Chapter 7

ENTER PROSPERO, BOBADILLA, AND MATHEO.

MAT. Yes, faith, sir, we were at your lodging to seek you too.

PROS. Oh, I came not there to-night.

BOB. Your brother delivered us as much.

PROS. Who, Giuliano?

BOB. Giuliano. Signior Prospero, I know not in what kind you value me, but let me tell you this: as sure as God, I do hold it so much out of mine honour and reputation, if I should but cast the least regard upon such a dunghill of flesh; I protest to you (as I have a soul to be saved) I ne'er saw any gentlemanlike part in him: an there were no more men living upon the face of the earth, I should not fancy him, by Phoebus.

MAT. Troth, nor I, he is of a rustical cut, I know not how: he doth not carry himself like a gentleman.

PROS. Oh, Signior Matheo, that's a grace peculiar but to a few; "quos aequus amavit Jupiter."

MAT. I understand you, sir.

[ENTER LOR. JU. AND STEP.]

PROS. No question you do, sir: Lorenzo! now on my soul, welcome; how dost thou, sweet rascal? my Genius! 'Sblood, I shall love Apollo and the mad Thespian girls the better while I live for this; my dear villain, now I see there's some spirit in thee: Sirrah, these be they two I writ to thee of, nay, what a drowsy humour is this now? why dost thou not speak?

LOR. JU. Oh, you are a fine gallant, you sent me a rare letter.

PROS. Why, was't not rare?

LOR. JU. Yes, I'll be sworn I was ne'er guilty of reading the like, match it in all Pliny's familiar Epistles, and I'll have my judgment burn'd in the ear for a rogue, make much of thy vein, for it is inimitable. But I marle what camel it was, that had the carriage of it? for doubtless he was no ordinary beast that brought it.

PROS. Why?

LOR. JU. Why, sayest thou? why, dost thou think that any reasonable creature, especially in the morning, (the sober time of the day too) would have ta'en my father for me?

PROS. 'Sblood, you jest, I hope?

LOR. JU. Indeed, the best use we can turn it to, is to make a jest on't now: but I'll assure you, my father had the proving of your copy some hour before I saw it.

PROS. What a dull slave was this! But, sirrah, what said he to it, i'faith?

LOR. JU. Nay, I know not what he said. But I have a shrewd guess what he thought.

PRO. What? what?

LOR. JU. Marry, that thou are a damn'd dissolute villain, And I some grain or two better, in keeping thee company.

PROS. Tut, that thought is like the moon in the last quarter, 'twill change shortly: but, sirrah, I pray thee be acquainted with my two Zanies here, thou wilt take exceeding pleasure in them if thou hear'st them once, but what strange piece of silence is this? the sign of the dumb man?

LOR. JU. Oh, sir, a kinsman of mine, one that may make our music the fuller, an he please, he hath his humour, sir.

PROS. Oh, what is't? what is't?

LOR. JU. Nay, I'll neither do thy judgment nor his folly that wrong, as to prepare thy apprehension: I'll leave him to the mercy of the time, if you can take him: so.

PROS. Well, Signior Bobadilla, Signior Matheo: I pray you know this gentleman here, he is a friend of mine, and one that will well deserve your affection, I know not your name, Signior, but I shall be glad of any good occasion to be more familiar with you.

STEP. My name is Signior Stephano, sir, I am this gentleman's cousin, sir, his father is mine uncle; sir, I am somewhat melancholy, but you shall command me, sir, in whatsoever is incident to a gentleman.

BOB. Signior, I must tell you this, I am no general man, embrace it as a most high favour, for (by the host of Egypt) but that I conceive you to be a gentleman of some parts, I love few words: you have wit: imagine.

STEP. Ay, truly, sir, I am mightily given to melancholy.

MAT. O Lord, sir, it's your only best humour, sir, your true melancholy breeds your perfect fine wit, sir: I am melancholy myself divers times, sir, and then do I no more but take your pen and paper presently, and write you your half score or your dozen of sonnets at a sitting.

LOR. JU. Mass, then he utters them by the gross.

STEP. Truly, sir, and I love such things out of measure.

LOR. JU. I'faith, as well as in measure.

MAT. Why, I pray you, Signior, make use of my study, it's at your service.

STEP. I thank you, sir, I shall be bold, I warrant you, have you a close stool there?

MAT. Faith, sir, I have some papers there, toys of mine own doing at idle hours, that you'll say there's some sparks of wit in them, when you shall see them.

PROS. Would they were kindled once, and a good fire made, I might see self-love burn'd for her heresy.

STEP. Cousin, is it well? am I melancholy enough?

LOR. JU. Oh, ay, excellent.

PROS. Signior Bobadilla, why muse you so?

LOR. JU. He is melancholy too.

BOB. Faith, sir, I was thinking of a most honourable piece of service was perform'd to-morrow, being St. Mark's day, shall be some ten years.

LOR. JU. In what place was that service, I pray you, sir?

BOB. Why, at the beleaguering of Ghibelletto, where, in less than two hours, seven hundred resolute gentlemen, as any were in Europe, lost their lives upon the breach: I'll tell you, gentlemen, it was the first, but the best leaguer that ever I beheld with these eyes, except the taking in of Tortosa last year by the Genoways, but that (of all other) was the most fatal and dangerous exploit that ever I was ranged in, since I first bore arms before the face of the enemy, as I am a gentleman and a soldier.

