Edited by David Bevington
INTRODUCTION
Every Man In His Humour was first performed by 1598, published in quarto in 1601, and revised by Jonson some time after that date for inclusion in the folio edition of 1616. A court performance in 1605 may have used the quarto or the folio text or some intermediate stage of revision; the records are silent on that subject. In any case, subsequent stage history belongs entirely to the folio version. The King’s Men gave a benefit performance at the Blackfriars Theatre in 1631 for Sir Henry Herbert, Master of the Revels. The play did well in the Restoration period as an ‘old stock play’ allotted in 1669 to Thomas Killigrew’s company at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane. Dryden mentions it as an important play in his Essay of Dramatic Poesy (1668). Charles Sackville, Earl of Dorset, wrote an epilogue for a production some time by 1673 in which the Ghost of Jonson inveighed against breakers of the ‘laws of comedy’ which Every Man In was so careful to observe. A revival at Lincoln’s Inn Fields in 1725 by John Rich extensively revised the text by excising seven characters (Matthew, Cash, Cob, Formal, Bridget, Tib, and a Servant) to make room for three new characters. David Garrick, at Drury Lane in 1751 and intermittently until 1776, excelled as Kitely in historic costume dress; the folio text was substantially cut and restructured into fewer scenes. A production starring G. F. Cooke as Kitely played ten times at Covent Garden Theatre in 1800 and 1801. In 1802, Drury Lane mounted its own revival with Richard Wroughton as Kitely and John Bannister Jr as Bobadill. Having moved from Drury Lane to Covent Garden in 1802, John Philip Kemble had considerable success with Every Man In during the 1800s, especially in 1809 and 1810. Edmund Kean played Kitely, in 1816 at Drury Lane. The play remained in the repertory of both Drury Lane and Covent Garden, with performances in 1825, 1828, and 1832. W. C. Macready played Kitely at Bath and Bristol in 1816, and eventually in London at the Haymarket in 1838. Charles Dickens chose instead to play Bobadill with his company of literary amateurs at Miss Kelly’s Soho theatre in September 1845 and at Manchester and Liverpool in July 1847, as did Frank Benson at the Memorial Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon in 1903. These alternatives in what was considered the leading role (Brainworm is another) suggest how well balanced the play is among nine or so significant male roles, originally written for an acting company of about that size. (See Introduction to the quarto text.) The play was popular in revival up until World War Ⅱ, and enjoyed a secure status in anthologies of Renaissance drama for university teaching. Since the 1940s the play has lost some of its earlier popularity onstage and in the classroom, though a remarkably successful production by John Caird at the Swan Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon in 1986, and Gabriele Bernhard Jackson’s edition for the Yale Ben Johnson in 1969, are encour-aging exceptions to that general decline.
When did the folio revision take place? The date is of significance if we are to understand the place of the folio version of Every Man In in Jonson’s stylistic and theatrical development. The choices most favoured in the ongoing debate are some time around 1605 and 1612. Chambers, ES, argues for the first date, noting that the revival at court on 2 February 1605 would have provided Jonson with the occasion for revision. Internal clues to support this date are, however, not very substantial. Bobadill’s recounting of his presumed exploits at Strigonium ‘some ten years now’ (3.1.92ff.) alludes to the Battle of Graan or Êstergom in Hungary, recaptured from the Turks in 1595; but we need to consider that Bobadill is spinning a lie of epic proportions, and that when Brainworm, disguised as a wounded veteran, has his turn to recount his military career, he goes back all the way, in both quarto and folio text, to the Turkish sieges of Aleppo in 1516 and Vienna in 1529 (see notes at Q, 2.1.50–1 and F1, 2.4.54). Internal evidence about the Turkish Grand Signor is no more substantial. Wellbred’s letter to young Knowell promises him a present ‘our Turkey company never sent the like to the Grand Signor’ (1.2.69–70), which might have seemed especially relevant in 1606, shortly after a large gift had been made to the Sultan in 1605; but this possible date has the disadvantage of coming after the court performance in February 1605. Moreover, payments to the Sultan were known to have been made in 1583 and 1593. Dekker’s The Wonderful Year (1603) alludes familiarly to New Year’s gifts ‘more in number and more worth than those that are given to the great Turk or the Emperor of Persia’ (see note at 1.2.69–70). Awareness of such payments seems to have been widespread throughout the era.
Several seeming references to Queen Elizabeth’s reign are to be found in the quarto text and persist into the folio version: ‘I arrest you i’the Queen’s name’ (F1, 4.11.18), ‘Keep the peace . . . in Her Majesty’s name’ (4.11.33), ‘You must not deny the Queen’s justice’ (5.5.16). Did Jonson deliberately retain these phrases as anachronistic touches consistent with the performance, years later, of a play ‘acted in the year 1598’, as the folio title-page and casting list announce? Or do they suggest revision before 1603 or shortly after? The evidence is inconclusive.
The thoroughgoing removal of oaths from the folio text is offered by Herford and Simpson (1.332) as evidence of a conforming with the Act against Abuses of Players passed in 1606, in preparation for folio publication. They argue for a date around 1612, after Jonson had finally declared himself in Epicene (1609) and The Alchemist (1610) to be an observer of the London scene. In 1612 Jonson was actively involved in preparation for the folio of 1616 and, moreover, was not busy writing masques for the court. The style of revision seems late to Herford and Simpson. James Riddell (1997b) argues from bibliographical evidence that revisions to the text may have been continuing as the volume was going into print, which could perhaps explain why the printing of the folio began with EMO and not with EMI. Against these arguments, J. W. Lever (1971) and others observe that the Act of 1606 forbade blasphemy on the stage but did not concern itself with printed texts, whereas removal of potentially objectionable language from plays was going on apace in any event, and might have seemed a decorous thing for Jonson to do in early 1605 as he readied his text for revival at court on Candlemas, a church festival. Jonson’s move towards a London setting for his plays by this date is evidenced in the collaboratively written Eastward Ho! in 1605, and is strongly implicit in Every Man Out of His Humour (1599): though it announces as its setting the decorously vague ‘Fortunate Isle’, the play locates one of its longest scenes in ‘the middle isle in Paul’s’ with specific references to ‘here at London’ (lines 1919–20, 1928, 1940, 1953, 2055 etc.).
On balance, there appears to be no compelling reason to place all of the folio revisions as late as 1610–12, even if some revising work does indeed seem to have continued into the printing process; in particular, the cutting of Lorenzo Junior’s long defence of poetry in Act 5 may have turned out to be necessary because the number of quires set aside for the printing of this play, most of which took place only after all of the other plays had made their way through the press, proved to be inadequate (see Textual Essay, Electronic Edition, and Riddell, 1997b). A possible bit of evidence in favour of an earlier date for some revisions, not generally noticed, is the fact that Kitely agrees to meet a certain Master Lucre at ‘the Exchange’ (F1, 2.1.10, 3.3.118) to conclude a business deal. Kitely lives in Old Jewry, near the Royal Exchange between Cornhill and Threadneedle Street, far from the New Exchange that would be built in 1609 to the west of the city on the Strand. The phrase ‘the Exchange’ would seem to imply the single building of that name that had been completed in 1568, and indeed the repeated references to it in the folio text consistently seemingly point to the Royal Exchange in the city. Just as clearly, the references in Epicene in 1609 are to the New Exchange, which was by then a lively topic of conversation and indeed the subject of The Entertainment at Britain’s Burse, written by Jonson and performed on 11 April 1609 to celebrate the opening. (The single use of the word ‘Exchange’ in the quarto text of Every Man In, at 4.2.33, appears to be generic and thus applicable to Florence or any city.) At all events, the invitation to present the play at court in 1605 might well have provided an apt incentive for Jonson to rework his earlier play, even if internal evidence cannot conclusively support this date. He was by this time a figure of some importance in court entertainments, and his self-identification as a writer of comedies about London was already becoming apparent.
Jonson’s translation of his earlier play from Florence to London is, on the whole, thorough. The characters’ names are either Anglicized (Matheo to Matthew, Stephano to Stephen, Bobadilla to Bobadill, Doctor Clement to Justice Clement), or provided with an English substitute: Giuliano to Downright, Lorenzo to Knowell (father and son), Musco to Brainworm, Prospero to Wellbred, Thorello and Bianca to Kitely and Dame Kitely, Hesperida to Mistress Bridget, Peto to Formal, Piso to Cash. The exceptions to this pattern are Cob and his wife Tib, who are the most English of the characters in the quarto versions; Cob is given the distinctly English first name of ‘Oliver’ in the quarto (3.3.84), and ‘Tib’ (short for ‘Isabel’) is a common name in Elizabethan literature for a lower-class woman of presumably assailable virtue, as in John Heywood’s John John the Husband, Tib His Wife, and Sir John the Priest. Jonson could have seen how often his fellow dramatists in the 1590s inserted English below-stairs comic types into comedies with Italian settings (Christopher Sly in The Taming of the Shrew, Dogberry and the watch in Much Ado About Nothing, etc.).
Along with these changes in characters’ names, Jonson persistently brings the scene nearer to home. Old Knowell refers to ‘both our universities’ of Oxford and Cambridge (1.1.12), announcing at once an English setting. Like Old Knowell, Stephen dwells at Hoxton, near Finsbury and Islington Ponds (42–4); Stephen is a proud owner of ‘Middlesex land’ (1.2.4). He is colourfully and idiotically English, in his woollen stockings and his taste for the ballads of John Trundle (1.3.47), whose writings had appeared in 1603. Stephen exemplifies what young Knowell calls ‘suburb humour’ (1.3.103), reminding us that Hoxton (or Hogs-den as it is spelled in the folio text, betraying its agricultural origins) is close to London on its northern–north-eastern side and yet still partly rural. Wellbred, on the other hand, is a city sophisticate. Writing from the Windmill Tavern in Old Jewry in the heart of the old city of London, he invites his friend young Knowell to leave his father’s place and its apricot orchards and walk across the fields to Moorgate (1.3.71), a distance of less than two miles. Wellbred promises his friend a rhymer who considers himself the ‘poet-major o’the town’ (1.2.71), a seeming hit at Anthony Munday, who is less directly glanced at in the earlier quarto text as the ‘Poet Nuntius’ (Q1.1.154).
The scenes set in London focus on Old Jewry. Kitely lives there with his wife, sister, and brother-in-law Wellbred. Cob serves water to residents of the area. Justice Clement’s chambers are in Coleman Street (3.2.45). The ‘Spital’ or hospital, probably St Mary’s, is near at hand; so is Pict-hatch, an area notorious for prostitution and crime, and the Royal Exchange. Thames Street, the Custom House Quay, the Tower of London, the Artillery Garden (or Yard), Bridewell prison, Houndsditch, and the Counters are mentioned as familiar locations. Turnbull Street, where Bobadill boasts he has walked alone (4.7.35), was one of the most dangerous streets in the city. Epicene is similarly fascinated with a particular neighbour-hood, though in that case it is a newer and wealthier area expanding westwards from the old city along the Strand. The Alchemist takes place in the London liberty of Blackfriars, Bartholomew Fair in Smithfield. Jonson is both specific and varied in the geographical settings of his London plays. The folio revision of Every Man In seems consciously designed as a part of this pattern. Its indications of setting are not random or happenstance; they are part of a Londoner’s guide to Jonson’s own amazing city, in a way that Dickens would later appreciate.
The growing metropolitan area surrounding the old city is also invoked to set Old Jewry in its urban context. Fleet Street to the west, Mile End to the east (where the militia trained), Shoreditch just north-east of the city, and Whitechapel in the eastern outskirts are all mentioned; some of these were disreputable and dangerous. Deptford, since 1581 the site of Drake’s famous vessel, the Golden Hind, is described as just down the river (1.3.93).
Bobadill lodges with Cob in the city, unable to afford quarters more suited to one who passes himself off as a man of parts, a brave gallant. His guest, the poetaster Matthew, is (according to Cob) the son of a ‘worshipful fishmonger’ (1.4.48), one of the powerful London guilds. Bobadill espouses the smoking of tobacco, while Cob is disgusted by it, thus reflecting a contemporary debate in London as to the pros and cons of the notorious substance that had recently arrived from the New World and that provoked outrage from King James and other critics. Bobadill’s oaths represent a London fashion, and are sometimes particularly English, as when he swears ‘By Saint George’ (1.4.60–1) and ‘’fore George’ (2.1.69 etc.). The art of defence that Matthew wishes to learn from his mentor was all the rage in London in the 1590s and early 1600s. Matthew’s plagiarisms from the likes of Samuel Daniel and Christopher Marlowe (1.5.53–8, 4.2.37–50) seem more in keeping with the folio’s London setting than do the equivalent passages in the quarto. So too with their approving recital (‘Go by, Hieronimo!’ and ‘O eyes, no eyes’, etc.) of their favourite purple passages from Thomas Kyd’s The Spanish Tragedy. The London flavour of the satire is enhanced by the fact that these would-be gallants are playgoers of questionable taste and avid students of the latest fashion in sonneteering.
