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sent me.

Dame. Oh, the lord!

as I am a true counterfeit man of war, and no Kite. How now! what!


[Retires. Dame. Alas, how it burns! Muss, keep you warm; good truth it is this new disease! there's

Enter Ed. Kxo'well and Master STEPHEN. a namber are troubled withal ! For love's sake, sweetheart, come in, out of the air.

E. Kno. So, sir, and how then, coz? Kite. How simple, and how subtle are her an- Step. S'foot, I have lost my purse, I think. swers !

E. Kno. How! lost your purse! Where?A new disease, and many troubled with it! When had you it? Why true! she heard me, all the world to no Step. I cannot tell : stay. thing.

Bruin. 'Slid, I am afraid they will know me! Dame. I pray thee, good sweetheart, come in; Would I could get by them! the air will do you harm, in truth.

E. Kno. What! ha' you it?
Kite. I'll come to you presently; 'twill away, Step. No, I think I was bewitched, -
I hope.

E. Kno. Nay, do not weep the loss; hang it, Dame. Pray Heaven it do. [Erit Dame. let it go.

Kite. A new disease! I know not new or old, Step. Oh, 'tis here--No, an' it had been lost, But it may well be called poor mortals' plague : I had not cared, but for a jet ring Miss Mary For, like a pestilence, it doth infect The houses of the brain. First, it begins

E. Kno. A jet ring! oh, the poesy, the poesy ! Solely to work upon the phantasy,

Step. Fine, i’faith! . Though fancy sleep, my Filling her seat with such pestiferous air love is deep;' meaning, that though I did not As soon corrupts the judgment, and from thence fancy her, yet she loved me dearly. Sends like contagion to the memory;

E. Kno. Most excellent! Still to each other giving the infection,

Step. And, then, I sent her another, and my Which, as a subtle vapour, spreads itself

poesy was : * The deeper the sweeter, I'll be Confusedly through every sensive part,

judged by St Peter.' Till not a thought, or motion in the mind,

Ē. Kno. How by St Peter? I do not conceive Be free from the black poison of suspect.

that. Ah, but what misery it is to know this !

Step. Marry, St Peter, to take


the metre. Or, knowing it, to want the mind's direction E. Kno. Well, there the saint was your good In such extremes ! Well, I will once more strive, patron; he helped you at your need : thank him, In spite of this black cloud, myself to be, thank him. And shake the fever off, that thus shakes me. Brain. I cannot take leave of them so; I will

(Erit. venture, come what will. Gentleinen, please

you change a few crowns, for a very excellent SCENE II.—Moorfields.

good blade, here? I am a poor gentleman, a sol

dier, that, in the better state of my fortunes, Enter BRAINWORM, disguised like a Soldier.

scorned so mean a refuge, but now it is the huBrain. 'Slid, I cannot choose but laugh to see mour of necessity to have it so. You seem to myself translated thus. Now must I create an be, gentlemen, well affected to martial men, else intolerable sort of lies, or my present profession I should rather die with silence than live with loses the grace; and yet the lie to a man of my shame : however, vouchsafe to remember, it is coat, is as ominous a fruit as the Fico. O, sir, my want speaks, not myself. This condition ait holds for good polity ever, to have that out-grees not with my spirit. wardly in vilest estimation, that inwardly is most E. Kno. Where hast thou served ? dear to us. So much for my borrowed shape.- Brain. May it please you, sir, in all the late Well, the truth is, my old master intends to fol- wars of Bohemia, Hungaria, Dalmatia, Poland; low my young, dry-foot, over Moorfields to Lon- where not, sir? I have been a poor servitor by don this morning: now I, knowing of this hunt- sea and land, any time these fourteen years, and ing match, or rather conspiracy, and to insinuate followed the fortunes of the best commanders in with my young master (for so must we, that are Christendom. I was twice shot at the taking of blue-waiters, and men of hope and service do), Aleppo, once at the relief of Vienna; I have have got me afore in this disguise, determining been at Marseilles, Naples, and the Adriatic here to lie in ambuscade, and intercept him in Gulf; a gentleman-slave in the galleys thrice, the mid-way. If I can but get his cloak, his where I was most dangerously shot in the head, purse, his hat, nay, any thing to cut him off, that through both the thighs, and yet being thus is, to stay his journey-Veni, vidi, vici, I may say maimed, I am void of maintenance; nothing left with captain Cæsar; 1 am made for ever, i'faith. me but my scars, the noted marks of my resoluWell, now must I practise to get the true garb of tion.

one of those lance-knights, my arru here, and my Step. How will you sell this rapier, friend? . - Young master! and his cousin, Master Stephen, Brain. Generous sir, I refer it to your own Vol. II.


ver hilt

judgment; you are a gentleman, give me what | When it puts on the breeches, you please.