STEP. So, I had as lief as an angel I could swear as well as that gentleman.

LOR. JU. Then you were a servitor at both, it seems.

BOB. O Lord, sir: by Phaeton, I was the first man that entered the breach, and had I not effected it with resolution, I had been slain if I had had a million of lives.

LOR. JU. Indeed, sir?

STEP. Nay, an you heard him discourse you would say so: how like you him?

BOB. I assure you (upon my salvation) 'tis true, and yourself shall confess.

PROS. You must bring him to the rack first.

BOB. Observe me judicially, sweet Signior: they had planted me a demi-culverin just in the mouth of the breach; now, sir, (as we were to ascend), their master gunner (a man of no mean skill and courage, you must think,) confronts me with his linstock ready to give fire; I spying his intendment, discharged my petronel in his bosom, and with this instrument, my poor rapier, ran violently upon the Moors that guarded the ordnance, and put them pell-mell to the sword.

PROS. To the sword? to the rapier, Signior.

LOR. JU. Oh, it was a good figure observed, sir: but did you all this, Signior, without hurting your blade?

BOB. Without any impeach on the earth: you shall perceive, sir, it is the most fortunate weapon that ever rid on a poor gentleman's thigh: shall I tell you, sir? you talk of Morglay, Excalibur, Durindana, or so: tut, I lend no credit to that is reported of them, I know the virtue of mine own, and therefore I dare the boldlier maintain it.

STEP. I marle whether it be a Toledo or no?

BOB. A most perfect Toledo, I assure you, Signior.

STEP. I have a countryman of his here.

MAT. Pray you let's see, sir: yes, faith, it is.

BOB. This a Toledo? pish!

STEP. Why do you pish, Signior?

BOB. A Fleming, by Phoebus! I'll buy them for a guilder a piece, an I'll have a thousand of them.

LOR. JU. How say you, cousin? I told you thus much.

PROS. Where bought you it, Signior?

STEP. Of a scurvy rogue soldier, a pox of God on him, he swore it was a Toledo.

BOB. A provant rapier, no better.

MAT. Mass, I think it be indeed.

LOR. JU. Tut, now it's too late to look on it, put it up, put it up.

STEP. Well, I will not put it up, but by God's foot, an ever I meet him --

PROS. Oh, it is past remedy now, sir, you must have patience.

STEP. Whoreson, coney-catching rascal; oh, I could eat the very hilts for anger.

LOR. JU. A sign you have a good ostrich stomach, cousin.

STEP. A stomach? would I had him here, you should see an I had a stomach.

PROS. It's better as 'tis: come, gentlemen, shall we go?

LOR. JU. A miracle, cousin, look here, look here.

[ENTER MUSCO.]

STEP. Oh, God's lid, by your leave, do you know me, sir?

MUS. Ay, sir, I know you by sight.

STEP. You sold me a rapier, did you not?

MUS. Yes, marry did I, sir.

STEP. You said it was a Toledo, ha?

MUS. True, I did so.

STEP. But it is none.

MUS. No, sir, I confess it, it is none.

STEP. Gentlemen, bear witness, he has confest it. By God's lid, an you had not confest it --

LOR. JU. Oh, cousin, forbear, forbear.

STEP. Nay, I have done, cousin.

PROS. Why, you have done like a gentleman, he has confest it, what would you more?

LOR. JU. Sirrah, how dost thou like him?

PROS. Oh, it's a precious good fool, make much on him: I can compare him to nothing more happily than a barber's virginals; for every one may play upon him.

MUS. Gentleman, shall I intreat a word with you?

LOR. JU. With all my heart, sir, you have not another Toledo to sell, have you?

MUS. You are pleasant, your name is Signior Lorenzo, as I take it?

LOR. JU. You are in the right: 'Sblood, he means to catechise me, I think.

MUS. No, sir, I leave that to the Curate, I am none of that coat.

LOR. JU. And yet of as bare a coat; well, say, sir.

MUS. Faith, Signior, I am but servant to God Mars extraordinary, and indeed (this brass varnish being washed off, and three or four other tricks sublated) I appear yours in reversion, after the decease of your good father, Musco.

LOR. JU. Musco, 'sblood, what wind hath blown thee hither in this shape?

MUS. Your easterly wind, sir, the same that blew your father hither.

LOR. JU. My father?

MUS. Nay, never start, it's true, he is come to town of purpose to seek you.

LOR. JU. Sirrah Prospero, what shall we do, sirrah? my father is come to the city.

PROS. Thy father: where is he?

MUS. At a gentleman's house yonder by St. Anthony's, where he but stays my return; and then --

PROS. Who's this? Musco?

MUS. The same, sir.

PROS. Why, how com'st thou transmuted thus?

MUS. Faith, a device, a device, nay, for the love of God, stand not here, gentlemen, house yourselves, and I'll tell you all.

LOR. JU. But art thou sure he will stay thy return?

MUS. Do I live, sir? what a question is that!

PROS. Well, we'll prorogue his expectation a little: Musco, thou shalt go with us: Come on, gentlemen: nay, I pray thee, (good rascal) droop not, 'sheart, an our wits be so gouty, that one old plodding brain can outstrip us all. Lord, I beseech thee, may they lie and starve in some miserable spittle, where they may never see the face of any true spirit again, but be perpetually haunted with some church-yard hobgoblin in seculo seculorum.

MUS. Amen, Amen.

[EXEUNT.]