EVERY MAN IN
his Humor.
As it hath beene sundry times
publickly acted by the right
Honorable the Lord Cham
berlaine his seruants.
Written by BEN. IOHNSON.
Zuodnon dant proceres, dabit Histrio.
Hand tamen in nidias vati, quem pulpita pascunt.
First Edition.

Imptinted at London for Walter Bwre, and are to
be sould at his shoppe in Panles Church-yarde .
1601.

The number and names of
the Actors.

  • Lorenzo senior.
  • Prospero.
  • Thorello.
  • Stephano.
  • Doctor Clement.
  • Bobadilla.
  • Musco.
  • Cob.
  • Giulliano.
  • Lorenzoiunior.
  • Biancha.
  • Hesperida.
  • Peto.
  • Matheo.
  • Pizo.
  • Tib.

EVERY MAN
in his Humor.
ACTVS PRIMVS, SCENA PRIMA.

Enter Lorenzo di Pazzi Senior, Musco.

Ow trust me, here's a goodly day toward.

Musco, call vp my sonne Lorenzo: bid him

rise: tell him, I haue some businesse to imploy

him in.

Mus.

I will, sir, presently.

Lore.se.

But heare you, sirrah;

If he be at study, disturbe him not.

Mus.

Very good, sir.

Exit Musco.

Lore.se.

How happy would I estimate my selfe,

Could I (by any meane) retyre my sonne,

From one vayne course of study he affects?

He is a scholler (if a man may trust

The lib'rall voyce of double-toung'd report)

Of deare account, in all our Academies.

Yet this position must not breede in me

A fast opinion, that he cannot erre.

My selfe was once a student, and indeede

Fed with the selfe-same humor he is now,

Dreaming on nought but idle Poetrie:

But since, Experience hath awakt my sprit's,

Enter Stephano.

And reason taught them, how to comprehend

The soueraigne vse of study. What, cousin Stephano?

What newes with you, that you are here so earely?

Steph.

Nothing: but eene come to see how you doe, vncle.

Lore.se.

That's kindly done, you are welcome, cousin.

Steph.

I, I know that sir, I would not haue come else: how doeth my cousin, vncle?

Lore.se.

Oh well, well, goe in and see; I doubt hee's scarce stirring yet.

Steph.

Vncle, afore I goe in, can you tell me, and he haue

e're a booke of the sciences of hawking and hunting? I would

fayne borrow it.

Lor.

Why I hope you will not a hawking now, will you?

Step.

No wusse; but ile practise against next yeare: I haue

bought me a hawke, and bels and all; I lacke nothing but a

booke to keepe it by.

Lor.

Oh most ridiculous.

Step.

Nay looke you now, you are angrie vncle, why you

know, and a man haue not skill in hawking and hunting now

adaies, ile not giue a rush for him; hee is for no gentlemans

company, and (by Gods will) I scorne it I, so I doe, to bee a

consort for euerie hum-drum; hang them scroiles, ther's nothing

in them in the world, what doe you talke on it? a gentleman must shew himselfe like a gentleman, vncle I pray you be not

angrie, I know what I haue to do I trow, I am no nouice.

Lor.

Go to, you are a prodigal, and selfe-wild foole,

Nay neuer looke at me, it's I that speake,

Take't as you will, ile not flatter you.

What? haue you not meanes inow to wast

That which your friends haue left you, but you must

Go cast away your money on a Buzzard,

And know not how to keepe it when you haue done?

Oh it's braue, this will make you a gentleman,

Well Cosen well, I see you are e'ene past hope

Of all reclaime; I so, now you are told on it, you looke ano-ther way.

Step.

What would you haue me do trow?

Lor.

What would I haue you do? mary

Learne to be wise, and practise how to thriue,

That I would haue you do, and not to spend

Your crownes on euerie one that humors you:

I would not haue you to intrude your selfe

In euerie gentlemans societie,

Till their affections or your owne desert,

Do worthily inuite you to the place.

For he thats so respectlesse in his course,

Oft sels his reputation vile and cheape.

Let not your cariage, and behauiour taste

Of affectation, lest while you pretend

To make a blaze of gentrie to the world

A little puffe of scorne extinguish it,

And you be left like an vnsauorie snuffe,

Whose propertie is onely to offend.

Cosen, lay by such superficiall formes,

And entertaine a perfect reall substance,

Stand not so much on your gentility,

Enter aseruningman.

But moderate your expences (now at first)

As you may keepe the same proportion still.

Beare a low saile: soft who's this comes here.

Ser.

Gentlemen, God saue you.

Step.

Welcome good friend, we doe not stand much vpon

our gentilitie; yet I can assure you mine vncle is a

man of a thousand pounde land a yeare; hee hath but one sonne in the

world; I am his next heire, as simple as I stand here, if my co-

sen die: I haue a faire liuing of mine owne too beside.

Ser.

In good time sir.

Step.

In good time sir? you do not flout, do you?

Ser.

Not I sir.

Step.

And you should, here be them can perceiue it, and that

quickly too: Go too, and they can giue it againe soundly, and

need be.

Ser.

Why sir let this satisfie you. Good faith I had no such

intent.

Step.

By God, and I thought you had sir, I would talke

with you.

Ser.

So you may sir, and at your pleasure.

Step.

And so I would sir, and you were out of mine vncles

ground, I can tell you.

Lor.

Why how now cosen, will this nere be left?

Step.

Horson base fellow, by Gods lid, and't were not for

shame, I would.

Lor.se.

What would you do? you peremptorie Asse,

And yowle not be quiet, get you hence.

You see, the gentleman contaynes himselfe

In modest limits, giuing no reply

To your vnseason'd rude comparatiues;

Yet yowle demeane your selfe, without respect

Eyther of duty, or humanity.

Goe get you in: fore God I am asham'd

Exit Steph.

Thou hast a kinsmans interest in me.

Ser.

I pray you, sir, is this Pazzi house?

Lor.se.

Yes mary is it, sir.

Ser.

I should enquire for a gentleman here, one Signior Loren-

zo di Pazzi; doe you know any such, sir, I pray you?

Lore se.

Yes, sir: or else I should forget my selfe.

Ser.

I crye you mercy, sir, I was requested by a gentleman

of Florence (hauing some occasion to ride this way) to deliuer

you this letter.

Lor.se.

To me, sir? What doe you meane? I pray you

remember your curt'sy.

To his deare and most elected friend, Signior Lorenzo di Pazzi.

What might the gentlemans name be, sir, that sent it? Nay,

pray you be couer'd.

Ser.

Signior Prospero.

Lore.se.

Signior Prospero? A young gentleman of the fa-

mily of Strozzi, is he not?

Ser.

I, sir, the same: Signior Thorello, the rich Florentine

merchant married his sister.

Enter Musco.

Lore.se.

You say very true.

Musco.

Mus.

Sir.

Lore.se.

Make this Gentleman drinke, here.

I pray you goe in, sir, and't please you.

Exceunt.

Now (without doubt) this letter's to my sonne.

Well: all is one: Ile be so bold as reade it,

Be it but for the styles sake, and the phrase;

Both which (I doe presume) are excellent,

And greatly varied from the vulgar forme,

If Prospero's inuention gaue them life.

How now? what stuffe is here?

Sirha Lorenzo, I muse we cannot see thee at Florence: S'blood,

I doubt, Apollo hath got thee to be his Ingle, that thou commest

not abroad, to visit thine old friends: well, take heede of him; hee

may 'doe some What for his houshold seruants, or so; But for his Re-

tayners, I am sure, I haue knowne some of them, that haue followed

him, three, foure, fiue yeer together, scorning the world with their

bare heeles, & at length bene glad for a shift, (though no cleane shift)

to lye a whole winter, in halfe a sheete, cursing Charles wayne, and

the rest of the starres intolerably. But (quis contra diuos?) well;

Sirha, sweete villayne, come and see me; but spend one minute in my

company, and 'tis inough: I thinke I haue a world of good Iests for

thee: oh sirha, I can shew thee two of the most perfect, rare, & ab

solute true Gulls, that euer thousaw'st, if thou wilt come. S'blood,

inuent some famous memorable lye, or other, to stap thy father in the

mouth Withall: thou bast bene father of a thousand, in thy dayes,

thou could'st be no Poet else: any sciruy roguish excuse will serue;

say thou com sf but to setch wooll for thine Inke-horne. And then too,

thy Father will say thy wits are a wooll gathering. But it's no mat=

ter; the worse, the better. Any thing is good inough for the old man.

Sirha, how if thy Father should see this now? what would he thinke

of me? Well, (howeuer I write to thee) I reuerence him in my soule,

for the generall good all Florence deliuers of him. Lorenzo, I

consure thee (by what, let me see) by the depth of our loue, by all the

strange sights we haue seene in our dayes, (I or nights eyther) to come

to me to Florence this day. Go to, you shall come, and let your

Muses goe spinne for once. If thou wilt not, s'hart, what's your gods

name? Apollo? I; Apollo. If this melancholy rogue (Lorenzo

here) doe not come, graunt, that he doe turne Fooe pressently, and

neuer bere after, be able to make a good left, or a blanke uerse, but

liue in more penurie of wit and Inuention, then eyther the Hall-

Beadle, or Poet Nuntius.

Well, it is the strangest letter that euer I read.

Is this the man, my sonne (so oft) hath prays'd

To be the happiest, and most pretious wit

That euer was familiar with Art?

Now (by our Ladies blessed sonne) I sweare,

I rather thinke him most infortunate,

In the possession os such holy giftes,

Being the master of so loose a spirit.

Why what vnhallowed ruffian would haue writ,

With so prophane a pen, vnto his friend?

The modest paper eene lookes pale for griefe

To feele her virgin-cheeke defilde and staind

With such a blacke and criminall inscription.

Well, I had thought my son could not haue straied,

So farre from iudgement, as to mart himselfe

Thus cheapely, (in the open trade of scorne)

To geering follie, and fantastique humour.

But now I see opinion is a foole,

And hath abusde my sences. Musco.

Enter Musco.

Mus.

Sir.

Lor.se.

What is the fellow gone that brought this

letter?

Mus.

Yes sir, a prettie while since.

Lor.se.

And wher's Lorenzo?

Mus.

In his chamber sir.

Lor.se.

He spake not with the fellow, did he?

Mus.

No sir, he saw him not.

Lor.se.

Then Musco take this letter, and deliuer it vnto Lo-

renzo: but sirra, (on your life) take you no knowledge I haue

open'd it.

Mus.

O Lord sir, that were a iest in deed.

Exit Mus.

Lor.se.

I am resolu'd I will not crosse his iourney,

Nor will I practise any violent meane,

To stay the hot and lustie course of youth.

For youth restraind straight growes impatient,

And (in condition) like an eager dogge,

Who (ne're so little from his game withheld)

Turnes head and leapes vp at his masters throat.

Therefore ile studie (by some milder drift)

To call my sonne vnto a happier shrist.

Exit.

SCENA SECVNDA.

Enter Lorenzo iunior, with Musco.

Mus.

Yes sir, (on my word) he opend it, & read the contents.

Lor.iu.

It scarse contents me that he did so. But Musco didst

thou obserue his countenance in the reading of it, whether hee

were angrie or pleasde?

Mus.

Why sir I saw him not reade it.

Lo.iu.

No? how knowest thou then that he opend it?

Mus.

Marry sir because he charg'd mee (on my life) to tell

no body that he opend it, which (vnlesse he had done) he wold

neuer feare to haue it reueald.

Lo.iu.

Thats true: well Musco hie thee in againe,

Least thy protracted absence do lend light,

Enter Stephan.

To darke suspition: Musco be assurde

Ile not forget this thy respectiue loue.

Step.

Oh Musco, didst thou not see a fellow here in a what-

sha-callum doublet; he brought mine vncle a letter euen now?

Mus.

Yes sir, what of him?

Step.

Where is he, canst thou tell?

Mus.

Why he is gone.

Step.

Gone? which way? when went he? how long since?

Mus.

Its almost halfe an houre ago since he rid hence.

Step.

Horson Scanderbag rogue, oh that I had a horse; by

Gods lidde i'de fetch him backe againe, with heaue and ho.

Mus.

Why you may haue my masters bay gelding, and

you will.

Step.

But I haue no boots, thats the spite on it.

Mus.

Then its no boot to follow him. Let him go and hang

sir.

Step.

I by my troth; Musco, I pray thee help to trusse me a

liltle; nothing angers mee, but I haue waited such a while for

him all vnlac'd and vntrust yonder, and now to see hee is gone

the other way.

Mus.

Nay I pray you stand still sir.

Step.

I will, I will: oh how it vexes me.

Mus.

Tut, neuer vexe your selfe with the thought of such

a base fellow as he.

Step.

Nay to see, he stood vpon poynts with me too.

Mus.

Like inough so; that was, because he saw you had so

fewe at your hose.

Step.

What? Hast thou done? Godamercy, good Musco.

Mus.

I marle, sir, you weare such ill-fauourd course stoc-

kings, hauing so good a legge as you haue.

Step.

Fo, the stockings be good inough for this time of the

yeere; but Ile a haue a payre of silke, e're it be long: I thinke, my

legge would shewe well in a silke hose.

Mus.

I afore God would it rarely well.

Step.

In sadnesse I thinke it would: I haue a reasonable

good legge.

Mus.

You haue an excellent good legge, sir: I pray you

pardon me, I haue a little haste in, sir.

Step.

A thousand thankes, good Musco.

Exit.

What, I hope he laughs not at me; and he doe——

Lo.iun.

