The workes of Beniamin Ionson

Act IIII. (Book 4)

Scene I.

DOWNE-RIGHT, DAME KITELY.

WEll sister, I tell you true: and you'll finde it so, in the end.

DAME.

Alas brother, what would you haue mee to doe? I cannot helpe it: you see, my brother brings 'hem in, here, they are his friends.

DOW.

His friends? his fiends. S'lud, they doe nothing but hant him, vp and downe, like a sort of vnluckie sprites, and tempt him to all man∣ner of villanie, that can be thought of. Well, by this light, a little thing would make me play the deuill with some of 'hem; and 'twere not more for your husbands sake, then any thing else, I'ld make the house too hot for the best on hem: they should say, and sweare, hell were broken loose, e're they went hence. But, by gods will, 'tis no bodies fault, but yours: for, an' you had done, as you might haue done, they should haue beene per∣boyl'd, and bak'd too, euery mothers sonne, e're they should ha' come in, e're a one of 'hem.

DAME.

God's my life! did you euer heare the like? what a strange man is this! Could I keepe out all them, thinke you? I should put my selfe, against halfe a dozen men? should I? Good faith, you'ld mad the patient'st body in the world, to heare you talke so, without any sense, or reason!

Act IIII. Scene II.

M^rs. BRIDGET, M^r. MATTHEW, DAME KITE∣LY, DOWNE-RIGHT, WEL-BRED, STE∣PHEN, ED. KNO'WELL, BOBA∣DIL, BRAYNE-WORME, GASH.

SEruant (in troth) you are too prodigall Of your wits treasure, thus to powre it forth, Vpon so meane a subiect, as my worth?

MAT.

You say well, mistris; and I meane, as well.

DOWN.

Hoy-day, here is stuffe!

WELL.

O, now stand close: pray heauen, shee can get him to reade: He should doe it, of his owne naturall impudencie.

BRID.

Seruant, what is this same, I pray you?

MATT.

Mary, an Elegie, an Elegie, an odde toy—

DOWN.

To mock an ape withall. O, I could sow vp his mouth, now.

DAME.

Sister, I pray you let's heare it.

DOWN.

Are you rime-giuen, too?

MATT.

Mistris, Ile reade it, if you please.

BRID.

Pray you doe, seruant.

DOWN.

O, here's no fopperie! Death, I can endure the stocks, better.

E. KN.

What ayles thy brother? can he not hold his water, at reading of a ballad?

WELL.

O, no: a rime to him, is worse then cheese, or a bag-pipe. But, marke, you loose the protestation.

MATT.

Faith, I did it in an humour; I know not how it is: but, please you come neere, sir. This gentleman ha's iudgement, hee knowes how to censure of a—pray you sir, you can iudge.

STEP.

Not I, sir: vpon my reputation, and, by the foot of PHAROAH.

WELL.

O, chide your cossen, for swearing.

E. KN.

Not I, so long as he do's not for sweare himselfe.

BOB.

Master MATTHEW, you abuse the expectation of your deare mistris, and her faire sister: Fie, while you liue, auoid this prolixitie.

MATT.

I shall, sir: well, In••ipere dulce.

E. KN.

How! Insipere dulce? a sweet thing to be a foole, indeed.

WELL.

What, doe you take Insipere, in that sense?

E. KN.

You doe not? you? This was your villanie, to gull him with a mo••te.

WELL.

O, the Benchers phrase: pauca verba, pauca verba.

MATT.

Rare creature, let me speake without offence, Would god my rude wordes had the influence, To rule thy thoughts, as thy faire lookes doe mine, Then should'st thou be his prisoner, who is thine.

E. KN.

This is in HERO and LEANDER?

WELL.

O, I! peace, we shall haue more of this.

MATT.

Be not vnkinde, and faire, mishapen stuffe Is of behauiour boysterous, and rough:

WELL.

Master Stephen answeres with shaking his head.

How like you that, sir?

E. KN.

S'light, he shakes his head like a bottle, to feele and there be a∣ny braine in it!

MATT.

But obserue the catastrophe, now, And I in dutie will exceede all other, As you in beautie doe excell loues mother.

E. KN.

Well, Ile haue him free of the wit-brokers, for hee vtters no∣thing, but stolne remnants.

WEL.

O, forgiue it him.

E.KN.

A filtching rogue? hang him. And, from the dead? it's worse then sacrilege.

WEL.

Sister, what ha' you here? verses? pray you, lets see. Who made these verses? they are excellent good!

MAT.

O, master WEL-BRED, 'tis your disposition to say so, sir. They were good i' the morning, I made 'hem, extempore, this morning.

WEL.

How? extempore?

MAT.

I, would I might bee hang'd else: aske Captayne BOBADILE. He saw me write them, at the—(poxe on it) the starre, yonder.

BRAY.

Can he find, in his heart, to curse the starres, so?

E.KN.

Faith, his are euen with him: they ha' curst him ynough alreadie.

STEP.

Cosen, how doe you like this gentlemans verses?

E.KN.

O, admirable! the best that euer I heard, cousse!

STEP.

Body o' CAESAR! they are admirable! The best, that euer I heard, as I am a souldier.

DOW.

I am vext, I can hold ne're a bone of mee still! Heart, I thinke, they meane to build, and breed here!

WEL.

Sister, you haue a simple seruant here, that crownes your beau∣tie, with such encomions, and deuises: you may see, what it is to be the mi∣stris of a wit! that can make your perfections so transparent, that euery bleare eye may looke through them, and see him drown'd ouer head, and eares, in the deepe well of desire. Sister KITELY, I maruaile, you get you not a seruant, that can rime, and doe tricks, too.