It will put off all this. Ay, it is like; Step. True, I am a gentleman, I know that, When it is gone into the bone already! friend: but what though? I pray you say, what No, no: tins dye goes deeper than the coat, would you ask?

Or shit, or skin; it stains unto the liver Bruin. I assure you the blade may become the And heart, in some: and rather than it should side, or thigh, of the best prince in Europe.

not, E. Kno. Aye, with a velvet scabbard.

Note what we fathers do; look how we live; Step. Nay, an't be mine, it shall have a velvet What mistresses we keep; at what expence; scabbard, coz, that's fat: I would not wear it as And teach them all bad ways to buy affliction ! 'tis, an' you would give me an angel.

Well, I thank Heaven, I never yet was he,
Brain. At your worship's pleasure, sir; nay, That travelled with my son before sixteen,
'tis a most pure

To shew him the Venetian courtezans, Step. I had rather it were a Spaniard; but tell Nor read the grammar of cheating, I had made, me, what shall I give you for it? An' it had a sil- To my sharp boy at twelve; repeating still

The rule, get money, still get money, boy, E. Kno. Come, come, you shall not buy it; No matter by what means. hold, there's a shilling, fellow; take the rapier. These are the trades of fathers now. However,

Step. Why, but I will buy it now, because you My son, I hope, hath met within my threshold say so; and there's another shilling, fellow, ! None of these household precedents; which are scorn to be outbidden. What, shall I walk with strong a cudgel, like a higginbottom, and may have a ra- And swift, to rape youth to their precipice. pier for money?

But let the house at home be never so clean E. Kno. You may buy one in the city. Swept, or kept sweet from filth,

Step. Tut, I'll buy this i' the field, so I will; I If he will live abroad with his companions, have a mind to't, because 'tis a field rapier. Tell | In riot and misrule, 'tis worth a fear. me your lowest price. Ě. Kno. You shall not buy it, I say.

Enter BRAIN-WORM. Step. By this money but I will, though I give Brain. My master! nay, faith, have at you; I more than 'tis worth.

am feshed now, I have sped so well; though I E. Kno. Come away, you are a fool.

must attack


in a different way. Worshipful Step. Friend, I ain a fool, that's granted: but sir, I beseech you, respect the state of a pour solI'll have it for that word's sake. Follow me for dier! I am ashamed of this base course of life, your money.

(God's my comfort) but extremity provokes me Brain. At your service, sir. [Ereunt. to't: what remedy?

Kno. I have not for you.

Brain. By the faith | bear unto truth, gentleKno. I cannot lose the thought yet of this let- man, it is no ordinary custom in me, but only to ter,

preserve manhood. I protest to you, a man I Sent to my son; nor leave to admire the change have been, a man I may be, by your sweet bounOf manners, aud the breeding of our youth ty. Within the kingdom, since myself was one. Kno. Prithee, good friend, be satisfied. When I was young, he lived not in the stews, Brain. Good sir, by that hand you may do the Durst have conceived a scorn, and uttered it, part of a kind gentleman, in lending a poor solOn a grey head : age was authority

dier the price of two cans of beer, a matter of Against a buffoon; and a man had then

small value; the King of Heaven shall pay you, A certain reverence paid unto his years, and I shall rest thankful: sweet worshipThat had none due unto his life.

Kno. Nay, an' you be so importunate--But now we are fallen ; youth from their fear, Brain. Oh, tender sir, need will have his And age from that, which bred it, good example.course! I was not made to this vile use! Well, Nay, would ourselves were not the first, even pa- the edge of the enemy could not have abated me rents,

so much. [He weeps.] It's hard, when a man That did destroy the hopes in our own children; hath served in his prince's cause, to be thusThe first words

honourable worship, let me derive a small piece We form their tongues with, are licentious jests. of silver from you; it shall not be given in the Can it call whore? Cry bastard ? 0, then kiss it, course of time. By this good ground, I was fain A witty child! Can't swear? The father's dar- to pawn my rapier last night for a poor supper; Ting!

