SCENE V.[1249

[_Enter_] WELLBRED, E. KNOWELL, BRAINWORM, MATHEW, BOBADILL, _and_ STEPHEN.

_Wel._ Beshrew me, but it was an absolute good jest, and exceedingly well carried!

_E. Know._ Ay, and our ignorance maintain’d it as well, did it not?

_Wel._ Yes, faith; but was it possible thou (5) shouldst not know him? I forgive master Stephen, for he is stupidity itself.

_E. Know._ ’Fore God, not I, an I might have been join’d patten[1250] with one of the seven wise masters for knowing him. He had so writhen[1251] himself into the habit of one of your poor 11 infantry, your decay’d, ruinous, worm-eaten gentlemen of the round;[1252] such as have vowed to sit on the skirts of the city, let your provost and his half-dozen of halberdiers do what (15) they can; and have translated begging out of the old hackney-pace to a fine easy amble, and made it run as smooth off the tongue as a shove-groat shilling.[1253] Into the likeness of one of these reformados[1254] had he moulded himself so perfectly, (20) observing every trick of their action, as, varying the accent, swearing with an emphasis, indeed, all with so special and exquisite a grace, that, hadst thou seen him, thou wouldst have sworn he might have been sergeant-major,[1255] if not lieutenant-colonel to the regiment. 26

_Wel._ Why, Brainworm, who would have thought thou hadst been such an artificer?

_E. Know._ An artificer! an architect. Except a man had studied begging all his life time, (30) and been a weaver of language from his infancy for the clothing of it, I never saw his rival.

_Wel._ Where got’st thou this coat, I marle?[1256]

_Brai._ Of a Houndsditch man, sir, one of the devil’s near kinsmen, a broker. 35

_Wel._ That cannot be, if the proverb hold; for _A crafty knave needs no broker_.

_Brai._ True, sir; but I did _need a broker, ergo_——

_Wel._ Well put off:—_no crafty knave_, you’ll say. 41

_E. Know._ Tut, he has more of these shifts.

_Brai._ And yet, where I have one the broker has ten,[1257] sir.

[_Re-enter_ CASH.]

_Cash._ Francis! Martin! Ne’er a one to be found now? What a spite’s this! 46

_Wel._ How now, Thomas? Is my brother Kitely within?

_Cash._ No, sir, my master went forth e’en now; but master Downright is within.—Cob! what, Cob! Is he gone too? 51

_Wel._ Whither went your master, Thomas, canst thou tell?

_Cash._ I know not: to justice Clement’s, I think, sir.—Cob!

_E. Know._ Justice Clement! what’s he? 55

_Wel._ Why, dost thou not know him? He is a city-magistrate, a justice here, an excellent good lawyer, and a great scholar; but the only mad, merry old fellow in Europe. I show’d him you the other day. 61

_E. Know._ Oh, is that he? I remember him now. Good faith, and he is a very strange presence methinks; it shows as if he stood out of the rank from other men: I have heard many (65) of his jests i’ the University. They say he will commit a man for taking the wall of his horse.

_Wel._ Ay, or wearing his cloak on one shoulder, or serving of God; any thing indeed, if it come in the way of his humour. 70 CASH _goes in and out calling_.

_Cash._ Gasper! Martin! Cob! ’Heart, where should they be, trow?

_Bob._ Master Kitely’s man, pray thee vouchsafe us the lighting of this match. 74

_Cash._ Fire on your match! No time but now to _vouchsafe_?—Francis! Cob! [_Exit._]

_Bob._ Body o’ me! here’s the remainder of seven pound since yesterday was seven-night. ’Tis your right Trinidado:[1258] did you never take any, master Stephen? 80

_Step._ No, truly, sir; but I’ll learn to take it now, since you commend it so.

_Bob._ Sir, believe me upon my relation, for what I tell you, the world shall not reprove. I have been in the Indies, where this herb grows, where neither myself, nor a dozen gentlemen (86) more of my knowledge, have received the taste of any other nutriment in the world, for the space of one-and-twenty weeks, but the fume of this simple[1259] only; therefore it cannot be but ’tis most divine. Further, take it in the nature, (91) in the true kind; so, it makes an antidote, that, had you taken the most deadly poisonous plant in all Italy, it should expel it, and clarify you, with as much ease as I speak. And for (95) your green wound,—your Balsamum and your St. John’s wort, are all mere gulleries and trash to it, especially your Trinidado: your Nicotian[1260] is good too. I could say what I know of the virtue of it, for the expulsion of rheums, (100) raw humours, crudities, obstructions, with a thousand of this kind; but I profess myself no quacksalver. Only thus much; by Hercules, I do hold it, and will affirm it before any prince in Europe, to be the most sovereign and precious (105) weed that ever the earth tend’red to the use of man.

