SCENE I—-A Room in KITELY'S House.
Enter DOWNRIGTIT and Dame KITELY.
Dow. Well, sister, I tell you true; and you'll find it so in the
end.
Dame K. Alas, brother, what would you have me to do? I cannot help
it; you see my brother brings them in here; they are his friends.
Dow. His friends! his fiends. 'Slud! they do nothing but haunt him
up and down like a sort of unlucky spirits, 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 them: 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 have come in, e'er a one of
them.
Dame K. 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 patien'st body in the world; to hear you talk so, without any
sense or reason.
Enter Mistress BRIDGET, Master MATHEW, and BOBADILL;
followed, at a distance, by WELLBRED, E. KNOWELL,
STEPHEN, and BRAINWORM.
Brid.
Servant, in troth you are too prodigal
Of your wit's treasure, thus fu pour it forth
Upon so mean a subject as my worth.
Mat. You say well, mistress, and I mean as well.
Dow. Hoy-day, here is stuff!
Wel. O, now stand close; pray Heaven, she can get him to read! he
should do it of his own natural impudency.
Brid. Servant, what is this same, I pray you?
Mat. Marry, an elegy, an elegy, an odd toy—
Dow. To mock an ape withal! O, I could sew up his mouth, now.
Dame K. Sister, I pray you let's hear it.
Dow. Are you rhyme-given too?
Mat. Mistress, I'll read it if you please.
Brid. Pray you do, servant.
Dow. O, here's no foppery! Death! I can endure the stocks better.
[Exit.
E. Know. What ails thy brother? can he not hold his water at
reading of a ballad?
Wel. O, no; a rhyme fu him is worse than cheese, or a bag-pipe; but
mark; you lose the protestation.
Mat. Faith, I did it in a humour; I know not how it is; but please
you come near, sir. This gentleman has judgment, he knows how to
censure of a—pray you, sir, you can judge?
Step. Not I, sir; upon my reputation, and by the foot of Pharaoh!
Wel. O, chide your cousin for swearing.
E. Know. Not I, so long as he does not forswear himself.
Bob. Master Mathew, you abuse the expectation of your dear
mistress, and her fair sister: fie! while you live avoid this
prolixity.
Mat. I shall, sir, well; incipere dulce.
E. Know. How, insipere duke! a sweet thing to be a fool, indeed!
Wel. What, do you take incipere in: that sense?
E. Know. You do not, you! This was your villainy, to gull him with
a motte.
Wel. O, the benchers' phrase: pauca verba, pauca verba!
Mat.
Rare creature, let me speak without offence,
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.
E. Know. This is Hero and Leander.
Wel. O, ay: peace, we shall have more of this.
Mat.
Be not unkind and fair: misshapen stuff
Is of behaviour boisterous and rough.
Wel. How like you that, sir? [Master Stephen shakes his head.
E. Know. 'Slight, he shakes his head like a bottle, to feel an there
be any brain in it.
Mat. But observe the catastrophe, now:
And I in duty will exceed all other,
As you in beauty do excel Love's mother.
E. Know. Well, I'll have him free of the wit-brokers, for he
utters nothing but stolen remnants.
Wel. O, forgive it him.
E. Know. A filching rogue, hang him!—-and from the dead! it's
worse than sacrilege.
WELLBRED, E. KNOWELL, and Master STEPHEN, come forward.
Wel. Sister, what have you here, verses? pray you let's see: who
made these verses? they are excellent good.
Mat. O, Master Wellbred, 'tis your disposition to say so, sir. They
were good in the morning: I made them ex tempore this morning.
Wel. How! ex tempore?
Mat. Ay, would I might be hanged else; ask Captain Bobadill: he saw
me write them, at the—pox on it!—the Star, yonder.
Brai. Can he find in his heart to curse the stars so?
E. Know. Faith, his are even with him; they have curst him enough
already.
Step. Cousin, how do you like this gentleman's verses?