Topical immediacy in the play touches on religion, as when Kitely assures himself that his servant, Cash, is neither ‘precisian’, that is, a reformer, or Roman Catholic (3.3.88–9). Cob’s complaint about ‘some fishmonger’s son’ who enforces fasting days on ‘Ember weeks and villainous Fridays’, found in both quarto and folio texts, takes on explicit local meaning when transferred to London; whether or not this is a dig at Lord Burghley as the author of ‘Cecil’s fast’, the sour jokes about unpopular legislation designed to support a sagging fishing industry would have struck London spectators as pointedly contemporary. Coinage is at times idiosyncratically English: the ‘pieces of eight’ coined in Elizabeth’s reign for trade with the Spanish colonies (2.1.6), ‘cracked three-farthings’ infamous for their thin and brittle quality (2.1.66), angels or gold coins worth about 10s. each (2.3.39; ‘crowns’ in the quarto), shove-groat shillings that were filed smooth for use in the game of shovel-board (and were certainly not a part of the scene in Florence, despite the presence of this detail in the quarto text at 3.2.11). Military ranks, such as sergeant-major and lieutenant-colonel, are English (3.5.16–17). So are a number of mythic or historical allusions to such figures as Roger Bacon (1.4.19), although, oddly, Morglay (from the enormously popular tale of Sir Bevis of Hampton) and Excalibur (from Arthurian legend) are to be found in the quarto text as well. Evidence is not hard to find that Jonson wanted his audiences to see analogies and direct links to England even in the Florentine setting of the quarto version.
The prologue is a striking addition in the folio text. One reason that one would like to date the revision as accurately as possible is that the prologue is a major literary and theatrical manifesto. Yet Jonson need not have written the prologue when he did the rest of the revision, and that revision itself need not have been completed all at one time. The new prologue might have seemed arrogant and out of place at court in 1605 (not that Jonson always avoided the appearance of being arrogant). As a piece for the 1616 edition of Jonson’s works, on the other hand, it makes sense as a manifesto for the volume as a whole. It stands in pride of place at the head of the volume. The considerations that argue in favour of some early revision do not apply to the prologue. It could well be Jonson’s brief summation of his literary creed after he had written Volpone, Epicene, and The Alchemist.
The prologue identifies Jonson as critical heir to Sir Philip Sidney’s Defence of Poesy (written 1582). Like Sidney, Jonson deplores the romantic drama so prevalent on the London stage of the 1580s and continuing on into the 1600s, featuring characters who have aged from infancy to old age and pitched battles that are pathetically mimed by a few actors with rusty swords. Jonson may be inviting his audience, and, importantly, his readers, to think of a number of plays, from Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus (in which the adult lifespan of the protagonist is represented) to The Conquest of the West Indies and Siege of Dunkirk, with Alleyn the Pirate (both of them lost history plays for the Admiral’s Men in 1601 and 1603). Unavoidably, though, his criticism seems directed especially at Shakespeare. The reference to ‘York and Lancaster’s long jars’ must refer to Shakespeare’s English history plays, especially the early four-play sequence from 1 Henry Ⅵ to Richard Ⅲ. The Chorus who offendingly ‘wafts you o’er the seas’ (15) must have been understood as a swipe at Henry V.
This prologue is crucial to our understanding of Jonson’s sense of who he was as a dramatist, indeed, because it is here that he defines himself as being essentially unlike Shakespeare. He, Jonson, will have no sound effects of storms in his theatre such as are to be found in King Lear. (Jonson probably could not have alluded to that famous storm in early 1605, but he could have done so in a volume published in 1616.) Instead, the author declares, his plays will employ ‘deeds and language such as men do use’ and ‘persons such as Comedy would choose’ (21–2). The best dramatic art, in this view, offers to its audiences a realistic mirror of human society. The best dramatic art observes decorum in genres: comedy, as defined and exemplified by the best of ancient writers, must ‘sport with human follies, not with crimes’ (24). It does not mix the lofty and the ludicrous, any more than it mixes humans and invisible spirits, or ‘men’ and ‘monsters’ (30). The best comedy satirizes human folly, inviting its audience to laugh at ‘errors’ (26) and thereby learn to eschew ridiculous behaviour. Comedy rubs salt in the wound in order to be curative. Jonson says many of these same things in his prologues to Volpone, Epicene, and The Alchemist, the Induction to Bartholomew Fair, and else-where. The Prologue to Every Man In is integral to Jonson’s defence of his art.
Jonson dedicated Every Man In to William Camden. This is another feature that significantly distinguishes the quarto from the folio text. Camden had been Jonson’s teacher. The younger man looked up to his master as a model of humane learning. In a tone so often characteristic of him, Jonson inveighs against the ‘supercilious race’ of carping critics who will accuse him of presumption. He deplores their ‘ignorance’ and the ‘crying down of poetry’ and its practitioners, as he does in his play. Yet surprisingly, Jonson deletes, in his folio version of Act 5, a long quarto passage in which Lorenzo Junior laments the decline of poetry and complains of ‘the fat judgements of the multitude’ in ‘this barren and infected age’ (Q, 5.3.260–91). Riddell (1997b) argues on bibliographical grounds that shortening may have been necessary because the compositors, given exactly six quires for this play, which was for the most part the very last one to have been printed, ran out of space; and, although some white space does remain in the final pages of the folio EMI, Jonson does seem to have made a extraordinarily large number of cuts in his text after sig. F4. Literary reasons for the excisions are also plausible: Jonson may have felt that he could offer his defence of poetry more effectively, in the folio text, at the very start of his play and indeed of the entire volume. That is where we find the dedication to Camden and prologue’s spirited manifesto.
For all the changes from quarto to folio in setting and characters’ names, and despite the multitudinous changes in wording, with several sizable cuts and additions, the storyline of EMI remains much the same in the revised text as in the original. The characters, too, are substantially true to themselves, as is perhaps to be expected of a ‘humours’ comedy. Even so, the chance to revise did give Jonson the opportunity to rethink issues of fairness and compassion. Old Knowell is made a more forgiving figure than his counterpart in the quarto; Jonson adds in the folio text a speech for Old Knowell forgiving Musco for his knavery because, as the old man says, ‘I love not to have my favours come hard from me’ (F1, 5.3.60). Conversely, Lorenzo Senior berates his son harshly in the final scene of the quarto text, saying, ‘Well, son Lorenzo, this day’s work of yours hath much deceived my hopes, troubled my peace, and stretched my patience further than became the spirit of duty’ (Q, 5.3.203–5). The speech has no equivalent in F1. To be sure, the father ultimately gives in to a spirit of ‘general content’ (Q, 5.3.371), but the charitableness is more hardly won. In a similar vein, the folio’s Kitely is more ready to forgive his wife and concede his own folly of jealous fear than in the quarto; in a fine speech not found in Q, he concedes that he has ‘learned so much verse out of a jealous man’s part in a play’ (F1, 5.5.70). Clement is genially inclined in both texts to toast his company in cups of wine (as at F1, 5.3.56, 82, and 91–2) and to appreciate a good jest, but Justice Clement is more inclined than Doctor Clement to savour the important distinctions between good and bad poets (F1, 5.5.31–7). The humiliating punishments he hands out Bobadilla and Matheo in the quarto text (5.3.297–312) are cut from the folio, and the absence of an exit for these fools prior to the general exeunt in the folio text leaves open the possibility of a more accommodating finale, even if these figures of ridicule are not to be invited to the feast.
The folio text of EMI was set up from a copy of the quarto of 1601 that had been worked over by Jonson with handwritten corrections. Evidence for use of the quarto is to be found in a few instances where F1 follows Q erroneously. In three cases it copies Q’s attempts to render prose as verse. Compare, for example,
(Q, 1.4.139–40)What Cob? our maides will haue you by the back (Ifaith)
For comming so late this morning.
with
(F1, 2.3.1–2)WHat, Cob? our maides will haue you by the back (Ifaith)
For comming so late this morning.
So also F1, 4.5.1–2 (Q, 3.6.1–2) and F1, 5.1.7–8 (Q, 5.3.7–8). Similarly, Q’s inappropriate use of a question mark is followed thrice by F1: e.g. ‘No truly sir?’ (Q, 3.2.54), ‘No truely, sir?’ (F1, 3.5.57), and also at F1, 4.9.53 (‘here’s my iewell?) and 5.3.3 (‘A gentleman, sir?’) Conversely, F1 follows Q in using a full stop instead of the expected question mark at 2.3.36 (‘Sweet heart, will you come in, to breakefast.’), 3.1.124, 3.2.36, and 4.11.11, even when the sentence itself is altered in revision: ‘Musco, s’bloud what winde hath blowne thee hither in this shape.’ (Q, 2.3.175), ‘Brayne-Worme! S’light, what breath of a coniurer, hath blowne thee hither in this shape.’ (F1, 3.2.35–6).
Most of EMI was set into type late in the printing of the 1616 folio; indeed all of this play after 1.3.100 was printed only after all of the other plays of the 1616 edition had gone through the press and the printer was at work on the next section of the folio devoted to the Epigrams (Riddell, 1997b). Quite possibly some revision was still in progress, as indicated above. Although the folio as a whole generally features an unusually large number of stop-press corrections, such is not the case with this play. Only a handful of corrections (at the dedication subtitle; 1.2.3, 9, 92, and 110; 1.3.12; 4.2.38, 39, and 102; and 5.3.68) occur, all of them unproblematic. Jonson seems to have been involved in proofing and correcting. See Textual Essay in the Electronic Edition for an expanded account.
EVERY MAN IN HIS HUMOUR TO THE MOST
LEARNED, AND
MY HONOURED
FRIEND,
Master Camden, Clarenceux
Sir,
conspired with my disposition as it could have brought forth other or better, you
to accept this, such wherein neither the confession of my manners shall make you 10
blush nor of my studies repent you to have been the instructor; and for the profession
of my thankfulness, I am sure it will with good men find either praise or
excuse.
The Persons of the Play
- KNOWELL
-
an old gentleman
- WELLBRED
-
his half-brother
- ROGER FORMAL
-
his clerk
- [THOMAS] KITELY
-
a merchant
- DAME KITELY
-
his wife [Wellbred’s sister] 10
- [THOMAS] CASH
-
Kitely’s man
- [SERVANTS and ATTENDANTS]
Prologue
Though need make many poets, and some such
As art and nature have not bettered much,
As he dare serve th’ill customs of the age,
Or purchase your delight at such a rate 5
As, for it, he himself must justly hate:
Man, and then shoot up in one beard and weed
He rather prays you will be pleased to see
One such today as other plays should be:
To say it thunders, nor tempestuous drum
Rumbles, to tell you when the storm doth come; 20
And persons such as Comedy would choose
When she would show an image of the times,
I mean such errors as you’ll all confess,
By laughing at them, they deserve no less –
Which, when you heartily do, there’s hope left then
BRAINWORM
I will, sir, presently.
KNOWELL
How happy yet should I esteem myself
From one vain course of study he affects!
He is a scholar, if a man may trust 10
Fed with the self-same humour he is now,
That fruitless and unprofitable art,
Which then I thought the mistress of all knowledge;
But since, time and the truth have waked my judgement,
And reason taught me better to distinguish
STEPHEN
Nothing but e’en come to see how you do, uncle.
KNOWELL
Oh, well, coz. Go in and see. I doubt he be scarce stirring yet. 30
KNOWELL
Oh, most ridiculous!
STEPHEN
Nay, look you now, you are angry, uncle. Why, you know, an a man
have not skill in the hawking and hunting languages nowadays, I’ll not give a
with none but the archers of Finsbury, or the citizens that come a-ducking to
a gentleman. Uncle, I pray you be not angry. I know what I have to do, I trow; 45
I am no novice.
Nay, never look at me; it’s I that speak.
Take’t as you will, sir, I’ll not flatter you.
That which your friends have left you, but you must
And know not how to keep it when you ha’ done?
Well, cousin, well, I see you are e’en past hope 55
Of all reclaim. Ay, so, now you are told on it,
You look another way.
STEPHEN
What would you ha’ me do?
KNOWELL
What would I have you do? I’ll tell you, kinsman:
Learn to be wise and practise how to thrive,
That would I have you do, and not to spend 60
Or every foolish brain that humours you.
I would not have you to invade each place,
Nor thrust yourself on all societies,
Till men’s affections or your own desert 65
Nor would I you should melt away yourself
A little puff of scorn extinguish it
Whose property is only to offend.
Not that your sail be bigger than your boat;
But moderate your expenses now at first,
As you may keep the same proportion still;
Nor stand so much on your gentility,
Which is an airy and mere borrowed thing 80
From dead men’s dust and bones, and none of yours
welcome, and I assure you mine uncle here is a man of a thousand a year,
Middlesex land. He has but one son in all the world; I am his next heir at the
there’s hope he will. I have a pretty living o’mine own, too, beside, hard by
here.