_E. Know._ This speech would ha’ done decently in a tobacco-trader’s mouth.

[_Re-enter_ CASH _with_ COB.]

_Cash._ At justice Clement’s he is, in the (110) middle of Coleman-street.

_Cob._ Oh, oh!

_Bob._ Where’s the match I gave thee, master Kitely’s man? 114

_Cash._ Would his match and he, and pipe and all, were at Sancto Domingo! I had forgot it. [_Exit._]

_Cob._ By God’s me, I marle what pleasure or felicity they have in taking this roguish tobacco. It’s good for nothing but to choke a man, and fill him full of smoke and embers. (120) There were four died out of one house last week with taking of it, and two more the bell went for yesternight; one of them, they say, will ne’er scape it; he voided a bushel of soot yesterday, upward and downward. By (125) the stocks, an there were no wiser men than I, I’d have it present whipping, man or woman, that should but deal with a tobacco pipe. Why, it will stifle them all in the end, as many as use it; it’s little better than ratsbane or rosaker.[1261] 130

BOBADILL _beats him with a cudgel_.

_All._ Oh, good captain, hold, hold!

_Bob._ You base cullion, you!

_Re-enter_ CASH.

_Cash._ Sir, here ’s your match.—Come, thou must needs be talking too, thou’rt well enough serv’d. 135

_Cob._ Nay, he will not meddle with his match, I warrant you. Well, it shall be a dear beating, an I live.

_Bob._ Do you prate, do you murmur? 139

_E. Know._ Nay, good captain, will you regard the humour of a fool? Away, knave.

_Wel._ Thomas, get him away. [_Exit_ CASH _with_ COB.]

_Bob._ A whoreson filthy slave, a dung-worm, an excrement! Body o’ Caesar, but that I scorn to let forth so mean a spirit, I’d have stabb’d him to the earth. 146

_Wel._ Marry, the law forbid, sir!

_Bob._ By Pharaoh’s foot, I would have done it.

_Step._ Oh, he swears most admirably! By Pharaoh’s foot! Body o’ Caesar!—I shall (150) never do it, sure. Upon mine honour, and by St. George!—No, I have not the right grace.

_Mat._ Master Stephen, will you any? By this air, the most divine tobacco that ever I drunk.[1262] 154

_Step._ None, I thank you, sir. O, this gentleman does it rarely too: but nothing like the other. By this air! As I am a gentleman! By—— [_Exeunt_ BOB. _and_ MAT.]

_Brai._ Master, glance, glance! master Wellbred! STEPHEN _is practising to the post._ 160

_Step._ As I have somewhat to be saved, I protest—

_Wel._ You are a fool; it needs no affidavit.

_E. Know._ Cousin, will you any tobacco?

_Step._ I, sir! Upon my reputation——

_E. Know._ How now, cousin! 165

_Step._ I protest, as I am a gentleman, but no soldier, indeed——

_Wel._ No, master Stephen! As I remember, your name is ent’red in the artillery-garden. 169

_Step._ Ay, sir, that’s true. Cousin, may I swear “as I am a soldier” by that?

_E. Know._ O yes, that you may; it is all you have for your money.

_Step._ Then, as I am a gentleman and a soldier, it is “divine tobacco!” 175

_Wel._ But soft, where’s master Mathew? Gone?

_Brai._ No, sir; they went in here.

_Wel._ O let’s follow them. Master Mathew is gone to salute his mistress in verse; we shall ha’ the happiness to hear some of his poetry (180) now; he never comes unfurnish’d.—Brainworm!

_Step._ Brainworm! Where? Is this Brainworm?

_E. Know._ Ay, cousin; no words of it, upon your gentility. 185

_Step._ Not I, body o’ me! By this air! St. George! and the foot of Pharaoh!

_Wel._ Rare! Your cousin’s discourse is simply drawn out with oaths.

_E. Know._ ’Tis larded with ’em; a kind of French dressing, if you love it. [_Exeunt._]