DOWN.

Oh monster! impudence it selfe! tricks?

DAME.

Tricks, brother? what tricks?

BRID.

Nay, speake, I pray you, what tricks?

DAME.

I, neuer spare any body here: but say, what tricks?

BRID.

Passion of my heart! doe tricks?

WEL.

S'light, here's a trick vyed, and reuyed! why, you munkies, you? what a catter-waling doe you keepe? ha's hee not giuen you rimes, and verses, and tricks?

DOW.

O, the fiend!

WEL.

Nay, you, lampe of virginitie, that take it in snuffe so! come, and cherish this tame poeticall furie, in your seruant, you'll be begg'd else, shortly, for a concealement: goe to, reward his muse. You cannot giue him lesse then a shilling, in conscience, for the booke, he had it out of, cost him a teston, at least. How now, gallants? M^r. MATTHEW? Captayne? What? all sonnes of silence? no spirit?

DOW.

Come, you might practise your ruffian-tricks somewhere else, and not here, I wusse: this is no tauerne, nor drinking-schole, to vent your exploits in.

WEL.

How now! whose cow ha's calu'd?

DOW.

Mary, that ha's mine, sir. Nay, Boy, neuer looke askance at me, for the matter; Ile tell you of it, I, sir, you, and your companions, mend your selues, when I ha' done?

WEL.

My companions?

DOW.

Yes sir, you companions, so I say, I am not afraid of you, nor them neither: your hang-byes here. You must haue your Poets, and your potlings, your soldado's, and foolado's, to follow you vp and downe the ci∣tie, and here they must come to domineere, and swagger. Sirrha, you, ballad-singer, and slops, your fellow there, get you out; get you home: or (by this steele) Ile cut off your eares, and that, presently.

WEL.

S'light, stay, let's see what he dare doe: cut off his eares? cut a whetstone. You are an asse, doe you see? touch any man here, and by this hand, Ile runne my rapier to the hilts in you.

DOW.

They all draw, and they of the house make out to part them.

Yea, that would I faine see, boy.

DAME.

O Iesu! murder. THOMAS, GASPAR!

BRID.

Helpe, helpe, THOMAS.

E.KN.

Gentlemen, forbeare, I pray you.

BOB.

They offer to fight againe, and are parted.

Well, sirrah, you, HOLOFERNES: by my hand, I will pinck your flesh, full of holes, with my rapier for this; I will, by this good hea∣uen: Nay, let him come, let him come, gentlemen, by the body of Saint GEORGE, Ile not kill him.

CASH.

Hold, hold, good gentlemen.

DOW.

You whorson, bragging coystrill:

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.

Act IIII. Scene IIII.

COB, TIB.

WHat TIB, TIB, I say.

TIB.

How now, what cuckold is that knocks so hard? O, husband, ist you? what's the newes?

COB.

Nay, you haue stonn'd me, I faith! you ha' giu'n me a knock o' the forehead, will stick by me! cuckold? 'Slid, cuckold?

TIB.

Away, you foole, did I know it was you, that knockt?

Come, come, you may call me as bad, when you list.

COB.

May I? TIB, you are a whore.

TIB.

You lye in your throte, husband.

COB.

How, the lye? and in my throte too? doe you long to bee stab'd, ha?

TIB.

Why, you are no souldier, I hope?

COB.

O, must you be stab'd by a souldier? Masse, that's true! when was BOBADILL here? your Captayne? that rogue, that foist, that fencing Burgullian? Ile tickle him, ifaith.

COB.

Why, what's the matter? trow!

COB.

O, he has bast••d me, rarely, sumptiously! but I haue it herein black and white; for his black, and blew: shall pay him. O, the Iustice! the honestest old braue Troian in London! I doe honour the very flea of his dog. A plague on him though, he put me once in a villanous filthy feare; mary, it vanisht away, like the smoke of tabacco: but I was smok't soundly first. I thanke the deuill, and his good angell, my guest. Well, wife, or TIB (which you will) get you in, and lock the doore, I charge you, let no body in to you; wife, no body in, to you: those are my wordes. Not Captayne BOB himselfe, nor the fiend, in his likenesse; you are a woman; you haue flesh and bloud enough in you, to be tempted: therefore, keepe the doore, shut, vpon all commers.

TIB.

I warrant you, there shall no body enter here, without my consent.

COB.

Nor, with your consent, sweet TIB, and so I leaue you.

TIB.

It's more, then you know, whether you leaue me so.

COB.

How?

TIB.

Why, sweet.

COB.

Tut, sweet, or sowre, thou art a flowre, Keepe close thy dore, I aske no more.

Act IIII. Scene V.

ED. KNO'WELL, WELL-BRED, STEPHEN, BRAYNE-WORME.

WEll BRAYNE-WORME, performe this businesse, happily, And thou makest a purchase of my loue, for-euer,

WEL.

Ifaith, now let thy spirits vse their best faculties. but, at any hand, remember the message, to my brother: for, there's no other meanes, to start him.

BRAY.

I warrant you, sir, feare nothing: I haue a nimble soule ha's wakt all forces of my phant'sie, by this time, and put 'hem in true motion. What you haue possest mee withall, Ile discharge it amply, sir. Make it no question.

WEL.

Forth, and prosper, BRAYNE-WORME. Faith, NED, how dost thou approue of my abilities in this deuise?

E. KN.

Troth, well, howsoeuer: but, it will come excellent, if it take.

WEL.

Take, man? why, it cannot choose but take, if the circum∣stances miscarrie not: but, tell me, ingenuously, dost thou affect my sister BRIDGET, as thou pretend'st?

