enter] COB.)
COB
Why, what’s the matter here? What’s here to do?
37
KITELY
Oh, Cob, art thou come? I have been abused,
38
And i’thy house. Never was man so wronged!
COB
’Slid, in my house, my master Kitely? Who wrongs you in my house?
KITELY
Marry, young-lust-in-old and old-in-young, here.
40
Thy wife’s their bawd; here have I taken ’em.
COB
How? Bawd? Is my house come to that? Am I preferred thither? (He falls upon his wife and beats her.) Did I charge you to keep your doors shut, Is’bel? And do you let ’em lie open for all comers?
KNOWELL
Friend, know some cause before thou beat’st thy wife;
42
This’s madness in thee.
COB
Why, is there no cause?
43
KITELY
Yes, I’ll show cause before the Justice, Cob.
44
Come, let her go with me.
COB
Nay, she shall go.
45
TIB
Nay, I will go. I’ll see an you may be allowed to make a bundle o’ hemp o’your right and lawful wife thus, at every cuckoldly knave’s pleasure. Why do you not go?
KITELY
A bitter quean. Come, we’ll ha’ you tamed.
([Exeunt.])
4.11
([Enter] BRAINWORM [disguised as a city sergeant, with a staff of office].)
BRAINWORM
Well, of all my disguises yet, now am I most like myself, being in this sergeant’s gown. A man of my present profession never counterfeits till he lays hold upon a debtor and says he ’rests him, for then he brings him to all manner of unrest. A kind of little kings we are, bearing the diminutive of a mace made like a young artichoke that always carries pepper and salt in itself. Well, I know not what danger I undergo by this exploit. Pray heaven I come well off.
([Enter] MATTHEW [and] BOBADILL.)
MATTHEW
See, I think yonder is the varlet, by his gown.
BOBADILL
Let’s go in quest of him.
MATTHEW
[To Brainworm] Save you, friend. Are not you here by appointment of Justice Clement’s man?
BRAINWORM
Yes, an’t please you, sir. He told me two gentlemen had willed him to procure a warrant from his master, which I have about me, to be served on one Downright.
MATTHEW
It is honestly done of you both. And see where the party comes you must arrest. Serve it upon him quickly, afore he be aware –
([Enter] STEPHEN [wearing Downright’s cloak].)
BOBADILL
Bear back, Master Matthew!
BRAINWORM
[To Stephen] Master Downright, I arrest you i’ the Queen’s name, and must carry you afore a justice by virtue of this warrant.
STEPHEN
Me, friend? I am no Downright, I. I am Master Stephen. You do not well to arrest me, I tell you truly. I am in nobody’s bonds nor books, I would you should know it. A plague on you heartily for making me thus afraid afore my time!
BRAINWORM
Why, how are you deceived, gentlemen!
BOBADILL
He wears such a cloak, and that deceived us. [Enter] DOWNRIGHT. But see, here ’a comes indeed! This is he, officer.
DOWNRIGHT
[To Stephen] Why, how now, Signor Gull, are you turned filcher of late? Come, deliver my cloak.
STEPHEN
Your cloak, sir? I bought it even now, in open market.
BRAINWORM
Master Downright, I have a warrant I must serve upon you, procured by these two gentlemen.
DOWNRIGHT
These gentlemen? These rascals!
BRAINWORM
Keep the peace, I charge you, in Her Majesty’s name.
DOWNRIGHT
I obey thee. What must I do, officer?
BRAINWORM
Go before Master Justice Clement, to answer what they can object against you, sir. I will use you kindly, sir.
MATTHEW
Come, let’s before, and make the Justice, Captain –
BOBADILL
The varlet’s a tall man, afore heaven!
([Exeunt Bobadill and Matthew.])
DOWNRIGHT
[To Stephen] Gull, you’ll gi’ me my cloak?
STEPHEN
Sir, I bought it, and I’ll keep it.
DOWNRIGHT
You will?
STEPHEN
Ay, that I will.
DOWNRIGHT
[To Brainworm] Officer, there’s thy fee. Arrest him.
([He gives Brainworm money.])
BRAINWORM
Master Stephen, I must arrest you.
STEPHEN
Arrest me? I scorn it. There, take your cloak; I’ll none on’t.
DOWNRIGHT
Nay, that shall not serve your turn now, sir. – Officer, I’ll go with thee to the Justice’s. Bring him along.