E. Know. O, admirable! the best that ever I heard, coz.
Step. Body O' Caesar, they are admirable! the best that I ever
heard, as I am a soldier!
Re-enter DOWNRIGHT.
Dow. I am vext, I can hold ne'er a bone of me still: 'Heart, I
think they mean to build and breed here.
Wet. Sister, you have a simple servant here, that crowns your
beauty with such encomiums 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.
Dow. O monster! impudence itself! tricks!
Dame K. Tricks, brother! what tricks?
Brid. Nay, speak, I pray you what tricks?
Dame K. Ay, never spare any body here; but say, what tricks.
Brid. Passion of my heart, do tricks!
Wel. 'Slight, here's a trick vied and revied! Why, you monkeys,
you, what a cater-wauling do you keep! has he not given you rhymes
and verses and tricks?
Dow. O, the fiend!
Wel. Nay, you lamp of virginity, that take it in snuff so, come,
and cherish this tame poetical fury in your servant; you'll be
begg'd 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
Mathew! Captain! what, all sons of silence, no spirit?
Dow. Come, you might practise your ruffian tricks somewhere else,
and not here, I wuss; this is no tavern or drinking-school, to vent
your exploits in.
Wel. How now; whose cow has calved?
Dow. Marry, that has mine, sir.
Nay, boy, never look askance at me for the matter; I'll tell you of
it, I, sir; you and your companions mend yourselves when I have
done.
Wel. My companions!
Dow. Yes, sir, your companions, so I say; I am not afraid of you,
nor them neither; your hang-byes 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. 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.
Wel. 'Slight, stay, let's see what he dare do; 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.
Dow. Yea, that would I fain see, boy.
[They all draw.
Dame K. O Jesu! murder! Thomas! Gasper!
Brid. Help, help! Thomas!
Enter CASH and some of the house to part them.
E. Know. Gentlemen, forbear, I pray' you.
Bob. 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! nay, let him come, let him come, gentlemen; by the body of
St. George, I'll not kill him.
[Offer to fight again, and are parted.
Gash. Hold, hold, good gentlemen. Dow. You whoreson, bragging
coystril!
Enter KITELY.
Kit.
Why, how now! what's the matter, what's the stir here?
Whence springs the quarrel? Thomas! where is he?
Put up your weapons, and put off this rage:
My wife and sister, they are the cause of this.
What, Thomas! where is the knave?
Gash. Here, sir.
Wel. Come, let's go: this is one of my brother's ancient humours,
this.
Step. I am glad nobody was hurt by his ancient humour.
[Exeunt Wellbred, Stephen, E. Knowell, Bobadill, and Brainworm.
Kit. Why, how now, brother, who enforced this brawl?
Dow. A sort of lewd rake-hells, 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.
Brid.
Brother, indeed you are too violent,
Too sudden in your humour: and you know
My brother Wellbred's temper will not bear
Any reproof, chiefly in such a presence,
Where every slight disgrace he should receive
Might wound him in opinion and respect.
Dow. Respect! what talk you of respect among such, as have no spark
of manhood, nor good manners? 'Sdeins, I am ashamed to hear you'!
respect!
[Exit.
Brid.
Yes, there was one a civil gentleman,
And very worthily demeaned himself.
Kit. O, that was some love of yours, sister.
Brid.
A love of mine! I would it were no worse, brother;
You'd pay my portion sooner than you think for.
Dame K. Indeed he seem'd to be a gentleman of a very exceeding
fair disposition, and of excellent good parts.
[Exeunt Dame Kitely and Bridget.
Kit.
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: Thomas, come hither.
What, are they gone?
Cash. Ay, sir, they went in.
My mistress and your sister—
Kit. Are any of the gallants within?
Cash. No, sir, they are all gone.
Kit. Art thou sure of it—-?
Cash. I can assure you, sir.
Kit. What gentleman was that they praised so, Thomas?