Here is a style indeed, for a mans sences to leape ouer,

e're they come at it: why, it is able to breake the shinnes of

any old mans patience in the world. My father reade this with

patience? Then will I be made an Eunuch, and learne to sing

Ballads. I doe not deny, but my father may haue as much pa-

tience as any other man; for hee vses to take phisicke, and oft

taking phisicke, makes a man a very patient creature. But,

Signior Prospero, had your swaggering Epistle here, arriued in

my fathers hands, at such an houre of his patience, (I meane,

when hee had tane phisicke) it is to bee doubted, whether I

should haue read sweete villayne here. But, what? My wise

cousin; Nay then, Ile furnish our feast with one Gull more to-

ward a messe; hee writes to mee of two, and here's one, that's

three, Ifayth. Oh for a fourth: now, Fortune, or neuer Fortune.

Step.

Oh, now I see who he laught at: hee laught at some

body in that letter. By this good light, and he had laught at

me, I would haue told mine vncle.

Lo.iun.

Cousin Stephano: good morrow, good cousin,

how fare you?

Step.

The better for your asking, I will assure you. I haue

beene all about to seeke you; since I came I saw mine vncle; &

ifaith how haue you done this great while? Good Lord, by my

troth I am glad you are well cousin.

Lor.iu.

And I am as glad of your comming, I protest to you,

for I am sent for by a priuate gentleman, my most speciall deare

friend, to come to him to Florence this morning, and you shall

go with me cousin, if it please you, not els, I will enioyne you

no further then stands with your owne consent, and the condi-

tion of a friend.

Step.

Why cousin you shall command me and't were twise

so farre as Florence to do you good; what doe you thinke I will

not go with you? I protest.

Lo.iu.

Nay, nay, you shall not protest.

Step.

By God, but I will sir, by your leaue ile protest more

to my friend then ile speake of at this time.

Lo.iu.

You speake very well sir.

Step.

Nay not so neither, but I speake to serue my turne.

Lo.iu.

Your turne? why cousin, a gentleman of so faire sort

as you are, of so true cariage, so speciall good parts; of so deare

and choice estimation; one whose lowest condition beares the

stampe of a great spirit; nay more, a man so grac'd, guilded, or

rather (to vse a more fit Metaphor) tinfoyld by nature, (not that

you haue a leaden constitution, couze, although perhaps a little

inclining to that temper, & so the more apt to melt with pittie,

when you fall into the fire of rage) but for your lustre onely,

which reflects as bright to the world as an old Ale-wiues pew-

ter againe a good time; and will you now (with nice modestie)

hide such reall ornaments as these, and shadow their glorie as

a Millaners wife doth her wrought stomacher, with a smoakie

lawne or a blacke cipresse? Come, come, for shame doe not

wrong the qualitie of your desert in so poore a kind: but let the

Idea of what you are, be portraied in your aspect, that men may

reade in your lookes; Here within this place is to be seene, the most

admirable rare & accomplisht worke of nature; Cousin what think

you of this?

Step.

Marry I do thinke o fit, and I will be more melancho-

lie,

and gentlemanlike then I haue beene, I doe ensure you.

Lo.iu.

Why this is well: now if I can but hold vp this humor

in him, as it is begun, Catso for Florence, match him & she can;

Come cousin.

Step.

Ile follow you.

Lo.iu.

Follow me? you must go before.

Step.

Must I? nay then I pray you shew me good cousin.

Exeunt.

SCENA TERTIA.

Enter Signior Matheo, to him Cob.

Mat.

I thinke this be the house: what howgh?

Cob.

Who's there? oh Signior Matheo. God giue you good

morrow sir.

Mat.

What?Cob? how doest thou good Cob? doest thou

inhabite here Cob?

Cob.

I sir, I and my lineage haue kept a poore house in our

daies.

Mat.

Thy lineage monsieur Cob? what lineage, what lineage?

Cob.

Why sir, an ancient lineage, and a princely: mine an

cetrie came from a kings loynes, no worse man; and yet no

man neither, but Herring the king of fish, one of the monarches

of the world I assure you. I doe fetch my pedegree and name

from the first redde herring that was eaten in Adam, & Eues

kitchin: his Cob was my great, great, mighty great grandfather.

Mat.

Why mightie? why mightie?

Cob.

Oh its a mightie while agoe sir, and it was a mightie

great Cob.

Mat.

How knowest thou that?

Cob.

How know I? why his ghost comes to me euery night.

Mat.

Oh vnsauorie iest: the ghost of a herring Cob.

Cob.

I, why not the ghost of a herring Cob, as well as the

ghost of Rashero Baccono, they were both broild on the coales:

you are a scholler, vpsolue me that now.

Mat.

Oh rude ignorance. Cob canst thou shew me, of a ge-

tleman, one Signior Bobadilla, where his lodging is?

Cob.

Oh my guest sir, you meane?

Mat.

Thy guest, alas? ha, ha.

Cob.

Why do you laugh sir? do you not meane signior Boba-

(dilla?

Mat.

Cob I pray thee aduise thy selfe well: do not wrong the

gentleman, and thy selfe too. I dare be sworne hee scornes thy

house hee. He lodge in such a base obscure place as thy house?

Tut, I know his disposition so well, he would not lie in thy bed

if thould'st giue it him.

Cob.

I will not giue it him. Masse I thought (somewhat was

in it) we could not get him to bed all night. Well sir, though he

lie not on my bed, he lies on my bench, and't please you to go

vp sir, you shall find him with two cushions vnder his head, and

his cloake wrapt about him, as though he had neither won nor

lost, and yet I warrant hee ne're cast better in his life then hee

hath done to night.

Mat.

Why was he drunke?

Cob.

Drunk sir? you heare not me say so; perhaps he swallow'd

a tauerne token, or some such deuise sir; I haue nothing to doe

withal: I deale with water and not with wine. Giue me my tan

kard there, ho. God be with you sir, its sixe a clocke: I should

haue caried two turnes by this, what ho? my stopple come.

Mat.

Lie in a waterbearers house, a gentleman of his note?

well ile tell him my mind. 
Exit .

Cob.

What Tib, shew this gentleman vp to Signior Boba-

dilla: oh and my house were the Brazen head now, faith it

would eene crie moe fooles yet: you should haue some now,

would take him to be a gentleman at the least; alas God helpe

the simple, his father's an honest man, a good fishmonger, and

so forth: and now doth he creep and wriggle into acquaintance

with all the braue gallants about the towne, such as my guest

is, (oh my guest is a fine man) and they flout him inuinciblie. He

vseth euery day to a Marchats house (where I serue water) one

M. Thorellos; and here's the iest, he is in loue with my masters

sister, and cals her mistres: and there he sits a whole afternoone

sometimes, reading of these same abhominable, vile, (a poxe

on them, I cannot abide them) rascally verses, Poetrie, poetrie,

and speaking of Enterludes, t'will make a man burst to heare

him: and the wenches, they doe so geere and tihe at him; well,

should they do as much to me, Ild forsweare them all, by the

life of Pharoah, there's an oath: how many waterbearers shall

you heare sweare such an oath? oh I haue a guest (he teacheth

me) he doth sweare the best of any man christned: By Phœbus,

By the life of Pharaoh, By the body of me, As I am gentleman,

and a soldier: such daintie oathes; & withall he doth take this

same filthie roaguish Tabacco the finest, and cleanliest; it

wold do a man good to see the fume come forth at his nostrils:

well, he owes me fortie shillings (my wife lent him out of her

purse; by sixpence a time) besides his lodging; I would I had it:

I shall haue it he saith next Action. Helter skelter, hang sorrow,

care will kill a cat, vptailes all, and a poxe on the hangman.

Exit.

Bobadilla discouers himselfe: on a bench; to him Tib.

Bob.

Hostesse, hostesse.

Tib.

What say you sir?

Bob.

A cup of your small beere sweet hostesse.

Tib.

Sir, ther's a gentleman below would speake with you.

Bob.

A gentleman, (Gods so) I am not within.

Tib.

My husband told him you were sir.

Bob.

What hat ha plague? what meant he?

Mat.

Signior Bobadilla. Matheo within.

Bob.

Who's there? (take away the bason good hostesse) come vp sir.

Tib.

He would desire you to come vp sir; you come into

a cleanly house here.

Mat.

God saue you sir, God saue you.

Enter Matheo.

Bob.

Signior Matheo, is't you sir? please you sit downe.

Mat.

I thanke you good Signior, you may see, I am some

what audacious.

Bob.

Not so Signior, I was requested to supper yesternight

by a sort of gallants where you were wisht for, and drunke to

I assure you.

Mat.

Vouchsafe me by whom good Signior.

Bob.

Marrie by Signior, Prospero, and others, why hostesse, a

stoole here for this gentleman.

Mat.

No haste sir, it is very well.

Bob.

Bodie of me, it was so late ere we parted last night, I

can scarse open mine eyes yet; I was but new risen as you

came: how passes the day abroad sir? you can tell.

Mat.

Faith some halfe houre to seuen: now trust me you

haue an exceeding fine lodging here, very neat, and priuate.

Bob.

I sir, sit downe I pray you: Signior Matheo (in any case)

possesse no gentlemen of your acquaintance with notice of my

lodging.

Mat.

Who I sir? no.

Bob.

Not that I neede to care who know it, but in regard I

vwould not be so popular and generall, as some be.

Mat.

True Signior, I conceiue you.

Bob.

For do you see sir, by the hart of my selfe (except it be

to some peculiar and choice spirits, to whom I am extraordina-

rily ingag'd, as your selfe, or so) I would not extend thus farre.

Mat.

O Lord sir I resolue so.

Bob.

What new booke haue you there? what? Go by Hiero-

nimo.

Mat.

I, did you euer see it acted? is't not well pend?

Bob.

Well pend: I would faine see all the Poets of our time

pen such another play as that was; they'I prate and swagger, and

keepe a stirre of arte and deuises, when (by Gods so) they are

the most shallow pittifull fellowes that liue vpon the face of the

earth againe.

Mat.

Indeede, here are a number of fine speeches in this

booke: Oh eyes, no eyes but fountaines fraught with teares; there's

a conceit: Fountaines fraught with teares. Oh life, no life, but

liuely forme of death: is't not excellent? Oh world, no world, but

masse of publique wrongs; O Gods mee: confusde and fild with

murther and misdeeds.

Is't not simply the best that euer you heard?

Ha, how do you like it?

Bob.

Tis good.

Mat.

To thee the purest obiect to my sence,

The most refined essence heauen couers,

Send I these lines, wherein I do commence

The happie state of true deseruing louers.

If they proue rough, vnpolish't, harsh and rude,

Haste made that waste; thus mildly I conclude.

Bob.

Nay proceed, proceed, where's this? where's this?

Mat.

This sir, a toy of mine owne in my nonage: but when

will you come and see my studie? good faith I can shew you

some verie good thinges I haue done oflate: that boote be

comes your legge passing well sir, me thinks.

Bob.

So, so, it's a fashion gentlemen vse.

Mat.

Masse sir, and now you speake of the fashion, Signior

Prosperos elder brother and I are fallen out exceedingly: this o-

ther day I hapned to enter into some discourse of a hanger,

which I assure you, both for fashion & workmanship was most

beautifull and gentlemanlike; yet hee condemned it for the

most pide and ridiculous that euer he saw.

Bob.

Signior Giuliano, was it not? the elder brother?

Mat.

I sir, he.

Bob.

Hang him Rooke he? why he has no more iudgement

then a malt horse. By S. George, I hold him the most perem-

ptorie absurd clowne (one a them) in Christendome: I protest

to you (as I am a gentleman and a soldier) I ne're talk't with the

like of him: he ha's not so much as a good word in his bellie,

all iron, iron, a good commoditie for a simith to make ho-

bnailes on.

Mat.

I, and he thinkes to carrie it away with his manhood

still where he comes: he brags he will giue mee the bastinado,

as I heare.

Bob.

How, the bastinado? how came he by that word trow?

Mat.

Nay indeed he said cudgill me; I tearmd it so for the

more grace.

Bob.

That may bee, for I was sure it was none of his word:

but when, when said he so?

Mat.

Faith yesterday they say, a young gallant a friend of

mine told me so.

Bob.

By the life of Pharaoh, and't were my case nowe; I

should send him a challenge presently: the bastinado? come

hither, you shall challenge him; ile shew you a tricke or two,

you shall kill him at pleasure, the first stockado if you will, by

this ayre.

Mat.

Indeed you haue absolute knowledge in the mistery,

I haue heard sir.

Bob.

Of whom? of whom I pray?

Mat.

Faith I haue heard it spoken of diuers, that you haue

verie rare skill sir.

Bob.

By heauen, no, not I, no skill in the earth: some small

science, know my time, distance, or so, I haue profest it more

for noblemen and gentlemens vse, then mine owne practise I

assure you. Hostesse, lend vs another bedstaffe here quickly:

looke you sir, exalt not your point aboue this state at any hand,

and let your poyneard maintaine your defence thus: giue it

the gentleman. So sir, come on, oh twine your bodie more a-

bout, that you may come to a more sweet comely gentleman-

like guard; so indifferent. Hollow your bodie more sir, thus:

now stand fast on your left leg, note your distance, keep your

due proportion of time: oh you disorder your point most

vilely.

Mat.

How is the bearing of it now sir?

Bob.

Oh out of measure ill, a well experienced man would

passe vpon you at pleasure.

Mat.

How meane you passe vpon me?

Bob.

Why thus sir? make a thrust at me; come in vpon my

time; controll your point, and make a full carriere at the bodie:

the best practis'd gentlemen of the time terme it the passado,

a most desperate thrust, beleeue it.

Mat.

Well, come sir.

Bob.