SERVANT
Not I, sir.
SERVANT
Why, sir, let this satisfy you: good faith, I had no such intent. 15
STEPHEN
Sir, an I thought you had, I would talk with you, and that presently.
SERVANT
Good Master Stephen, so you may, sir, at your pleasure.
KNOWELL
Cousin, cousin, will this ne’er be left?
If you cannot be quiet, get you hence! 25
Go, get you in! ’Fore heaven, I am ashamed
SERVANT
I pray you, sir, is this Master Knowell’s house?
SERVANT
I should inquire for a gentleman here, one Master Edward Knowell. 35
Do you know any such, sir, I pray you?
KNOWELL
I should forget myself else, sir.
[He gives a letter.]
SERVANT
One Master Wellbred, sir.
KNOWELL
Master Wellbred! A young gentleman, is he not? 45
KNOWELL
You say very true. – Brainworm!
BRAINWORM
Sir?
KNOWELL
Make this honest friend drink here.
This letter is directed to my son.
Yet I am Edward Knowell too, and may
With the safe conscience of good manners use
The fellow’s error to my satisfaction.
Well, I will break it ope – old men are curious – 55
Be it but for the style’s sake and the phrase,
Who is almost grown the idolater
Of this young Wellbred. [He opens the letter.] What have we here? What’s this?
over his green apricots evening and morning o’the north-west wall. An I had 65
been his son, I had saved him the labour long since, if taking in all the young
I know not what he may be in the arts,
Nor what in schools, but surely for his manners
I judge him a profane and dissolute wretch,
Being the master of so loose a spirit. 85
Why, what unhallowed ruffian would have writ
In such a scurrilous manner to a friend?
No argument or subject from their jest.
But I perceive affection makes a fool 95
Of any man too much the father. – Brainworm!
BRAINWORM
Sir?
KNOWELL
Is the fellow gone that brought this letter?
BRAINWORM
Yes, sir, a pretty while since.
KNOWELL
And where’s your young master? 100
BRAINWORM
In his chamber, sir.
KNOWELL
He spake not with the fellow, did he?
BRAINWORM
No, sir, he saw him not.
KNOWELL
[Giving the letter] Take you this letter and deliver it my son,
But with no notice that I have opened it, on your life. 105
The unbridled course of youth in him, for that,
Who, ne’er so little from his game withheld,
Turns head and leaps up at his holder’s throat.
There is a way of winning more by love,
Force works on servile natures, not the free.
He that’s compelled to goodness may be good,
By softness and example, get a habit.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Did he open it, sayest thou?
BRAINWORM
Yes, o’my word, sir, and read the contents.
BRAINWORM
Nay, sir, I saw him not read it, nor open it, I assure Your Worship. 5
EDWARD KNOWELL
No? How know’st thou then that he did either?
BRAINWORM
Marry, sir, because he charged me on my life to tell nobody that
he opened it, which, unless he had done, he would never fear to have it
revealed.
BRAINWORM
Yes, Master Stephen, what of him?
STEPHEN
Gone? Which way? When went he? How long since?
STEPHEN
But I ha’ no boots, that’s the spite on’t.
STEPHEN
By my faith, and so I will, now thou tell’st me on’t. How dost thou
like my leg, Brainworm? 30
BRAINWORM
You have an excellent good leg, Master Stephen, but I cannot
stay to praise it longer now, and I am very sorry for’t.
STEPHEN
[Aside] ’Slid, I hope he laughs not at me. An he do –
EDWARD KNOWELL
[Oblivious still of Stephen’s presence] Here was a letter indeed,
to be intercepted by a man’s father, and do him good with him! He cannot but
such a minute of his patience; then we had known the end of it, which now
is doubtful, and threatens – [Noticing Stephen, but not speaking to him] What, my
STEPHEN
[Aside] Oh, now I see who he laughed at: he laughed at somebody in
that letter. By this good light, an he had laughed at me –
STEPHEN
Yes, a little. I thought you had laughed at me, cousin.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Why, what an I had, coz? What would you ha’ done? 60
EDWARD KNOWELL
Nay, if you would ha’ told your uncle, I did laugh at you,
coz.
STEPHEN
Did you, indeed?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Yes, indeed. 65
STEPHEN
Why, then –
EDWARD KNOWELL
What then?
STEPHEN
I am satisfied; it is sufficient.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Why, be so, gentle coz. And, I pray you, let me entreat
a courtesy of you. I am sent for this morning by a friend i’the Old Jewry to 70
state, coz.
EDWARD KNOWELL
No, no, you shall not protest, coz.
EDWARD KNOWELL
You speak very well, coz. 80
STEPHEN
Nay, not so, neither, you shall pardon me; but I speak to serve my
turn.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Your turn, coz? Do you know what you say? A gentleman
to use a more fit metaphor, so tinfoiled by nature, as not ten housewives’
pewter again’ a good time shows more bright to the world than he! And he –
as I said last, so I say again, and still shall say it – this man, to conceal such 90
world again. Come, wrong not the quality of your desert with looking downward,
coz, but hold up your head, so; and let the idea of what you are be 95
STEPHEN
Why, I do think of it, and I will be more proud and melancholy and
gentleman-like than I have been, I’ll ensure you. 100
STEPHEN
I’ll follow you. 105
COB
Who’s there? Oh, Master Matthew! Gi’ Your Worship good morrow.
MATTHEW
What, Cob? How dost thou, good Cob? Dost thou inhabit here, Cob?
belly, no worse man; and yet no man neither – by Your Worship’s leave, I did
monarchs o’the world, I assure you. The first red herring that was broiled in
MATTHEW
Why mighty? Why mighty, I pray thee?
COB
Oh, it was a mighty while ago, sir, and a mighty great cob.
MATTHEW
How know’st thou that?
COB
How know I? Why, I smell his ghost ever and anon. 15
MATTHEW
Smell a ghost? Oh, unsavoury jest! And the ghost of a herring cob!
COB
Oh, my guest, sir, you mean?
MATTHEW
Thy guest? Alas! Ha, ha! 25
COB
Why do you laugh, sir? Do you not mean Captain Bobadill?
COB
I will not give it him, though, sir. Mass, I thought somewhat was in’t; we
could not get him to bed all night. Well, sir, though he lie not o’my bed, he lies
o’my bench; an’t please you to go up, sir, you shall find him with two cushions
tonight.
MATTHEW
Why, was he drunk?
some such device, sir. I have nothing to do withal; I deal with water and not
with wine. [Calling offstage] Gi’ me my tankard there, ho! – God b’wi’you, sir. 40
It’s six o’clock; I should ha’ carried two turns by this. [Calling offstage] What ho!
COB
What, Tib, show this gentleman up to the Captain. 45
and so forth, and now does he creep and wriggle into acquaintance with
house where I serve water, one Master Kitely’s, i’the Old Jewry; and here’s the
jest, he is in love with my master’s sister, Mistress Bridget, and calls her ‘mistress’.
same abominable, vile – a pox on ’em, I cannot abide them! – rascally verses, 55
do so much to me, I’d forswear them all, by the foot of Pharaoh. There’s an
oath! How many waterbearers shall you hear swear such an oath? Oh, I have
and a soldier’ – such dainty oaths! And withal he does take this same filthy,
roguish tobacco, the finest and cleanliest. It would do a man good to see the
him out of her purse by sixpence a time, besides his lodging. I would I had it. 65
BOBADILL
Hostess! Hostess!
TIB
What say you, sir?
TIB
Sir, there’s a gentleman below would speak with you.
TIB
My husband told him you were, sir.
TIB
[At the door, calling as though down to Matthew] He would desire you to come
up, sir.
You come into a cleanly house here.
MATTHEW
Save you, sir. Save you, Captain.
BOBADILL
Gentle Master Matthew, is it you, sir? Please you sit down. 15
MATTHEW
Vouchsafe me by whom, good Captain.
BOBADILL
Marry, by young Wellbred and others. – Why, hostess, a stool here 20
for this gentleman.
MATTHEW
No haste, sir, ’tis very well.
BOBADILL
Body of me! It was so late ere we parted last night I can scarce open
my eyes yet; I was but new risen as you came. How passes the day abroad, sir?
You can tell. 25
MATTHEW
Faith, some half hour to seven. Now trust me, you have an exceeding
fine lodging here, very neat and private.
MATTHEW
Who I, sir? No.
MATTHEW
True, Captain, I conceive you.
MATTHEW
Ay, did you ever see it acted? Is’t not well penned?
with tears!’ ‘O life, no life, but lively form of death!’ Another! ‘O world, no
world, but mass of public wrongs!’ A third! ‘Confused and filled with murder
and misdeeds.’ A fourth! O the muses! Is’t not excellent? Is’t not simply the 50
best that ever you heard, Captain? Ha? How do you like it?
BOBADILL
’Tis good.
BOBADILL
So, so. It’s the fashion gentlemen now use.
elder brother and I are fall’n out exceedingly. This other day I happened to
saw. 70
BOBADILL
Squire Downright, the half-brother, was’t not?
MATTHEW
Ay, sir, he.
to make hobnails of. 80
BOBADILL
How? He the bastinado? How came he by that word, trow?
MATTHEW
Nay, indeed, he said ‘cudgel’ me. I termed it so for my more grace.
BOBADILL
That may be, for I was sure it was none of his word. But when? When 85
said he so?
MATTHEW
Faith, yesterday, they say. A young gallant, a friend of mine, told
me so.
BOBADILL
By the foot of Pharaoh, an ’twere my case now, I should send him
will, by this air.
BOBADILL
Of whom? Of whom ha’ you heard it, I beseech you?
BOBADILL
By heaven, no, not I, no skill i’the earth; some small rudiments i’the
and gentlemen’s use than mine own practice, I assure you. [Calling offstage]
poniard maintain your defence thus.
So, sir, come on. 110
[They engage in fencing practice.]
Oh, twine your body more about, that you may fall to a more sweet, comely,
gentleman-like guard. [Another pass.] So, indifferent. Hollow your body more,
sir, thus. [He demonstrates.] Now stand fast o’your left leg. Note your distance;
keep your due proportion of time. [Matthew tries it.] Oh, you disorder your
point most irregularly! 115
MATTHEW
[Trying again] How is the bearing of it now, sir?
BOBADILL
Oh, out of measure ill! A well-experienced hand would pass upon
you at pleasure.
MATTHEW
How mean you, sir, ‘pass upon’ me?
MATTHEW
Well, come, sir.
[They fence again.]
BOBADILL
Why, you do not manage your weapon with any facility or grace to
invite me. I have no spirit to play with you; your dearth of judgement renders 125
you tedious.
BOBADILL
‘Venue’? Fie! Most gross denomination as ever I heard. Oh, the
stoccata, while you live, sir. Note that. Come, put on your cloak, and we’ll go
to some private place where you are acquainted, some tavern or so, and have a 130
and then I will teach you your trick. You shall kill him with it at the first, if you
please. Why, I will learn you, by the true judgement of the eye, hand, and foot,
to control any enemy’s point i’the world. Should your adversary confront you
with a pistol, ’twere nothing, by this hand; you should, by the same rule, control 135
MATTHEW
Faith, I ha’ not past a two shillings or so.
BOBADILL
’Tis somewhat with the least. But come. We will have a bunch of
the stomach, and then we’ll call upon young Wellbred. Perhaps we shall meet
KITELY
Thomas, come hither.
There lies a note within upon my desk;
Here, take my key. It is no matter, neither.
Where is the boy?
CASH
Within, sir, i’the warehouse.
DOWNRIGHT
Ay, what of him?
KITELY
He is a jewel, brother.
And christened him, gave him mine own name: Thomas; 15
And giv’n him, who had none, a surname: Cash;
And find him in his place so full of faith 20
That I durst trust my life into his hands.
DOWNRIGHT
You are too tedious. Come to the matter, the matter.
KITELY
Then, without further ceremony, thus:
My brother Wellbred, sir, I know not how,
Of late is much declined in what he was
And greatly altered in his disposition. 40
When he came first to lodge here in my house,
Ne’er trust me if I were not proud of him.
Methought he bare himself in such a fashion,
And – what was chief – it showed not borrowed in him, 45
But all he did became him as his own,
As breath with life or colour with the blood.
But now his course is so irregular,
And he himself withal so far fall’n off
From that first place, as scarce no note remains
To tell men’s judgements where he lately stood.
He’s grown a stranger to all due respect,
Forgetful of his friends, and, not content 55
A theatre, a public receptacle
For giddy humour and diseasèd riot.