Cash. One, they call him Master Knowell, a handsome young
gentleman, sir.
Kit.
Ay, I thought so; my mind gave me as much:
I'll die, but they have hid him in the house,
Somewhere, I'll go and search; go with me, Thomas:
Be true to me, and thou shalt find me a master.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.—-The Lane before COB'S House.
Enter COB
Cob. [knocks at the door.] What, Tib! Tib, I say!
Tib. [within.] How now, what cuckold is that knocks so hard?
Enter Tib.
O, husband! is it you? What's the news?
Cob. Nay, you have stunn'd me, i'faith; you have, given 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 tool do you long to be
stabb'd, ha?
Tib. Why, you are no soldier, I hope.
Cob. O, must you be stabbed by a soldier? Mass, that's true! when
was Bobadill here, your captain? that rogue, that foist, that
fencing Burgullion? I'll tickle him, i'faith.
Tib. Why, what's the matter, trow?
Cob. O, he has basted me rarely, sumptuously! but I have it here in
black and white, [pulls out the warrant.] for his black and blue
shall pay him. O, 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 villanous 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 nobody in to you, wife; nobody 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 nobody 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.
SCENE III.-A Room in the Windmill Tavern.
Enter E. KNOWELL, WELLBRED, STEPHEN, and BRAINWORM,
disguised as before.
E. Know. Well, Brainworm, perform this business happily, and thou
makest a purchase of my love for ever.
Wel. 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.
Brai. I warrant you, sir; fear nothing; I have a nimble soul has
waked all forces of my phant'sie by this time, and put them in true
motion. What you have possest me withal, I'll discharge it amply,
sir; make it no question.
[Exit.
Wel. Forth, and prosper, Brainworm. Faith, Ned, how dost thou
approve of my abilities in this device?
E. Know. Troth, well, howsoever; but it will come excellent if it
take.
Wel. 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?
E. Know. Friend, am I worth belief?
Wel. 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 should'st not have her.
E. Know. Nay, that I am afraid, will be a question yet, whether I
shall have her, or no.
Wel. 'Slid, thou shalt have her; by this light thou shalt.
E. Know. Nay, do not swear.
Wel. 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.
E. Know. Hold, hold, be temperate.
Wel. Why, by—what shall I swear by? thou shalt have her, as I am—
E. Know. Praythee, be at peace, I am satisfied; and do believe thou
wilt omit no offered occasion to make my desires complete.
Wel. Thou shalt see, and know, I will not.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.-The Old Jewry.
Enter FORMAL and KNOWELL.
Form. Was your man a soldier, sir?
Know. Ay, a knave
I took him begging O' the way, this morning,
As I came over Moorfields.
Enter BRAINWORM. disguised as before.
O, here he is!—-you've made fair speed, believe me,
Where, in the name of sloth, could you be thus?
Brai. Marry, peace be my comfort, where I thought I should have
had little comfort of your worship's service.
Know. How so?
Brai. O, 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.
Know.
How should that be, unless that villain, Brainworm,
Have told him of the letter, and discover'd
All that I strictly charg'd him to conceal?
'Tis so.
Brai. I am partly O' the faith, 'tis so, indeed.
Know. But, how should he know thee to be my man?
Brai. Nay, sir, I cannot tell; unless it be by the black art. Is
not your son a scholar, sir?
Know.
Yes, but I hope his soul is not allied
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, Fitz-Sword?
Brai. 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, Mr. Knowell's man! another cries,
Soldier! and thus half a dozen of them, till they had call'd me
within a house, where I no sooner came, but they seem'd men, and
out flew all their rapiers at my bosom, with some three or four
score oaths to accompany them; 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 have dissected, and made an anatomy
of me first, and so I told them,) they lock'd me up into a room
in 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 lock'd up, there were a great many
rich merchants and brave citizens' wives with them at a feast;
and your son, master Edward, withdrew with one of them, and has
'pointed to meet her anon at one Cob's house a water-bearer
that dwells by the Wall. Now, there your worship shall be sure
to take him, for there he preys, and fail he will not.