Why you do not manage your weapons with that fa-

cilitie and grace that you should doe, I haue no spirit to play

with you, your dearth of iudgement makes you seeme tedious.

Mat.

But one veny sir.

Bob.

Fie veney, most grosse denomination, as euer I heard:

oh the stockado while you liue Signior, note that. Come put on

your cloake, and weele go to some priuate place where you are

acquainted, some tauerne or so, & weele send for one of these

fencers, where he shall breath you at my direction, and then

ile teach you that tricke, you shall kill him with it at the first if

you please: why ile learne you by the true iudgement of the

eye, hand and foot, to controll any mans point in the world;

Should your aduersary confront you with a pistoll, t'were

nothing, you should (by the same rule) controll the bullet, most

certaine by Phœbus: vnles it were haile-shot: what mony haue

you about you sir?

Mat.

Faith I haue not past two shillings, or so.

Bob.

Tis some what with the least, but come, when we haue

done, weele call vp Signior Prospero; perhaps we shal meet with

Coridon his brother there.

Exeunt.

SCENA QVARTA.

Enter Thorello, Giuliano, Piso.

Tho.

Piso, come hither: there lies a note within vpon my

deske; here take my key: it's no matter neither, where's the

boy?

Piso.

Within sir, in the warehouse.

Thor.

Let him tell ouer that Spanish gold, and weigh it, and

do you see the deliuerie of those wares to Signior Bentiuole: ile

be there my selfe at the receipt of the money anon.

Piso.

Verie good sir. 
Exit Piso .

Tho.

Brother, did you see that same fellow there?

Giu.

I, what of him?

Tho.

He is e'ene the honestest faithfull seruant, that is this

day in Florence; (I speake a proud word now) and one that I

durst trust my life into his hands, I haue so strong opinion of

his loue, if need were.

Giu.

God send me neuer such need: but you said you had

somewhat to tell me, what is't?

Tho.

Faith brother, I am loath to vtter it,

As fearing to abuse your patience,

But that I know your iudgement more direct,

Able to sway the nearest of affection.

Giu.

Come, come, what needs this circumstance?

Tho.

I will not say what honor I ascribe

Vnto your friendship, not in what deare state

I hold your loue; let my continued zeale,

The constant and religious regard,

That I haue euer caried to your name,

My cariage with your sister, all contest,

How much I stand affected to your house.

Giu.

You are too tedious, come to the matter, come to the matter.

Tho.

Then (without further ceremony) thus.

My brother Prospero (I know not how)

Of late is much declin'd from what he was,

And greatly alterd in his disposition.

When he came first to lodge here in my house.

Ne're trust me, if I was not proud of him:

Me thought he bare himselfe with such obseruance,

So true election and so faire a forme:

And (what was chiefe) it shewd not borrowed in him,

But all he did became him as his owne,

And seemd as perfect, proper, and innate,

Vnto the mind, as collor to the blood,

But now, his course is so irregular,

So loose affected, and depriu'd of grace.

And he himselfe withall so farre falne off

From his first place, that scarse no note remaines.

To tell mens iudgements where he lately stood;

Hee's growne a stranger to all due respect,

Forgetfull of his friends, and not content

To stale himselfe in all societies,

He makes my house as common as a Mart,

A Theater, a publike receptacle

For giddie humor, and diseased riot,

And there, (as in a Tauerne, or a stewes,)

He, and his wilde associates, spend their houres,

In repetition of lasciuious iests,

Sweare, leape, and dance, and reuell night by night,

Controll my seruants: and indeed what not?

Giu.

Faith I know not what I should say to him: so God

saue mee, I am eene at my wits end, I haue tolde him inough,

one would thinke, if that would ferue: well, he knowes what to

trust to for me: let him spend, and spend, and domineere till

his hart ake: & he get a peny more of me, Ile giue him this eare.

Tho.

Nay good Brother haue patience.

Giu.

S'blood, he mads me, I could eate my very flesh for anger:

I marle you will not tell him of it, how he disquiets your house.

Tho.

O there are diuers reasons to disswade me,

But would your selfe vouchsafe to trauaile in it,

(Though but with plaine, and easie circumstance,)

It would, both come much better to his sence,

And sauor lesse of griefe and discontent.

You are his elder brother, and that title

Confirmes and warrants your authoritie:

Which (seconded by your aspect) will breed

A kinde of duty in him, and regard.

Where as, if I should intimate the least,

It would but adde contempt, to his neglect,

Heape worse on ill, reare a huge pile of hate,

That in the building, would come tottring downe,

And in her ruines, bury all our loue.

Nay more then this brother; (if I should speake)

He would be ready in the heate of passion,

To fill the eares of his familiars,

With oft reporting to them, what disgrace

And grosse disparagement, I had propos'd him.

And then would they straight back him, in opinion,

Make some loose comment vpon euery word,

And out of their distracted phantasies;

Contriue some slander, that should dwell with me.

And what would that be thinke you? mary this,

They would giue out, (because my wife is fayre,

My selfe but lately married, and my sister

Heere soiourning a virgin in my house)

That I were iealous; nay, as sure as death,

Thus they would say: and how that I had wrongd

My brother purposely, there by to finde

An apt pretext to banish them my house.

Giu.

Masse perhaps so.

Tho.

Brother they would beleeue it: so should I.

(Like one of these penurious quack-slaluers,)

But trie experiments vpon my selfe,

Open the gates vnto mine owne disgrace,

Lend bare-ribd enuie, oportunitie.

To stab my reputation, and good name.

Enter Boba, and Matheo.

Mat.

I will speake to him.

Bob.

Speake to him? away, by the life of Pharoah you shall

not, you shall not do him that grace: the time of daye to you

Gentleman: is Signior Prospero stirring?

Giu.

How then? what should he doe?

Bob.

Signior Thorello, is he within sir?

Tho.

He came not to his lodging to night sir, I assure you.

Giu.

Why do you heare? you.

Bob.

This gentleman hath satisfied me, Ile talke to no Scau-

enger.

Giu.

How Scauenger? stay sir stay.

Exeunt.

Tho.

Nay Brother Giuliano.

Giu.

S'blood stand you away, and you loue me.

Tho.

You shall not follow him now I pray you,

Good faith you shall not.

Giu.

Ha? Scauenger? well goe to, I say little, but, by this

good day (God forgiue me I should sweare) if I put it vp so,

say I am the rankest——that euer pist. S'blood and I swal

lowe this, Ile neere drawe my sworde in the sight of man

againe while I liue; Ile sit in a Barne with Madge-owlee

first, Scauenger? 'Hart and Ile goe neere to fill that huge

timbrell slop of yours with somewhat and I haue good lucke,

your Garagantua breech cannot carry it away so.

Tho.

Oh do not fret your selfe thus, neuer thinke on't.

Giu.

These are my brothers consorts these, these are his

Cumrades, his walking mates, hees a gallant, a Caueliero too, right

hangman cut. God let me not liue, 'and I could not finde in my

hart to swinge the whole nest of them, one after another, and

begin with him first, I am grieu'd it should be said he is my bro-

ther, and take these courses, well he shall heare on't, and that

tightly too, and I liue Ifaith.

Tho.

But brother, let your apprehension (then)

Runne in an easie current, not transported

With heady rashnes, or deuouring choller,

And rather carry a perswading spirit,

Whose powers will pearce more gently; and allure;

Th'imperfect thoughts you labour to reclaime,

To a more sodaine and resolu'd assent.

Gui.

I, I, let me alone for that I warrant you.

Bell rings.

Tho.

How now? oh the bell rings to breakefast.

Brother Giuliano, I pray you go in and beare my wife company

: Ile but giue order to my seruants for the dispatche of some bu-

sines and come to you presently.

Exit Guil.

Enter Cob.

What Cob? our maides will haue you by the back (Ifaith)

For comming so late this morning.

Cob.

Perhaps so sir, take heede some body have not them

by the belly for walking so late in the euening.

Exit.

Tho.

Now (in good faith) my minde is somewhat easd,

Though not reposd in that securitie,

As I could wish; well, I must be content,

How e're I set a face on't to the world,

Would I had lost this finger at a vente,

So Prospero had ne're lodg'd in my house,

Why't cannot be, where there is such resort

Of wanton gallants, and young reuellers,

That any woman should be honest long.

I'st like, that factious beauty will preserue

The soueraigne state of chastitie vnseard,

When such strong motiues muster, and make head

Against her single peace? no, no: beware

When mutuall pleasure swayes the appetite,

And spirits of one kinde and qualitie,

Do meete to parlee in the pride of blood.

Well (to be plaine) if I but thought, the time

Had answer'd their affections: all the world

Should not perswade me, but I were a cuckold:

Mary I hope they haue not got that start.

For opportunity hath balkt them yet,

And shall do still, while I haue eyes and eares

To attend the imposition of my hart,

My presence shall be as an Iron Barre,

Twixt the conspiring motions of desire,

Yea euery looke or glaunce mine eye obiects,

Shall checke occasion, as one doth his slaue,

When he forgets the limits of prescription.

Enter Biancha, with Hesperida.

Bia.

Sister Hesperida, I pray you fetch downe the Rose wa-

ter aboue in the closet: Sweete hart will you come in to break-

fast.

Exit Hesperida.

Tho.

And she haue ouer-heard me now?

Bia.

I pray thee (good Musse) we stay for you.

Tho.

By Christ I would not for a thousand crownes.

Bia.

VVhat ayle you sweete hart, are you not well, speake

good Musse.

Tho.

Troth my head akes extreamely on a suddaine.

Bia.

Oh Iesu!

Tho.

How now? what?

Bia.

Good Lord how it burnes?Musse keepe you warme,

good truth it is this new disease, there's a number are trou-

bled withall: for Godssake sweete heart, come in out of the

ayre.

Tho.

How simple, and how subtill are her answeres?

A new disease, and many troubled with it.

Why true, she heard me all the world to nothing.

Bia.

I pray thee good sweet heart come in; the ayre will do

you harme in troth.

Tho.

Ile come to you presently, it will away I hope.

Bia.

Pray God it do.

Exit.

Tho.

A new disease? I know not, new or old,

But it may well be call'd poore mortals Plague;

For like a pestilence it doth infect

The houses of the braine: first it begins:

Solely to worke vpon the fantasie,

Filling her seat with such pestiferous aire,

As soone corrupts the iudgement, and from thence,

Sends like contagion to the memorie,

Still each of other catching the infection,

Which as a searching vapor spreads it selfe

Confusedly through euery sensiue part,

Till not a thought or motion in the mind

Be free from the blacke poison of suspect.

Ah, but what error is it to know this,

And want the free election of the soule

In such extreames? well, I will once more striue,

(Euen in despight of hell) my selfe to be,

And shake this feauer off that thus shakes me.

Exit.

ACTVS SECVNDVS,
SCENA PRIMA.

Enter Musco disguised like a soldier.

Musco.

S'blood, I cannot chuse but laugh to see my selfe

translated thus, from a poore creature to a creator; for now

must I create an intolerable sort of lies, or else my profession

looses his grace, and yet the lie to a man of my coat, is as omi-

nous as the Fica oh sir, it holds for good policie to haue that

outwardly in vilest estimation, that inwardly is most deare to

vs: So much for my borrowed shape. Well, the trothis, my

maister intends to follow his sonne drie-foot to Florence, this

morning: now I knowing of this conspiracie, and the rather

to insinuate with my young master, (for so must wee that are

blew waiters, or men of seruice doe, or else perhaps wee may

weare motley at the yeares end, and who weares motley you

know:) I haue got me afore in this disguise, determining here

to lie in ambuscado, & intercept him in the midway: if I can

but get his cloake, his putse, his hat, nay any thing so I can stay

his iourney, Rex Regum, I am made for euer ifaith: well, now

must I practise to get the true garbe of one of these Launce-

knights: my arme here, and my: Gods so, young master and his

cousin.

Enter Lo. iu. and Step.

Lo.iu.

So sir, and how then?

Step.

Gods foot, I haue lost my purse, I thinke.

Lo.iu.

How? lost your purse? where? when had you it?

Step.

I cannot tell, stay.

Mus.

S'lid I am afeard they will know me, would I could get

by them.

Lo.iu.

What? haue you it?

Step.

No, I thinke I was bewitcht, I.

Lo.iu.

Nay do not weep, a poxe on it, hang it let it go.

Step.

Oh it's here; nay and it had beene lost, I had not car'd

but for a iet ring Marina lent me.

Lo iu.

A iet ring? oh the poesie, the poesie?

Step.

Fine ifaith: Though fancie sleepe, my loue is deepe: mea-

ning that though I did not fancie her, yet shee loued mee

dearely.

Lo iu.

Most excellent.

Step.

And then I sent her another, and my poesie was; The

deeper the sweeter, Ile be iudg'd by Saint Peter.

Lo.iu.

How, by S. Peter? I do not conceiue that.

Step.

Marrie, S. Peter to make vp the meeter.

Lo.iu.

Well, you are beholding to that Sainte help't you

at your need; thanke him, thanke him.

Mus.

I will venture, come what will: Gentlemen, please

you chaunge a few crownes for a verie excellent good blade

here; I am a poore gentleman, a soldier, one that (in the better

state of my fortunes) scornd so meane a refuge, but now its the

humour of necessitie to haue it so: you seeme to be gentlemen

well affected to martiall men, els I should rather die with si

lence, then liue with shame: how e're, vouchsafe to remember

it is my want speakes, not my selfe: this condition agrees not

with my spirit.

Lo.iu.

Where hast thou seru'd?

Mus.

