SCENE VII.[1266

COB. [_Enter_] JUSTICE CLEMENT, KNOWELL, FORMAL.

_Clem._ What’s master Kitely gone, Roger?

_Form._ Ay, sir.

_Clem._ ’Heart o’ me! what made him leave us so abruptly?—How now, sirrah! what make you here? What would you have, ha? 5

_Cob._ An’t please your worship, I am a poor neighbour of your worship’s——

_Clem._ A poor neighbour of mine! Why, speak, poor neighbour.

_Cob._ I dwell, sir, at the sign of the Water-tankard, (10) hard by the Green Lattice:[1267] I have paid scot and lot[1268] there any time this eighteen years.

_Clem._ To the Green Lattice?

_Cob._ No, sir, to the parish. Marry, I have (15) seldom scapt scot-free at the Lattice.

_Clem._ O, well; what business has my poor neighbour with me?

_Cob._ An’t like your worship, I am come to crave the peace of your worship. 20

_Clem._ Of me, knave! Peace of me, knave! Did I ever hurt thee, or threaten thee, or wrong thee, ha?

_Cob._ No, sir; but your worship’s warrant for one that has wrong’d me, sir. His arms are at (25) too much liberty, I would fain have them bound to a treaty of peace, an my credit could compass it, with your worship.

_Clem._ Thou goest far enough about for’t, I am sure. 30

_Know._ Why, dost thou go in danger of thy life for him, friend?

_Cob._ No, sir; but I go in danger of my death every hour, by his means; an I die within a twelve-month and a day,[1269] I may swear by the law of the land that he kill’d me. 36

_Clem._ How, how, knave, swear he kill’d thee, and by the law? What pretence, what colour, hast thou for that?

_Cob._ Marry, an’t please your worship, both black and blue; colour enough, I warrant you. (41) I have it here to shew your worship. [_Shows his bruises._]

_Clem._ What is he that gave you this, sirrah?

_Cob._ A gentleman and a soldier, he says he is, of the city here. 45

_Clem._ A soldier o’ the city! What call you him?

_Cob._ Captain Bobadill.

_Clem._ Bobadill! and why did he bob[1270] and beat you, sirrah? How began the quarrel betwixt you, ha? Speak truly, knave, I advise you. 50

_Cob._ Marry, indeed, an’t please your worship, only because I spake against their vagrant tobacco, as I came by ’em when they were taking on’t; for nothing else.

_Clem._ Ha! you speak against tobacco? Formal, his name. 55

_Form._ What’s your name, sirrah?

_Cob._ Oliver, sir, Oliver Cob, sir.

_Clem._ Tell Oliver Cob he shall go to the jail, Formal. 60

_Form._ Oliver Cob, my master, justice Clement, says you shall go to the jail.

_Cob._ O, I beseech your worship, for God’s sake, dear master justice! 64

_Clem._ God’s precious! an such drunkards and tankards as you are, come to dispute of tobacco once, I have done. Away with him!

_Cob._ O, good master justice!—Sweet old gentleman! [_To_ KNOWELL.]

_Know._ “Sweet Oliver,” would I could do (70) thee any good!—Justice Clement, let me intreat you, sir.

_Clem._ What! a thread-bare rascal, a beggar, a slave that never drunk out of better than piss-pot metal[1271] in his life! and he to deprave and (75) abuse the virtue of an herb so generally receiv’d in the courts of princes, the chambers of nobles, the bowers of sweet ladies, the cabins of soldiers!—Roger, away with him? By God’s precious—I say, go to. 80

_Cob._ Dear master justice, let me be beaten again, I have deserv’d it: but not the prison, I beseech you.

_Know._ Alas, poor Oliver!

_Clem._ Roger, make him a warrant:—he shall not go, I but fear[1272] the knave. 85

_Form._ Do not stink, sweet Oliver, you shall not go; my master will give you a warrant.

_Cob._ O, the Lord maintain his worship, his worthy worship! 90

_Clem._ Away, dispatch him. [_Exeunt_ FORMAL _and_ COB.] —How now, master Knowell, in dumps, in dumps! Come, this becomes not.

_Know._ Sir, would I could not feel my cares.

_Clem._ Your cares are nothing: they are (95) like my cap, soon put on, and as soon put off. What! your son is old enough to govern himself; let him run his course, it’s the only way to make him a staid man. If he were an unthrift, a ruffian, a drunkard, or a licentious liver, (100) then you had reason; you had reason to take care: but, being none of these, mirth’s my witness, an I had twice so many cares as you have, I’d drown them all in a cup of sack. Come, come, let’s try it: I muse[1273] your parcel of a (105) soldier returns not all this while. _Exeunt._