Know.
Nor will I fail to break his match, I doubt not.
Go thoualong with justice Clement's man,
And stay there for me. At one Cob's house, say'st thou?
Brai. Ay, sir, there you shall have him. [Exit Knowell.] Yes—
invisible! Much wench, or much son! 'Slight, when he has staid
there three or four hours, travailing with the expectation of
wonders, and at length be deliver'd of air! O 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. O that I were so happy as to light on a nupson now of this
justice's novice!—Sir, I make you stay somewhat long.
Form. Not a whit, sir. Pray you what do you mean, sir?
Brai. I was putting up some papers.
Form. You have been lately in the wars, sir, it seems.
Brai. Marry have I, sir, to my loss, and expense of all, almost.
Form. Troth, sir, I would be glad to bestow a bottle of wine on
you, if it please you to accept it—
Brai, O, sir
Form. 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.
Brai. No, I assure you, sir; why at any time when it please you, I
shall be ready to discourse to you all I know;—and more too
somewhat. [Aside.
Form. 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.
Brai. I'll follow you, sir;—and make grist of you, if I have good
luck. [Aside.]
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.-Moorfields.
Enter MATHEW, E. KNOWELL, BOBADILL, and STEPHEN.
Mat. Sir, did your eyes ever taste the like clown of him where we
were to-day, Mr. Wellbred's half-brother? I think the whole earth
cannot shew his parallel, by this daylight.
E. Know. We were now speaking of him: captain Bobadill tells me he
is fallen foul of you too.
Mat. O, ay, sir, he threatened me with the bastinado.
Bob. Ay, but I think, I taught you prevention this morning, for
that: You shall kill him beyond question; if you be so generously
minded.
Mat. Indeed, it is a most excellent trick.
[Fences.
Bob: O, you do not give spirit enough to your motion, you are too
tardy, too heavy! O, it must be done like lightning, hay!
[Practises at a post with his cudgel.
Mat. Rare, captain!
Bob. Tut! 'tis nothing, an't be not done in a—punto. E. Know.
Captain, did you ever prove yourself upon any of our masters of
defence here?
Mat. O good sir! yes, I hope he has.
Bob. I will tell you, sir. Upon my first coming to the city, after
my long travel for knowledge, in that mystery only, there came
three or four of them to me, at a gentleman's house, where it was
my chance to be resident at that time, to intreat 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 them that to come to a public school,
they should pardon me, it was opposite, in diameter, to my humour;
but if so be 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.
E. Know. So, sir! then you tried their skill?
Bob. 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, shewed them some two or three tricks of
prevention have purchased them 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.
E. Know. This is strange and barbarous, as ever I heard.
Bob. 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 it'll 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 overcome 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 loth to bear any other than this
bastinado for them: yet I hold it good polity not to go disarmed,
for though I be skilful, I may be oppressed with multitudes.
E. Know. Ay, believe me, may you, sir: and in my conceit, our whole
nation should sustain the loss by it, if it were so.
Bob. Alas, no? what's a peculiar man to a nation? not seen.
E. Know. O, but your skill, sir.
Bob. 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?
E. Know. Nay, I know not, nor can I conceive.
Bob. 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 imbroccato,
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 thereabouts; 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 gentlemanlike carcase
to perform, provided there be no treason practised upon us, by fair
and discreet manhood; that is, civilly by the sword.
E. Know. Why, are you so sure of your hand, captain, at all times?
Bob. Tut! never miss thrust, upon my reputation with you.
E. Know. I would not stand in Downright's state then, an you meet
him, for the wealth of anyone street in London.
Bob. Why, sir, you mistake me: if he were here now, by this welkin,
I would not draw my weapon on him. Let this gentleman do his mind:
but I will bastinado him, by the bright sun, wherever I meet him.
Mat. Faith, and I'll have a fling at him, at my distance.