May it please you Signior, in all the prouinces of Bo-

hemia, Hungaria, Dalmatia, Poland, where not? I haue beene

a poore seruitor by sea and land, any time this xiiij. yeares, and

follow'd the fortunes of the best Commaunders in Christen-

dome. I was twise shot at the taking of Aleppo, once at the re

liefe of Vienna; I haue beene at America in the galleyesthrise,

where I was most dangerously shot in the head, through both

the thighes, and yet being thus maim'd I am voide of mainte

nance, nothing left me but my scarres, the noted markes of my

resolution.

Step.

How will you sell this Rapier friend?

Mus.

Faith Signior, I referre it to your owne iudgement; you are a gentleman,

giue me what you please.

Step.

True, I am a gentleman, I know that; but what though,

I pray you say, what would you aske?

Mus.

I assure you the blade may become the side of the best

prince in Europe.

Lo.iu.

I, with a veluet scabberd.

Step.

Nay and't be mine it shall haue a veluet scabberd, that

is flat, i' de not weare it as ' tis and you would giue me an angell.

Mus.

At your pleasure Signior, nay it's a most pure Toledo.

Step.

I had rather it were a Spaniard : but tell me, what shal I giue you for it? and it had

a siluer hilt—

Lo.iu.

Come, come, you shall not buy it; holde there's a

shilling friend, take thy Rapier.

Step.

Why but I will buy it now, because you say so: what

shall I go without a rapier?

Lo.iu.

You may buy one in the citie.

Step.

Tut, ile buy this, so I will; tell me your lowest price.

Lo.iu.

You shall not I say.

Step.

By Gods lid, but I will, though I giue more then 'tis worth.

Lo.iu.

Come away, you are a foole.

Step.

Friend, ile haue it for that word: sollow me.

Mus.

At your seruice Signior.

Exeunt.

SCENA SECVNDA.

Enter Lorenzo senior.

Lore.

My labouring spirit being late opprest

With my sonnes follie, can embrace no rest,

Till it hath plotted by aduise and skill,

How to reduce him from affected will

To reasons manage; which while I intend,

My troubled soule beginnes to apprehend

A farther secret, and to meditate

Vpon the difference of mans estate:

Where is deciphered to true iudgements eye

A deep, conceald, and precious misterie.

Yet can I not but worthily admire

At natures art: who (when she did inspire

This heat of life) plac'd Reason (as a king)

Here in the head, to haue the marshalling

Of our affections: and with soueraigntie

To sway the state of our weake empirie.

But as in diuers commonwealthes we see,

The forme of gouernment to disagree:

Euen so in man who searcheth soone shal find

As much or more varietie of mind.

Some mens affections like a sullen wife,

Is with her husband reason still at strife.

Others (like proud Arch-traitors that rebell

Against their soueraigne) practise to expell

Their liege Lord Reason, and not shame to tread

Vpon his holy and annointed head.

But as that land or nation best doth thriue,

Which to smooth-fronted peace is most procliue,

So doth that mind, whose faire affections rang'd

By reasons rules, stand constant and vnchang'd,

Els, if the power of reason be not such,

Why do we attribute to him so much?

Or why are we obsequious to his law,

If he want spirit our affects to awe?

Oh no, I argue weakly, he is strong,

Enter Musco.

Albeit my sonne haue done him too much wrong.

Mus.

My master: nay faith haue at you: I am flesht now I

haue sped so well: Gentleman, I beseech you respect the estate

of a poor soldier; I am asham'd of this base course of life (God's

my comfort) but extremitie prouokes me to't, what remedie

Loren.

I haue not for you now.

Mus.

By the faith I beare vnto God, gentleman, it is no or-

dinarie custome, but onely to preserue manhood. I protest to

you, a man I haue bin, a man I may be, by your sweet bountie.

Lor.

I pray thee good friend be satisfied.

Mus.

Good Signior: by Iesu you may do the part of a kind

gentleman, in lending a poore soldier the price of two cans of

beere, a matter of small value, the King of heauen shall pay

you, and I shall rest thankfull: sweet Signior.

Loren.

Nay and you be so importunate—

Mus.

Oh Lord sir, need wil haue his course: I was not made

to this vile vse; well, the edge of the enemie could not haue a-

bated me so much: it's hard when a man hath serued in his

Princes cause and be thus. Signior, let me deriue a small peece

of siluer from you, it shall not be giuen in the course of time, by

this good ground, I was faine to pawne my rapier last night

for a poore supper, I am a Pagan els: sweet Signior.

Loren.

Beleeue me I am rapte with admiration,

To thinke a man of thy exterior presence,

Should (in the constitution of the mind)

Be so degenerate, infirme, and base.

Art thou a man? and sham'st thou not to beg?

To practise such a seruile kinde of life?

Why were thy education ne're so meane,

Hauing thy limbes: a thousand fairer courses

Offer themselues to thy election.

Nay there the warres might still supply thy wants,

Or seruice of some vertuous Gentleman,

Or honest labour; nay what can I name,

But would become thee better then to beg?

But men of your condirion feede on sloth,

As doth the Scarabe on the dung she breeds in,

Not caring how the temper of your spirits

Is eaten with the rust of idlenesse.

Now afore God, what e're he be, that should

Releeue a person of thy qualitie,

While you insist in this loose desperate course,

I would esteame the sinne not thine but his.

Mus.

Faith signior, I would gladly finde someother course

if so

Loren.

I, you'ld gladly finde it, but you will not seeke it.

Mus.

Alatle sir, where should a man seeke? in the warres,

there's no assent by desart in these dayes, but: and for seruice

would it were as soone purchast as wisht for (Gods my com-

fort) I know what I would say.

Loren.

Whats thy name.

Mus.

Please you: Portensio.

Loren.

Portensio?

Say that a man should entertaine thee now,

Would thou be honest, humble, iust and true.

Mus.

Signior: by the place and honor of a souldier.

Loren.

Nay, nay, I like not these affected othes;

Speake plainly man: what thinkst thou of my words?

Mus.

Nothing signior, but wish my fortunes were as

happy as my seruice should be honest.

Loren.

Well follow me, ile prooue thee, if thy deedes

Will cary a proportion to thy words.

Exit Lor .

Mus.

Yes sir straight, ile but garter my hose; oh that my

bellie were hoopt now, for I am readie to burst with laughing.

S'lid, was there euer seene a foxe in yeares to betray himselfe

thus? now shall I be possest of all his determinations, and con-

sequently and my young master well hee is resolu'd to proue

my honestie: faith and I am resolued to proue his patience:

oh I shall abuse him intollerablie: this small peece of seruice

will bring him cleane out of loue with the soldier for euer. It's

no matter, let the world thinke me a bad counterfeit, if I can-

not giue him the slip at an instant: why this is better then to

haue staid his iourney by halfe, well ile follow him; oh how I

long to be imployed.

Exit.

SCENA TERTIA.

Enter Prospero, Bobadilla and Matheo.

Mat.

Yes faith sir, we were at your lodging to seake you too.

Pros.

Oh I came not there to night.

Bob.

Your brother deliuered vs as much.

Pros.

Who Giuliano?

Bob.

Giuliano? Signior Prospero, I know not in what kinde

you value me, but let me tell you this: as sure as God I do hold

it so much out of mine honor & reputation, if I should but cast

the least regard vpon such a dunghill of flesh; I protest to you

(as I haue a soule to bee saued) I ne're saw any gentlemanlike

part in him: and there were no more men liuing vpon the face

of the earth, I should not fancie him by Phœbus.

Mat.

Troth nor I, he is of a rusticall cut, I know not how:

he doth not carrie himselfe like a gentleman.

Pros.

Oh Signior Matheo, that's a grace peculiar but to a

few; quosaquus amauit Iupiter.

Mat.

I vnderstand you sir.

Enter Loren[unclear]o iunior, and Step.

Pros.

No question you do sir: Lorenzo; now on my soule

welcome; how doest thou sweet raskall? my Genius? S'blood I

shal loue Apollo, & the mad Thespian girles the better while I

kue for this; my deare villaine, now I see there's some spirit in

thee: Sirra these be they two I writ to thee of, nay what a drow-

sie humor is this now ? why doest thou not speake?

Lo.Iu.

Oh you are a fine gallant, you sent me a rare letter.

Pros.

Why was't not rare?

Lo.Iu.

Yes ile be sworne I was ne're guiltie of reading the

like, match it in all Plinies familiar Epistles, and ile haue my

iudgement burnd in the eare for a rogue, make much of thy

vaine, for it is inimitable. But I marle what Camell it was, that

had the cariage of it? for doubtlesse he was no ordinarie beast

that brought it.

Pros.

Why?

Lo.Iu.

Why sayest thou? why doest thou thinke that any

reasonable creature, especially in the morning, (the sober time

of the day too) would haue taine my father for me?

Pros.

S'blood you iest I hope?

Lo.Iu.

Indeed the best vse we can turne it too, is to make a

iest on't now: but ile assure you, my father had the prouing of

your copy, some howre before I saw it.

Pros.

What a dull slaue was this? But sirrah what sayd he

to it yfaith?

Lo.Iu.

Nay I know not what he said. But I haue a shrewd

gesse what he thought.

Pro.

What? what?

Lo.Iu.

Mary that thou art a damn'd dissolute villaine

, And I some graine or two better, in keeping thee company.

Pros.

Tut that thought is like the Moone in the last quar-

ter, twill change shortly: but sirrha, I pray thee be acquainted

with my two Zanies heere, thou wilt take exceeding pleasure

in them if thou hearst them once, but what strange peece of

silence is this? the signe of the dumbe man?

Lo.Iu.

Oh sir a kinsman of mine, one that may make our

Musique the fuller and he please, he hath his humor sir.

Pros.

Oh what ist? what ist?

Lo.Iu.

Nay: ile neyther do thy iudgement, nor his folly that

wrong, as to prepare thy apprehension: ile leaue him to the

mercy of the time, if you can take him: so.

Pros.

Well signior Bobadilla: signior Matheo: I pray you know

this Gentleman here, he is a friend of mine, & one that will wel

deserue your affection, I know not your name signior, but I

shalbe glad of any good occasion, to be more familiar with you.

Step.

My name is signior Stephano , sir, I am this Gentlemans

cousin, sir his father is mine vnckle; sir, I am somewhatmelan-

cholie, but you shall commaund me sir, in whatsoeuer is inci-

dent to a Gentleman.

Bob.

Signior, I must tell you this, I am no generall man,

embrace it as a most high fauour, for (by the host of Egypt) but

that I conceiue you, to be a Gentleman of some parts, I loue

few words: you haue wit: imagine.

Step.

I truely sir, I am mightily giuen to melancholy.

Mat.

Oh Lord sir, it's your only best humor sir, your true

melancholy, breedes your perfect fine wit sir: I am melancho-

lie my selfe diuers times sir, and then do I no more but take

your pen and paper presently, and write you your halfe score

or your dozen of sonnets at a sitting.

Lo.iu.

Masse then he vtters them by the grosse.

Step.

Truely sir and I loue such things out of measure.

Lo.iu.

I faith, as well as in measure.

Mat.

Why I pray you signior, make vse of my studie, it's at

your seruice.

Step.

I thanke you sir, I shalbe bolde I warrant you, haue

you a close stoole there?

Mat.

Faith sir, I haue some papers there, toyes of mine owne

doing at idle houres, that you'le say there's some sparkes of wit

in them, when you shall see them.

Prosp.

Would they were kindled once, and a good fire

made, I might see selfe loue burnd for her heresie.

Step.

Cousin, is it well [unclear] am I melancholie inough?

Lo.iu.

Oh I, excellent.

Prosp.

Signior Bobadilla ? why muse you so?

Lo.iu.

He is melancholy too.

Bob.

Faith sir, I was thinking of a most honorable piece of ser-

uice was perform'd to morow; being S Marks day: shalbe some

Lo.iu.

In what place was that seruice, I pray you sir?

(tē years.

Bob.

Why at the beleagring of Glubellet, where, in lesse then

two houres, seuen hundred resolute gentlemen, as any were in

Europe, lost their liues vpon the breach: ile tell you gentlemen.

it was the first, but the best leaugre that euer I beheld with these

eyes, except the taking in of Tortola yeer by the Genowayes,

but that (of all other) was the most fatall & dangerous exploit,

that euer I was rang'd in, since I first bore armes before the face

of the enemy, as I am a gentleman and a souldier.

Step.

So, I had as liefe as an angell I could sweare as well as

that gentleman.

Lo.iu.

Then you were a seruitor at both it seemes.

Bob.

Oh Lord sir: by Phaeton I was the first man that entred

the breach, and had I not effected it with resolution, I had bene

slaine if I had had a million of liues.

Lo.iu.

Indeed sir?

Step.

Nay & you heard him discourse you would say so: how

(like you him?

Bob.

I assure you (vpon my saluation) 'tis true, and your

selfe shall consesse.

Prosp.

You must bring him to the racke first.

Bob.

Obserue me iudicially sweet signior: they had planted

me a demy culuering, iust in the mouth of the breach; now sir

(as we were to ascend) their master gunner (a man of no meane

skill and courage, you must thinke) confronts me with his Lin-

stock ready to giue fire; I spying his intendement, discharg'd

my Petrinell in his bosome, and with this instrument my poore

Rapier, ran violently vpon the Moores that guarded the ordi-

nance, and put them pell-mell to the sword.

Pros.

To the sword? to the Rapier signior.

Lo.iu.

Oh it was a good figure obseru'd sir: but did you all

this signior without hurting your blade.

Bob.

Without any impeach on the earth: you shall per

ceiue sir, it is the most fortunate weapon, that euer rid on a

poore gentlemans thigh: shall I tell you sir, you talke of More

glay, Excaliber, Durindana, or so: tut, I lend no credit to that is

reported of them, I know the vertue of mine owne, and there

fore I dare the boldlier maintaine it.