E. KN.

Friend, am I worth beliefe?

WEL.

Come, doe not protest. In faith, shee is a maid of good orna∣ment, and much modestie: and, except I conceiu'd very worthily of her, thou shouldest not haue her.

E. KN.

Nay, that I am afraid will bee a question yet, whether I shall haue her, or no?

WEL.

Slid, thou shalt haue her; by this light, thou shalt.

E. KN.

Nay, doe not sweare.

WEL.

By this hand, thou shalt haue her: Ile goe fetch her, presently. Point, but where to meet, and as I am an honest man, I'll bring her.

E. KN.

Hold, hold, be temperate.

WEL.

Why, by—what shall I sweare by? thou shalt haue her, as I am—

E. KN.

'Pray thee, be at peace, I am satisfied: and doe beleeue, thou wilt omit no offered occasion, to make my desires compleat.

WEL.

Thou shalt see, and know, I will not.

Act IIII. Scene VI.

FORMALL, KNO'WELL, BRAYNE-WORME.

WAs your man a souldier, sir?

KNO.

I, a knaue, I tooke him begging o' the way, This morning, as I came ouer More-fields! O, here he is! yo' haue made faire speed, beleeue me: Where, i' the name of sloth, could you be thus—

BRAY.

Mary, peace be my comfort, where I thought I should haue had little comfort of your worships seruice.

KNO.

How so?

BRAY.

O, sir! your comming to the citie, your entertainement of me, and your sending me to watch—indeed, all the circumstances either of your charge, or my imployment, are as open to your sonne, as to your selfe!

KNO.

How should that be! vnlesse that villaine, BRAYNE-WORME, Haue told him of the letter, and discouer'd All that I strictly charg'd him to conceale? 'tis so!

BRAY.

I am, partly, o' the faith, 'tis so indeed.

KNO.

But, how should he know thee to be my man?

BRAY.

Nay, sir, I cannot tell; vnlesse it bee by the black art! Is not your sonne a scholler, sir?

KNO.

Yes, but I hope his soule is not allied Vnto such hellish practise: if it were, I had iust cause to weepe my part in him, And curse the time of his creation. But, where didst thou find them, FITZ-SWORD?

BRAY.

You should rather aske, where they found me, sir, for, Ile bee sworne I was going along in the street, thinking nothing, when (of a sud∣dain) a voice calls, M^r KNO-WEL's man; another cries, souldier: and thus, halfe a dosen of 'hem, till they had cal'd me within a house where I no soo∣ner came, but thy seem'd men, and out flue al their rapiers at my bosome, with some three or foure score oathes to accompanie 'hem, & al to tel me, I was but a dead man, if I did not confesse where you were, and how I was imployed, and about what; which, when they could not get out of me (as I protest, they must ha' dissected, and made an Anatomie o'me, first, and so I told 'hem) the lockt mee vp into a roome i' the top of a high house, whence, by a great miracle (hauing a light heart) I slid downe, by a bottom of pack-thred, into the street, and so scapt. But, sir, thus much I can as∣sure you, for I heard it, while I was lockt vp, there were a great many rich merchants, and braue citizens wiues with 'hem at a feast, and your sonne, M^r. EDWARD, with-drew with one of 'hem, and has pointed to meet her anon, at one COBS house, a water-bearer, that dwells by the wall. Now, there, your worship shall be sure to take him, for there he preyes, and faile he will not.

KNO.

Nor, will I faile, to breake his match, I doubt not. Goe thou, along with Iustice CLEMENT'S man, And stay there for me. At one COBS house, sai'st thou?

BRAY.

I sir, there you shall haue him. Yes? Inuisible? Much wench, or much sonne! 'Slight, when hee has staid there, three or foure houres, trauelling with the expectation of wonders, and at length be deliuer'd of aire: ô, the sport, that I should then take, to looke on him, if I durst! But, now, I meane to appeare no more afore him in this shape. I haue another trick, to act, yet. O, that I were so happy, as to light on a nupson, now, of this Iustices nouice. Sir, I make you stay somewhat long.

FORM.

Not a whit, sir. 'Pray you, what doe you meane? sir?

BRAY.

I was putting vp some papers—

FORM.

You ha' beene lately in the warres, sir, it seemes.

BRAY.

Mary haue I, sir; to my losse: and expence of all, almosst—

FORM.

Troth sir, I would be glad to bestow a pottle of wine o'you, if it please you to accept it—

BRAY.

O, sir—

FORM.

But, to heare the manner of your seruices, and your deuices in the warres, they say they be very strange, and not like those a man reades in the Romane histories, or sees, at Mile-end.

BRAY.

No, I assure you, sir, why, at any time when it please you, I shall be readie to discourse to you, all I know: and more too, somewhat.

FORM.

No better time, then now, sir; wee'll goe to the wind-mill: there we shall haue a cup of neate grift, wee call it. I pray you, sir, let mee request you, to the wind-mill.

BRAY.

Ile follow you, sir, and make grift o'you, if I haue good lucke.

Act IIII. Scene VII.

MATTHEW, ED. KNO'WELL, BOBADILL, STEPHEN, DOWNE-RIGHT.

To them.

SIr, did your eyes euer tast the like clowne of him, where we were to day, M^r. WEL-BRED's halfe brother? I thinke, the whole earth cannot shew his paralell, by this day-light.

E. KN.

We were now speaking of him: Captayne BOBADIL tells me, he is fall'n foule o'you too.

MAT.

O, I, sir, he threatned me, with the bastinado.

BOB.