E. Know. 'Od's, so, look where he is! yonder he goes.
[Downright crosses the stage.
Dow. What peevish luck have I, I cannot meet with these bragging
rascals?
Bob. It is not he, is it?
E. Know. Yes, faith, it is he.
Mat. I'll be hang'd then if that were he.
E. Know. Sir, keep your hanging good for some greater matter, for I
assure you that were he.
Step. Upon my reputation, it was he.
Bob. 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.
E. Know. That I think, sir.
Re-enter DOWNRIGHT.
But see, he is come again.
Dow. O, Pharaoh's foot, have I found you? Come, draw to your tools;
draw, gipsy, or I'll thrash you.
Bob. Gentleman of valour, I do believe in thee; hear me—
Dow. Draw your weapon then.
Bob. 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 water-bearer; this gentleman saw it, Master Mathew.
Dow. 'Sdeath! you will not draw then?
[Disarms and beats him. Mathew runs away.
Bob. Hold, hold! under thy favour forbear!
Dow. Prate again, as you like this, you whoreson foist you! You'll
control the point, you! Your consort is gone; had he staid he had
shared with you, sir.
[Exit.
Bob. Well, gentlemen, bear witness, I was bound to the peace, by
this good day.
E. Know. 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 will prove but a poor excuse.
Bob. I cannot tell, sir; I desire good construction in fair sort. I
never sustain'd the like disgrace, by heaven! sure I was struck
with a planet thence, for I had no power to touch my weapon.
E. Know. 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 passadoes, 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 them! Come,
coz.
Step. Mass, I'll have this cloak.
E. Know. 'Od's will, 'tis Downright's.
Step. Nay, it's mine now, another might have ta'en it up as well:
I'll wear it, so I will.
E. Know. How an he see it? he'll challenge it, assure yourself.
Step. Ay, but he shall not have it: I'll say I bought it.
E. Know. Take heed you buy it not too dear, coz.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.-A Room in KITELY'S House.
Enter KITELY, WELLBRED, Dame KITELY, and BRIDGET,
Kit.
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.
Wel. 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 K. Ay, but what harm might have come of it, brother?
Wel. Might, sister? so might the good warm clothes your husband
wears be poisoned, for any thing he knows: or the wholesome wine he
drank, even now at the table.
Kit.
Now, God forbid! O me! now I remember
My wife drank to me last, and changed the cup,
And bade me wear this cursed suit to-day.
See, if Heaven suffer murder undiscover'd!
I feel me ill; give me some mithridate,
Some mithridate and oil, good sister, fetch me:
O, I am Sick at heart, I burn. I burn.
If you will save my life, go fetch it me.
Wel. O strange humour! my very breath has poison'd him.
Brid.
Good brother be content, what do you mean?
The strength of these extreme conceits will kill you.
Dame K.
Beshrew your heart, blood, brother Wellbred, now,
For putting such a toy into his head!
Wel. Is a fit simile a toy? will he be poison'd 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.
Kit. Am I not sick? how am I then not poison'd? Am I not poison'd?
how am I then so sick?
Dame K. If you be sick, your own thoughts make you sick.
Wel. His jealousy is the poison he has taken.
Enter BRAINWORM, disguised in FORMAL'S clothes.
Brai. Master Kitely, my master, justice Clement salutes you; and
desires to speak with you with all possible speed.
Kit. No time but now, when I think I am sick, very sick! well, I
will wait upon his worship. Thomas! Cob! I must seek them out, and
set them sentinels till I return. Thomas! Cob! Thomas!
[Exit. Wel.
This is perfectly rare, Brainworm; [takes him aside.] but how
got'st thou this apparel of the justice's man?
Brai. Marry, sir, my proper fine pen-man would needs bestow the
grist on me, at the Windmill, to hear some martial discourse; where
I so marshall'd him, that I made him drunk with admiration; and,
because too much heat was the cause of his distemper, I stript 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
have pawn'd his apparel, and spent the better part O' the money,
perhaps.