And here, as in a tavern or a stews, 60
He and his wild associates spend their hours
In repetition of lascivious jests,
Swear, leap, drink, dance, and revel night by night,
Control my servants, and indeed what not?
flesh that’s bred i’the bone. I have told him enough, one would think, if that
would serve. But counsel to him is as good as a shoulder of mutton to a sick
and domineer till his heart ache. An he think to be relieved by me when he is 70
halfpenny ere I part with’t to fetch him out, I’ll assure him.
KITELY
Nay, good brother, let it not trouble you thus.
KITELY
Oh, there are divers reasons to dissuade, brother.
But, would yourself vouchsafe to travail in it,
It would both come much better to his sense
You are his elder brother, and that title
Both gives and warrants you authority,
Which, by your presence seconded, must breed 85
A kind of duty in him and regard;
Whereas if I should intimate the least,
It would but add contempt to his neglect,
Heap worse on ill, make up a pile of hatred,
That in the rearing would come tott’ring down 90
And in the ruin bury all our love.
Nay, more than this, brother: if I should speak,
And overflowing of the vapour in him
With the false breath of telling what disgraces
And low disparagements I had put upon him;
Make their loose comments upon every word,
Gesture, or look I use; mock me all over, 100
And out of all their impetuous riotous fant’sies
Beget some slander that shall dwell with me.
And what would that be, think you? Marry, this:
They would give out, because my wife is fair, 105
Myself but lately married, and my sister
Here sojourning a virgin in my house,
That I were jealous! Nay, as sure as death,
My brother purposely, thereby to find 110
An apt pretext to banish them my house.
MATTHEW
[To Bobadill] I will speak to him –
BOBADILL
[To Matthew] Speak to him? Away, by the foot of Pharaoh! You shall
not, you shall not do him that grace. [To Kitely] The time of day to you, gentleman
o’the house. Is Master Wellbred stirring?
DOWNRIGHT
How then? What should he do? 5
KITELY
He came not to his lodging tonight, sir, I assure you.
DOWNRIGHT
[To Bobadill] Why, do you hear? You!
[He starts to leave.]
KITELY
[Restraining him] Nay, brother Downright.
DOWNRIGHT
Ha! ‘Scavenger’? Well, go to. I say little, but by this good day – 15
God forgive me I should swear – if I put it up so, say I am the rankest cow
that ever pissed! ’Sdeynes, an I swallow this, I’ll ne’er draw my sword in the
cannot carry it away so.
KITELY
Oh, do not fret yourself thus! Never think on’t.
one after another, and begin with him first. I am grieved it should be said
i’faith.
Run in an easy current, not o’er-high
Carried with rashness or devouring choler;
But rather use the soft, persuading way,
Whose powers will work more gently, and compose
Th’imperfect thoughts you labour to reclaim, 35
More winning than enforcing the consent.
DOWNRIGHT
Ay, ay, let me alone for that, I warrant you.
KITELY
Well, yet my troubled spirit’s somewhat eased, 5
Though not reposed in that security
As I could wish. But I must be content.
Howe’er I set a face on’t to the world,
So Wellbred had ne’er lodged within my house! 10
Of wanton gallants and young revellers,
That any woman should be honest long.
Against her single peace? No, no. Beware
It is no slow conspiracy that follows.
Well, to be plain, if I but thought the time
Had answered their affections, all the world
Should not persuade me but I were a cuckold.
Marry, I hope they ha’ not got that start; 25
For opportunity hath balked ’em yet,
And shall do still, while I have eyes and ears
My presence shall be as an iron bar
Shall check occasion, as one doth his slave
KITELY
[Aside] An she have overheard me now!
DAME KITELY
What ail you, sweetheart? Are you not well? Speak, good muss.
KITELY
Troth, my head aches extremely on a sudden.
DAME KITELY
[Feeling his forehead] Oh, the Lord!
KITELY
How now? What?
KITELY
[Aside] How simple and how subtle are her answers!
A new disease, and many troubled with it!
Why, true, she heard me, all the world to nothing. 50
KITELY
A new disease? I know not new or old,
But it may well be called poor mortals’ plague,
For like a pestilence it doth infect
Solely to work upon the fantasy, 60
Filling her seat with such pestiferous air
As soon corrupts the judgement; and from thence
Sends like contagion to the memory,
Still each to other giving the infection,
Which, as a subtle vapour, spreads itself 65
Till not a thought or motion in the mind
In such extremes! Well, I will once more strive,
In spite of this black cloud, myself to be,
BRAINWORM
’Slid, I cannot choose but laugh to see myself translated thus,
from a poor creature to a creator; for now must I create an intolerable sort of
that outwardly in vilest estimation that inwardly is most dear to us. So much 5
know – have got me afore in this disguise, determining here to lie in ambuscado
and intercept him in the midway. If I can but get his cloak, his purse, his hat –
say with Captain Caesar; I am made for ever, i’faith. Well, now must I practise
true counterfeit man of war and no soldier!
[Brainworm stands aside.]
EDWARD KNOWELL
[To Stephen] So, sir, and how then, coz?
EDWARD KNOWELL
How, lost your purse? Where? When had you it? 20
STEPHEN
I cannot tell. – Stay!
BRAINWORM
[Aside] ’Slid, I am afeard they will know me. Would I could get by
them!
EDWARD KNOWELL
What, ha’ you it?
STEPHEN
No, I think I was bewitched, I – 25
EDWARD KNOWELL
Nay, do not weep the loss. Hang it, let it go.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Most excellent!
EDWARD KNOWELL
How, ‘by Saint Peter’? I do not conceive that.
BRAINWORM
[Aside] I cannot take leave on ’em so; I will venture, come what
will. – Gentlemen, please you change a few crowns for a very excellent good
blade here? I am a poor gentleman, a soldier, one that in the better state of my
fortunes scorned so mean a refuge, but now it is the humour of necessity to 45
have it so. You seem to be gentlemen well affected to martial men, else I should
rather die with silence than live with shame. However, vouchsafe to remember
it is my want speaks, not myself. This condition agrees not with my spirit –
EDWARD KNOWELL
Where hast thou served?
Dalmatia, Poland – where not, sir? I have been a poor servitor by sea and land
any time this fourteen years, and followed the fortunes of the best commanders
slave in the galleys thrice, where I was most dangerously shot in the head, 55
through both the thighs; and yet, being thus maimed, I am void of maintenance,
nothing left me but my scars, the noted marks of my resolution.
STEPHEN
[Examining Brainworm’s sword] How will you sell this rapier, friend?
BRAINWORM
Generous sir, I refer it to your own judgement. You are a
gentleman; give me what you please. 60
BRAINWORM
I assure you, the blade may become the side or thigh of the best
prince in Europe.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Ay, with a velvet scabbard, I think. 65
EDWARD KNOWELL
Come, come, you shall not buy it. [To Brainworm, offering him a coin]
Hold, there’s a shilling, fellow. Take thy rapier.
EDWARD KNOWELL
You may buy one in the city.
EDWARD KNOWELL
You shall not buy it, I say.
STEPHEN
By this money, but I will, though I give more than ’tis worth. 80
EDWARD KNOWELL
Come away. You are a fool.
STEPHEN
Friend, I am a fool, that’s granted; but I’ll have it for that word’s sake.
[To Brainworm] Follow me for your money.
Of manners and the breeding of our youth
Within the kingdom since myself was one.
Durst have conceived a scorn and uttered it
A certain reverence paid unto his years
The sanctity of some prevailed for others.
And age from that which bred it, good example.
That did destroy the hopes in our own children, 15
And sucked in our ill customs with their milk.
Ere all their teeth be born, or they can speak,
We form their tongues with are licentious jests. 20
But this is in the infancy, the days 25
No, no, this dye does deeper than the coat,
Note what we fathers do: look how we live,
What mistresses we keep, at what expense
Hear our lascivious courtships, see our dalliance, 35
In which we spoil our own with leading them.
Well, I thank heaven I never yet was he
To my sharp boy at twelve, repeating still
No matter by what means; money will do 50
His palate should degenerate, not his manners.
My son, I hope, hath met within my threshold
None of these household precedents, which are strong
But, let the house at home be ne’er so clean-
Swept, or kept sweet from filth – nay, dust and cobwebs –
KNOWELL
I have not for you now.
BRAINWORM
By the faith I bear unto truth, gentleman, it is no ordinary custom
in me, but only to preserve manhood. I protest to you, a man I have been,
a man I may be, by your sweet bounty.
KNOWELL
Nay, an you be so importunate –
BRAINWORM
Oh, tender sir, need will have his course. I was not made to this 80
vile use. Well, the edge of the enemy could not have abated me so much.
It’s hard when a man hath served in his prince’s cause and be thus –
a pagan else, sweet Honour.
KNOWELL
Believe me, I am taken with some wonder
To think a fellow of thy outward presence
Should, in the frame and fashion of his mind,
Be so degenerate and sordid-base. 90
Art thou a man? And sham’st thou not to beg?
To practise such a servile kind of life?
Why, were thy education ne’er so mean,
Having thy limbs, a thousand fairer courses
Offer themselves to thy election. 95
Either the wars might still supply thy wants,
Or service of some virtuous gentleman,
Or honest labour. Nay, what can I name
But would become thee better than to beg?
But men of thy condition feed on sloth, 100
Is eaten with the rust of idleness.
Relieve a person of thy quality, 105
I would esteem the sin not thine, but his.
BRAINWORM
Faith, sir, I would gladly find some other course, if so –
KNOWELL
Ay, you’d gladly find it, but you will not seek it.
KNOWELL
What’s thy name?
KNOWELL
Fitzsword? 115
Say that a man should entertain thee now;
Wouldst thou be honest, humble, just, and true?
BRAINWORM
Sir, by the place and honour of a soldier –
BRAINWORM
Nothing, sir, but wish my fortunes were as happy as my service
should be honest.
KNOWELL
Well, follow me. I’ll prove thee, if thy deeds
Will carry a proportion to thy words.
Oh, that my belly were hooped now! For I am ready to burst with laughing.
betray himself thus? Now shall I be possessed of all his counsels, and, by that
I am resolved to prove his patience. Oh, I shall abuse him intolerably! This 130
at an instant. Why, this is better than to have stayed his journey. Well, I’ll follow 135
MATTHEW
[To Wellbred] Yes, faith, sir, we were at your lodging to seek you too.
BOBADILL
Your brother delivered us as much.
WELLBRED
Who, my brother Downright?
WELLBRED
Sir, I must hear no ill words of my brother.
BOBADILL
With your leave, sir, an there were no more men living upon the face
of the earth, I should not fancy him, by Saint George.
MATTHEW
I understand you, sir.
WELLBRED
No question you do or you do not, sir. – Ned Knowell! By my soul,
welcome! How dost thou, sweet spirit, my genius? ’Slid, I shall love Apollo and 20
there’s some love in thee. [Wellbred and Edward Knowell converse privately between themselves.]
Sirrah, these be the two [Indicating Bobadill and Matthew] I writ to
thee of. Nay, what a drowsy humour is this now? Why dost thou not speak?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Oh, you are a fine gallant! You sent me a rare letter. 25
WELLBRED
Why, was’t not rare?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Yes, I’ll be sworn I was ne’er guilty of reading the like;
no ordinary beast that brought it.
WELLBRED
Why?
WELLBRED
’Slid, you jest, I hope.
EDWARD KNOWELL
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 o’your flourishing style
some hour before I saw it.
WELLBRED
What a dull slave was this! But sirrah, what said he to it, i’faith? 40
EDWARD KNOWELL
Nay, I know not what he said; but I have a shrewd guess
what he thought.
WELLBRED
What? What?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Marry, that thou art some strange, dissolute young fellow,
and I a grain or two better for keeping thee company. 45
WELLBRED
Tut, that thought is like the moon in her last quarter; ’twill change
instruments. I’ll wind ’em up. But [Gesturing towards Stephen] what strange
WELLBRED
Oh, what is’t? What is’t?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Nay, I’ll neither do your judgement nor his folly that
wrong as to prepare your apprehension; I’ll leave him to the mercy o’your 55
search. If you can take him, so.
[Wellbred and Edward Knowell join the others.]
STEPHEN
My name is Master Stephen, sir. I am this gentleman’s own cousin,
sir; his father is mine uncle, sir. I am somewhat melancholy, but you shall command
me, sir, in whatsoever is incident to a gentleman.
STEPHEN
Ay, truly, sir, I am mightily given to melancholy. 70
MATTHEW
Oh, it’s your only fine humour, sir. Your true melancholy breeds
your perfect fine wit, sir. I am melancholy myself divers times, sir, and then
do I no more but take pen and paper presently, and overflow you half a score
or a dozen of sonnets at a sitting.
EDWARD KNOWELL
[Aside to Wellbred] I’faith, better than in measure, I’ll
undertake.
MATTHEW
[To Stephen] Why, I pray you, sir, make use of my study. It’s at your
service. 80
MATTHEW
That I have, sir, and some papers there of mine own doing at idle
hours, that you’ll say there’s some sparks of wit in ’em when you see them.