Step.

I marle whether it be a Toledo or no?

Bob.

A most perfect Toledo , I assure you signior.

Step.

I haue a countriman of his here.

Mat.

Pray you let's see sir: yes faith it is.

Bob.

This a Toledo pisha

Step.

Why do you pish signior?

Bob.

A Fleming by Phaebus, ile buy them for a guilder a peece

and ile haue a thousand of them.

Lo.iu.

How say you cousin, I told you thus much.

Pros.

VVhere bought you it siguior?

Step.

Of a scuruy rogue Souldier, a pox of God on him, he

swore it was a Toledo.

Bob.

A prouant Rapier, no better.

Mat.

Masse I thinke it be indeed.

Lo.iu.

Tut now it's too late to looke on it, put it vp, put it vp

Step.

VVell I will not put it vp, but by Gods foote, and ere

I meete him——

Pros.

Oh it is past remedie now sir, you must haue patience.

Step.

Horson conny-catching Raskall; oh I could cate the

very hilts for anger.

Lo.iu.

A signe you haue a good Ostrich stomack Cousin.

Step.

A stomack? would I had him here, you should see and

I had a stomacke.

Pros.

It's better as 'tis: come gentlemen shall we goe?

Enter Musce.

Lo.iu.

A miracle cousin, looke here, looke here.

Step.

Oh, Gods lid, by your leaue, do you know me sir.

Mus.

I sir, I know you by sight.

Step.

You sold me a Rapier, did you not?

Mus.

Yes marry did I sir.

Step.

You said it was a Telodo ha?

Mus.

True I did so.

Step.

But it is none.

Mus.

No sir, I confesse it, it is none.

Step.

Gentlemen beare witnesse, he has confest it. By Gods

lid, and you had not confest it——

Lo.iu.

Oh cousin, forbeare, forbeare.

Step.

Nay I haue done cousin.

Pros.

Why you haue done like a Gentleman, he ha's confest

it, what would you more?

Lo.iu.

Sirra how doost thou like him.

PPros.

Oh its a pretious good foole, make much on him: I

can compare him to nothing more happely, then a Barbers vir-

ginals; for euery one may play vpon him.

Mus.

Gentleman, shall I intreat a word with you?

Lo.iu.

With all my heart sir, you haue not another Toledo

to sell, haue yee?

Mus.

You are pleasant, your name is signior Lorenzo as I take it.

Lo.iu.

You are in the right: S'bloud he meanes to catechize

me I thinke.

Mus.

No sir, I leaue that to the Curate, I am none of that

(coate.

Lo.iu.

And yet of as bare a coate; well, say sir.

Mus.

Faith signior, I am but seruant to God Marsextra-

ordinarie, and indeed (this brasse varnish being washt off, and

three or foure other tricks sublated) I appeare yours in reuer-

sion, after the decease of your good father, Musco.

Lo.iu.

Musco, s'bloud what winde hath blowne thee hither

in this shape.

Mus.

Your Easterly winde sir, the same that blew your fa-

ther hither.

Lo.iu.

My father?

Mus.

Nay neuer start, it's true, he is come to towne of pur-

pose to seeke you.

Lo.iu.

Sirra Prospero: what shall we do sirra, my father is

come to the city.

Pros.

Thy father: where is he?

Mus.

At a Gentlemans house yonder by Saint Anthonies,

where he but stayes my returne; and then—

Pros.

Who's this? Musco?

Mus.

The same sir.

Pros.

Why how comst thou trans-muted thus?

Mus.

Faith a deuise, a deuise, nay for the loue of God, stand

not here Gentlemen, house your selues and ile tell you all.

Lo.iu.

But art thou sure he will stay thy returne?

Mus.

Do I liue sir? what a question is that?

Pros.

Well wee'le prorogue his expectation a little: Musco

thou shalt go with vs: Come on Gentlemen: nay I pray thee

(good raskall) droope not, s'hart and our wits be so gowty, that

one old plodding braine can out-strip vs all, Lord I beseech

thee, may they lie and starue in some miserable spittle, where

they may neuer see the face of any true spirit againe, but bee

perpetually haunted with some church-yard Hobgoblin in seculo

(seculorum .

Mus.

Amen, Amen.

Ex[unclear]unt.

ACTVS TERTIVS.
SCENA PRIMA.

Enter Thorello, and Piso.

Pis.

He will expect you sir within this halfe houre.

Tho.

Why what's a clocke?

Pis.

New striken ten.

Tho.

Hath he the money ready, can you tell?

Pis.

Yes sir, Baptista brought it yesternight.

Tho.

Oh that's well: fetch me my cloake.

Exit Piso.

Stay, let me see; an hower to goe and come,

I that will be the least: and then 'twill be

An houre, before I can dispatch with him;

Or very neare: well, I will say two houres;

Two houres? ha? things neuer drempt of yet

May be contriu'd, I and effected too,

In two houres absence: well I will not go.

Two houres; no fleeting opportunity

I will not giue your trecherie that scope.

Who will not iudge him worthy to be robd,

That sets his doores wide open to a theefe,

And shewes the felon, where his treasure lyes?

Againe, what earthy spirit but will attempt

To taste the fruite of beauties golden tree,

When leaden sleepe seales vp the dragons eyes?

Oh beauty is a Proiect of some power,

Chiefely when oportunitie attends her:

She will infuse true motion in a stone,

Put glowing fire in an Icie soule,

Stuffe peasants bosoms with proud Cesars spleene,

Powre rich deuice into an empty braine:

Bring youth to follies gate: there traine him in,

And after all, extenuate his sinne.

Well, I will not go, I am resolu'd for that.

Goe cary it againe, yet stay: yet do too,

I will deferre it till some other time.

Enter Piso.

Piso.

Sir, signior Platano wil meet you there with the bond.

Tho.

That's true: by Iesu I had cleane forgot it.

I must goe, what's a clocke?

Pis.

Past ten sir.

Tho.

'Hart, then will Prospero presently be here too,

With one or other of his loose consorts.

I am a Iew, if I know what to say,

What course to take, or which way to resolue.

My braine (me thinkes) is like an hower-glasse,

And my imaginations like the sands,

Runne dribling foorth to fill the mouth of time,

Still chaung'd with-turning in the ventricle.

What were I best to doe? it shalbe so.

Nay I dare build vpon his secrecie? Piso.

Piso.

Sir.

Tho.

Yet now I haue be thought me to, I wil not.

Is Cob within?

Pis.

I thinke he be sir.

Tho.

But hee'le prate too, there's no talke of him.

No, there were no course vpon the earth to this,

If I durst trust him; tut I were secure,

But there's the question, if he should prooue,

Rimarum plenus, then, s'blood I were Rookt.

The state that he hath stood in till this present,

Doth promise no such change: what should I feare then?

Well, come what will, ile tempt my fortune once.

Piso, thou mayest deceiue mee, but I thinke thou louest mee

(Piso.

Piso.

Sir, if a seruants zeale and humble duetie may bee

term'd loue, you are possest of it.

Tho.

I haue a matter to impart to thee, but thou must be se-

(cret, Piso .

Pis.

Sir for that—

Tho.

Nay heare me man; thinke I esteeme thee well,

To let thee in thus to my priuate thoughts;

Piso, it is a thing, sits neerer to my crest,

Then thou art ware of: if thou shouldst reueale it——

Pis.

Reueale it sir?

Tho.

Nay, I do not think thou wouldst, but if thou shouldst:

Pis.

Sir, then I were a villaine:

Disclaime in me for euer if I do.

Tho.

He will not sweare: he has some meaning sute,

Else (being vrg'd so much) how should he choose,

But lend an oath to all this protestation?

He is no puritane, that I am certaine of.

What should I thinke of it? vrge him againe,

And in some other for me: I will do so.

Well Piso, thou hast sworne not to disclose; I you did sweare?

Pis.

Not yet sir, but I will, so please you.

Tho.

Nay I dare take thy word.

But if thou wilt sweare; do as you thinke good,

I am resolu'd without such circumstance.

Pis.

By my soules safetie sir I here protest,

My tongue shall ne're take knowledge of a word

Deliuer'd me in compasse of your trust.

Tho.

Enough, enough, these ceremonies need not,

I know thy faith to be as firme as brasse.

Piso come hither: nay we must be close

In managing these actions: So it is,

(Now he ha's sworne I dare the safelier speake;)

I haue of late by diuers obseruations—

But, whether his oath be lawfull yea, or no, ha?

I will aske counsel ere I do proceed:

Piso, it will be now too long to stay,

Wee'le spie some fitter time soone, or tomorrow.

PPis.

At your pleasure sir.

Tho.

I pray you search the bookes gainst I returne

For the receipts twixte me and Platano.

Pis.

I will sir.

Tho.

And heare you: if my brother Prospero

Chance to bring hither any gentlemen

Ere I come backe: let one straight bring me word.

Pis.

Very well sir.

Tho.

Forget it not, nor be not you out of the way.

Pis.

I will not sir.

Tho.

Or whether he come or no, if any other,

Stranger or else faile not to send me word.

Pis.

Yes sir.

Tho.

Haue care I pray you and remember it.

Pis.

I warrant you sir.

Tho.

But Piso, this is not the secret I told thee of.

Pis.

No sir, I suppose so.

Tho.

Nay beleeue me it is not.

Pis.

I do beleeue you sir.

Tho.

By heauen it is not, that's enough.

Marrie, I would not thou shouldst vtter it to any creature li-

(living

Yet I care not.

Well, I must hence: Piso conceiue thus much,

No ordinarie person could haue drawne

So deepe a secret from me; I meane not this,

But that I haue to tell thee: this is nothing, this.

Piso, remember, silence, buried here:

No greater hell then to be slaue to feare.

Exit Tho

Piso.

Piso, remember, silence, buried here:

Whence should this flow of passion (trow) take head? ha?

Faith ile dreame no longer of this running humor.

For feare I sinke, the violence of the streame

Alreadie hath tranlported me so farre,

That I can feele no ground at all: but soft,

Enter Cob.

Oh it's our waterbearer: somewhat ha's crost him now.

Cob.

Fasting dayes: what tell you me of your fasting dayes?

would they were all on a light fire for mee: they say the world

shall be consum'd with fire and brimstone in the latter day: but

I would we had these ember weekes, and these villancos fri-

daies burnt in the meane time, and then—

Pis.

Why how now Cob, what moues thee to' this coller?

ha?

Cob.

Coller sir?? swounds I scorne your coller, I sir am no

colliers horse sir, neuer ride me with your coller, and you doe,

ile shew you a iades tricke.

Pis.

Oh you'le slip your head out of the coller: why Cob you

mistake me.

Cob.

Nay I haue my rewme, and I be angrie as well as ano-

ther, sir.

Pis.

Thy rewme; thy humor man, thou mistakest.

Cob.

Humor? macke, I thinke it bee so indeed: what is this

humor? it's some rare thing I warrant.

Piso.

Marrie ile tell thee what it is (as tis generally receiued in

these daies) it is a monster bred in a man by selfe loue, and

affectation, and fed by folly.

Cob.

How? must it be fed?

Pris.

Oh I, humor is snothing if it be not fed, why, didst thou

neuer heare of that? it's a common phrase, Feed my humor .

Cob.

Ile none on it: humor, auaunt, I know you not, be gon.

Let who will make hungry meales for you, it shall not bee I:

Feed you quoth be\: s'blood I haue much adoe to feed my self,

especially on these leane rascall ll daies too, and't had beene any

other day but a fasting day to plague on them all for mee: by

this light one might haue done God good seruice and haue

drown'd them al in the floud two or three hundred thousand

yeares ago, oh I do stomacke them hugely: I haue a mawe now,

and't were for sir Beisses horse.

Pis.

Nay, but I pray thee Cob, what makes thee so out of

loue with fasting daies?

Cob.

Marrie that, that will make any man out of loue with

them, I thinke: their bad conditions and you wil needs know:

First, they are of a Flemmish breed I am sure on't, for they rauē

vp more butter then all the daies of the weeke beside: next,

they stinke of fish miserably: Thirdly, they'le keep a man de-

uoutly hungry all day, & at night send him supperlesse to bed.

Pis.

Indeed these are faults Cob.

Cob.

Nay and this were all, 'twere something; but they are

the onely knowne enemies to my generation. A fasting day

no sooner comes, but my lineage goes to racke, poore Cobbes

they smoake for it, they melt in passion, and your maides too

know this, and yet would haue me turne Hannibal, and eat my

owne fish & blood: * my princely couze, feare nothing; I haue

not the heart to deuoure you, and I might bee made as rich as

Golias: oh that I had roome for my teares, I could weep salt

water enough now to preserue the liues of ten thousand of my

kin: but I may curse none but these filthy Almanacks, for and't

were not for them, these daies of persecution would ne're bee

knowne. Ile be hang'd and some Fishmongers sonne doe not

make on'them, and puts in more fasting daies then hee should

doe, because he would vtter his fathers dried stockfish.

Pis.

S'oule peace, thou'lt be beaten

like a stockfish else: here is Signior Ma-

theo. Now must I looke out for a mes-

senger to my Master.

Enter Matheo, Prospero,
Lo. iunior,Boba-
dilla,Stephano, Musco
.

Exount Cob & Piso.

SCENA SECVNDA.

Pros.

Beshrew me, but it was an absolute good iest, and ex-

ceedingly well caried.

Lo.iu.

I and our ignorance maintained it as well, did it not?

Pros.

Yes faith, but was't possible thou should'st not know him?

Lo.iu.