Wel. 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 up'right 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 Brai.
Re-enter KITELY, talking aside to CASH.
Kit.
Come hither, Thomas. Now my secret's ripe,
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 shew him rooms, the jest is stale,
Follow them, 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; O, 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.
Kit. Why, I believe thee: Where is Cob, now? Cob!
[Exit.
Dame K. He's ever calling for Cob: I wonder how he employs Cob so.
Wel. 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 K. Never said you truer than that, brother, so much I can tell
you for your learning. Thomas, fetch your cloak and go with me.
[Exit Gash.] 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!
[Exit.
Wel. So, let 'em go; this may make sport anon. Now, my fair
sister-in-law, that you knew but how happy a thing it were to be
fair and beautiful.
Brid. That touches not me, brother.
Wel. 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 all 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?
Brid. 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.
Wel. What' s that, sister?
Brid. Marry, of the squire.
Wel. No matter if it did, I would be such an one for my friend. But
see, who is return'd to hinder us!
Reenter KITELY.
Kit.
What villainy is this? call'd out on a false message!
This was some plot; I was not sent for.—-Bridget,
Where is your sister?
Brid. I think she be gone forth, sir.
Kit. How! is my wife gone forth? whither, for God's sake?
Brid. She's gone abroad with Thomas.
Kit.
Abroad with Thomas! Oh, that villain dors me:
Beast that I was, to trust him! whither, I pray you,
Went she?
Brid. I know not, sir.
Wel. I'll tell you, brother, Whither I suspect she's gone;
Kit. Whither, good brother?
Wel. To Cob's house, I believe: but, keep my counsel.
Kit.
I will, I will: to Cob's house! doth she haunt Cob's?
She's gone a purpose now to cuckold me,
With that lewd rascal, who, to win her favour,
Hath told her all.
[Exit.
Wel. Come, he is once more gone,
Sister, let's lose no time; the affair is worth it. [Exeunt.
SCENE VII.—-A Street.
Enter MATHEW and BOBADILL.
Mat. I wonder, captain, what they will say of my going away, ha?
Bob. Why, what should they say; but as of a discreet gentleman;
quick, wary, respectful of nature's fair 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 gross battery
used, laid on strongly, borne most patiently; and that's all.
Mat. Ay, but would any man have offered it in Venice, as you say?
Bob. 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 unwitch'd
and revenged by law.
Mat. Do you hear? is it not best to get a warrant, and have him
arrested and brought before justice Clement?
Bob. It were not amiss; would we had it!
Enter BRAINWORM disguised as FORMAL.
Mat. Why, here comes his man; let's speak to him.
Bob. Agreed, do you speak,
Mat. Save you, sir.
Brai. With all my heart, sir.
Mat. 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.
Brai. 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.
Mat. How is that, Sir?
Brai. Faith, sir, the thing is extraordinary, and the gentleman may
be of great account; yet, be he what he will, if you will lay me
down a brace of angels in my hand you shall have it, otherwise not.
Mat. How shall we do, captain? he asks a brace of angels, you have
no money?
Bob. Not a cross, by fortune.
Mat. Nor I, as I am a gentleman, but twopence left of my two
shillings in the morning for wine and radish: let's find him some
pawn.
Bob. Pawn! we have none to the value of his demand.
Mat. O, 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 mist: it
must be done now.
Bob. Well, an there be no remedy, I'll step aside and pull them
off.
[Withdraws.
Mat. 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 dispatch'd ere
we went to our chambers.
Brai. I am content, sir; I will get you the What's his name, say
you? Downright?
Mat. Ay, ay, George Downright.
Brai. What manner of man is he?
Mat. A tall big man, sir; he goes in a cloak most commonly of
silk-russet, laid about with russet lace.
Brai. 'Tis very good, sir.
Mat. Here, Sir, here's my jewel.