STEPHEN
[To Edward Knowell] Cousin, is it well? Am I melancholy enough?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Oh, ay, excellent.
WELLBRED
Captain Bobadill, why muse you so?
EDWARD KNOWELL
[Aside to Wellbred] He is melancholy too. 90
EDWARD KNOWELL
In what place, Captain?
hours, seven hundred resolute gentlemen as any were in Europe lost their 95
lives upon the breach. I’ll tell you, gentlemen, it was the first but the best
call it? – last year by the Genoese; but that of all other was the most fatal and
dangerous exploit that ever I was ranged in since I first bore arms before the
face of the enemy, as I am a gentleman and soldier. 100
EDWARD KNOWELL
[To Bobadill] Then you were a servitor at both, it seems: at
Strigonium and What-do-you-call’t?
BOBADILL
Oh, Lord, sir! By Saint George, I was the first man that entered the 105
breach, and, had I not effected it with resolution, I had been slain if I had had
a million of lives.
STEPHEN
So I do.
BOBADILL
I assure you, upon my reputation, ’tis true, and yourself shall
confess.
’em pell-mell to the sword.
WELLBRED
To the sword? To the rapier, Captain.
most fortunate weapon that ever rid on poor gentleman’s thigh. Shall I tell
the boldlier maintain it.
STEPHEN
I mar’l whether it be a Toledo or no? 130
BOBADILL
A most perfect Toledo, I assure you, sir.
STEPHEN
I have a countryman of his here.
MATTHEW
Pray you, let’s see, sir. [Examining Stephen’s weapon] Yes, faith, it is!
BOBADILL
This a Toledo? Pish!
STEPHEN
Why do you ‘pish’, Captain? 135
WELLBRED
Where bought you it, Master Stephen?
STEPHEN
Of a scurvy rogue soldier, a hundred of lice go with him! He swore it 140
was a Toledo.
MATTHEW
Mass, I think it be, indeed, now I look on’t better.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Nay, the longer you look on’t, the worse. [To Stephen] Put
it up, put it up. 145
WELLBRED
Oh, it is past help now, sir. You must have patience.
STEPHEN
Whoreson, coney-catching rascal! I could eat the very hilts for anger!
EDWARD KNOWELL
A sign of good digestion! You have an ostrich stomach, 150
cousin.
STEPHEN
A stomach? Would I had him here! You should see an I had a stomach.
WELLBRED
It’s better as ’tis. – Come, gentlemen, shall we go?
EDWARD KNOWELL
[To Stephen] A miracle, cousin. Look here! Look here!
STEPHEN
[To Brainworm] Oh, God’s lid, by your leave, do you know me, sir?
BRAINWORM
Ay, sir. I know you by sight.
STEPHEN
You sold me a rapier, did you not?
BRAINWORM
Yes, marry, did I, sir. 5
STEPHEN
You said it was a Toledo, ha?
BRAINWORM
True, I did so.
STEPHEN
But it is none?
BRAINWORM
No, sir, I confess it, it is none.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Oh, cousin, forbear, forbear.
STEPHEN
Nay, I have done, cousin.
WELLBRED
Why, you have done like a gentleman. He has confessed it; what
would you more? 15
EDWARD KNOWELL
[Aside to Wellbred] Ay, ‘by his leave, he is,’ and ‘under
favour’ – a pretty piece of civility! Sirrah, how dost thou like him?
EDWARD KNOWELL
No, no, a child’s whistle were far the fitter.
BRAINWORM
[To Edward Knowell] Sir, shall I entreat a word with you?
EDWARD KNOWELL
With me, sir? You have not another Toledo to sell, ha’ you?
[He gives Edward Knowell a glimpse of his identity.]
EDWARD KNOWELL
My father?
EDWARD KNOWELL
[Inviting Wellbred to join them] Sirrah Wellbred, what shall
we do, sirrah? My father is come over after me.
WELLBRED
Thy father? Where is he?
WELLBRED
Who’s this? Brainworm?
BRAINWORM
The same, sir.
WELLBRED
Why, how i’the name of wit com’st thou transmuted thus?
BRAINWORM
Faith, a device, a device. Nay, for the love of reason, gentlemen, 50
and avoiding the danger, stand not here! Withdraw, and I’ll tell you all.
EDWARD KNOWELL
But art thou sure he will stay thy return?
BRAINWORM
Do I live, sir? What a question is that?
shalt go with us. [He calls to the others] Come on, gentlemen. [To Edward Knowell] 55
Nay, I pray thee, sweet Ned, droop not; ’heart, an our wits be so wretchedly
dull that one old, plodding brain can outstrip us all, would we were e’en
CASH
He will expect you, sir, within this half hour.
KITELY
Has he the money ready, can you tell?
CASH
Yes, sir. The money was brought in last night.
Stay, let me see: an hour to go and come,
Ay, that will be the least; and then ’twill be
An hour before I can dispatch with him,
Or very near. Well, I will say two hours.
Two hours? Ha? Things never dreamt of yet 10
May be contrived, ay, and effected too,
In two hours’ absence. Well, I will not go.
I will not give your subtlety that scope.
Who will not judge him worthy to be robbed 15
That sets his doors wide open to a thief
And shows the felon where his treasure lies?
Again, what earthy spirit but will attempt
I will not go. Business, go by for once.
To be left so, without a guard, or open.
Your lustre too’ll inflame at any distance,
Put motion in a stone, strike fire from ice,
For, give you opportunity, no quicksand
Devours or swallows swifter. He that lends 30
Compels her to be false. I will not go;
Within the city never were in safety 35
Nor will I go. I am resolved for that.
KITELY
That’s true. Fool on me! I had clean forgot it;
I must go. What’s o’clock?
KITELY
[Aside] Heart, then will Wellbred presently be here too, 45
With one or other of his loose consorts.
I am a knave if I know what to say,
What course to take, or which way to resolve.
Filling up time, but then are turned and turned,
Nay, I dare build upon his secrecy;
CASH
Sir? 55
KITELY
[Aside] Yet, now I have bethought me, too, I will not. –
Thomas, is Cob within?
CASH
I think he be, sir.
If I durst trust him; there is all the doubt. 60
Doth promise no such change. What should I fear, then?
Well, come what will, I’ll tempt my fortune once. – 65
Your love to me is more –
CASH
Sir, if a servant’s
Duty with faith may be called love, you are
More than in hope; you are possessed of it.
KITELY
I thank you heartily, Thomas; gi’ me your hand; 70
With all my heart, good Thomas. I have, Thomas,
A secret to impart unto you – but
When once you have it, I must seal your lips up.
So far I tell you, Thomas.
CASH
Sir, for that –
CASH
How, I reveal it?
KITELY
Nay,
I do not think thou wouldst, but if thou shouldst, 80
’Twere a great weakness.
CASH
A great treachery!
Give it no other name.
KITELY
Thou will not do’t, then?
CASH
Sir, if I do, mankind disclaim me ever.
KITELY
[Aside] He will not swear. He has some reservation,
Else, being urged so much, how should he choose
But lend an oath to all this protestation?
Nor rigid Roman Catholic. He’ll play
What should I think of it? Urge him again,
And by some other way? I will do so. –
Well, Thomas, thou hast sworn not to disclose.
Yes, you did swear?
CASH
Not yet, sir, but I will,
Please you –
KITELY
It’s too much; these ceremonies need not.
I know thy faith to be as firm as rock.
Too private in this business. So it is –
I have of late by divers observations –
I will ask counsel ere I do proceed. –
Thomas, it will be now too long to stay; 110
I’ll spy some fitter time soon, or tomorrow.
CASH
Sir, at your pleasure.
KITELY
I will think; and, Thomas,
I pray you, search the books ’gainst my return,
For the receipts ’twixt me and Traps.
CASH
I will, sir.
KITELY
And hear you: if your mistress’ brother Wellbred 115
Chance to bring hither any gentlemen
Ere I come back, let one straight bring me word.
CASH
Very well, sir.
CASH
I will not, sir.
KITELY
I pray you have a care on’t.
Or whether he come or no, if any other,
Stranger or else, fail not to send me word.
CASH
I shall not, sir.
KITELY
Be’t your special business,
Now, to remember it.
CASH
Sir, I warrant you. 125
KITELY
But Thomas, this is not the secret, Thomas,
I told you of.
CASH
No, sir, I do suppose it.
KITELY
Believe me, it is not.
CASH
Sir, I do believe you.
KITELY
By heaven, it is not; that’s enough. But Thomas,
I would not you should utter it, do you see, 130
To any creature living; yet I care not.
Well, I must hence. Thomas, conceive thus much:
So deep a secret to you. I mean not this,
But that I have to tell you; this is nothing, this. 135
But, Thomas, keep this from my wife, I charge you,
CASH
‘Locked up in silence, midnight, buried here’?
Best dream no longer of this running humour,
For fear I sink! The violence of the stream
Already hath transported me so far
That I can feel no ground at all. But soft –
CASH
Thy rheum, Cob? Thy humour, thy humour; thou mistak’st.
CASH
Marry, I’ll tell thee, Cob: it is a gentleman-like monster bred in the special 15
gallantry of our time by affectation, and fed by folly.
COB
How? Must it be fed?
CASH
Oh, ay, humour is nothing if it be not fed. Didst thou never hear that? It’s
a common phrase, ‘Feed my humour.’
I ha’ much ado to feed myself, especially on these lean rascally days too. An’t
had been any other day but a fasting day – a plague on them all, for me! By
this light, one might have done the commonwealth good service and have
CASH
I pray thee, good Cob, what makes thee so out of love with fasting days?
COB
Marry, that which will make any man out of love with ’em, I think: their
I am sure on’t, for they raven up more butter than all the days of the week
keep a man devoutly hungry all day, and at night send him supperless to bed.
CASH
Indeed, these are faults, Cob.
COB
Nay, an this were all, ’twere something. But they are the only known enemies 35
to my generation. A fasting day no sooner comes but my lineage goes
they melt in passion, and your maids too know this, and yet would have me
I could weep salt water enough now to preserve the lives of ten thousand of my
these days of persecution would ne’er be known. I’ll be hanged an some
3.5 [Enter] WELLBRED, EDWARD KNOWELL, BRAINWORM, BOBADILL, MATTHEW, [and] STEPHEN. [Wellbred, Edward Knowell, and Brainworm converse privately among themselves. The rest have pipes and equipment for smoking.]
WELLBRED
Beshrew me, but it was an absolute good jest, and exceedingly well
carried.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Ay, and our ignorance maintained it as well, did it not?
WELLBRED
Yes, faith; but was’t possible thou shouldst not know him? I forgive
Master Stephen, for he is stupidity itself. 5
into the habit of one of your poor infantry, your decayed, ruinous, worm-eaten
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 15
colonel, to the regiment.
WELLBRED
Where got’st thou this coat, I mar’l?
WELLBRED
That cannot be, if the proverb hold, for ‘A crafty knave needs no
broker.’
WELLBRED
Well put off. No crafty knave, you’ll say.
WELLBRED
How now, Thomas? Is my brother Kitely within?
CASH
No, sir, my master went forth e’en now, but Master Downright is within. 35
[Calling] Cob! What, Cob! – Is he gone too?
WELLBRED
Whither went your master, Thomas, canst thou tell?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Justice Clement – what’s he?
WELLBRED
Why, dost thou not know him? He is a city magistrate, a justice here, 40
an excellent good lawyer and a great scholar, but the only mad, merry old fellow
in Europe. I showed him you the other day.
[He hands a match to Cash.]
BOBADILL
Sir, believe me, upon my relation, for what I tell you the world shall
myself nor a dozen gentlemen more of my knowledge have received the taste 60
of any other nutriment in the world for the space of one-and-twenty weeks but
Further, take it in the nature, 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
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 70
earth tendered to the use of man.
BOBADILL
Where’s the match I gave thee, Master Kitely’s man?
tobacco. It’s good for nothing but to choke a man and fill him full of smoke
and embers. 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 the
or woman, that should but deal with a tobacco pipe. Why, it will stifle them all
ALL
Oh, good Captain, hold, hold!
BOBADILL
[Menacing Cob] Do you prate? Do you murmur?
EDWARD KNOWELL
[To Bobadill] Nay, good Captain, will you regard the 95
humour of a fool? [To Cob] Away, knave!
BOBADILL
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 ha’ stabbed him to
the earth. 100
WELLBRED
Marry, the law forbid, sir.
BOBADILL
By Pharaoh’s foot, I would have done it.
STEPHEN
[To himself] Oh, he swears admirably! ‘By Pharaoh’s foot’, ‘body of
Caesar’ – I shall never do it, sure. ‘Upon mine honour’, and ‘by Saint George’ –
no, I ha’ not the right grace. 105
[The men smoke.]
MATTHEW
[Offering tobacco] Master Stephen, will you any? By this air, the most
divine tobacco that ever I drunk!
too, but nothing like the other.