I had sucked the hilts long before, I am a pagan Give it two plums. Nay, rather than it shall else : sweet honour ! learn

Kno. Believe me, I am taken with some wonNo bawdy song, the mother herself will teach it! der, But this is in the infancy;

To think a fellow of thy outward presence,

Should, in the frame and fashion of his mind, Brain. Sir, by the place and honour of a solBe so degenerate and sordid base!

dierArt thou a man, and shain'st thou not to beg? Kno. Nay, nay, I like not those affected oaths! To practise such a servile kind of life?

Speak plainly, man : what think'st thou of my Why, were thy education never so mean,

words? Having thy limbs, a thousand fairer courses

Brain. Nothing, sir, but wish my fortunes were Over themselves to thy election.

as happy, as my service should be honest. El her the wars might still supply thy wants, Kno. Well, follow me; I will prove thee, if Or service of some virtuous gentleman,

thy deeds will carry a proportion to thy words. Or honest labour: nay, what can I name,

[Erit. But would become thee better than to beg! Brain. Yes, sir, straight: I will but garter my But men of thy condition feed on sloth,

hose. Oh! that my belly were hooped now, for As doth the beetle on the dung she breeds in, I am ready to burst with laughing! Never was a Not caring how the metal of your minds bottle or bag-pipe fuller. S’lid! was there ever Is eaten with the rust of idleness.

seen a fox in years to betray hinself thus? Now I Now, atore me, whate'er he be, that should shall be possessed of all his counsels! and by Relieve a person of thy quality,

that conduct my young master. Well, he is reWhile thou insist in this loose desperate course, solved to prove my honesty; faith, and I am reI would esteem the sin not thine, but his. solved to prove his patience. Oh, I shall abuse

Brain. Faith, sir, I would gladly find some him intolerably! This small piece of service will other course, if so

bring him clean out of love with the soldier for Kno. Aye, you would gladly find it, but you He will never come within the sight of a will not seek it.

red coat, or a inusket-rest again. It's no matter; Brain. Alas! sir, where should a man seek | let the world think me a bad counterfeit, if I canin the wars there's no ascent by desert in these not give him the slip at an instant. Why, this davs, but and for service, would it were as soon 's better than to have staid his journey! Well, purchased as wished for! (the air's my comfort, I will follow him. Oh, how I long to be cmknow what I would say

ployed! Kno. What's thy name?

Vith change of voice, these scars, and many an Brain. Please you, Fitz-Sword, sir,

Oath, Kno. Fitz-Sword,

I'll follow son and sirc, and serve them both. Say that a man should entertain thee now,

[Exit. Would'st thou be honest, humble, just, and true?





SCENE I.Stocks-Market.

know not how: he doth not carry himself like a

gentleman of fashionEnter MATTHEW, Well-Bred, and Well. Oh, Master Matthew, that is a grace peBOBADIL.

culiar but to a few, quos equus amavit Jupiter, Mat. Yes, faith, sir! we were at your lodging Mat. I understand you, 10 seek you too. Well.' Oh, I came not there to-night.

Enter Young Kno'well and STEPHEN. Bob. Your brother delivered us as much,

Well. No question you do, or you do not, sir. Well. Who? My brother, Down-right? Ned! By my soul, welcome! Hlow dost thou,

Bob. He. Mr Well-bred, I know not in what sweet spirit, my genius? 'Slid, I shall love Apolkind you bold me; but let me say to you this: as lo and the mad Thespian girls the better while sure as honour, I esteem it so much out of the I live for this, my dear fury. Now I see there's sunshine of reputation, to throw the least beam some love in thee! Sirrah, these be the two I of regard upon such a

writ to thee of, Nay, what a drowsy humour is Well. Sir, I inust hear no ill words of my bro- this now! Why dost thou not speak? ther,

E. Kno. Oh, you are a fine gallant; you sent Bob. I protest to you, as I have a thing to be me a rare letter. saved about me, I never saw any gentleman-like

Well. Why, was it not rare? part

E. Kno. Yes, I'll be sworn; I was never guilty Well. Good captain, (faces about.] to some of reading the like. Match it in all Pliny's other discourse.

epistles, and I'll have my judgment burned in the Bob. With your leave, sir, an' there were no ear for a rogue: make much of thy vein, for it is more men living upon the face of the earth, I inimitable. But I marvel what camel it was that should not fancy him, by St George.

had the carriage of it, for, doubtless, he was no Mat, Troth, nor I; he is of a rustical cut, I ordinary beast that brought it.

Well. Why?

Step. Cousin, it is well; I am melancholy E. Kno. Why, sayest thou? Why, dost thou enough? think that any reasonable creature, especially in E. Kno. O, ay, excellent! the morning, the sober time of the day too, could Well. Captain Bobadil, why muse you so ? have mistaken my father for me?

