The workes of Beniamin Ionson

Act IIII. Scene III.

KITELY.

To them.

WHy, how now? what's the matter? what's the stirre here? Whence springs the quarrell? THOMAS! where is he? Put vp your weapons, and put off this rage. My wife and sister, they are cause of this, What, THOMAS? where is this knaue?

CASH.

Here, sir.

WEL.

Come, let's goe: this is one of my brothers ancient hu∣mours, this.

STEP.

I am glad, no body was hurt by his ancient humour.

KITE.

Why, how now, brother, who en••orst this brawle?

DOW.

A sort of lewd rake-hells, that care neither for god, nor the de∣uill! And, they must come here to reade ballads, and rogery, and trash! Ile marre the knot of 'hem ere I sleepe, perhaps: especially BOB, there: he that's all manner of shapes! and Songs, and sonnets, his fellow.

BRID.

Brother, indeed, you are too violent, To sudden, in your humour: and, you know

My brother WEL-BREDS temper will not beare Anie reproofe, chiefly in such a presence, Where euery slight disgrace, he should receiue, Might wound him in opinion, and respect.

DOWN.

Respect? what talke you of respect 'mong such, As ha' nor sparke of manhood, nor good manners? 'Sdeynes I am asham'd, to heare you! respect?

BRID.

Yes, there was one a ciuill gentleman, And very worthily demean'd himselfe!

KITE.

O, that was some loue of yours, sister!

BRID.

A loue of mine? I would it were no worse, brother! You'lld pay my portion sooner, then you thinke for.

DAME.

Indeed, he seem'd to be a gentleman of an exceeding faire dis∣position, and of verie excellent good parts!

KITE.

Her loue, by heauen! my wifes minion! Faire disposition? excellent good parts? Death, these phrases are intollerable! Good parts? how should shee know his parts? His parts? Well, well, well, well, well, well! It is too plaine, too cleere: THOMAS, come hither. What, are they gone?

CASH.

I, sir, they went in. My mistris, and your sister—

KITE.

Are any of the gallants within!

CASH.

No, sir, they are all gone.

KITE.

Art thou sure of it?

CASH.

I can assure you, sir.

KITE.

What gentleman was that they prais'd so, THOMAS?

CASH.

One, they call him master KNO'WELL, a handsome yong gentleman, sir.

KITE.

I, I thought so: my mind gaue me as much. Ile die, but they haue hid him i' the house, Somewhere; Ile goe and search: goe with me, THOMAS. Be true to me, and thou shalt find me a master.