STEPHEN
Why, is not here your cloak? What would you have?
DOWNRIGHT
I’ll ha’ you answer it, sir.
BRAINWORM
Sir, I’ll take your word, and this gentleman’s, too, for his appearance.
DOWNRIGHT
I’ll ha’ no words taken. Bring him along.
BRAINWORM
Sir, I may choose to do that: I may take bail.
DOWNRIGHT
’Tis true, you may take bail and choose, at another time; but you shall not now, varlet. Bring him along, or I’ll swinge you.
BRAINWORM
Sir, I pity the gentleman’s case. Here’s your money again.
DOWNRIGHT
’Sdeynes, tell not me of my money. Bring him away, I say.
BRAINWORM
I warrant you, he will go with you of himself, sir.
DOWNRIGHT
Yet more ado?
BRAINWORM
I have made a fair mash on’t.
STEPHEN
Must I go?
BRAINWORM
I know no remedy, Master Stephen.
DOWNRIGHT
[To Stephen] Come along afore me here. I do not love your hanging look behind.
STEPHEN
Why, sir, I hope you cannot hang me for it. – Can he, fellow?
BRAINWORM
I think not, sir. It is but a whipping matter, sure.
STEPHEN
Why, then, let him do his worst. I am resolute.
([Exeunt.])
5.1
([Enter] CLEMENT, KNOWELL, KITELY, DAME KITELY, TIB, CASH, COB, [and] SERVANTS [of Doctor Clement].)
CLEMENT
Nay, but stay, stay. Give me leave. [To a Servant.] My chair, sirrah. – You, Master Knowell, say you went thither to meet your son?
KNOWELL
Ay, sir.
CLEMENT
But who directed you thither?
KNOWELL
That did mine own man, sir.
CLEMENT
Where is he?
KNOWELL
Nay, I know not, now. I left him with your clerk, and appointed him to stay here for me.
CLEMENT
My clerk? About what time was this?
KNOWELL
Marry, between one and two, as I take it.
CLEMENT
And what time came my man with the false message to you, Master Kitely?
KITELY
After two, sir.
CLEMENT
Very good. – But Mistress Kitely, how that you were at Cob’s? Ha?
DAME KITELY
An please you, sir, I’ll tell you. My brother Wellbred told me that Cob’s house was a suspected place –
CLEMENT
So it appears, methinks. But on.
DAME KITELY
And that my husband used thither daily.
CLEMENT
No matter, so he used himself well, mistress.
DAME KITELY
True, sir, but you know what grows by such haunts oftentimes.
CLEMENT
I see, rank fruits of a jealous brain, Mistress Kitely. But did you find your husband there in that case, as you suspected?
KITELY
I found her there, sir.
CLEMENT
Did you so? That alters the case. Who gave you knowledge of your wife’s being there?
KITELY
Marry, that did my brother Wellbred.
CLEMENT
How? Wellbred first tell her, then tell you after? Where is Wellbred?
KITELY
Gone with my sister, sir, I know not whither.
CLEMENT
Why, this is a mere trick, a device. You are gulled in this most grossly, all. [To Tib] Alas, poor wench, wert thou beaten for this?
TIB
Yes, most pitifully, an’t please you.
COB
And worthily, I hope, if it shall prove so.
CLEMENT
Ay, that’s like, and a piece of a sentence. [Enter a] SERVANT [of Clement.] How now, sir? What’s the matter?
SERVANT
Sir, there’s a gentleman i’the court without desires to speak with Your Worship.
CLEMENT
A gentleman? What’s he?
SERVANT
A soldier, sir, he says.
CLEMENT
A soldier? Take down my armour, my sword quickly! A soldier speak with me? Why, when, knaves? (He arms himself.) Come on, come on, hold my cap there, so; give me my gorget, my sword. [To Knowell, Kitely, Dame Kitely] Stand by. I will end your matters anon. [To the Servant] Let the soldier enter. [The Servant goes to the door.] [Enter] BOBADILL [and] MATTHEW [to them]. Now, sir, what ha’ you to say to me?
5.2
BOBADILL
By Your Worship’s favour –
CLEMENT
[To Matthew] Nay, keep out, sir, I know not your pretence. [To Bobadill] You send me word, sir, you are a soldier; why, sir, you shall be answered here; here be them have been amongst soldiers. Sir, your pleasure.