I, but I thinke, I taught you preuention, this morning, for that— You shall kill him, beyond question: if you be so generously minded.

MAT.

Indeed, it is a most excellent trick!

He practises at a post.

BOB.

O, you doe not giue spirit enough, to our motion, you are too tardie, too heauie! Ô, it must be done like lightning, hay?

MAT.

Rare Captaine!

BOB.

Tut, 'tis nothing, and 't be not done in a—punto!

E. KN.

Captaine, did you euer proue your selfe, vpon any of our ma∣sters of defence, here?

MAT.

O, good sir! yes, I hope, he has.

BOB.

I will tell you, sir. Vpon my first comming to the citie, after my long trauaile, for knowledge (in that mysterie only) there came three, of foure of 'hem to me, at a gentlemans house, where it was my chance to be resident, at that time, to intreat my presence at their scholes, and with∣all so much importun'd me, that (I protest to you as I am a gentleman) I was asham'd of their rude demeanor, out of all measure: well, I told 'hem, that to come to a publike schoole, they should pardon me, it was opposite (in diameter) to my humour, but, if so they would giue their attendance at my lodging, I protested to doe them what right or fauour I could, as I was a gentleman, and so forth.

E. KN.

So, sir, then you tried their skill?

BOB.

Alas, soone tried! you shall heare sir. Within two or three daies after , they came; and, by honestie; faire sir, beleeue mee, I grac't them exceedingly, shew'd them some two or three tricks of preuention, haue purchas'd 'hem, since, a credit, to admiration! they canot denie this: and yet now, they hate mee, and why? because I am excellent, and for no other vile reason on earth.

E. KN.

This is strange, and barbarous! as euer I heard!

BOB.

Nay, for a more instance of their preposterous natures, but note, sir. They haue assaulted me some three, foure, fiue, sixe of them together, as I haue walkt alone, in diuers skirts i' the towne, as Turne-bull, White-chappell, Shore-ditch, which were then my quarters, and since vpon the Exchange, at my lodging, and at my ordinarie: where I haue driuen them afore me, the whole length of a street, in the open view of all our gallants, pittying to hurt them, beleeue me. Yet, all this lenitie will not ore-come their spleene: they will be doing with the pismier, raysing a hill, a man may spurne abroad, with his foot, at pleasure. By my selfe, I could haue slaine them all, but I delight not in murder. I am loth to beare any other then this bastinado for 'hem: yet, I hold it good politie, not to goe disarm'd, for though I bee skilfull, I may bee oppress'd with multitudes.

E. KN.

I, beleeue me, may you sir: and (in my conceit) our whole nation should sustaine the losse by it, if it were so.

BOB.

Alas, no: what's a peculiar man, to a nation? not seene.

E. KN.

O, but your skill, sir!

BOB.

Indeed, that might be some losse; but, who respects it? I will tell you, sir, by the way of priuate, and vnder seale; I am a gentleman, and liue here obscure, and to my selfe: but, were I knowne to her Maiestie, and the Lords (obserue mee) I would vnder-take (vpon this poore head, and life) for the publique benefit of the state, not only to spare the intire lines of her subiects in generall, but to saue the one halfe, nay, three parts of her yeerely charge, in holding warre, and against what enemie soeuer. And, how would I doe it, thinke you?

E. KN.

Nay, I know not, nor can I conceiue.

BOB.

Why thus, sir. I would select nineteene, more, to my selfe, throughout the land; gentlemen they should bee of good spirit, strong, and able constitution, i would choose them by an instinct, a character, that I haue: and I would teach these nineteene, the speciall rules, as your Punto, your Reuerso, your Stoccata, your Imbroccata, your Passada, your Montanto: till they could all play very neare, or altogether as well as my selfe. This done, say the enemie were fortie thousand strong, we twentie would come into the field, the tenth of March, or thereabouts; and wee would chal∣lenge twentie of the enemie; they could not, in their honour, refuse vs, well, wee would kill them: challenge twentie more, kill them; twentie more, kill them; twentie more, kill them too; and thus, would wee kill, euery man, his twentie a day, that's twentie score; twentie score, that's two hundreth; two hundreth a day, fiue dayes a thousand; fortie thou∣sand; fortie times fiue, fiue times fortie, two hundreth dayes kills them all vp, by computation. And this, will I venture my poore gentleman-like carcasse, to performe (prouided, there bee no treason practis'd vpon vs) by faire, and discreet manhood, that is, ciuilly by the sword.

E. KN.

Why, are you so sure of your hand, Captaine, at all times?

BOB.

Tut, neuer misse thrust, vpon my reputation with you.

E. KN.

I would not stand in DOWNE-RIGHTS state, then, an' you meet him, for the wealth of any one street in London.

BOB.

Why, sir, you mistake me! if he were here now, by this wel∣kin, I would not draw my weapon on him! let this gentleman doe his mind: but, I will bastinado him (by the bright sunne) where-euer I meet him.

MAT.

Faith, and Ile haue a ••ling at him, at my distance.

E. KN.

Downe-right walkes ouer the stage.

Gods so', looke, where he is: yonder he goes.

DOW.

What peeuish luck haue I, I cannot meet with these bragging raskalls?

BOB.

It's not he? is it?

E. KN.

Yes faith, it is he?

MAT.

Ile be hang'd, then, if that were he.

E. KN.

Sir, keepe your hanging good, for some greater matter, for I assure you, that was he.

STEP.

Vpon my reputation, it was hee.

BOB.

Had I thought it had beene he, he must not haue gone so: but I can hardly be induc'd, to beleeue, it was he, yet.

E. KN.

That I thinke, sir. But see, he is come againe!

DOW.