Bob. [returning.] And here are my stockings.
Brai. Well, gentlemen, I'll procure you this warrant presently; but
who will you have to serve it?
Mat. That's true, captain: that must be considered.
Bob. Body O' me, I know not; 'tis service of danger.
Brai. Why, you were best get one O' the varlets of the city, a
serjeant: I'll appoint you one, if you please.
Mat. Will you, sir? why, we can wish no better.
Bob. We'll leave it to you, sir.
[Exeunt Bob. and Mat.
Brai. This is rare! Now will I go and pawn this cloak of the
justice's man's 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.
SCENE VIII.-The Lane before COB'S House.
Enter KNOWELL.
Know.
Oh, here it is; I am glad I have found it now;
Ho! who is within here?
Tib. [within.] I am within, sir; what's your pleasure?
Know. To know who is within beside yourself.
Tib. Why, sir, you are no constable, I hope?
Know.
O, fear you the constable? then I doubt not,
You have some guests within deserve that fear;
I'll fetch him straight.
Enter TIB.
Tib. O' God's name, sir!
Know. Go to: come tell me, is not young Knowell here?
Tib. Young Knowell! I know none such, sir, o' mine honesty.
Know.
Your honesty, dame! it flies too lightly from you.
There is no way but fetch the constable.
Tib. The constable! the man is mad, I think.
[Exit, and claps to the door.
Enter Dame KITELY and CASH.
Cash. Ho! who keeps house here?
Know.
O, this is the female copesmate of my son:
Now shall I meet him straight.
Dame K. Knock, Thomas, hard.
Cash. Ho, goodwife!
Re-enter TIB.
Tib. Why, what's the matter with you?
Dame K.
Why, woman, grieves it you to ope your door?
Belike you get something to keep it shut.
Tib. What mean these questions, pray ye?
Dame K. So strange you make it! is not my husband here?
Know. Her husband!
Dame K. My tried husband, master Kitely?
Tib. I hope he needs not to be tried here.
Dame K. No, dame, he does it not for need, but pleasure.
Tib. Neither for need nor pleasure is he here.
Know. This is but a device to balk me withal:
Enter KITELY, muffled in his cloak.
Soft, who is this? 'tis not my son disguised?
Dame K. [spies her husband, and runs to him.]
O, sir, have I fore-stall'd your honest market,
Found your close walks? You stand amazed now, do you?
I'faith, I am glad I have smok'd you yet at last.
What is your jewel, trow? In, come, let's see her;
Fetch forth your housewife, dame; if she be fairer,
In any honest judgment, 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! O, you treachour!
Know. She cannot counterfeit thus palpably.
Kit.
Out on thy more than strumpet impudence!
Steal'st thou thus to thy haunts? and have I taken
Thy bawd and thee, and thy companion,
This hoary-headed letcher, this old goat,
Close at your villainy, and would'st thou 'scuse it
With this stale harlot's jest, accusing me?
O, old incontinent, [to Knowell.] dost thou not shame,
When all thy powers in chastity are spent,
To have a mind so hot? and to entice,
And feed the enticements of a lustful woman?
Dame K. Out, I defy thee, I, dissembling wretch!
Kit.
Defy me, strumpet! Ask thy pander here,
Can he deny it; or that wicked elder?
Know. Why, hear you, sir.
Kit.
Tut, tut, tut; never speak:
Thy guilty conscience will discover thee.
Know. What lunacy is this, that haunts this man?
Kit.
Well, good wife bawd, Cob's wife, and you,
That make your husband such a hoddy-doddy;
And you, young apple-squire, and old cuckold-maker;
I'll have you every one before a justice:
Nay, you shall answer it, I charge you go.
Know.
Marry, with all my heart, sir, I go willingly;
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.
Kit. Come, will you go?
Dame K. Go! to thy shame believe it.
Enter Cob.
Cob. Why, what's the matter here, 'what's here to do?
Kit.
