Euery man in his humor As it hath beene sundry times publickly acted by the right Honorable the Lord Chamberlaine his seruants. Written by Ben. Iohnson.

ACTVS TERTIVS, SCENA TERTIA.

E••ter Thorell•• with Cob.

Tho.

Ha, how many are there, sayest thou?

Cob.

Marry sir, your brother, Signior Prosp••r••.

Tho.

Tut, beside him: what strangers are there man?

Cob.

Strangers? let me see, one, two; masse I know not well there's so many.

Tho.

How? so many?

Cob.

I, there's some fiue or sixe of them at the most.

Tho.

A swarme, a swarme, Spight of the Deuill, how they sting my heart! How long hast thou beene comming hither Cob?

Cob.

But a little while sir.

Tho.

Didst thou come running?

Cob.

No sir.

Tho.

Tut, then I am familiar with thy haste. Ban•• to my fortunes: what meant I to marrie? I that before was rankt in such content, My mind attir'd in smoothe silken peace, Being free master of mine owne free thoughts, And now become a slaue? what, neuer sigh, Be of good cheare m••n: for thou art a cuckold, 'Tis done, 'tis done: nay when such flowing store, Plentie it selfe fals in my wiues lappe, The Cor••u-copi•• will be mine I know. But Cob, What entertainment had they? I am sure My sister and my wife would bid them welcome, ha?

Cob.

Like ynough: yet I heard not a word of welcome.

Tho.

No, their lips were seal'd with kisses, and the voice

Drown'd in a flood of ioy at their arriuall, Had lost her motion, state and facultie. Cob, which of them was't that first kist my wife? (My sister I should say) my wife, alas, I feare not her: ha? who was it sayst thou?

Cob.

By my troth sir, will you haue the truth of it?

Tho.

Oh I good Cob: I pray thee.

Cob.

God's my iudge, I saw no body to be kist, vnlesse they would haue kist the post, in the middle of the warehouse; for there I left them all, at their Tabacco with a poxe.

Tho.

How? were they not gone in then e're thou cam'st?

Cob.

Oh no sir.

Tho.

Spite of the Deuill, what do I stay here then? Cob, follow me.

Exit. Tho.

Cob.

Nay, soft and faire, I haue egges on the spit; I cannot go yet sir: now am I for some diuers reasons hammering, ham∣mering reuenge: oh for three or foure gallons of vineger, to sharpen my wits: Reuenge, vineger reuenge, russet reuenge; nay, and hee had not lyne in my house, t'would neuer haue greeu'd me; but being my guest, one that ile bee sworne, my wife ha's lent him her smocke off her backe, while his owne shirt ha beene at washing: pawnd her neckerchers for cleane bands for him: sold almost all my platters to buy him Tabac∣co; and yet to see an ingratitude wretch: strike his host; well I hope to raise vp an host of furies for't: here comes M. Doctor.

Enter Doctor Clement, Lorenzo sen▪ Peto.

Clem.

What's Signior Thorello gone?

Pet.

I sir.

Clem.

Hart of me, what made him l••aue vs so abruptly How now sirra; what make you here? what wold you haue, ha?

Cob.

And't please your worship, I am a poore neighbour of your worships.

Clem.

A neighbour of mine, knaue?

Cob.

I sir, at the signe of the water-tankerd, hard by the greene lattice: I haue p••ide scot and lott•• there any time this eighteene yeares.

Cl••m.

What, at the greene lattice?

Cob.

No sir: to the parish: mary I haue seldome scap't scot▪ free at the lattice.

Clem.

So: but what busines hath my neighbour?

Cob.

And't like your worship, I am come to craue the peace of your worship.

Clem.

Of me, knaue? peace of me, knaue? did I e're hurt thee? did I euer threaten thee? or wrong thee? ha?

Cob.

No god's my comfort, I meane your worships warrant, for one that hath wrong'd me sir: his armes are at too much li∣bertie, I would faine haue them bound to a treatie of peace, and I could by any meanes compasse it.

Loren.

Why, doest thou goe in danger of thy life for him?

Cob.

No sir; but I goe in danger of my death euery hour•• by his meanes; and I die within a twelue-moneth and a day, I may sweare, by the lawes of the land, that he kil'd me.

Clem.

How? how knaue? sweare he kil'd thee? what pre∣text? what colour hast thou for that?

Cob.

Mary sir: both blacke and blew, colour ynough, I warrant you I haue it here to shew your worship.

Clem.

What is he, that gaue you this sirra?

Cob.

A Gentleman in the citie sir.

Clem.

A Gentleman? what call you him?

Cob.

Signior Bobadilla.

Clem.

Good: But wherefore did he beate you sirra? how began the quarrel twixt you? ha: speake truly knaue, I aduise you.

Cob.

Marry sir, because I spake against their vagrant Ta∣bacco, as I came by them: for nothing else.

Clem.

Ha, you speake against Tabacco? Peto, his name.

Pet.

What's your name 〈◊〉〈◊〉?

Cob.

Oliuer C••b, sir set Oli••er Cob, sir.

Clem.

Tell Oli••er Cob he shall goe to the iayle.

Pet.

〈◊〉〈◊〉 Cob, master Doctor sayes you shall go to the iayle.

Cob.

Oh I beseech your worship for gods loue, deare ma∣ster Doctor.

Clem.

Nay gods pretious: and such drunken knaues as you are come to dispute of Tabacco once; I haue done: away with him.

Cob.

Oh good master Doctor, sweete Gentleman.

Lore.

Sweete Oliuer, would I could doe thee any good; master Doctor let me intreat sir.

Clem.

What? a tankard-bearer, a thread-bare rascall, a begger, a slaue that neuer drunke out of better thē pispot met∣tle in his life, and he to depraue, and abuse the vertue of an herbe, so generally receyu'd in the courts of princes, the cham∣bers of nobles, the bowers of sweete Ladies, the cabbins of souldiers: Peto away with him, by gods passion, I say, goe too.

Cob.

Deare master Doctor.

Loren.

Alasse poore Oliuer.

Clem.

Peto: I: and make him a warrant, he shall not goe, I but feare the knaue.

Cob.

O diuine Doctor, thankes noble Doctor, most dainty Doctor, delicious Doctor.

Exeunt Peto with Cob.

Clem.

Signior Lorenzo: Gods pitty man, Be merry, be merry, leaue these dumpes.

Loren.

Troth would I could sir: but enforced mirth (In my weake iudgement) h'as no happy birth. The minde, being once a prisoner vnto cares, The more it dreames on ioy, the worse it fares. A smyling looke is to a heauie soule, As a guilt bias, to a leaden bowle, Which (in it selfe) appeares most vile, being spent. To no true vse; but onely for ostent.

Clem.

Nay but good Signior: heare me a word, heare me a word, your cares are nothing; they are like my cap, soone put on, and as soone put off. What? your sonne is old inough, to gouerne himselfe; let him runne his course, it's the onely way to make him a stay'd man: if he were an vnthrift, a ruffian, a drunkard or a licentious liuer, then you had reason: you had reason to take care: but being none of these, Gods passion, and I had twise so many cares, as you haue, I'ld drowne them

all in a cup of sacke: come, come, I muse your parcell of a soul∣dier returnes not all this while.

Ex••••••t.