O, PHAROAHS foot, haue I found you? Come, draw, to your tooles: draw, gipsie, or Ile thresh you.

BOB.

Gentleman of valour, I doe beleeue in thee, heare me—

DOW.

Draw your weapon, then.

BOB.

Tall man, I neuer thought on it, till now (body of me) I had a warrant of the peace, serued on me, euen now, as I came along, by a wa∣ter-bearer; this gentleman saw it, M^r. MATTHEW.

DOW.

'Sdeath, you will not draw, then?

BOB.

He beates him, and disarmes him: Matthew runnes away.

Hold, hold, vnder thy fauour, forbeare.

DOW.

Prate againe, as you like this, you whoreson foist, you. You'le controll the point, you? Your consort is gone? had he staid, he had shar'd with you, sir.

BOB.

Well, gentlemen, beare witnesse, I was bound to the peace, by this good day.

E. KN.

No faith, it's an ill day, Captaine, neuer reckon it other: but, say you were bound to the peace, the law allowes you, to defend your selfe: that'll proue but a poore excuse.

BOB.

I cannot tell, sir. I desire good construction, in faire sort. I ne∣uer sustain'd the like disgrace (by heauen) sure I was strooke with a plan∣net thence, for I had no power to touch my weapon.

E. KN.

I, like inough, I haue heard of many that haue beene beaten vnder a plannet: goe, get you to a surgean. 'Slid, an' these be your tricks, your passada's, and your mountanto's, Ile none of them. O, manners! that

this age should bring forth such creatures! that Nature should bee at lei∣sure to make hem! Come, cousse.

STEP.

Masse, Ile ha' this cloke.

E. KN.

Gods will, 'tis DOWNE-RIGHT'S.

STEP.

Nay, it's mine now, another might haue tane vp, aswell as I: Ile weare it, so I will.

E. KN.

How, an' he see it? hee'll challenge it, assure your selfe.

STEP.

I, but he shall not ha' it; Ile say, I bought it.

E. KN.

Take heed, you buy it not, too deare, cousse.

Act IIII. Scene VIII.

KITELY, WEL-BRED, DAME KIT. BRID∣GET, BRAYNE-WORME, CASH.

NOw, trust me brother, you were much to blame, T'incense his anger, and disturbe the peace, Of my poore house, where there are sentinells, That euery minute watch, to giue alarmes, Of ciuill warre, without adiection Of your assistance, or occasion.

WELL.

No harme done, brother, I warrant you: since there is no harme done. Anger costs a man nothing: and a tall man is neuer his owne man, till he be angrie. To keepe his valure in obscuritie, is to keepe him∣selfe, as it were, in a cloke-bag. What's a musitian, vnlesse he play? what's a tall man, vnlesse he fight? For, indeed, all this, my wise brother stands vpon, absolutely: and, that made me fall in with him, so resolutely.

DAME.

I, but what harme might haue come of it, brother?

WELL.

Might, sister? so, might the good warme clothes, your husband weares, be poyson'd, for any thing he knowes: or the wholesome wine he drunke, euen now, at the table—

KITE.

Now, god forbid: O me. Now, I remember, My wife drunke to me, last; and chang'd the cup: And bade me weare this cursed sute to day. See, if heau'n suffer murder vndiscour'd! I feele me ill; giue me some mithridate, Some mithridate and oile, good sister, fetch me; O, I am sicke at heart! I burne, I burne. If you will saue my life, goe, fetch it me.

WELL.

O, strange humour! my verie breath ha's poyson'd him.

BRID.

Good brother, be content, what doe you meane? The strength of these extreme conceits, will kill you.

DAME.

Beshrew your heart-bloud, brother WELL-BRED, now;

for putting such a toy into his head.

WELL.

Is a fit simile, a toy? will he be poyson'd with a simile? Brother KITELY, what a strange, and idle imagination is this? For shame, bee wi∣ser. O' my soule, there's no such matter.

KITE.

Am I not sicke? how am I, then, not poyson'd? Am I not poyson'd? how am I, then, so sicke?

DAME.

If you be sicke, your owne thoughts make you sicke.

WELL.

His iealousie is the poyson, he ha's taken.

BRAY.

He comes dis∣guis'd like Iu∣stice Clements man.

M^r. KITELY, my master, Iustice CLEMENT, salutes you; and desires to speake with you, with all possible speed.

KITE.

No time, but now? when, I thinke, I am sicke? very sicke! well, I will wait vpon his worship. THOMAS, COB, I must seeke them out, and set 'hem sentinells, till I returne. THOMAS, COB, THOMAS.

WELL.

This is perfectly rare, BRAYNE-WORME! but how got'st thou this apparell of the Iustices man?

BRAY.

Mary sir, my proper fine pen-man, would needs bestow the grist o'me, at the wind-mil, to hear some martial discourse; where so I marshal'd him, that I made him drunke, with admiration! &, because, too much hear was the cause of his distemper, I stript him starke naked, as he lay along a∣sleepe, and borrowed his sute, to deliuer this counterfeit message in, lea∣uing a rustie armor, and an old browne bill to watch him, till my returne: which shall be, when I ha' pawn'd his apparell, and spent the better part o' the money, perhaps.

WELL.

Well, thou art a successefull merry knaue, BRAYNE-WORME, his absence will be a good subiect for more mirth. I pray thee, returne to thy yong master, and will him to meet me, and my sister BRIDGET, at the tower instantly: for, here, tell him, the house is so stor'd with iealousie, there is no roome for loue, to stand vpright in. We must get our fortunes committed to some larger prison, say; and, then the tower, I know no better aire: nor where the libertie of the house may doe vs more present seruice. Away.