‘By this air!’ ‘As I am a gentleman!’ ‘By –’ 110[Exeunt Bobadill and Matthew.]
BRAINWORM
[To Edward Knowell] Master, glance, glance! – Master Wellbred!
STEPHEN
As I have somewhat to be saved, I protest –
EDWARD KNOWELL
[To Stephen] Cousin, will you any tobacco?
EDWARD KNOWELL
How now, cousin?
STEPHEN
I protest, as I am a gentleman, but no soldier, indeed –
STEPHEN
Ay, sir, that’s true. – Cousin, may I swear ‘as I am a soldier’ by that? 120
STEPHEN
Then, as I am a gentleman and a soldier, it is divine tobacco!
WELLBRED
But soft, where’s Master Matthew? Gone?
STEPHEN
Brainworm? Where? Is this Brainworm?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Ay, cousin. No words of it, upon your gentility.
STEPHEN
Not I, body of me, by this air, Saint George, and the foot of Pharaoh! 130
KITELY
Ha! How many are there, sayest thou?
COB
Marry, sir, your brother, Master Wellbred –
KITELY
Tut, beside him: what strangers are there, man?
COB
Strangers? Let me see: one, two – mass, I know not well, there are so many.
KITELY
How? So many? 5
COB
Ay, there’s some five or six of them at the most.
COB
A little while, sir.
KITELY
Didst thou come running?
COB
No, sir.
KITELY
Nay, then, I am familiar with thy haste.
I that before was ranked in such content,
My mind at rest, too, in so soft a peace,
Being free master of mine own free thoughts,
And now become a slave? What, never sigh;
Be of good cheer, man, for thou art a cuckold. 20
Plenty itself, falls in my wife’s lap,
What entertainment had they? I am sure
My sister and my wife would bid them welcome, ha? 25
COB
Like enough, sir; yet I heard not a word of it.
KITELY
[Aside] No, their lips were sealed with kisses, and the voice,
Drowned in a flood of joy at their arrival,
Had lost her motion, state, and faculty. –
Cob, which of them was’t that first kissed my wife? 30
My sister, I should say. My wife! Alas,
I fear not her. Ha? Who was it, say’st thou?
COB
By my troth, sir, will you have the truth of it?
KITELY
Oh, ay, good Cob, I pray thee heartily.
KITELY
How? Were they not gone in, then, ere thou cam’st?
COB
Oh, no, sir. 40
some five-and-fifty reasons hammering, hammering revenge. Oh, for three or
grieved me. But being my guest – one that, I’ll be sworn, my wife has lent him
Well, I hope to raise up an host of fury for’t. Here comes Justice Clement.
FORMAL
Ay, sir.
CLEMENT
Heart of me, what made him leave us so abruptly? [Seeing Cob] How
now, sirrah, what make you here? What would you have, ha?
COB
An’t please Your Worship, I am a poor neighbour of Your Worship’s – 5
CLEMENT
A poor neighbour of mine? Why, speak, poor neighbour.
CLEMENT
To the Green Lattice?
CLEMENT
Oh, 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.
CLEMENT
Of me, knave? Peace of me, knave? Did I e’er hurt thee? Or threaten
thee? Or wrong thee? Ha?
KNOWELL
[To Cob] Why, dost thou go in danger of thy life for him, friend?
COB
Marry, an’t please Your Worship, both black and blue – colour enough, I 25
warrant you. I have it here to show Your Worship. [He shows his bruises.]
CLEMENT
What is he that gave you this, sirrah?
COB
A gentleman and a soldier he says he is, o’the city here.
CLEMENT
A soldier o’the city? What call you him?
COB
Captain Bobadill. 30
CLEMENT
Ha? You speak against tobacco? – Formal, his name. 35
FORMAL
What’s your name, sirrah?
COB
Oliver, sir; Oliver Cob, sir.
CLEMENT
Tell Oliver Cob he shall go to the jail, Formal.
FORMAL
Oliver Cob, my master, Justice Clement, says you shall go to the jail.
COB
Oh, I beseech Your Worship, for God’s sake, dear Master Justice! 40
COB
Oh, good Master Justice! [To Knowell] Sweet old gentleman!
KNOWELL
Sweet Oliver, would I could do thee any good. – Justice Clement, let
me entreat you, sir. 45
CLEMENT
What? A threadbare rascal, a beggar, a slave that never drunk out of
an herb so generally received in the courts of princes, the chambers of nobles,
COB
Dear Master Justice, let me be beaten again – I have deserved it – but not the
prison, I beseech you!
KNOWELL
Alas, poor Oliver!
COB
Oh, the Lord maintain His Worship, His worthy Worship!
KNOWELL
Sir, would I could not feel my cares – 60
CLEMENT
Your cares are nothing; they are 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.
drunkard, or a licentious liver, 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 65
as you have, I’d drown them all in a cup of sack. Come, come, let’s try it. I muse
DOWNRIGHT
Well, sister, I tell you true, and you’ll find it so in the end.
DAME KITELY
Alas, brother, what would you have me to do? I cannot help it;
you see, my brother brings ’em in here; they are his friends.
villainy that can be thought of. Well, by this light, a little thing would make me
play the devil with some of ’em. An ’twere not more for your husband’s sake
than anything else, I’d make the house too hot for the best on ’em. They should
say and swear hell were broken loose ere they went hence. But, by God’s will,
’tis nobody’s fault but yours. For, an you had done as you might have done, 10
4.2 [Enter] MISTRESS BRIDGET, MASTER MATTHEW [holding papers], [and] BOBADILL, [followed at a distance by] WELLBRED, STEPHEN, EDWARD KNOWELL, [and] BRAINWORM.
BRIDGET
[To Matthew] Servant, in troth, you are too prodigal
Of your wit’s treasure, thus to pour it forth
Upon so mean a subject as my worth.
DOWNRIGHT
Hoyday, here is stuff! 5
EDWARD KNOWELL
[Aside to Wellbred] Oh, now stand close. Pray heaven she can
get him to read. He should do it of his own natural impudency.
BRIDGET
[Indicating Matthew’s papers] Servant, what is this same, I pray you?
DAME KITELY
Sister, I pray you, let’s hear it.
DOWNRIGHT
Are you rhyme-given, too?
MATTHEW
Mistress, I’ll read it, if you please.
BRIDGET
Pray you do, servant.
STEPHEN
Not I, sir – upon my reputation, and by the foot of Pharaoh.
WELLBRED
[Aside to Edward Knowell] Oh, chide your cousin for swearing.
EDWARD KNOWELL
[Aside to Wellbred] Not I, so long as he does not forswear 25
himself.
BOBADILL
Master Matthew, you abuse the expectation of your dear mistress
and her fair sister. Fie, while you live, avoid this prolixity.
LORENZO
[Aside to Wellbred] This is in Hero and Leander!
WELLBRED
[Aside to Edward Knowell] Oh, ay, peace. We shall have more of this.
MATTHEW
‘Be not unkind and fair. Misshapen stuff
Is of behaviour boisterous and rough –’
WELLBRED
[To Stephen] How like you that, sir? 45
[He presents the verses to Bridget.]
WELLBRED
[Aside to Edward Knowell] Oh, forgive it him.
EDWARD KNOWELL
[Aside to Wellbred] A filching rogue, hang him! And from
the dead? It’s worse than sacrilege. 55
WELLBRED
[To Bridget] Sister, what ha’ you here? Verses? Pray you, let’s see.
[Bridget gives the verses to Wellbred, who examines them.]
Who made these verses? They are excellent good.
MATTHEW
Oh, Master Wellbred, ’tis your disposition to say so, sir. They were
good i’the morning; I made ’em extempore this morning.
WELLBRED
How, extempore? 60
BRAINWORM
[Aside to Wellbred and Edward Knowell] Can he find in his heart to
curse the stars so?
STEPHEN
Cousin, how do you like this gentleman’s verses?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Oh, admirable! The best that ever I heard, coz.
DOWNRIGHT
[To himself] I am vexed. I can hold ne’er a bone of me still! Heart,
I think they mean to build and breed here!
of a wit that can make your perfections so transparent that every blear eye 75
well of desire. – Sister Kitely, I marvel you get you not a servant that can rhyme
and do tricks, too.
DOWNRIGHT
[To himself] Oh, monster! Impudence itself! Tricks?
DAME KITELY
Tricks, brother? What tricks? 80
BRIDGET
Nay, speak, I pray you, what tricks?
DAME KITELY
Ay, never spare anybody here, but say, what tricks?
BRIDGET
Passion of my heart! ‘Do tricks’?
DOWNRIGHT
[To himself] Oh, the fiend!
shortly for a concealment. Go to, reward his muse. You cannot give him 90
less than a shilling, in conscience, for the book he had it out of cost him a
of silence? No spirit?
WELLBRED
My companions?
here they must come to domineer and swagger. [To Matthew] Sirrah, you ballad- 105
I’ll cut off your ears, and that presently.
DOWNRIGHT
Yea, that would I fain see, boy.
DAME KITELY
Oh, Jesu! Murder! Thomas, Gaspar!
BRIDGET
Help, help, Thomas!
And they [CASH and other SERVANTS] of the house
EDWARD KNOWELL
Gentlemen! Forbear, I pray you. 115
your flesh full of holes with my rapier for this; I will, by this good heaven!
Nay, let him come, let him come, gentlemen; by the body of Saint George, I’ll not
kill him.
CASH
Hold, hold, good gentlemen! 120
KITELY
Why, how now? What’s the matter? What’s the stir here?
Whence springs the quarrel? – Thomas! – Where is he? –
Put up your weapons and put off this rage.
My wife and sister, they are cause of this. –
What, Thomas! – Where is this knave? 5
CASH
Here, sir.
WELLBRED
[To Edward Knowell and the rest] Come, let’s go. This is one of my
brother’s ancient humours, this.
STEPHEN
I am glad nobody was hurt by his ancient humour.
KITELY
Oh, that was some love of yours, sister. 25
KITELY
[Aside] Her love, by heaven! My wife’s minion! 30
‘Fair disposition’? ‘Excellent good parts’?
Death, these phrases are intolerable.
‘Good parts’? How should she know his parts?
His parts? Well, well, well, well, well, well!
It is too plain, too clear. – Thomas, come hither. 35
What, are they gone?
CASH
Ay, sir, they went in.
My mistress and your sister –
KITELY
Are any of the gallants within?
CASH
No, sir, they are all gone.
KITELY
Art thou sure of it? 40
CASH
I can assure you, sir.
KITELY
What gentleman was that they praised so, Thomas?
COB
[Knocking] What, Tib! Tib, I say!
TIB
[Within] How now, what cuckold is that knocks so hard?
Oh, husband, is’t you? What’s the news?
COB
May I? Tib, you are a whore.
COB
How, the lie? And in my throat too? Do you long to be stabbed, ha? 10
TIB
Why, you are no soldier, I hope.
TIB
Why, what’s the matter, trow? 15
white, for his black and blue, shall pay him. Oh, the Justice! The honestest old
though; he put me once in a villainous, filthy fear. Marry, it vanished away like
good angel, my guest. Well, wife, or Tib, which you will, get you in and lock
are my words. Not Captain Bob himself, nor the fiend in his likeness. You are
a woman; you have flesh and blood enough in you to be tempted; therefore,
keep the door shut upon all comers. 25
TIB
I warrant you, there shall no body enter here without my consent.
COB
Nor with your consent, sweet Tib; and so I leave you.
TIB
It’s more than you know, whether you leave me so.
COB
How?
4.5 [Enter] EDWARD KNOWELL, WELLBRED, STEPHEN, [and] BRAINWORM [disguised as a soldier. They confer out of Stephen’s hearing.]
EDWARD KNOWELL
Troth, well, howsoever, but it will come excellent if it
take.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Friend, am I worth belief?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Nay, that, I am afraid, will be a question yet, whether I 20
shall have her or no.
WELLBRED
’Slid, thou shalt have her; by this light, thou shalt.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Nay, do not swear.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Hold, hold. Be temperate.
WELLBRED
Thou shalt see and know I will not. 30[Exeunt.]
FORMAL
Was your man a soldier, sir?
BRAINWORM
Marry, peace be my comfort, where I thought I should have had
little comfort of Your Worship’s service.
KNOWELL
How so?
BRAINWORM
Oh, sir! Your coming to the city, your entertainment of me, and
your sending me to watch – indeed, all the circumstances, either of your 10
charge or my employment, are as open to your son as to yourself.
KNOWELL
How should that be? Unless that villain Brainworm
Have told him of the letter and discovered
All that I strictly charged him to conceal? ’Tis so.
BRAINWORM
I am partly o’the faith ’tis so indeed. 15
KNOWELL
But how should he know thee to be my man?
KNOWELL
Yes, but I hope his soul is not allied
Unto such hellish practice. If it were, 20
I had just cause to weep my part in him
And curse the time of his creation.
