SCENE I.[1210

[_Enter_] MASTER MATHEW, WELLBRED, _and_ BOBADILL.

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

_Wel._ Oh, I came not there to-night.

_Bob._ Your brother delivered us as much.

_Wel._ Who, my brother Downright? 5

_Bob._ He. Mr. Wellbred, I know not in what kind you hold me; but let me say to you this: as sure as honour, I esteem it so much out of the sunshine of reputation, to throw the least beam of regard upon such a—— 10

_Wel._ Sir, I must hear no ill words of my brother.

_Bob._ I protest to you, as I have a thing to be sav’d about me, I never saw any gentleman-like part—— 15

_Wel._ Good captain, faces about[1211] to some other discourse.

_Bob._ With your leave, sir, an there were no more men living upon the face of the earth, I should not fancy him, by St. George! 20

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

_Wel._ Oh, master Mathew, that’s a grace peculiar but to a few, _quos aequus amavit Jupiter_. 25

_Mat._ I understand you, sir.

_Wel._ No question, you do,—[_Aside._] or do you not, sir. _Enter_ E. KNOWELL, [_and_ STEPHEN]. Ned Knowell! by my soul, welcome: how dost thou, sweet spirit, my genius? ’Slid, I shall love Apollo and the mad Thespian girls[1212] the better, (31) while I live, for this, my dear Fury; now I see there’s some love in thee. Sirrah, these be the two I writ to thee of: nay, what a drowsy humour is this now! Why dost thou not speak? 35

_E. Know._ Oh, you are a fine gallant; you sent me a rare letter.

_Wel._ Why, was’t not rare?

_E. Know._ Yes, I’ll be sworn, I was ne’er guilty of reading the like; match it in all (40) Pliny, or Symmachus’s 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[1213] what camel it was, that had the carriage of it; for, doubtless, he was no ordinary beast that brought it. 46

_Wel._ Why?

_E. Know._ “Why?” say’st thou! Why, dost thou think that any reasonable creature, especially in the morning, the sober time of the day too, could have mista’en my father for me? 51

_Wel._ ’Slid, you jest, I hope.

_E. Know._ 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 full view of your 55 flourishing style some hour before I saw it.

_Wel._ What a dull slave was this! But, sirrah, what said he to it, i’ faith?

_E. Know._ Nay, I know not what he said; but I have a shrewd guess what he thought. 60

_Wel._ What, what?

_E. Know._ Marry, that thou art some strange, dissolute young fellow, and I—a grain or two better, for keeping thee company.

_Wel._ Tut! that thought is like the moon in (65) her last quarter, ’t will change shortly. But, sirrah, I pray thee be acquainted with my two hang-by’s here; thou wilt take exceeding pleasure in ’em if thou hear’st ’em once go; my wind-instruments; I’ll wind ’em up——But (70) what strange piece of silence is this? The sign of the Dumb Man?

_E. Know._ Oh, sir, a kinsman of mine, one that may make your music the fuller, an he please; he has his humour, sir. 75

_Wel._ Oh, what is’t, what is’t?

_E. Know._ Nay, I’ll neither do your judgment nor his folly that wrong, as to prepare your apprehension; I’ll leave him to the mercy o’ your search; if you can take him, so! 80

_Wel._ Well, captain Bobadill, master Mathew, pray you know this gentleman here; he is a friend of mine, and one that will deserve your affection.—I know not your name, sir (_to_ (84) STEPHEN), but I shall be glad of any occasion to render me more familiar to you.

_Step._ My name is master Stephen, sir; I am this gentleman’s own cousin, sir; his father is mine uncle, sir. I am somewhat melancholy, (89) but you shall command me, sir, in whatsoever is incident to a gentleman.

_Bob._ (_to_ E. KNOWELL.) Sir, I must tell you this, I am no general[1214] man; but for master Wellbred’s sake (you may embrace it at what height of favour you please), I do communicate (95) with you, and conceive you to be a gentleman of some parts; I love few words.

_E. Know._ And I fewer, sir; I have scarce enough to thank you. 99

_Mat._ But are you, indeed, sir, so given to it?

_Step._ Ay, truly, sir, I am mightily given to melancholy.