KITE.

Come hether, THOMAS. Now, my secret's ripe, And thou shalt haue it; lay to both thine eares. Harke, what I say to thee. I must goe forth, THOMAS. Be carefull of thy promise, keepe good watch, Note euery gallant, and obserue him well, That enters in my absence, to thy mistris: If shee would shew him roomes, the iest is stale, Follow 'hem, THOMAS, or else hang on him, And let him not goe after; marke their lookes; Note, if shee offer but to see his band, Or any other amorous toy, about him; But praise his legge; or foot; or if shee say, The day is hot, and bid him feele her hand,

How hot it is; ô, that's a monstrous thing! Note me all this, good THOMAS, marke their sighes, And, if they doe but whisper, breake 'hem off: Ile beare thee out in it. Wilt thou doe this? Wilt thou be true, my THOMAS?

CAS.

As truth's selfe, sir.

KITE.

Why, I beleeue thee: where is COB, now? COB?

DAME.

Hee's euer calling for COB! I wonder, how hee imployes COB, so!

WELL.

Indeed, sister, to aske how hee imploies COB, is a necessarie question for you, that are his wife, and a thing not very easie for you to be satisfied in us: but this Ile assure you, COBS wife is an excellent bawd, sister, and, often-times, your husband hants her house, mary, to what end, I can∣not altogether accuse him, imagine you what you thinke conuenient. But, I haue knowne, faire hides haue foule hearts, E're now, sister.

DAME.

Neuer said you truer then that, brother, so much I can tell you for your learning. THOMAS, fetch your cloke, and goe with me, Ile after him presently: I would to fortune, I could take him there, ifaith. Il'd returne him his owne, I warrant him.

WELL.

So, let hem goe: this may make sport anon. Now, my faire sister in-law, that you knew, but how happie a thing it were to be faire, and beautifull?

BRID.

That touches not me, brother.

WELL.

That's true; that's euen the fault of it: for indeede, beautie stands a woman in no stead, vnlesse 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 doe not, a plague of all ceruse, say I: and, it touches mee to in part, though not in the — Well, there's a deare and respected friend of mine, sister, stands very strongly, and worthily affected toward you, and hath vow'd to inflame whole bone-fires of zeale, at his heart, in honor of your perfections. I haue alreadie engag'd my promise to bring you, where you shall heare him confirme much more. NED KNO'WELL is the man, sister. There's no exception against the partie. You are ripe for a husband; and a minutes losse to such an occasion, is a great trespasse in a wise beautie. What say you, sister? On my soule hee loues you. Will you giue him the meeting?

BRID.

Faith, I had very little confidence in mine owne constancie, brother, if I durst not meet a man: but this motion of yours, sauours of an old knight-aduenturers seruant, a little too much, me thinkes.

WELL.

What's that, sister?

BRID.

Mary, of the squire.

WELL.

No matter if it did, I would be such an one for my friend, but see! who is return'd to hinder vs?

KITE.

What villanie is this? call'd out on a false message? This was some plot! I was not sent for. BRIDGET,

Where's your sister?

BRID.

I thinke shee be gone forth, sir.

KITE.

How! is my wife gone forth? whether for gods sake?

BRID.

Shee's gone abroad with THOMAS.

KITE.

Abroad with THOMAS? oh, that villaine dors me. He hath discouer'd all vnto my wife! Beast that I was, to trust him: whither, I pray you, went shee?

BRID.

I know not, sir.

WELL.

Ile tell you, brother, whither I suspect shee's gone.

KITE.

Whither, good brother?

WELL.

To COBS house, I beleeue: but, keepe my counsaile.

KITE.

I will, I will: to COBS house? doth shee hant COBS? Shee's gone a'purpose, now, to cuckold me, With that lewd raskall, who, to win her fauour, Hath told her all.

WEL.

Come, hee's once more gone. Sister, let's loose no time; th'affaire is worth it.

Act III. Scene IX.

MATTHEW, BOBADIL, BRAYNE-WORMe, DOWNE-RIGHT.

To them.

I Wonder, Captayne, what they will say of my going away? ha?

BOB.

Why, what should they say? but as of a discreet gentleman? quick, warie, respectfull of natures faire lineaments: and that's all?

MAT.

Why, so! but what can they say of your beating?

BOB.

A rude part, a touch with soft wood, a kind of grosse batterie vs'd, laid on strongly, borne most paciently: and that's all.

MAT.

I, but, would any man haue offered it in Venice? as you say?

BOB.

Tut, I assure you, no: you shall haue there your Nobilis, your Gentelezza, come in brauely vpon your reuerse, stand you close, stand you firme, stand you faire, saue your retricato with his left legge, come to the assalto with the right, thrust with braue steele, defie your base wood! But, wherefore doe I awake this remembrance? I was fascinated, by IVPITER: fascinated: but I will be vn-witch'd, and reueng'd, by law.

MAT.

Doe you heare? ist not best to get a warrant, and haue him ar∣rested, and brought before Iustice CLEMENT?

BOB.

It were not amisse, would we had it.

MAT.

Why, here comes his man, let's speake to him.

BOB.

Agreed, doe you speake.

MAT.

Saue you, sir.

BRAY.

With all my heart, sir?

MAT.

Sir, there is one DOWNE-RIGHT, hath abus'd this gentleman, and my selfe, and we determine to make our amends by law; now, if you would doe vs the fauour, to procure a warrant, to bring him afore your

master, you shall bee well considered, I assure you, sir.

BRAY.