BOBADILL
Faith, sir, so it is: this gentleman and myself have been most uncivilly wronged and beaten by one Downright, a coarse fellow about the town here. And for mine own part, I protest, being a man in no sort given to this filthy humour of quarrelling, he hath assaulted me in the way of my peace, despoiled me of mine honour, disarmed me of my weapons, and rudely laid me along in the open streets, when I not so much as once offered to resist him.
CLEMENT
Oh, God’s precious! Is this the soldier? [To his Servant] Here, take my armour off quickly; ’twill make him swoon, I fear. He is not fit to look on’t, that will put up a blow.
MATTHEW
An’t please Your Worship, he was bound to the peace.
CLEMENT
Why, an he were, sir, his hands were not bound, were they?
([Enter a SERVANT. ])
SERVANT
There’s one of the varlets of the city, sir, has brought two gentlemen here, one upon Your Worship’s warrant.
CLEMENT
My warrant?
SERVANT
Yes, sir. The officer says, procured by these two.
CLEMENT
Bid him come in. Set by this picture. [Bobadill is led aside; a Servant goes to the door.] [Enter to them] DOWNRIGHT [and] STEPHEN, [with] BRAINWORM [disguised as an arresting sergeant]. What, Master Downright! Are you brought at Master Freshwater’s suit here?
5.3
DOWNRIGHT
I’faith, sir. And here’s another brought at my suit.
CLEMENT
[To Stephen] What are you, sir?
STEPHEN
A gentleman, sir. [Seeing Knowell] Oh, uncle!
CLEMENT
Uncle? Who? Master Knowell?
KNOWELL
Ay, sir. This is a wise kinsman of mine.
STEPHEN
God’s my witness, uncle, I am wronged here monstrously! He charges me with stealing of his cloak, and would I might never stir if I did not find it in the street by chance.
DOWNRIGHT
Oh, did you find it, now? You said you bought it, erewhile.
STEPHEN
And you said I stole it. Nay, now my uncle is here I’ll do well enough with you.
CLEMENT
Well, let this breathe a while. [To Bobadill] You that have cause to complain there, stand forth. Had you my warrant for this gentleman’s apprehension?
BOBADILL
Ay, an’t please Your Worship.
CLEMENT
Nay, do not speak in passion so. Where had you it?
BOBADILL
Of your clerk, sir.
CLEMENT
That’s well, an my clerk can make warrants and my hand not at ’em! Where is the warrant? Officer, have you it?
BRAINWORM
No, sir, Your Worship’s man, Master Formal, bid me do it for these gentlemen, and he would be my discharge.
CLEMENT
Why, Master Downright, are you such a novice to be served and never see the warrant?
DOWNRIGHT
Sir, he did not serve it on me.
CLEMENT
No? How then?
DOWNRIGHT
Marry, sir, he came to me and said he must serve it, and he would use me kindly, and so –
CLEMENT
Oh, God’s pity, was it so, sir? He must serve it? [To a Servant] Give me my long-sword there, and help me off , so. – Come on, sir varlet. [Brainworm kneels.] (He [Justice Clement] flourishes over him with his long-sword.) I must cut off your legs, sirrah. Nay, stand up; I’ll use you kindly. I must cut off your legs, I say.
BRAINWORM
Oh, good sir, I beseech you! Nay, good Master Justice!
CLEMENT
I must do it; there is no remedy. I must cut off your legs, sirrah; I must cut off your ears, you rascal, I must do it. I must cut off your nose; I must cut off your head.
BRAINWORM
Oh, good Your Worship!
CLEMENT
Well, rise. [Brainworm rises.] How dost thou do now? Dost thou feel thyself well? Hast thou no harm?
BRAINWORM
No, I thank Your good Worship, sir.
CLEMENT
Why, so! I said I must cut off thy legs, and I must cut off thy arms, and I must cut off thy head, but I did not do it. So you said you must serve this gentleman with my warrant, but you did not serve him. You knave, you slave, you rogue, do you say you must? [To a Servant] Sirrah, away with him to the jail! [To Brainworm] I’ll teach you a trick for your ‘must’, sir.
BRAINWORM
Good sir, I beseech you, be good to me.
CLEMENT
[To Servant] Tell him he shall to the jail. Away with him, I say!