But where didst thou find them, Fitzsword?
BRAINWORM
You should rather ask where they found me, sir, for I’ll be sworn I
was going along in the street, thinking nothing, when of a sudden a voice calls, 25
‘Master Knowell’s man!’; another cries ‘Soldier!’; and thus half a dozen of ’em,
men, and out flew all their rapiers at my bosom, with some three or four score
oaths to accompany ’em, and all to tell me I was but a dead man if I did not
when they could not get out of me – as, I protest, they must ha’ dissected and
i’the top of a high house, whence by great miracle, having a light heart, I slid
much I can assure you, for I heard it while I was locked up: there were a great 35
son, Master Edward, withdrew with one of ’em, and has pointed to meet her
anon at one Cob’s house, a waterbearer that dwells by the wall. Now there Your
Worship shall be sure to take him, for there he preys, and fail he will not.
KNOWELL
Nor will I fail to break his match, I doubt not. 40
Go thou along with Justice Clement’s man,
And stay there for me. At one Cob’s house, say’st thou?
length be delivered of air – oh, the sport that I should then take to look on him if
I durst! But now I mean to appear no more afore him, in this shape; I have
of this Justice’s novice! [To Formal] Sir, I make you stay somewhat long.
FORMAL
Not a whit, sir. Pray you, what do you mean, sir? 50
FORMAL
You ha’ been lately in the wars, sir, it seems.
BRAINWORM
Marry, have I, sir, to my loss and expense of all, almost –
BRAINWORM
Oh, sir –
BRAINWORM
No, I assure you, sir. Why, at any time when it please you I shall 60
be ready to discourse to you all I know. [Aside] And more too, somewhat.
EDWARD KNOWELL
We were now speaking of him. Captain Bobadill tells me
he is fall’n foul o’you, too. 5
MATTHEW
Indeed, it is a most excellent trick!
[He practises fencing.]
to me at a gentleman’s house, where it was my chance to be resident at that
time, to entreat my presence at their schools, and withal so much importuned 20
me that – I protest to you, as I am a gentleman – I was ashamed of their rude
demeanour out of all measure. Well, I told ’em that to come to a public school,
right or favour I could, as I was a gentleman, and so forth. 25
EDWARD KNOWELL
So, sir, then you tried their skill?
BOBADILL
Alas, soon tried! You shall hear, sir. Within two or three days after,
they came; and, by honesty, fair sir, believe me, I graced them exceedingly,
a credit to admiration! They cannot deny this. And yet now they hate me; and 30
why? Because I am excellent, and for no other vile reason on the earth.
EDWARD KNOWELL
This is strange and barbarous as ever I heard!
BOBADILL
Nay, for a more instance of their preposterous natures, but note,
length of a street in the open view of all our gallants, pitying to hurt them,
believe me. Yet all this lenity will not o’ercome their spleen; they will be doing
By myself, I could have slain them all, but I delight not in murder. I am
to go disarmed, for, though I be skilful, I may be oppressed with multitudes.
EDWARD KNOWELL
Ay, believe me, may you, sir, and in my conceit our whole
nation should sustain the loss by it, if it were so. 45
EDWARD KNOWELL
Oh, but your skill, sir!
BOBADILL
Indeed, that might be some loss, but who respects it? I will tell you,
would undertake, upon this poor head and life, for the public benefit of the
state, not only to spare the entire lives of her subjects in general, but to save
what enemy soever. And how would I do it, think you?
EDWARD KNOWELL
Nay, I know not, nor can I conceive. 55
BOBADILL
Why, thus, sir. I would select nineteen more to myself throughout
the land; gentlemen they should be of good spirit, strong and able constitution.
your imbroccata, your passada, your montanto – till they could all play very 60
near or altogether as well as myself. This done, say the enemy were forty thousand
strong: we twenty would come into the field the tenth of March or
there-abouts, and we would challenge twenty of the enemy. They could not in their
honour refuse us. Well, we would kill them; challenge twenty more, kill them;
twenty more, kill them; twenty more, kill them too. And thus would we 65
times five, five times forty – two hundred days kills them all up, by computation.
And this will I venture my poor gentleman-like carcass to perform – provided
there be no treason practised upon us – by fair and discreet manhood; 70
EDWARD KNOWELL
Why, are you so sure of your hand, Captain, at all times?
EDWARD KNOWELL
I would not stand in Downright’s state, then, an you meet
him, for the wealth of any one street in London. 75
EDWARD KNOWELL
Yes, faith, it is he.
MATTHEW
I’ll be hanged, then, if that were he. 85
EDWARD KNOWELL
Sir, keep your hanging good for some greater matter, for
I assure you that was he.
STEPHEN
Upon my reputation, it was he.
DOWNRIGHT
Draw your weapon, then.
DOWNRIGHT
’Sdeath, you will not draw, then? 100
EDWARD KNOWELL
Ay, like enough. I have heard of many that have been
be at leisure to make ’em! – Come, coz.
STEPHEN
[Taking up Downright’s cloak] Mass, I’ll ha’ this cloak.
EDWARD KNOWELL
God’s will, ’tis Downright’s.
STEPHEN
Ay, but he shall not ha’ it. I’ll say I bought it.
WELLBRED
No harm done, brother, I warrant you; since there is no harm done.
What’s a musician unless he play? What’s a tall man unless he fight? For, 10
indeed, all this my wise brother stands upon absolutely, and that made me
DAME KITELY
Ay, but what harm might have come of it, brother!
KITELY
Now, God forbid! Oh, me, now I remember:
And bade me wear this cursèd suit today.
See if heav’n suffer murder undiscovered! – 20
Oh, I am sick at heart! I burn, I burn.
If you will save my life, go fetch it me.
WELLBRED
Oh, strange humour! My very breath has poisoned him. 25
BRIDGET
[To Kitely] Good brother, be content. What do you mean?
The strength of these extreme conceits will kill you.
KITELY
Am I not sick? How am I then not poisoned?
Am I not poisoned? How am I then so sick?
DAME KITELY
If you be sick, your own thoughts make you sick. 35
WELLBRED
His jealousy is the poison he has taken.
BRAINWORM
Master Kitely, my master, Justice Clement, salutes you and
desires to speak with you with all possible speed.
WELLBRED
[Conferring privately with Brainworm] This is perfectly rare, Brainworm.
But how got’st thou this apparel of the Justice’s man?
the cause of his distemper, I stripped him stark naked, as he lay along asleep,
and borrowed his suit to deliver this counterfeit message in, leaving a rusty
when I ha’ pawned his apparel and spent the better part o’the money, perhaps. 50
WELLBRED
Well, thou art a successful merry knave, Brainworm. His absence
will be a good subject for more mirth. I pray thee, return to thy young master
upright in. We must get our fortunes committed to some larger prison, say; 55
and than the Tower, I know no better air, nor where the liberty of the house
KITELY
Come hither, Thomas. Now my secret’s ripe,
Hark what I say to thee. I must go forth, Thomas. 60
Be careful of thy promise. Keep good watch;
Note every gallant, and observe him well,
That enters in my absence to thy mistress.
Follow ’em, Thomas, or else hang on him, 65
Or any other amorous toy about him,
But praise his leg or foot, or if she say
The day is hot, and bid him feel her hand, 70
How hot it is – oh, that’s a monstrous thing!
Note me all this, good Thomas; mark their sighs,
And if they do but whisper, break ’em off.
I’ll bear thee out in it. Wilt thou do this?
Wilt thou be true, my Thomas?
CASH
As truth’s self, sir. 75
DAME KITELY
He’s ever calling for Cob. I wonder how he employs Cob so.
WELLBRED
Indeed, sister, to ask how he employs Cob is a necessary question for
you that are his wife, and a thing not very easy for you to be satisfied in. But
this I’ll assure you: Cob’s wife is an excellent bawd, sister, and oftentimes your 80
him. Imagine you what you think convenient. But I have known fair hides have
foul hearts ere now, sister.
WELLBRED
So, let ’em go; this may make sport anon. – Now, my fair sister-in-
law: that you but knew how happy a thing it were to be fair and beautiful!
BRIDGET
That touches not me, brother. 90
WELLBRED
That’s true; that’s even the fault of it. For, indeed, beauty stands a
you or no, it touches your beauties, and I am sure they will abide the touch. An
very strongly and worthily affected toward you, and hath vowed to inflame
engaged my promise to bring you where you shall hear him confirm much
trespass in a wise beauty. What say you, sister? On my soul, he loves you. Will
you give him the meeting?
BRIDGET
Faith, I had very little confidence in mine own constancy, brother, if
I durst not meet a man. But this motion of yours savours of an old knight–
adventurer’s servant a little too much, methinks. 105
WELLBRED
What’s that, sister?
BRIDGET
I think she be gone forth, sir.
BRIDGET
She’s gone abroad with Thomas.
BRIDGET
I know not, sir.
WELLBRED
I’ll tell you, brother,
Whither I suspect she’s gone.
KITELY
Whither, good brother?
WELLBRED
To Cob’s house, I believe; but keep my counsel. 120
MATTHEW
I wonder, Captain, what they will say of my going away, ha?
MATTHEW
Why, so, but what can they say of your beating?
and revenged by law.
MATTHEW
Do you hear? Is’t not best to get a warrant, and have him arrested
and brought before Justice Clement? 15
BOBADILL
It were not amiss. Would we had it!
MATTHEW
Why, here comes his man. Let’s speak to him.
BOBADILL
Agreed. Do you speak.
MATTHEW
[To Brainworm] Save you, sir.
BRAINWORM
With all my heart, sir. 20
MATTHEW
Sir, there is one Downright hath abused this gentleman and myself,
and we determine to make our amends by law. Now, if you would do us the
favour to procure a warrant to bring him afore your master, you shall be well
considered, I assure you, sir.
MATTHEW
How is that, sir?
[Matthew and Bobadill converse apart.]
MATTHEW
How shall we do, Captain? He asks for a brace of angels. You have no
money?
BOBADILL
Pawn? We have none to the value of his demand.
BOBADILL
Well, an there be no remedy, I’ll step aside and pull ’em off.
[He takes off his stockings as Matthew removes his earring.]
MATTHEW
[To Brainworm] Do you hear, sir? We have no store of money at this
time, but you shall have good pawns – look you, sir, this jewel and that gentleman’s
silk stockings – because we would have it dispatched ere we went to our
chambers. 45
BRAINWORM
I am content, sir. I will get you the warrant presently. What’s his
name, say you? Downright?
MATTHEW
Ay, ay, George Downright.
BRAINWORM
What manner of man is he?
MATTHEW
A tall, big man, sir. He goes in a cloak most commonly of silk russet 50
laid about with russet lace.
BRAINWORM
’Tis very good, sir.
BOBADILL
And here are stockings.
[They present their pawn.]
BRAINWORM
Well, gentlemen, I’ll procure you this warrant presently. But who 55
will you have to serve it?
MATTHEW
That’s true, Captain. That must be considered.
BOBADILL
Body o’me, I know not. ’Tis service of danger!
BRAINWORM
Why, you were best get one o’the varlets o’the city, a sergeant. I’ll
appoint you one, if you please. 60
MATTHEW
Will you, sir? Why, we can wish no better.
KNOWELL
Oh, here it is. I am glad I have found it now.
[He knocks] Ho! Who is within here?
[TIB opens the door a crack.]
TIB
I am within, sir. What’s your pleasure?
KNOWELL
To know who is within besides yourself.
TIB
Why, sir, you are no constable, I hope? 5
KNOWELL
Oh, fear you the constable? Then I doubt not
You have some guests within deserve that fear.
I’ll fetch him straight.
TIB
O’God’s name, sir!
KNOWELL
Go to. Come, tell me, is not young Knowell here?
TIB
Young Knowell? I know none such, sir, o’mine honesty. 10
KNOWELL
Your honesty? Dame, it flies too lightly from you.
There is no way but fetch the constable.
TIB
The constable? The man is mad, I think.
[She claps to the door. Knowell starts to leave.]
CASH
Ho! Who keeps house here?
DAME KITELY
Knock, Thomas, hard.
CASH
[Knocking] Ho, good wife!
TIB
[Within] Why, what’s the matter with you?
KNOWELL
[Aside] Her husband?
DAME KITELY
No, dame, he does it not for need, but pleasure.
TIB
Neither for need nor pleasure is he here. 25
KNOWELL
[Aside] This is but a device to balk me withal.
Soft, who is this? ’Tis not my son, disguised?
DAME KITELY
Oh, sir, have I forestalled your honest market?
I’faith, I am glad I have smoked you yet at last. 30
What is your jewel, trow? In, come, let’s see her.
[To Tib] Fetch forth your huswife, dame! [To Kitely] If she be fairer,
In any honest judgement, than myself,
She feeds you fat, she soothes your appetite, 35
And you are well? Your wife, an honest woman,
KITELY
[To Dame Kitely] Out on thy more than strumpet’s impudence!