Fore God not I, and I might haue beene ioind patten

with one of the nine worthies for knowing him. S'blood man,

he had so writhen himselfe into the habit of one of your poore

Disparniew's here, your decaied, ruinous, worme-eaten gentle-

men of the round: such as haue vowed to sit on the skirts of the

city, let your Prouost & his half dozen of halberders do what

they can; and haue translated begging out of the olde hackney

pace, to a fine easy amble, and made it runne as smooth of the

toung, as a shoue-groat shilling, into the likenes of one of these

leane Pirgo's, had hee moulded himselfe so perfectly, obser-

uing euerie tricke of their action, as varying the accent: swea-

ring with an Emphasis. Indeed all with so speciall and exquisite

a grace, that (hadst thou seene him) thou wouldst haue sworne

he might haue beene the Tamberlaine, or the Agamemnon

on the rout.

Pros.

Why Musco: who would haue thought thou hadst

beene such a gallant?

Lo.iu.

I cannot tell, but (vnles a man had iuggled begging

all his life time, and beene a weauer of phrases from his infan-

cie, for the apparrelling of it) I thinke the world cannot pro-

duce his Riuall.

Pros.

Where got'st thou this coat I marl'e.

Mus.

Faith sir, I had it of one of the deuils neere kinsmen,

a Broker.

Pros.

That cannot be, if the prouerbe hold, a crafftie knaue

needs no broker.

Mus.

True sir, but I need a broker, Ergo no crafty knaue.

Pros.

Well put off, well put off.

Lo.iu.

Tut, he ha's more of these shists.

Mus.

And yet where I haue one, the broker ha's ten sir.

Enter Piso.

Piso.

Francisco: Martino: ne're a one to bee found now,

what a spite's this?

Pros.

How now Piso? is my brother within?

Pis.

No sir, my master went forth e'ene now: but Signior

Giuliano is within. Cob, what Cob: is he gone too?

Pros.

Whither went thy master? Piso canst thou tell?

Piso.

I know not, to Doctor Clements, I thinke sir. Cob.

Exit Piso .

Lo.iu.

Doctor Clement, what's he? I haue heard much speech

of him.

Pros.

Why, doest thou not know him? he is the Gonsalionere

of the state here, an excellent rare ciuilian, and a great scholler,

but the onely mad merry olde fellow in Europe: I shewed him

you the other day.

Lo.iu.

Oh I remember him now; Good faith, and he hath a

very strange presence me thinkes, it shewes as if he stoode out

of the ranke from other men. I haue heard many of his iests in

Padua: they say he will commit a man for taking the wall of

his horse.

Pros.

I or wearing his cloake of one shoulder, or any thing

indeede, if it come in the way of his humor.

Pis.

Gasper, Martino , Cob: S'hart, where should they be trow?

Enter Pis[unclear].

Bob.

Signior Thorello's man, I pray thee vouchsafe vs the ligh-

ting of this match.

Pis.

A pox on your match, no time but now to vouchsafe?

Francisco, Cob.

Exit .

Bob.

Body of me: here's the remainder of seuen pound, since

yesterday was seuen night. It's your right Trinidado: did you

neuer take any, signior?

Step.

No truly sir? but i'le learne to take it now, since you

commend it so.

Bob.

Signior beleeue me, (vpon my relation) for what I tel

you, the world shall not improue. I haue been in the Indies

(where this herbe growes) where neither my selfe, nor a dozen

Gentlemen more(of my knowledge) haue receiued the taste of

any other nutriment, in the world, for the space of one and

twentie weekes, but Tabacco onely. Therefore it cannot be but

'tis most diuine. Further, take it in the nature, in the true kinde

so, it makes an Antidote, that (had you taken the most deadly

poysonous simple in all Florence, it should expell it, and clarifie

you, with as much ease, as I speak. And for your greene wound,

your Balsamum, and your— are all meere gulleries, and trash

[unclear]o it, especially your Truinado: your Newcorian is good too: I

could say what I know of the vertue of it, for the exposing of

rewmes, raw humors, crudities, obstructions, with a thousand

of this kind; but I professe my selfe no quacke-saluer: only thus

much: by Hercules I doe holde it, and will affirme it (before

any Prince in Europe) to be the most soueraigne, and pretious

herbe, that euer the earth tendred to the vse of man.

Lo.iu.

Oh this speech would haue done rare in a potheca-

ties mouth.

Pis.

I: close by Saint Anthonies: Doctor Clements.

Enter Piso and Cob.

Cob.

Oh, Oh.

Bob.

Where's the match I gaue thee?

Pis.

S'blood would his match, and he, and pipe, and all were

at Sancto Domingo.

Exit.

Cob.

By godsdeynes:I marle what pleasure or felicitie they

haue in taking this rogish Tabacco: it's good for nothing but

to choake a man, and fill him full of smoake, and imbers: there

were foure died out of one house last weeke with taking of

it, and two more the bell went for yester-night, one of them

(they say) will ne're scape it, he voyded a bushell of soote ye-

ster-day, vpward and downeward. By the stockes; and there

were no wiser men then I, I'ld haue it present death, man or

woman, that should but deale with a Tabacco pipe; why, it will

stifle them all in the'nd as many as vse it; it's little better then

rats bane.

Enter Piso.

All.

Oh good signior; hold, hold.

Bob.

You base cullion, you.

Pis.

Sir, here's your match; come, thou must needes be tal-

king too.

Cob.

Nay he wil not meddle with his match I warrant you:

well it shall be a deere beating, and I liue.

Bob.

Doe you prate?

Lo.iu.

Nay good signior, will you regard the humor of a

foole? away knaue.

Pros.

Piso get him away.

Exit Piso, and Cob.

Bob.

A horson filthy slaue, a turd, an excrement. Body of

Cesar, but that I scorne to let forth so meane a spirit, i'ld haue

sab'd him to the earth.

Pros.

Mary God forbid sir.

Bob.

By this faire heauen I would haue done it.

Step.

Oh he sweares admirably: (by this faire heauen:)

Body of Cesar: I shall neuer doe it, sure (vpon my saluation)

no I haue not the right grace.

Mat.

Signior will you any? By this ayre the most diuine

Tabacco as euer I drunke.

Lo.iu.

I thanke you sir.

Step.

Oh this Gentleman doth it rarely too, but nothing

like the other. By this ayre, as I am a Gentleman: by Phoebus .

Euit Bob. and Mat.

Mus.

Master glaunce, glaunce: Signior Prospero.

Step.

As I haue a soule to be saued, I doe protest;

Pros.

That you are a foole.

Lo.iu.

Cousin will you any Tabacco?

Step.

I sir: vpon my saluation.

Lo.iu.

How now cousin?

Step.

I protest, as I am a Gentleman, but no souldier

indeede.

Pros.

No signior, as I remember you seru'd on a great

horse, last generall muster.

Step.

I sir that's true: cousin may I sweare as I am a souldier,

by that?

Lo.iu.

Oh yes, that you may.

Step.

Then as I am a Gentleman, and a souldier, it is diuine

Tabacco.

Pros.

But soft, where's signior Matheo ? gone?

Mus.

No sir, they went in here.

Pros.

Oh let's follow them: signior Matheo is gone to salute

his mistresse, sirra now thou shalt heare some of his verses, for

he neuer comes hither without some shreds of poetrie: Come

signior Stephano, Musco.

Step.

Musco? where? is this Musco?

Lo.iu.

I, but peace cousin, no words of it at any hand.

Step.

Not I by this faire heauen, as I haue a soule to be saued,

by Phœbus.

Pros.

Oh rare! your cousins discourse is simply suted, all in

oathes.

Lo.iu.

I, he lacks nothing but a little light stuffe, to draw

them out withall, and he were rarely sitted to the time.

Exaunt.

ACTVS TERTIVS, SCENA TERTIA.

Enter Thorello with Cob.

Tho.

Ha, how many are there, sayest thou?

Cob.

Marry sir, your brother, Signior Prosp[unclear]ro.

Tho.

Tut, beside him: what strangers are there man?

Cob.

Strangers? let me see, one, two; masse I know not well

there's so many.

Tho.

How? so many?

Cob.

I, there's some fiue or sixe of them at the most.

Tho.

A swarme, a swarme,

Spight of the Deuill, how they sting my heart!

How long hast thou beene comming hither Cob?

Cob.

But a little while sir.

Tho.

Didst thou come running?

Cob.

No sir.

Tho.

Tut, then I am familiar with thy haste.

Bane to my fortunes: what meant I to marrie?

I that before was rankt in such content,

My mind attir'd in smoothe silken peace,

Being free master of mine owne free thoughts,

And now become a slaue? what, neuer sigh,

Be of good cheare man: for thou art a cuckold,

'Tis done, 'tis done: nay when such flowing store,

Plentie it selfe fals in my wiues lappe,

The Cornu-copia will be mine I know. But Cob,

What entertainment had they? I am sure

My sister and my wife would bid them welcome, ha?

Cob.

Like ynough: yet I heard not a word of welcome.

Tho.

No, their lips were seal'd with kisses, and the voice

Drown'd in a flood of ioy at their arriuall,

Had lost her motion, state and facultie.

Cob, which of them was't that first kist my wife?

(My sister I should say) my wife, alas,

I feare not her: ha? who was it sayst thou?

Cob.

By my troth sir, will you haue the truth of it?

Tho.

Oh I good Cob: I pray thee.

Cob.

God's my iudge, I saw no body to be kist, vnlesse they

would haue kist the post, in the middle of the warehouse; for

there I left them all, at their Tabacco with a poxe.

Tho.

How? were they not gone in then e're thou cam'st?

Cob.

Oh no sir.

Tho.

Spite of the Deuill, what do I stay here then

? Cob, follow me.

Exit. Tbo.

Cob.

Nay, soft and faire, I haue egges on the spit; I cannot

go yet sir: now am I for some diuers reasons hammering, ham-

mering reuenge: oh for three or foure gallons of vineger, to

sharpen my wits: Reuenge, vineger reuenge, russet reuenge;

nay, and hee had not lyne in my house, t'would neuer haue

greeu'd me; but being my guest, one that ile bee sworne, my

wise ha's lent him her smocke off her backe, while his owne

shirt ha beene at washing: pawnd her neckerchers for. cleane

bands for him: sold almost all my plattors to buy him Tabac-

co; and yet to see an ingratitude wretch: strike his host; wall I

hope to raise vp an host of furies for't: here comes M. Doctor.

Enter Doctor Clement, Lorenzo sen. Pete.

Clem.

What's Signior Thorello gone?

Pet.

I sir.

Clem.

Hart of me, what made him leaue vs so abruptly

How now sirra; what make you here? what wold you haue, ha?

Cob.

And't please your worship, I am a poore neighbour of

your worships.

Clem.

A neighbour of mine, knaue?

Cob.

I sir, at the signe of the water-tankerd, hard by the

greene lattice: I haue paide scot and lotte there any time this

eighteene yeares.

Clem.

What, at the greene lattice?

Cob.

No sir: to the parish: mary I haue seldome scap't scot-

free at the lattice.

Clem.

So: but what busines hath my neighbour?

Cob.

And't like your worship, I am come to craue the

peace of your worship.

Clem.

Of me, knaue? peace of me, knaue? did I e're hurt

thee? did I euer threaten thee? or wrong thee? ha?

Cob.

No god's my comfort, I meane your worships warrant,

for one that hath wrong'd me sir: his armes are at too much li-

bertie, I would faine haue them bound to a treatie of peace, and

I could by any meanes compasse it.

Loren.

Why, doest thou goe in danger of thy life for him?

Cob.

No sir; but I goe in danger of my death euery houre

by his meanes; and I die within a twelue-moneth and a day,

I may sweare, by the lawes of the land, that he kil'd me.

Clem.

How? how knaue? sweare he kil'd thee? what pre-

text? what colour hast thou for that?

Cob.

Mary sir: both blacke and blew, colour ynough, I

warrant you I haue it here to shew your worship.

Clem.

What is he, that gaue you this sirra?

Cob.

A Gentleman in the citie sir.

Clem.

A Gentle man? what call you him?

Cob.

Signior Bobadilla.

Clem.

Good: But wherefore did he beate you sirra? how

began the quarrel twixt you? ha: speake truly knaue, I aduise

you.

Cob.

Marry sir, because I spake against their vagrant Ta-

bacco, as I came by thom: for nothing else.

Clem.

Ha, you speake against Tabacco? Peto, his name.

Pet.

What's your name sirra?

Cob.

Oliuer Cob, sir set Oliuer C[unclear]b, sir.

Clem.

Tell Oliuer Cob he shall goe to the iayle.

Pet.

Oliuer Cob, master Doctor sayes you shall go to the iayle.

Cob.

Oh I beseech your worship for gods loue, deare ma-

ster Doctor.

Clem.

Nay gods pretious: and such drunken knaues as

you are come to dispute of Tabacco once; I haue done: away

with him.

Cob.

Oh good master Doctor, sweete Gentleman.

Lore.

Sweete Oliuer, would I could doe thee any good;

master Doctor let me intreat sir.

Clem.

What? a tankard-bearer, a thread-bare rascall, a

begger, a slaue that neuer drunke out of better thẽ pispot met-

tle in his life, and he to depraue, and abuse the vertue of an

herbe, so generally receyu'd in the courts of princes, the cham-

bers of nobles, the bowers of sweete Ladies, the cabbins of

souldiers: Peto away with him, by gods passion, I say, goe too.

Cob.

Deare master Doctor.

Loren.

Alasse poore Oliuer.

Clem.

Peto: I: and make him a warrant, he shall not goe, I

but feare the knaue.

Cob.