E. Kno. He is melancholy too. Well. 'Slid, you jest, I hope.

Bob. Faith, sir, I was thinking of a most hoE. Kno. Indeed, the best use we can turn it nourable piece of service was performed, to-morto, is to make a jest on't now; but I'll assure you, row, being St Mark's day, shall be some ten years my father had the full view of your flourishing now. style, before I saw it.

E. Kno. In what place, captain ? Well. What a dull slave was this! But, sir- Bob. Why, at the beleaguering of Strigonium, rah, what said he to it, i'faith?

where, in less than two hours, seven hundred reE. Kno. Nay, I know not what he said: but I solute gentlemen, as any were in Europe, lost have a shrewd guess what he thought.

their lives upon the breach. I'll tell you, gentleWell. What, what?

men; it was the first, but the best leagure, that E. Kno. Marry, that thou art some strange, ever í beheld with these eyes, except the taking dissolute young fellow, and I not a grain or two of what do you call it, last year, by the Gebetter, for keeping thee company.

noese ; but that (of all others) was the most fatal Well. Tut! that thought is like the moon in her and dangerous exploit that ever I was ranged in, last quarter, 'twill change shortly. But, sirrah, I since I first bore arms before the face of the enepray thee be acquainted with my two hang-bys my, as I am a gentleman and a soldier, here ; thou wilt take exceeding pleasure in them, Step. 'So, I had as lief as an angel, I could if thou hearest them once go: my wind-instru- swear as well as that gentleman! ments. I'll wind them up But what strange E. Kno. Then you were a servitor at both, it piece of silence is this? The sign of the dumb seems; at Strigonium, and what do you call it? man?

Bob. Oh, lord, sir! by St George, I was the E. Kno. Ob, sir, a kinsman of mine, one that first man that entered the breach; and had I not may make your music the fuller, an' he please; effected it with resolution, I had been slain, if I he has his humour, sir.

had had a million of lives. Well. Oh, what is't, what is't?

E. Kno. It was a pity you had not ten; a cat's, E. Kno. Nay, I'll neither do your judgment, and your own, i’faith. But was it possible? nor his folly, that wrong, as to prepare your ap

Mat. Pray you, mark this discourse, sir. prehension. I'll leave him to the mercy of your

Step. So I do. search, if you can take him so.

Bob. I assure you, upon my reputation, it is Weil. Well. Captain Bobadil, Master Matthew, true, and yourself shall confess. I pray you know this gentleman here; he is a friend E. Kno. You must bring me to the rack first. of mine, and one, that will deserve your affec- Bob. Observe me judicially, sweet sir: they tion. I know not your name, sir, but shall be had planted me three demi-culverins, just in the glad of any occasion to render me more familiar mouth of the breach: now, sir, as we were to

give on, their master-gunner (a man of no mcan Step. My name is Master Stephen, sir; I am this skill and mark, you must think) confronts me with gentleman's own cousin, sir: his father is mine his linstock, ready to give fire: I, spying his inuncle, sir; I am somewhat melancholy, but you tendment, discharged my petrionel in his bosom, shall command me, sir, in whatsoever is incident and with these single arins, my poor rapier, ran to a gentleman.

violently upon the Moors that guarded the ordBob. Sir, I must tell you this, I am no general nance, and put them all, pell-mell, to the sword. man; but for Mr Well-bred's sake (you may em- Well. To the sword ! to the rapier, captain ! brace it at what height of favour you please) I do E. Kno. Oh, it was a good figure observed, communicate with you; and conceive you to be sir! but did you all this, captain, without hurta gentleman of some parts. I love few words.

ing your blade ? E. Kno. And I fewer, sir. I have scarce enow Bob. Without any impeach of the earth : you

shall perceive, sir. It is the most fortunate weaMat. But are you indeed, sir, so given to it? pon that ever rid on poor gentleman's thigh.

[To Master STEPHEN. Shall I tell you, sir? You talk of Morglay, ExStep. Ay, truly, sir, I am mightily given to me- calibar, Durindana, or so? Tut, I lend no credit lancholy.

to what is fabled of them; I know the virtue of Mat. Oh, it is your only fine humour, sir; mine own, and therefore I dare the bolder mainyour true melancholy breeds your perfect fine wit, tain it. sir : I am melancholy myself, divers times, sir; Step. I marvel whether it be a Toledo, or no. and then do I no more but take a pen and paper Bob. A most perfect Toledo, I assure you, sir. presently, and overflow you half a score or a do- Step. I have a countryman of his here. zen of sonnets at a sitting.

