The World's Greatest Books — Volume 17 — Poetry and Drama

SCENE II.--_At_ KITELY'S. KITELY _has gone to_ JUSTICE CLEMENT'S;

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_very anxious about his wife and sister, he has ordered_ CASH _to send him a messenger if_ WELL-BRED _comes home with any of his boon-companions. Enter to_ CASH, WELL-BRED, _with the party as in the last scene_.

WELL-BRED: Whither went your master, Thomas, canst thou tell?

CASH: I know not; to Justice Clement's, I think, sir.

[_Exit._

KNOWELL: Justice Clement! What's he?

WELL-BRED: 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. [_Enter_ CASH.

BOBADILL: Master Kitely's man, pray thee vouchsafe us the lighting of this match. (CASH _takes match, and exits_) 'Tis your right, Trinidado. Did you never take any, Master Stephen?

STEPHEN: No, truly, sir, but I'll learn to take it now, since you commend it so.

BOBADILL: Sir, I have been in the Indies where this herb grows; where neither myself nor a dozen gentlemen 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 only. By Hercules, I do hold it, and will affirm it, before any prince in Europe, to be the most sovereign and precious weed that ever the earth tendered to the use of man.

[COB _has entered meanwhile_.

COB: Mack, I marvel what pleasure 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. And there were no wiser men than I, I'd have it present whipping, man or woman, that should but deal with a tobacco pipe.

[BOBADILL _cudgels him. Enter_ CASH, _who drags off the lamenting_ COB. _While the rest are conversing_, MATTHEW _and_ BOBADILL _slip out_.

WELL-BRED: Soft, where's Master Matthew? Gone?

BRAIN-WORM: No, sir, they went in here.

WELL-BRED: Oh, let's follow them. Master Matthew is gone to salute his mistress in verse. We shall have the happiness to hear some of his poetry now. He never comes impoverished. [_Exeunt._