Steal’st thou thus to thy haunts? And have I taken 40
With this stale harlot’s jest, accusing me?
To have a mind so hot, and to entice
And feed th’enticements of a lustful woman?
KITELY
Tut, tut, tut, never speak.
Thy guilty conscience will discover thee.
KITELY
[To Dame Kitely] Come, will you go?
DAME KITELY
Go? To thy shame, believe it.
COB
Why, what’s the matter here? What’s here to do? 65
KITELY
Oh, Cob, art thou come? I have been abused,
And i’thy house. Never was man so wronged!
COB
’Slid, in my house, my master Kitely? Who wrongs you in my house?
KNOWELL
Friend, know some cause before thou beat’st thy wife;
This’s madness in thee.
COB
Why, is there no cause? 75
KITELY
Yes, I’ll show cause before the Justice, Cob.
Come, let her go with me.
COB
Nay, she shall go.
this sergeant’s gown. A man of my present profession never counterfeits till
he lays hold upon a debtor and says he ’rests him, for then he brings him to
Well, I know not what danger I undergo by this exploit. Pray heaven I come
MATTHEW
See, I think yonder is the varlet, by his gown.
BOBADILL
Let’s go in quest of him.
BRAINWORM
Yes, an’t please you, sir. He told me two gentlemen had willed
him to procure a warrant from his master, which I have about me, to be served
on one Downright.
MATTHEW
It is honestly done of you both. And see where the party comes you 15
must arrest. Serve it upon him quickly, afore he be aware –
BOBADILL
Bear back, Master Matthew!
STEPHEN
Me, friend? I am no Downright, I. I am Master Stephen. You do not 20
well to arrest me, I tell you truly. I am in nobody’s bonds nor books, I would
you should know it. A plague on you heartily for making me thus afraid afore
my time!
BOBADILL
He wears such a cloak, and that deceived us. 25
But see, here ’a comes indeed! This is he, officer.
STEPHEN
Your cloak, sir? I bought it even now, in open market.
BRAINWORM
Master Downright, I have a warrant I must serve upon you, 30
procured by these two gentlemen.
DOWNRIGHT
These gentlemen? These rascals!
BRAINWORM
Keep the peace, I charge you, in Her Majesty’s name.
DOWNRIGHT
I obey thee. What must I do, officer?
BRAINWORM
Go before Master Justice Clement, to answer what they can object 35
against you, sir. I will use you kindly, sir.
DOWNRIGHT
[To Stephen] Gull, you’ll gi’ me my cloak?
STEPHEN
Sir, I bought it, and I’ll keep it. 40
DOWNRIGHT
You will?
STEPHEN
Ay, that I will.
DOWNRIGHT
[To Brainworm] Officer, there’s thy fee. Arrest him.
[He gives Brainworm money.]
BRAINWORM
Master Stephen, I must arrest you.
STEPHEN
Arrest me? I scorn it. There, take your cloak; I’ll none on’t. 45
DOWNRIGHT
Nay, that shall not serve your turn now, sir. – Officer, I’ll go with
thee to the Justice’s. Bring him along.
STEPHEN
Why, is not here your cloak? What would you have?
DOWNRIGHT
I’ll ha’ you answer it, sir.
DOWNRIGHT
I’ll ha’ no words taken. Bring him along.
BRAINWORM
Sir, I may choose to do that: I may take bail.
BRAINWORM
Sir, I pity the gentleman’s case. Here’s your money again.
DOWNRIGHT
’Sdeynes, tell not me of my money. Bring him away, I say.
BRAINWORM
I warrant you, he will go with you of himself, sir.
DOWNRIGHT
Yet more ado?
BRAINWORM
[Aside] I have made a fair mash on’t. 60
STEPHEN
Must I go?
BRAINWORM
I know no remedy, Master Stephen.
STEPHEN
Why, sir, I hope you cannot hang me for it. – Can he, fellow? 65
BRAINWORM
I think not, sir. It is but a whipping matter, sure.
5.1 [Enter] CLEMENT, KNOWELL, KITELY, DAME KITELY, TIB, CASH, COB, [and] SERVANTS [of Doctor Clement].
CLEMENT
Nay, but stay, stay. Give me leave. [To a Servant.] My chair, sirrah. – You,
Master Knowell, say you went thither to meet your son?
KNOWELL
Ay, sir.
CLEMENT
But who directed you thither?
KNOWELL
That did mine own man, sir. 5
CLEMENT
Where is he?
CLEMENT
My clerk? About what time was this?
KNOWELL
Marry, between one and two, as I take it. 10
CLEMENT
And what time came my man with the false message to you, Master
Kitely?
KITELY
After two, sir.
CLEMENT
Very good. – But Mistress Kitely, how that you were at Cob’s? Ha?
DAME KITELY
An please you, sir, I’ll tell you. My brother Wellbred told me that 15
Cob’s house was a suspected place –
CLEMENT
So it appears, methinks. But on.
CLEMENT
No matter, so he used himself well, mistress.
DAME KITELY
True, sir, but you know what grows by such haunts oftentimes. 20
CLEMENT
I see, rank fruits of a jealous brain, Mistress Kitely. But did you find
your husband there in that case, as you suspected?
KITELY
I found her there, sir.
KITELY
Marry, that did my brother Wellbred.
CLEMENT
How? Wellbred first tell her, then tell you after? Where is Wellbred?
KITELY
Gone with my sister, sir, I know not whither.
CLEMENT
Why, this is a mere trick, a device. You are gulled in this most grossly,
all. [To Tib] Alas, poor wench, wert thou beaten for this? 30
TIB
Yes, most pitifully, an’t please you.
How now, sir? What’s the matter?
SERVANT
Sir, there’s a gentleman i’the court without desires to speak with Your 35
Worship.
CLEMENT
A gentleman? What’s he?
SERVANT
A soldier, sir, he says.
by. I will end your matters anon. [To the Servant] Let the soldier enter.
[The Servant goes to the door.]
Now, sir, what ha’ you to say to me?
BOBADILL
By Your Worship’s favour –
BOBADILL
Faith, sir, so it is: this gentleman and myself have been most 5
town here. And for mine own part, I protest, being a man in no sort given to
this filthy humour of quarrelling, he hath assaulted me in the way of my peace,
me along in the open streets, when I not so much as once offered to resist him. 10
MATTHEW
An’t please Your Worship, he was bound to the peace.
CLEMENT
Why, an he were, sir, his hands were not bound, were they? 15
SERVANT
There’s one of the varlets of the city, sir, has brought two gentlemen
here, one upon Your Worship’s warrant.
CLEMENT
My warrant?
SERVANT
Yes, sir. The officer says, procured by these two.
DOWNRIGHT
I’faith, sir. And here’s another brought at my suit.
CLEMENT
[To Stephen] What are you, sir?
CLEMENT
Uncle? Who? Master Knowell?
KNOWELL
Ay, sir. This is a wise kinsman of mine. 5
STEPHEN
God’s my witness, uncle, I am wronged here monstrously! He charges
me with stealing of his cloak, and would I might never stir if I did not find it
in the street by chance.
DOWNRIGHT
Oh, did you find it, now? You said you bought it, erewhile.
STEPHEN
And you said I stole it. Nay, now my uncle is here I’ll do well enough 10
with you.
BOBADILL
Ay, an’t please Your Worship. 15
CLEMENT
Nay, do not speak in passion so. Where had you it?
BOBADILL
Of your clerk, sir.
CLEMENT
That’s well, an my clerk can make warrants and my hand not at ’em!
Where is the warrant? Officer, have you it?
CLEMENT
Why, Master Downright, are you such a novice to be served and never
see the warrant?
DOWNRIGHT
Sir, he did not serve it on me.
CLEMENT
No? How then? 25
DOWNRIGHT
Marry, sir, he came to me and said he must serve it, and he would
use me kindly, and so –
CLEMENT
Oh, God’s pity, was it so, sir? He must serve it? [To a Servant] Give me
BRAINWORM
Oh, good sir, I beseech you! Nay, good Master Justice!
CLEMENT
I must do it; there is no remedy. I must cut off your legs, sirrah; I must
cut off your ears, you rascal, I must do it. I must cut off your nose; I must cut
off your head. 35
BRAINWORM
Oh, good Your Worship!
CLEMENT
Well, rise. [Brainworm rises.] How dost thou do now? Dost thou feel
thyself well? Hast thou no harm?
BRAINWORM
No, I thank Your good Worship, sir.
CLEMENT
Why, so! I said I must cut off thy legs, and I must cut off thy arms, 40
and I must cut off thy head, but I did not do it. So you said you must serve this
gentleman with my warrant, but you did not serve him. You knave, you slave,
you rogue, do you say you must? [To a Servant] Sirrah, away with him to the jail!
[To Brainworm] I’ll teach you a trick for your ‘must’, sir.
BRAINWORM
Good sir, I beseech you, be good to me. 45
CLEMENT
[to Servant] Tell him he shall to the jail. Away with him, I say!
[He throws off his disguise.]
CLEMENT
How is this?
KNOWELL
My man Brainworm! 50
STEPHEN
Oh, yes, uncle. Brainworm has been with my cousin Edward and I all
this day.
CLEMENT
I told you all there was some device.
CLEMENT
Body o’me, a merry knave! Give me a bowl of sack. [A Servant brings him drink.]
If he belong to you, Master Knowell, I bespeak your patience.
KNOWELL
Is it possible? Or that thou shouldst disguise thy language so as I
should not know thee?
shape alone that I have run through today. I brought this gentleman, Master
Kitely, a message, too, in the form of Master Justice’s man here, to draw him 70
out o’the way, as well as Your Worship, while Master Wellbred might make a
conveyance of Mistress Bridget to my young master.
KITELY
How! My sister stol’n away?
KNOWELL
My son is not married, I hope!
CLEMENT
Marry, that will I; I thank thee for putting me in mind on’t.
[To Brainworm] Here, I drink to thee for thy good news. But, I pray thee, what hast
thou done with my man Formal?
first with story, and then with wine, but all in kindness, and stripping him 85
to his shirt, I left him in that cool vein, departed, sold Your Worship’s warrant
to these two [Indicating Bobadill and Matthew], pawned his livery for that
varlet’s gown to serve it in, and thus have brought myself, by my activity, to Your
Worship’s consideration.
CLEMENT
And I will consider thee, in another cup of sack. Here’s to thee, 90
which, having drunk off, this is my sentence. [He drinks.] Pledge me: Thou hast
done or assisted to nothing, in my judgement, but deserves to be pardoned
for the wit o’the offence. If thy master, or any man here, be angry with thee,
What noise is that? 95
CLEMENT
Well, stand by awhile.
joy. Nay, Mistress Bridget, blush not; you are not so fresh a bride but the news 10
give me your hand. So will I for all the rest, ere you forsake my roof.
EDWARD KNOWELL
We are the more bound to your humanity, sir.
CLEMENT
Only these two [Indicating Bobadill and Matthew] have so little of man
in ’em, they are no part of my care.
WELLBRED
Yes, sir, let me pray you for this gentleman [Indicating Matthew]; he
belongs to my sister, the bride. 5
[They search Matthew’s pockets.]
had not been taken in time! [The poems are burnt.] See, see, how our poet’s glory
shines! Brighter and brighter! Still it increases! Oh, now it’s at the highest; and
KNOWELL
There’s an emblem for you, son, and your studies! 30
making of a good poet than a sheriff, Master Kitely. You look upon me! Though
I live i’the city here amongst you, I will do more reverence to him, when I meet
the fact.
CLEMENT
It shall be discourse for supper between your father and me, if he
dare undertake me. But to dispatch away these. [To Bobadill and Matthew] You 40
penitently fast it out in my court without; and, if you will, you may pray there
that we may be so merry within as to forgive or forget you when we come out.
[Indicating Formal] Here’s a third, because we tender your safety, shall watch 45
STEPHEN
And what shall I do?
CLEMENT
Oh, I had lost a sheep an he had not bleated! – Why, sir, you shall give
whom I will entreat first to be reconciled, and you to endeavour with your wit
to keep ’em so.
STEPHEN
I’ll do my best.
TIB
And I you, as my loving and obedient husband.
your anger; you, Master Knowell, your cares; Master Kitely and his wife,
their jealousy. 60
For, I must tell you both, while that is fed,
Horns i’the mind are worse than o’the head.
KITELY
Sir, thus they go from me. – Kiss me, sweetheart.
[He kisses his wife.]
See, what a drove of horns fly in the air,
Watch ’em, suspicious eyes, watch where they fall:
Oh, what a plenteous world of this will come!
CLEMENT
’Tis well, ’tis well! This night we’ll dedicate to friendship, love, and
have their reference. Whose adventures this day, when our grandchildren
shall hear to be made a fable, I doubt not but it shall find both spectators and 75
THE END