BRAINWORM
Nay, sir, if you will commit me, it shall be for committing more than this. I will not lose, by my travail, any grain of my fame, certain.
([He throws off his disguise.])
CLEMENT
How is this?
KNOWELL
My man Brainworm!
STEPHEN
Oh, yes, uncle. Brainworm has been with my cousin Edward and I all this day.
CLEMENT
I told you all there was some device.
BRAINWORM
Nay, excellent Justice, since I have laid myself thus open to you, now stand strong for me, both with your sword and your balance.
CLEMENT
Body o’me, a merry knave! Give me a bowl of sack. [A Servant brings him drink.] If he belong to you, Master Knowell, I bespeak your patience.
BRAINWORM
That is it I have most need of. [To Knowell] Sir, if you’ll pardon me only, I’ll glory in all the rest of my exploits.
KNOWELL
Sir, you know I love not to have my favours come hard from me. You have your pardon – though I suspect you shrewdly for being of counsel with my son against me.
BRAINWORM
Yes, faith, I have, sir; though you retained me doubly this morning for yourself: first, as Brainworm, after, as Fitzsword. I was your reformed soldier, sir. ’Twas I sent you to Cob’s, upon the errand without end.
KNOWELL
Is it possible? Or that thou shouldst disguise thy language so as I should not know thee?
BRAINWORM
Oh, sir, this has been the day of my metamorphosis! It is not that shape alone that I have run through today. I brought this gentleman, Master Kitely, a message, too, in the form of Master Justice’s man here, to draw him out o’the way, as well as Your Worship, while Master Wellbred might make a conveyance of Mistress Bridget to my young master.
KITELY
How! My sister stol’n away?
KNOWELL
My son is not married, I hope!
BRAINWORM
Faith, sir, they are both as sure as love, a priest, and three thousand pound (which is her portion) can make ’em; and by this time are ready to bespeak their wedding supper at the Windmill, except some friend here prevent ’em and invite ’em home.
CLEMENT
Marry, that will I; I thank thee for putting me in mind on’t. [To a Servant] Sirrah, go you and fetch ’em hither, upon my warrant. [Exit Servant.] Neither’s friends have cause to be sorry, if I know the young couple aright. [To Brainworm] Here, I drink to thee for thy good news. But, I pray thee, what hast thou done with my man Formal?
BRAINWORM
Faith, sir, after some ceremony passed, as making him drunk, first with story, and then with wine, but all in kindness, and stripping him to his shirt, I left him in that cool vein, departed, sold Your Worship’s warrant to these two, [Indicating Bobadill and Matthew] pawned his livery for that varlet’s gown to serve it in, and thus have brought myself, by my activity, to Your Worship’s consideration.
CLEMENT
And I will consider thee, in another cup of sack. Here’s to thee, which, having drunk off, this is my sentence. [He drinks.] Pledge me: Thou hast done or assisted to nothing, in my judgement, but deserves to be pardoned for the wit o’the offence. If thy master, or any man here, be angry with thee, I shall suspect his ingine while I know him for’t. [A noise is heard.] How now? What noise is that?
([Enter a SERVANT.])
SERVANT
Sir, it is Roger is come home.
CLEMENT
Bring him in, bring him in. FORMAL [is brought in] to them. What, drunk in arms, against me? Your reason, your reason for this?
5.4
FORMAL
I beseech Your Worship to pardon me. I happened into ill company by chance that cast me into a sleep and stripped me of all my clothes –
CLEMENT
Well, tell him I am Justice Clement, and do pardon him. But what is this to your armour? What may that signify?
FORMAL
An’t please you, sir, it hung up i’the room where I was stripped, and I borrowed it of one o’the drawers to come home in, because I was loath to do penance through the street i’my shirt.
CLEMENT
Well, stand by awhile. [Enter] EDWARD KNOWELL, WELLBRED, [and] BRIDGET to them. Who be these? Oh, the young company. [To them] Welcome, welcome! Gi’ you joy. Nay, Mistress Bridget, blush not; you are not so fresh a bride but the news of it is come hither afore you. Master Bridegroom, I ha’ made your peace; give me your hand. So will I for all the rest, ere you forsake my roof.
5.5
EDWARD KNOWELL
We are the more bound to your humanity, sir.
CLEMENT
Only these two [Indicating Bobadill and Matthew] have so little of man in ’em, they are no part of my care.