O diuine Doctor, thankes noble Doctor, most dainty

Doctor, delicious Doctor.

Exeunt Peto with Cob.

Clem.

Signior Lorenzo: Gods pitty man,

Be merry, be merry, leaue these dumpes.

Loren.

Troth would I could sir: but enforced mirth

(In my weake iudgement) h'as no happy birth.

The minde, being once a prisoner vnto cares,

The more it dreames on ioy, the worse it fares.

A smyling looke is to a heauie soule,

As a guilt bias, to a leaden bowle,

Which (in it selfe) appeares most vile, being spent

To no true vse; but onely for ostent.

Clem.

Nay but good Signior: heare me a word, heare me

a word, your cares are nothing; they are like my cap, soone put

on, and as soone put off. What? your sonne is old inough, to

gouerne himselfe; let him runne his course, it's the onely way

to make him a stay'd man: if he were an vnthrift, a russian, a

drunkard or a licentious liuer, then you had

reason: you had reason to take care: but being none of these, Gods passion,

and I had twise so many cares, as you haue, I'ld drowne them

all in a cup of sacke: come, come, I muse your parcell of a soul-

ldier returnes not all this while.

Exeunt.

SCENA QVARTA.

Enter Giuliano, with Biancha.

Giul.

Well sister, I tell you true: and you'le finde it so in

the ende.

Bia.

Alasse brother, what would you have me to doe? I

cannot helpe it; you see, my brother Prospero he brings them

in here, they are his friends.

Giu.

His friends? his friends? s'blood they do nothing but

haunt him vp and downe like a sorte of vnlucky Sprites, and

tempt him to all maner of villany, that can be thought of; well,

by this light, a little thing would make me play the deuill with

some of them; and't were not more for your husbands sake,

then any thing else, I'ld make the house too hot for them; they

should say and sweare, Hell were broken loose, e're they went:

But by gods bread, 'tis no bodies fault but yours: for and you

had done as you might haue done, they should haue beene

damn'd e're they should haue come in, e're a one of them.

Bia.

God's my life; did you euer heare the like? what a

strange man is this? could I

keepe out all them thinke you? I should put my selfe against halfe a dozen men? should I?

Good faith you'ld mad the patient'st body in the world, to

heare you talke so, without any sense or reason.

Enter Matheo with Hesperida, Bobadilla, Stephano,
Lorenzo iu. Prospero, Musco
.

Hesp.

Seruant (in troth) you are too prodigall of your wits

treasure; thus to powre it foorth vpon so meane a subiect, as

my worth?

Mat.

You say well, you say well.

Giu.

Hoyday, heare is stuffe.

Lo.iu.

Oh now stand close: pray God she can get him to reade

it.

Pros.

Tut, feare not: I warrant thee, he will do it of him-

selfe with much impudencie.

Hes.

Seruant, what is that same I pray you?

Mat.

Mary an Elegie , an Elegie , an oddetoy.

Gui.

I to mocke an Ape with all, Oh Iesu.

Bia.

Sister, I pray you lots heare it.

Mat.

Mistresse Ile reade it if you please.

Hes.

I pray you doe seruant .

G[unclear]i.

Oh heares no foppery, Sblood it freates me to the

galle to thinke on it.

Exit.

Pros.

Oh I, it is his condition, peace:we are fately ridde

of him.

Mat.

Fayth Idid it in an humor: I know not how it is but

please you come neare signior: this gentleman hath iudge-

ment, he knowes how to censure of a.—I pray you sir, you

can iudge.

Step.

Not I sir:as I have a soule to be saued, as I am a gentlemen

Lo.iu.

Nay its well; so long as he doth not forsweare

himselfe.

Bob,

Signior you abuse the excellencie of your mistresse,

and her fayre sister, Fye while you liue auoyd this prolixity.

Mat.

I shall sir : well, Inciprerodulce.

Lo. iu.

How, Inciperodulce? la sweete thing to be a Foole

indeede.

Pros.

What, do you take Incipers in that sence?

Lo.iu.

You do not you? Sblood this was your villanie to

gull him with a motto.

Pros.

Oh the Benchers phrase:Pauca a verba, Pauca .

Mat.

Rare creature let me speake without offence,

Would God my rude words had the influence:

To rule thy thoughts, as thy fayre lookes do mine,

Then shouldst thou be his prisoner, who is thine.

Lo.iu.

S'hart, this is in Hero and Leander?

Pros.

Oh I: peace, we shall haue more of this.

Mat.

Be vnkinde and fayre misshapen stuffe.

Is of behauoir boysterous and rough:

How like you that signior, sbood he shakes his head like a

bottle, to feele and there be any brayne in it.

Mat.

But obserue the Catastrophe now,

And I in dutie will exceede all other.

As you in bewtie do excell loues mother.

Lo.iu.

Well ile haue him free of the brokers, for he vtters no

thing but stolne remnants.

Pros.

Nay good Critique forbeare.

Lo.iu.

A pox on him, hang him silching rogue, steale from

the deade? its worse then sacriledge.

Pros.

Sister vvhat haue you heare? verses? I pray you lets see.

Bia.

Do you let them go so lightly sister.

Hes.

Yes fayth when they come lightly.

Bia.

I but if your seruant should heare you, he vvould take

it heauely.

Hes.

No matter he is able to beare.

Bia.

So are Asses.

Hes.

so is hee.

Pros.

Signior Matheo, vvho made these verses? they are ex-

cellent good.

Mat.

Oh God sir, its your pleasure to say so sir.

Fayth I made them extempore this morning.

Pros.

How extempore?

Mat.

I vvould I might be damnd els: aske signior Bobadilla.

He sawe me vvrite them, at the: (poxe on it) the Miter

yonder.

Mus.

Well, and the Pope knew hee curst the Miter it vvere

enough to haue him excommunicated all the Tauerns in the

towne.

Step.

Cosen how do you like this gentlemans verses.

Lo.iu.

Oh admirable, the best that euer I heard.

Step.

By this fayre heauens, they are admirable,

The best that euer I heard.

Enter Giuliano.

Giu.

I am vext I can hold neuer a bone of me still,

Sblood I think they meane to build a Tabernacle heare, vvell?

Pros.

Sister you haue a simple seruant heare, that crovvnes

your bewtie with such Encomions and Deuises, you may see

what it is to be the mistresse of a vvit, that can make your

perfections so transeparent, that euery bleare eye may looke

thorough them, and see him drowned ouer head and eares, in

the deepe vvell of desire. Sister Biancha I meruaile you get

you not a seruant that can rime and do trickes too.

Giu.

Oh monster? impudence itselfe; trickes?

Bia.

Trickes, brother? vvhat trickes?

Hes.

Nay, speake I pray you, vvhat trickes?

Bia.

I, neuer spare any body heare: but say, vvhat trickes?

Hes.

Passion of my heart? do trickes?

Pros.

Sblood heares a tricke vied, and reuied: why you

monkies you? what a catter waling do you keepe? has he not

giuen you rymes, and verses, and trickes.

Giu.

Oh see the Diuell?

Pros.

Nay, you lampe of virginitie, that take it in snuffe so:

come and cherish this tame poetical fury in your seruant, youle

be begd else shortly for a concealement: go to, rewarde his

muse, you cannot giue himlesse then a shilling in conscience,

for the booke he had it out of cost him a telton at the least,

how now gallants, Lorenzo, signior Bobadilla? vvhat all sonnes

of siclence? no spirite.

Giu.

Come you might practise your Ruffian trickes some-

where else, and not heare I wisse: this is no Tauerne, nor no

place for such exploites.

Pros.

Shart how now.

Giu.

Nay boy, neuer looke askaunce at me for the matter;

ile tell you of it by Gods bread? I, and you and your compa-

nions mend your selues when I haue done.

Pros.

My companions.

Gui.

I your companions fir, so I say? Sblood I am not af-

frayed of you nor them neyther, you must haue your Poets, &

your caueleeres, & your sfoles follow you vp and downe the

citie, and heare they must come to domineere and swagger?

sirha, you Ballad singer, and Slops your fellow there, get you

out; get you out: or (by the will of God) Ile cut of your eares,

goe to.

Pros.

Sblood stay, lets see what he dare do: cut of his eares

you are an asse, touch any man heare, and by the Lord ile run

my rapier to the hilts in thee.

Gui.

Yea, that would I fayne see, boy.

They all draw, enter
Piso and some more
of the house to part
them, the women
make a great crie
.

Bia.

Oh Iesu Piso, Matheo murder.

Hes.

Helpe, helpe, Piso.

Lo.iu.

Gentlemen, Prospero, for-

beare I pray you.

Bob.

Well sirrah, you Hollofernus: by my hand I will pinck

thy flesh full of holes with my rapier for this. I will by this

good heauen: inay let him come, let him come, gentlemen by

the body of S. George ile not kill him.

The offer to fight againe
and are parted.
Enter
Thorello.

Piso.

Hold, hold forbeare:

Gui.

You whorson bragging coys-

tryll.

Tho.

Why, how now? whats the matter? what stirre is heare,

Whence springs this quarrell, Pizo where is he?

Put vp your weapons, and put of this rage.

My wife and sister they are cause of this,

What, Pizo? where is this knaue.

Pizo.

Heare sir.

Pros.

Come, lets goe: this is one of my brothers auncienr

humors this?

Steph.

I am glad no body was hurt by this auncient humor.

Exit Prospero, Lorenzo iu. Musco, Stephano,
Bobadillo, Matheo
,

Tho.

Why how now brother, who enforst this braule.

Gui.

A sorte of lewd rakehelles, that care neither for God nor

the Diuell, And they must come heare to read Ballads and Ro-

gery' and Trash, Ile marre the knot of them ere I sleepe perhaps:

especially signior Pithagorus, he thats al manner of shapes: and

Songs and sonnets, his fellow there.

Hes.

Brother indeede you are to violent,

To sudden in your courses, and you know

My brother Prosperus temper will not beare

Any reproofe, chiefely in such a presence,

Where euery slight disgrace he should receiue,

Would wound him in opinion and respect.

Gu.

Respect? what talke you of respect mongst such

As had neyther sparke of manhood nor good manners,

By God I am ashamed to heare you: respect?

Exit.

Hes.

Yes there was one a ciuil gentle man,

And very worthely demeand himselfe.

Tho.

Oh that was some loue of yours, sister.

Hes.

A loue of mine? infayth I would he were

No others loue but mine.

Bia.

Indeede he seemd to be a gentleman of as exceeding

fayre disposition, and of very excellent good partes.

Exit Hesperida, Biancha.

Tho.

Her loue, by Iesu my wifes minion,

Fayre disposition? excellent good partes?

S'hart, these phrases are intollerable,

Good partes? how should she know his partes? well: well.

It is too playne, too cleare : Pizo , come hether.

What are they gone?

Pi.

I sir they went in.

Tho.

Are any of the gallants within?

Pi.

No sir they are all gone.

Tho.

Art thou sure of it?

Pi.

I sir I can assure you.

Tho.

Pizo what gentleman was that they prays'd so?

Pizo.

One they call him signior Lorenzo, a fayre young gentleman sir.

Tho.

I, I thought so: my minde gaue me as much:

Sblood ile be hangd if they haue not hid him in the house,

Some where, ile goe search, Pizo go with me,

Be true to me and thou shalt finde me bountifull.

Exeunt[unclear]

SCENA QVINTA.

Enter CoB, to him Tib.

Cob.

What Tib, Tib, I say.

Tib.

How now, what cuckold is that knockes so hard?

Oh husband ist you, whats the newes?

Cob.

Nay you haue stonnd me I fayth? you hue giuen me a

knocke on the forehead, will sticke by me: cuckold? Swoundes

cuckolde?

Tib.

Away you soole did I know it vvas you that knockt,

Come, come, you may calt me as bad when you list.

Cob.

May I? swoundes Tib you are a whore:

Tib.

S'hart you lie in your throte.

Cob.

How the lye? and in my throte too? do you long to be

stabd, ha?

Tib.

Why you are no souldier?

Cob.

Masse thats true, vvhen vvas Bobadilla heare? that

Rogue, that Slaes, that fencing Burgullian? ile tickle him I faith.

Tib.

Why vvhat's the matter?

Cob.

Oh he hath basted me rarely, sumptiously:but I haue

it heare vvill sause him, oh the doctor, the honestest old Tro-

ian in all Italy, I do honour the very flea of his dog: a plague

on him he put me once in a villanous filthy feare: marry it

vanisht away like the smooke of Tobacco but I vvas smookt

soundly first, I thanke the Diuell, and his good Angell my

guest: vvell vvife: or Tib (vvhich you vvill) get you in, and

locke the doore I charge you, let no body into you: not Bob-

badilla himselfe; nor the diuell in his likenesse; you are a vvo-

man; you haue flesh and blood enough in you; therefore be

not tempted; keepe the doore shut vpon all cummers.

Tib.

I warrant you there shall no body enter heare vvith-

out my consent.

Cob.

Nor with your consent sweete Tib and so I leaue you.

Tib.

Its more then you know, vvhether you leaue me so.

Cob.

How?

Tib.

Why sweete.

Cob.

Tut sweete or soure, thou art a flower,

Keepe close thy doore, I aske no more.

Exeunt.

SCENA SEXTA.

Enter Lorenzo iu. Prospero, Stephano, Musco

Lo.iu.

Well Musco performe this businesse happily,

And thou makest a conquest of my loue foreuer,

Pros.

I fayth now let thy spirites put on their best habit,

But at any hand remember thy message to my brother.

For theres no other meanes to start him?

Mus.

I warrant you sir, feare nothing I haue a nimble soule

that hath wakt all my imaginatiue-forces by this time, and

put then, in true motion: vvhat you haue possest me with-

all? Ile discharge it amply sir. Make no question.