Sir, you know my seruice is my liuing, such fauours as these, gotten of my master, is his only preferment, and therefore, you must con∣sider me, as I may make benefit of my place.

MAT.

How is that? sir.

BRAY.

Faith sir, the thing is extraordinarie, and the gentleman may be, of great accompt: yet, bee what hee will, if you will lay mee downe a brace of angells, in my hand, you shall haue it, otherwise not.

MAT.

How shall we doe, Captayne? he askes a brace of angells, you haue no monie?

BOB.

Not a crosse, by fortune.

MAT.

Nor I, as I am a gentleman, but two pence, left of my two shil∣lings in the morning for wine, and redish: let's find him some pawne.

BOB.

Pawne? we haue none to the value of his demand.

MAT.

O, yes. I'll pawne this iewell in my eare, and you may pawne your silke stockings, and pull vp your bootes, they will ne're be mist: It must be done, now.

BOB.

Well, an' there be no remedie: Ile step aside, and pull 'hem off.

MAT.

Doe you heare, sir? wee haue no store of monie at this time, but you shall haue good pawnes: looke you, sir, this iewell, and that gen∣tlemans silke stockings, because we would haue it dispatcht, e're we went to our chambers.

BRAY.

I am content, sir; I will get you the warrant presently, what's his name, say you? DOWNE-RIGHT?

MAT.

I, I, GEORGE DOWNE-RIGHT.

BRAY.

What manner of man is he?

MAT.

A tall bigge man, sir; hee goes in a cloke, most commonly, of silke russet, laid about with russet lace.

BRAY.

'Tis very good, sir.

MAT.

Here sir, here's my iewell?

BOB.

And, here, are stockings.

BRAY.

Well, gentlemen, Ile procure you this warrant presently, but, who will you haue to serue it?

MAT.

That's true, Captaine: that must be consider'd.

BOB.

Bodie o' me, I know not! 'tis seruice of danger?

BRAY.

Why, you were best get one o' the varlets o' the citie, a serieant. Ile appoint you one, if you please.

MAT.

Will you, sir? why, we can wish no better.

BOB.

Wee'll leaue it to you, sir.

BRAY.

This is rare! now, will I goe pawne this cloke of the Iustice's mans, at the brokers, for a varlets sute, and be the varlet my selfe; and get either more pawnes, or more mouie of DOWNE-RIGHT, for the arrest.

Act IIII. Scene X.

KNO'WEL, TIB, CASH, DAME KITELY, KITELY, COB.

OH, here it is, I am glad: I haue found it now. Ho? who is within, here?

TIB.

I am within, sir, what's your pleasure?

KNO.

To know, who is within, besides your selfe.

TIB.

Why, sir, you are no constable, I hope?

KNO.

O! feare you the constable? then, I doubt not. You haue some guests within, deserue that feare, Ile fetch him straight.

TIB.

O' gods name, sir.

KNO.

Goe to. Come, tell me, Is not yong KNO'WEL, here?

TIB.

Yong KNO-WELL? I know none such, sir, o' mine honestie!

KNO.

Your honestie? dame, it flies too lightly from you: There is no way, but, fetch the constable.

TIB.

The constable? the man is mad, I thinke.

CAS.

Ho, who keepes house, here?

KNO.

O, this is the female copes-mate of my sonne? Now shall I meet him straight.

DAME.

Knock, THOMAS, hand.

CAS.

Ho, good wife?

TIB.

Why, what's the matter with you?

DAME.

Why, woman, grieues it you to ope' your doore? Belike, you get something, to keepe it shut.

TIB.

What meane these questions, 'pray yee?

DAME.

So strange you make it? is not my husband, here?

KNO.

Her husband!

DAME.

My tryed husband, master KITELY.

TIB.

I hope, he needes not to betryed, here.

DAME.

No, dame: he do's it not for need, but pleasure.

TIB.

Neither for need, nor pleasure, is he here.

KNO.

This is but a deuice, to balke me withall. Soft, who is this? 'Tis not my sonne, disguisd?

DAME.

Shee spies her husband come: and runnes to him.

O, sir, haue I fore-stald your honest market? Found your close walkes? you stand amaz'd, now, doe you? I faith (I am glad) I haue smokt you yet at last! What is your iewell trow? In: come, lets see her; (Fetch forth your huswife, dame) if shee be fairer, In any honest iudgement, then my selfe, Ile be content with it: but, shee is change, Shee feedes you fat, shee soothes your appetite,

And you are well? your wife, an honest woman, Is meat twice sod to you, sir? O, you trecher!

KNO.

Shee cannot counterfeit thus palpably.

KITE.

Out on thy more then strumpets impudence! Steal'st thou thus to thy haunts? and, haue I taken Thy bawd, and thee, and thy companion,

Pointing to old Knowell.

This horie-beaded letcher, this old goat, Close at your villanie, and would'st thou 'scuse it, With this stale harlots iest, accusing me?

To him.

O, old incontinent, do'st not thou shame, When all thy powers in chastitie is spent, To haue a mind so hot? and to entice, And feede th'enticements of a lustfull woman?

DAME.

Out, I defie thee, I, dissembling wretch.

KITE.

By Thomas.

Defie me, strumpet? aske thy pandar, here, Can be denie it? or that wicked older?

KNO.

Why, heare you, sir.

KITE.

Tut, tut, tut: neuer speake. Thy guiltie conscience will discouer thee.

KNO.

What lunacie is this, that hants this man?

KITE.

Well, good-wife BA'D, COBS wife; and you, That make your husband such a hoddie-doddie; And you, yong apple-squire; and old ouckold-maker; He ha'you euery one before a Iustice: Nay, you shall answere it, I charge you goe.

