SCENE I.--_A room in the Windmill Tavern._ WELL-BRED, BOBADILL,

MATTHEW. _Enter_ YOUNG KNOWELL _with_ STEPHEN.

WELL-BRED: Ned Knowell! By my soul, welcome! (_Lower_) Sirrah, there be the two I writ of. But what strange piece of silence is this? The sign of the Dumb Man?

KNOWELL: Oh, sir, a kinsman of mine; he has his humour, sir.

STEPHEN: My name is Master Stephen, sir; I am this gentleman's own cousin, sir; I am somewhat melancholy, but you shall command me.

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

WELL-BRED: Captain Bobadill, why muse you so?

KNOWELL: He is melancholy, too.

BOBADILL: Why, sir, I was thinking of a most honourable piece of service was performed at the beleaguering of Strigonium; the first but the best leaguer that ever I beheld with these eyes. Look you, sir, by St. George, 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. Observe me judicially, sweet sir. They had planted me three demiculvirins just in the mouth of the breach, but I, with these single arms, my poor rapier, ran violently upon the Moors, and put 'em pell-mell to the sword.

[_Enter_ BRAIN-WORM, _who discloses himself apart, to_ KNOWELL _and_ Well-Bred, _and reports that_ OLD KNOWELL _is awaiting his return at_ JUSTICE CLEMENT'S _house. Exeunt_.