WELLBRED
Yes, sir, let me pray you for this gentleman; [Indicating Matthew] he belongs to my sister, the bride.
CLEMENT
In what place, sir?
WELLBRED
Of her delight, sir, below the stairs and in public: her poet, sir.
CLEMENT
A poet? I will challenge him myself presently, at extempore:
Mount up thy Phlegon muse, and testify
How Saturn, sitting in an ebon cloud,
Disrobed his podex, white as ivory,
And through the welkin thundered all aloud.
WELLBRED
He is not for extempore, sir. He is all for the pocket muse; please you command a sight of it.
CLEMENT
Yes, yes, search him for a taste of his vein.
WELLBRED
[To Matthew] You must not deny the Queen’s justice, sir, under a writ o’ rebellion.
([They search Matthew’s pockets.])
CLEMENT
What, all this verse? Body o’me, he carries a whole ream, a commonwealth of paper, in’s hose! Let’s see some of his subjects.
[He reads.] Unto the boundless ocean of thy face
Runs this poor river, charged with streams of eyes.
How? This is stol’n!
EDWARD KNOWELL
A parody! A parody! With a kind of miraculous gift to make it absurder than it was.
CLEMENT
Is all the rest of this batch? Bring me a torch; lay it together, and give fire. Cleanse the air. Here was enough to have infected the whole city, if it had not been taken in time! [The poems are burnt.] See, see, how our poet’s glory shines! Brighter and brighter! Still it increases! Oh, now it’s at the highest; and now it declines as fast. You may see: Sic transit gloria mundi.
KNOWELL
There’s an emblem for you, son, and your studies!
CLEMENT
Nay, no speech or act of mine be drawn against such as profess it worthily. They are not born every year, as an alderman. There goes more to the making of a good poet than a sheriff, Master Kitely. You look upon me! Though I live i’the city here amongst you, I will do more reverence to him, when I meet him, than I will to the mayor, out of his year. But these paper-pedlars! These ink-dabblers! They cannot expect reprehension or reproach. They have it with the fact.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Sir, you have saved me the labour of a defence.
CLEMENT
It shall be discourse for supper between your father and me, if he dare undertake me. But to dispatch away these. [To Bobadill and Matthew] You sign o’the soldier, and picture o’the poet – but both so false I will not ha’ you hanged out at my door till midnight – while we are at supper, you two shall penitently fast it out in my court without; and, if you will, you may pray there that we may be so merry within as to forgive or forget you when we come out. [Indicating Formal] Here’s a third, because we tender your safety, shall watch you; he is provided for the purpose. [To Formal] Look to your charge, sir.
STEPHEN
And what shall I do?
CLEMENT
Oh, I had lost a sheep an he had not bleated! – Why, sir, you shall give Master Downright his cloak; and I will entreat him to take it. A trencher and a napkin you shall have i’the buttery, and keep Cob and his wife company here; whom I will entreat first to be reconciled, and you to endeavour with your wit to keep ’em so.
STEPHEN
I’ll do my best.
COB
Why, now I see thou art honest, Tib, I receive thee as my dear and mortal wife again.
TIB
And I you, as my loving and obedient husband.
CLEMENT
Good complement! It will be their bridal night, too. They are married anew. Come, I conjure the rest to put off all discontent. You, Master Down-right, your anger; you, Master Knowell, your cares; Master Kitely and his wife, their jealousy.
For, I must tell you both, while that is fed,
Horns i’the mind are worse than o’the head.
KITELY
Sir, thus they go from me. – Kiss me, sweetheart.
23
([He kisses his wife.])
See, what a drove of horns fly in the air,
Winged with my cleansèd and my credulous breath!
Watch ’em, suspicious eyes, watch where they fall:
See, see, on heads that think they’ve none at all!
Oh, what a plenteous world of this will come!
When air rains horns, all may be sure of some. –
I ha’ learned so much verse out of a jealous man’s part in a play.
CLEMENT
’Tis well, ’tis well! This night we’ll dedicate to friendship, love, and laughter. Master Bridegroom, take your bride and lead; every one, a fellow. Here is my mistress: Brainworm! To whom all my addresses of courtship shall have their reference. Whose adventures this day, when our grandchildren shall hear to be made a fable, I doubt not but it shall find both spectators and applause.
([Exeunt.])
THE END