KNO.

Marie, with all my heart, sir: I goe willingly. Though I doe tast this as a trick, put on me, To punish my impertinent search; and iustly: And halfe forgiue my sonne, for the deuice.

KITE.

Come, will you goe?

DAME.

Goe? to thy shame, beleeue it.

COB.

Why, what's the matter, here? What's here to doe?

KITE.

O, COB, art thou come? I haue beene abus'd, And i' thy house. Neuer was man so, wrong'd!

COB.

Slid, in my house? my master KITELY? Who wrongs you in my house?

KITE.

Marie, yong lust in old; and old in yong, here: Thy wife's their bawd, here haue I taken 'hem.

COB.

He falls vpon his wife and beates her.

How? bawd? Is my house come to that? Am I prefer'd the∣ther? Did I charge you to keepe your dores shut, Is 'BEL? and doe you let 'hem lie open for all commers?

KNO.

Friend know some cause, before thou beat'st thy wife, This 's madnesse, in thee.

COB.

Why? is there no cause?

KITE.

Yes, Ile shew cause before the Iustice, COB:

Come, let her goe with me.

COB.

Nay, shee shall goe.

TIB.

Nay, I will goe. Ile see, an' you may bee allow'd to make a bundle o' hempe, o' your right and lawfull wife thus, at euery cuckoldly knaues pleasure. Why doe you not goe?

KITE.

A bitter queane. Come, wee'll ha' you tam'd.

Act IIII. Scene XI.

BRAYNE-WORME, MATTHEW, BOBA∣DIL, STEPHEN, DOWNE-RIGHT.

WEll, of all my disguises, yet, now am I most like my selfe: being in this Serjeants gowne. A man of my present profession, neuer counterfeits, till hee layes hold vpon a debter, and sayes, he rests him, for then hee brings him to all manner of vnrest. A kinde of little kings wee are, bearing the diminutiue of a mace, made like a yong artichocke, that alwayes carries pepper and salt, in it selfe. Well, I know not what danger I vnder-goe, by this exploit, pray heauen, I come well of.

MAT.

See, I thinke, yonder is the varlet, by his gowne.

BOB.

Let's goe, in quest of him.

MAT.

'Saue you, friend, are not you here, by appointment of Iustice CLEMENTS man.

BRAY.

Yes, an't please you, sir: he told me two gentlemen had will'd him to procure a warrant from his master (which I haue about me) to be seru'd on one DOWNE-RIGHT.

MAT.

It is honestly done of you both; and see, where the partie comes, you must arrest: serue it vpon him, quickly, afore hee bee aware—

BOB.

Beare backe, master MATTHEW.

BRAY.

Master DOWNE-RIGHT, I arrest you, i'the queenes name, and must carry you afore a Iustice, by vertue of this warrant.

STEP.

Mee, friend? I am no DOWNE-RIGHT, I. I am master STEPHEN, you doe not well, to arrest me, I tell you, truely: I am in no∣bodies bonds, nor bookes, I, would you should know it. A plague on you heartily, for making mee thus afraid afore my time.

BRAY.

Why, now are you deceiued, gentlemen?

BOB.

He weares such a cloke, and that deceiued vs: But see, here a comes, indeed! this is he, officer.

DOWN.

Why how now, signior gull! are you turn'd filtcher of late? come, deliuer my cloke.

STEP.

Your cloke, sir? I bought it, euen now, in open market.

BRAY.

Master DOVVNE-RIGHT, I haue a warrant I must serue vpon you, procur'd by these two gentlemen.

DOWN.

These gentlemen? these rascals?

BRAY.

Keepe the peace, I charge you, in her Maiesties name.

DOWN.

I obey thee. What must I doe, officer?

BRAY.

Goe before, master Iustice CLEMENT, to answere what they can obiect against you, sir. I will vse you kindly, sir.

MATT.

Come, let's before, and make the Iustice, Captaine—

BOB.

The varlet's a tall man! afore heauen!

DOWN.

Gull, you'll gi' me my cloke?

STEP.

Sir, I bought it, and I'le keepe it.

DOWN.

You will.

STEP.

I, that I will.

DOWN.

Officer, there's thy fee, arrest him.

BRAY.

Master STEPHEN, I must arrest you.

STEP.

Arrest mee, I scorne it. There, take your cloke, I'le none ou't.

DOWN.

Nay, that shall not serue your turne, now, sir. Officer, I'le goe with thee, to the Iustices: bring him along.

STEP.

Why, is not here your cloke? what would you haue?

DOWN.

I'le ha'you answere it, sir.

BRAY.

Sir, I'le take your word; and this gentlemans, too: for his ap∣parance.

DOWN.

I'le ha' no words taken. Bring him along.

BRAY.

Sir, I may choose, to doe that: I may take bayle.

DOWN.

'Tis true, you may take baile, and choose; at another time: but you shall not, now, varlet. Bring him along, or I'le swinge you.

BRAY.

Sir, I pitty the gentlemans case. Here's your money againe.

DOW.

'Sdeynes, tell not me of my money, bring him away, I say.

BRAY.

I warrant you he will goe with you of himselfe, sir.

DOW.

Yet more adoe?

BRAY.

I haue made a faire mash on't.

STEP.

Must I goe?

BRAY.

I know no remedie, master STEPHEN.

DOWN.

Come along, afore mee, here. I doe not loue your hanging looke behind.

STEP.

Why, sir. I hope you cannot hang mee for it. Can hee, fellow?

BRAY.

I thinke not, sir. It is but a whipping matter, sure!

STEP.

Why, then, let him doe his worst, I am resolute.