Mát. Pray you, let's see, sir. Yes, faith, it is!

to you.

to thank you.


hilts for anger.

Bal. This a Toledo! pish.

Brain. You are conceited, sir; your name is Step. Why do you pish, captain?

Mr Kno'well, as I take it? Bat. A Fleming, by Heaven! I'll buy them for E. Kno. You are in the right. You mean not a guilder a piece, an' I would have a thousand of to proceed in the catechism, do you? thern.

Brain. No, sir, I am none of that coat. E. Kro. How say you, cousin ? I told you thus E. Kno. Of as bare coat, though! Well say, much.

sir? Well. Where bought you it, Master Stephen? Brain. Faith, sir, I am but a servant to the

Step. Of a scurvy rogue soldier (a hundred of drum extraordinary, and indeed, this smoky varlice go with him); he swore it was a Toledo. nish being washed off, and three or four patches

Bob. A poor provant rapier, no better. removed, I appear your worship’s in reversion,

Mat. Mass, I think it be, indeed! now I look after the decease of your good father- Brainon't better.

E. Kno. Nay, the longer you look on't the E. Kno. Brain-worm ! 'Slight, what breath worse. Put it up, put it up!

of a conjurer hath blown thee hither in this Step. Well, I will put it up, but by—(I have shape ? forgot the captain's oath, I thought to have sworn Brain. The breath o'your letter, sir, this by it) an' e'er I meet him

morning: the same, that blew you to the windWell. O, 'tis past help, now, sir; you must have mill, and your father after you. patience.

E. Kno. My father ! Step. Whoreson rascal! I could eat the very Brain. Nay, never start ; 'tis true; he has

followed you over the fields by the foot, as you E. Kno. A sign of good digestion; you have would do a hare i’ the snow. an ostrich stomach, cousin.

E. Kno. Sirrah, Well-bred, what shall we do, Step. A stomach! I would I had him here ! sirrah? My father is come over after me. you should see an' I had a stomach.

Well. Thy father! Where is he? Well. It is better as it is. Come, gentlemen, Brain. At justice Clement's house, here, in shall we go?

Coleman-street, where he but stays my return;

and thenEnter BRAIN-WORM.

Well. Who's this? Brain-worm? E. Kno. A miracle, cousin ! look here! look Brain. The same, sir. here!

Well. Why, how, i' the name of wit, comest Step. O, god'slid, by your leave, do you know thou transmuted thus ? me, sir?

Brain. Faith, a device! a device ! Nay, for Brain. Ay, sir, I know you by sight.

the love of reason, gentlemen, and avoiding the Step. You sold me a rapier, did you not? danger, stand not here; withdraw, and I'll tell Brain. Yes, marry, did I, sir. Step. You said it was a Toledo, ha?

E. Kno. Come, cousin.

[Ereunt. Brain. True, I did so. Step. But it is none !

SCENE II.-The Warehouse.
Bran. No, sir, I confess it is none.
Step. Do you confess it? Gentlemen, bear wit-

Enter KITELY and Casu. ness, he has confessed it. By God's will, an' you Kite. What says he, Thomas? Did you speak had not confessed it

with him? P. Kno. Oh, cousin, forbear, forbear.

Cash. He will expect you, sir, within this half Slep. Nay, I have done, cousin.

hour. Well. Why, you have done like a gentleman; Keit. Has he the money ready? Can you tell? he has confessed it, what would you more? Cash. Yes, sir, the money was brought in last

Step. Yet, by his leave, he is a rascal, under night. his favour, do you see.

Kite. O, that's well: fetch me my cloak, my E. Kno. Ay, by his leave, he is, and under fa

cloak. Foor. Pretty piece of civility! Sirrah, how dost Stay, let me see; an hour to go and come; like him?

Ay, that will be the least; and then 'twill be Well. Oh, it's a most precious fool, make much An hour before I can dispatch him, of him. I can compare him to nothing more Or very near : well, I will say two hours. happily, than a drum; for every one may play Two hours ! ha! things, never dreamt of yet, upon him.

May be contrived, ay, and effected too, E. Kno. No, no, a child's whistle were far the In two hours absence. Well, I will not go. fitter.

Two hours ! No, fleering opportunity! Brain. Sir, shall I entreat a word with you? I will not give your subtlety that scope.

E. Kno. With me, sir! You have not another Who will not judge him worthy to be robbed, Toledo to sell, have you?

That sets his doors wide open to a thief,

you all.

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