_Mat._ Oh, it’s your only fine humour, sir: your true melancholy breeds your perfect fine wit, sir. I am melancholy myself, diver times, sir, and then do I no more but take pen and (106) paper presently, and overflow you half a score, or a dozen of sonnets at a sitting.

_E. Know._ (_Aside._) Sure he utters them then by the gross. 110

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

_E. Know._ I’ faith, better than in measure, I’ll undertake.

_Mat._ Why, I pray you, sir, make use of my study; it’s at your service. 116

_Step._ I thank you, sir, I shall be bold I warrant you; have you a stool there to be melancholy upon?

_Mat._ That I have, sir, and some papers (120) there of mine own doing, at idle hours, that you’ll say there’s some sparks of wit in ’em, when you see them.

_Wel._ [_Aside._] Would the sparks would kindle once, and become afire amongst ’em! I (125) might see self-love burnt for her heresy.

_Step._ Cousin, is it well? Am I melancholy enough?

_E. Know._ Oh ay, excellent.

_Wel._ Captain Bobadill, why muse you so? 130

_E. Know._ He is melancholy too.

_Bob._ Faith, sir, I was thinking of a most honourable piece of service, was perform’d tomorrow, being St. Mark’s day, shall be some ten years now. 135

_E. Know._ In what place, captain?

_Bob._ Why, at the beleag’ring of Strigonium,[1215] 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, (140) it was the first, but the best leaguer that ever I beheld with these eyes, except the taking in[1216] of—what do you call it?[1217] last year, by the Genoways;[1218] but that, of all other, was the most fatal and dangerous exploit that ever I was (145) rang’d 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. 150

_E. Know._ Then, you were a servitor at both, it seems; at Strigonium, and what do you call’t?

_Bob._ O lord, sir! By St. George, I was the first man that ent’red the breach; and had I not effected it with resolution, I had been slain if I had had a million of lives. 156

_E. Know._ ’T was pity you had not ten; a cat’s and your own, i’ faith. But, was it possible?

_Mat._ Pray you mark this discourse, sir.

_Step._ So I do. 160

_Bob._ I assure you, upon my reputation, ’tis true, and yourself shall confess.

_E. Know._ [_Aside._] You must bring me to the rack, first. 164

_Bob._ Observe me judicially, sweet sir: they had planted me three demi-culverins[1219] just in the mouth of the breach; now, sir, as we were to give on,[1220] their master-gunner (a man of no mean skill and mark, you must think), confronts (169) me with his linstock,[1221] ready to give fire; I, spying his intendment, discharg’d my petronel[1222] in his bosom, and with these single arms, my poor rapier, ran violently upon the Moors that guarded the ordnance, and put ’em pell-mell to the sword. 175

_Wel._ To the sword! To the rapier, captain.

_E. Know._ Oh, it was a good figure observ’d, sir. But did you all this, captain, without hurting your blade?

_Bob._ Without any impeach o’ the earth: (180) you shall perceive, sir. [_Shews his rapier._] It is the most fortunate weapon that ever rid on poor gentleman’s thigh. Shall I tell you, sir? You talk of Morglay, Excalibur, Durindana,[1223] or so; tut! I lend no credit to that is fabled of ’em. (185) 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, sir. 190

_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, captain? 194

_Bob._ A Fleming, by heaven! I’ll buy them for a guilder a-piece, an I would have a thousand of them.

_E. Know._ How say you, cousin? I told you thus much. 199

_Wel._ Where bought you it, master Stephen?

_Step._ Of a scurvy rogue soldier: a hundred of lice go with him! He swore it was a Toledo.

_Bob._ A poor provant[1224] rapier, no better.

_Mat._ Mass, I think it be indeed, now I look on’t better. 206

_E. Know._ Nay, the longer you look on’t, the worse. Put it up, put it up.

_Step._ Well, I will put it up: but by—I have forgot the captain’s oath, I thought to ha’ sworn by it—an e’er I meet him—— 210

_Wel._ O, it is past help now, sir; you must have patience.

_Step._ Whoreson, coney-catching[1225] rascal! I could eat the very hilts for anger. 214

_E. Know._ A sign of good digestion; you have an ostrich stomach, cousin.

_Step._ A stomach! Would I had him here, you should see an I had a stomach.[1226]

_Wel._ It’s better as ’tis.—Come, gentlemen, shall we go? 220