O; Cob, art thou come? I have been abused,
And in thy house; was never man so wrong'd!
Cob. 'Slid, in my house, my master Kitely! who wrongs you in
my house? '
Kit.
Marry, young lust in old, and old in young here:
Thy wife's their bawd, here have I taken them.
Cob. How, bawd! is my house come to that? Am I preferr'd thither?
Did I not charge you to keep your doors shut, Isbel? and—-you
let them lie open for all comers! [Beats his wife.
Know. Friend, know some cause, before thou beat'st thy wife.
This is madness in thee.
Cob. Why, is there no cause?
Kit.
Yes, I'll shew cause before the justice, Cob:
Come, let her go with me.
Cob. Nay, she shall go.
Tib. Nay, I will go. I'll see an you may be allowed to make a
bundle of hemp of your right and lawful wife thus, at every
cuckoldy knave's pleasure. Why do you not go?
Kit. A bitter quean! Come, we will have you tamed.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IX.—-A Street.
Enter BRAINWORM, disguised as a City Serjeant.
Brai. Well, of all my disguises yet, now am I most like myself,
being in this serjeant'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 MATHEW and BOBADILL.
Mat. See, I think, yonder is the varlet, by his gown.
Bob. Let's go in quest of him.
Mat. 'Save you, friend! 'are not you here by appointment of justice
Clement's man?
Brai. Yes, an't please you, sir; he told me, two gentlemen had
will'd him to procure a warrant from his master, which I have about
me, to be served on one Downright.
Mat. 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.
Bob. Bear back, master Mathew.
Enter STEPHEN in DOWNRIGHT'S cloak.
Brai. Master Downright, I arrest you in the queen's name, and must
carry you afore a justice by virtue of this warrant:
Step. 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!
Brai. Why, now you are deceived, gentlemen.
Bob. He wears such a cloak, and that deceived us: but see, here a'
comes indeed; this is he; officer.
Enter DOWNRIGHT.
Dow. Why how now, signior gull! are you turn'd filcher of late!
Come, deliver my cloak.
Step. Your cloak, sir! I bought it even now, in open market.
Brai. Master Downright, I have a warrant I must serve upon you,
procured by these two gentlemen.
Dow. These gentlemen! these rascals!
[Offers to beat them.
Brai. Keep the peace, I charge you in her majesty's name.
Dow. I obey thee. What must I do, officer?
Brai. Go before master justice Clement; to answer that they can
object against you, sir: I will use you kindly, sir.
Mat. Come, let's before, and make the justice, captain.
Bob. The varlet's a tall man, afore heaven!
[Exeunt Bob. and Mat.
Dow. Gull, you'll give me my cloak.
Step. Sir, I bought it, and I'll keep it.
Dow. You will?
Step. Ay, that I will.
Dow. Officer, there's thy fee, arrest him.
Brai. Master Stephen I must arrest you.
Step. Arrest me! I scorn it. There, take your cloak, I'll none
on't.
Dow. Nay, that shall not serve your turn now, sir. Officer, I'll go
with thee to the justice's; bring him along.
Step. Why, is not here your cloak? what would you have?
Dow. I'll have you answer it, sir.
Brai. Sir, I'll take your word, and this gentleman's too, for his
appearance.
Dow. I'll have no words taken: bring him along.
Brai. Sir, I may choose to do that, I may take bail.
Dow. '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.
Brai. Sir, I pity the gentleman's case: here's your money again.
Dow. 'Sdeins, tell not me of my money; bring him away, I say.
Brai. I warrant you he will go with you of himself, sir.
Dow. Yet more ado?
Brai. I have made a fair mash on't;
Aside.
Step. Must I go?
Brai. I know no remedy, master Stephen.
Dow. Come along afore me here; I do not love your hanging look
behind.
Step. Why, sir, I hope you cannot hang me for it: can he, fellow?
Brai. I think not, sir; it is but a whipping matter, sure.
[Exeunt.
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