Exit Musco.

Pros.

Thats vvell sayd Musco: fayth sirha how dost thou,

aproue my vvit in this deuise?

Lo.iu.

Troth vvell, howsoeuer? but excellent if it take.

Pros.

Take man: vvhy it cannot chuse but take, if the cir-

cumstances miscarry not, but tell me zealously: dost thou

affect my sister Hesperida as thou pretendest?

Lo.iu.

Prospero by Iesu.

Pros.

Come do not protest I: beleeue thee: I fayth she is a

virgine of good ornament, and much modestie, vnlesse I

conceiud very worthely of her, thou shouldest not haue

her.

Lo.iu.

Nay I thinke it a question whether I shall haue her

for all that.

Pros.

Sblood thou shal haue her, by this light thou shalt?

Lo.iu.

Nay do not sweare.

Pros.

By S. Marke thou shalt haue her: ile go fetch her pre-

sently, poynt but where to meete, and by this hand ile bring

her?

Lo.iu.

Hold, hold, what all pollicie dead? no preuention of

mischiefes stirring.

Pros.

Why, by what shall I sweare by? thou shalt haue her

by my soule.

Lo.iu.

I pray the haue patience I am satisfied: Prospero o-

mit no offered occasion, that may make my desires compleate

I beseech thee.

Pros.

I warrant thee.

Exeunt.

ACTVS QVARTVS, SCENA PRIMA.

Enter Lorenzo senior, Peto, meeting Musco.

Peto.

Was your man a souldier sir.

Lo.

I a knaue I tooke him vp begging vpon the way,

This morning as I was cumming to the citie,

Oh? heare he is; come on, you make fayre speede:

Why? whereon Gods name haue you beene so long?

Mus.

Mary (Gods my comfort) where I thought I should

haue had little comfort of your worships seruice:

Lo.

How so?

Mus.

Oh God sir? your cumming to the citie, & your enter-

taynement of men, and your sending me to watch; indeede, all

the circumstances are as open to your sonne as to your selfe.

Lo.

How should that be? vnlesse that villaine Musco

Haue told him of the letter, and discouered

All that I strictly chargd him to conceale? tis soe.

Mus.

I sayth you haue hit it: tis so indeede.

Lo.

But how should he know thee to be my man.

Mus.

Nay sir, I cannot tell; vnlesse it were by the blacke arte?

is not your sonne a scholler sir?

Lo.

Yes; but I hope his soule is not allied

To such a diuelish practise: if it were,

I had iust cause to weepe my part in him,

And curse the time of his creation.

But where didst thou finde them Portensio?

Mus.

Nay sir, rather you should aske where the found me?

for ile be sworne I was going along in the streete, thinking

nothing, when (of a suddayne) one calles, Signior Lorenzos man:

another, he cries, souldier: and thus halfe a dosen of them, till

they had got me within doores, where I no sooner came, but

out flies their rapiers and all bent agaynst my brest, they

swore some two or three hundreth oathes, and all to tell me I

was but a dead man, if I did not confesse where you were, and

how I was imployed, and about what, which when they

could not get out of me: (as Gods my iudge, they should haue

kild me first) they lockt me vp into a roome in the toppe of a

house, where by great miracle (hauing a light hart) I slidde

downe by a bottome of packthread into the streete, and so

scapt: but maister, thus much I can assure you, for I heard it

while I was lockt vp: there were a great many merchants and

rich citizens wiues with them at a banquet, and your sonne

Signior Lorenzo, has poynted one of them to meete anone at

one Cobs house, a waterbearers? that dwelles by the wall: now

there you shall be sure to take him: for fayle he will not.

Lo.

Nor will I fayle to breake this match, I doubt not;

Well: go thou along with maister doctors man,

And stay there for me? at one Cobs house sayst thou.

Exit.

Mus.

I sir, there you shall haue him: when can you tell?

much wench, or much sonne: sblood when he has stayd there

three or foure houres', trauelling with the expectation of

somewhat; and at the length be deliuered of nothing: oh the

sport that I should thẽ take to look on him if I durst but now

I meane to appeare no more asore him in this shape: I haue a-

nother tricke to act yet? oh that I were so happy, as to light

vpon an ounce now of this doctors clarke: God saue you sir,

Peto.

I thanke you good sir.

Mus.

I haue made you stay somewhat long sir.

Peto.

Not a whit sir, I pray you what sir do you meane: you

haue beene lately in the warres sir it seemes.

Mus.

I Marry haue I sir.

Peto.

Troth sir, I would be glad to bestow a pottle of wine of

you if it please you to accept it.

Mus.

Oh Lord sir.

Peto.

But to heare the manner of you seruises, and your de-

uises in the warres, they say they be very strange, and not like

those a man reades in the Romane histories.

Mus.

Oh God no sir, why at any time when it please you, I

shall be ready to descourse to you what I know: and more to

somewhat.

Peto.

No better time then now sir, weele goe to the Meers-

maide there we shall haue a cuppe of neate wine, I pray you

sir let me request you.

Mus.

Ile follow you sir, he is mine owne I fayth.

Exeunt.

Enter Babadillo, Lorenzo iu. Matheo, Stephano.

Mat

Signior did you euer see the like cloune of him, where we

vvere to day: signior Prosperos brother? I thinke the vvhole

earth cannot shewhis like by Iesu.

Lo.

We vvere now speaking of him, signior Bobadilla telles

me he is fallen foule of you two.

Mat.

Oh I sir, he threatned me with the bastinado.

Bo.

I but I think I taught you atrick this morning for that.

You shall kill him without all question: if you be so minded.

Mat.

Indeede it is a most excellent tricke.

Bo.

Oh you do not giue spirit enough to your motion, you

are too dull, too tardie: oh it must be done like lightning, hay?

Mat.

Oh rare.

Bob.

Tut tis nothing and't be not done in a—

Lo.iu.

Signior did you neuer play with any of our mai-

sters here.

Mat.

Oh good sir.

Bob.

Nay for a more instance of their preposterous humor,

there came three or foure of them to me, at a gentlemans

house, where it was my chance to bee resident at that

time, to intreate my presence at their scholes, and withall so

much importund me, that (I protest to you as I am a gentle-

man) I was ashamd of their rude demeanor out of all measure:

vvell, I tolde them that to come to a publique schoole they

should pardon me, it was opposite to my humor but if so they

vvould attend me at my lodging, I protested to do them what

right or fauour I could, as I vvas a gentleman. &c.

Lo.iu.

So sir, then you tried their skill.

Bob.

Alasse soone tried: you shall heare sir, within two or

three dayes after, they came, and by Iesu good signior beleeue

me, I grac't them exceedingly, shewd them some two or three

trickes of preuention, hath got them since admirable credit,

they cannot denie this; and yet now they hate me, and why?

because I am excellent, and for no other reason on the earth.

Lo.iu.

This is strange and vile as euer I heard.

Bob.

I will tell you sir vpon my first comming to the citie,

they assaulted me some three, foure, fiue, six, of them to-

gether as I haue walkt alone, in diuers places of the citie; as vpon

the exchange, at my lodging and at my ordinarie: where I haue

driuen them afore me the whole length of a streete, in the o-

pen view of all our gallants, pittying to hurt them beleeue me;

yet all this lenety will not depresse their spleane: they will

be doing with the Pismier, raysing a hill, a man may spurne a-

broade with his foote at pleasure: by my soule I could haue

slayne them all, but I delight not in murder: I am loth to beare

any other but a bastinado for them, and yet I hould it good

pollicie not to goe disarmd, for though I be skilfull, I may be

suppressd with multitudes.

Lo.iu.

I by Iesu may you sir and (in my conceite) our whole

nation should sustayne the losse by it, if it were so.

Bob.

Alasse no: whats a peculier man, to a nation? not seene.

Lo iu.

I but your skill sir.

Bob.

Indeede that might be some losse, but who respects

it? I will tel you Signior (in priuate) I am a gentleman, and liue

here obscure, and to my selfe: but were I known to the Duke

(obserue me) I would vndertake (vpon my heade and life) for

the publique benefit of the state, not onely to spare the intire

liues of his subiects in generall, but to saue the one halfe: nay

there partes of his yeerely charges, in houlding warres gene-

rally agaynst all his enemies? and how will I do it thinke you?

Lo iu.

Nay I know not, nor can I conceiue.

Bo.

Marry thus, I would select 19 more to my selfe, throughout

the land, gentlemẽ they should be of good spirit; strong & able

constitutiõ, I would chuse thẽ by an instinct, a trick that I haue:

& I would teach these 19 the special tricks, as your Punto, your Reuerso, your

Stoccato, your Imbroccato, your Passido, your Mon-

taunto, till they could all play very neare or altogether as well as

my selfe; this done; say the enemie were forty thousand strong:

we twenty wold come into the field the tenth of March, or ther

abouts; & would challendge twenty of the enemie? they could

not in there honor refuse the combat: wel, we would kil them:

challenge twentie more, kill them; twentie more, kill them;

twentie more, kill them too; and thus would we kill euery

man, his twentie a day, thats twentie score; twentie score, thats

two hundreth; two hundreth a day, fiue dayes a thousand: fortie thousand;

fortie times fiue, fiue times fortie, two hun-

dreth dayes killes them all by computation, and this will I ven-

ture my life to performe: prouided there be no treason prac-

tised vpon vs.

Lo.iu.

Why are you so sure of your hand at all times?

Bob.

Tut, neuer mistrust vpon my soule.

Lo.iu.

Masse I would not stand in signior Giuliano state, then;

And you meete him, for the wealth of Florence.

Bob.

Why signior, by Iesu if hee were heare now: I would

not draw my weapon on him, let this gentleman doe his

mind but I wil bastinado him (by heauen) & euer I meete him.

Mat.

Fayth and ihe haue a fling at him.

Enter Giuliano and goes out agayne.

Lo.iu.

Looke yonder he goes I thinke.

Gui.

Sblood vvhat lucke haue I, I cannot meete vvith these

bragging rascalls.

Bob.

Its not he; is it?

Lo.iu.

Yes fayth it is he?

Mat.

Ilebe hangd then if that vvere he.

Lo.iu.

Before God it vvas he: you make me sweare.

Step.

Vpon my saluation it vvas hee.

Bob.

Well had I thought it had beene he: he could not haue

gone so, but I cannot be induc'd to beleeue it vvas he yet.

Enter Giulliano.

Giu.

Oh gallant haue I found you? draw to your tooles,

draw, or by Gods vvill ile thresh you.

Bob.

Signior heare me?

Gui.

Draw your vveapons then:

Bob.

Signior, I neuer thought it till now: body of S. George,

I haue a vvarrant of the peaceserued on me euen now, as I

came along by a vvaterbearer, this gentleman saw it, signior Matheo.

Giu.

The peace? Sblood, you vvill not draw?

Matheo runnes away.

Lo.iu.

Hold signior hold, vnder

thy fauour forbeare.

He beates him and disarmes him.

Giu.

Prate agayne as you like this you vvhoreson cowardly

rascall, youle controule the poynt you? your consort hee is

gone? had he stayd he had shard vvith yovv infayth.

Exit Giulliano.

Bob.

Well gentlemen beare vvitnesse I vvas bound to the

peace, by Iesu.

Lo.iu.

Why and though you vvere sir, the lawe alowes you

to defend your selfe; thats but a poore excuse.

Bob.

I cannot tell; I neuer sustayned the like disgrace (by

heauen) sure I vvas strooke with a Plannet then, for I had

no power to touch my vveapon.

Exit.

Lo.iu.

I like inough I haue heard of many that haue beene

beaten vnder a plannet; goe get you to the Surgions, sblood

and these be your tricks, your passados, & your Mountauntos

ilenone of them: oh God that this age should bring foorth

such creatures? come cosen.

Step.

Masse ile haue this cloke.

Lo.iu.

Gods vvill: its Giuillianos.

Step.

Nay but tis mine now, another might haue tane it vp

as well as I, ile reate it so I will.

Lo.iu.

How and he see it, heele challenge assure yourselfe.

Step.

I but he shall not haue it: ile say I bought it.

Lo.iu.

Aduise you cosen, take heede he giue not you as

much.

Exeunt.
Enter Thorello, Prospero, Biancha, Hesperida.

Tho.

Now trust me Prospero you were much to blame,

T'incense your brother and disturbe the peace,

Of my poore house, for there be santinelles,

That euery minute vvatch to giue alarames,

Of ciuill vvarre, vvithout adiection,

Of your assistance and occasion.

Pros.

No harme done brother I warrant you: since there is

no harme done, anger costs a man nothing: and a tall man

is neuer his owne man til he be angry, to keep his valure in ob-

ceuritie: is to keepe himselfe as it were in a cloke-bag: vvhats a

musition vnlesse he play? whats a tall man vnlesse he fight? for

indeede all this my brother stands vpon absolutely, and that

made me fall in with him so resolutely.

Bia.

I but vvhat harme might haue come of it?

Pros.

Might? so might the good warme cloathes your hus-

band vveares be poysond for any thing he knowes, or the

vvholesome vvine he drunke euen now at the table.

Tho.

Now God for bid: O me? now I remember,

My vvife drunke to me last; and changd the cuppe,

And bad me vvare this cursed sute to day,

See, if God suffer murder vndiscouered?

I feele me ill; giue me some Mithredate,

Some Mithredate and oyle; good sister fetch me,

O, I am sicke at hart: I burne, I burne;

If you will saue my life goe fetch it mee.

Pros.

Oh strange humor my very breath hath poysond him.

Hes.

Good brother be content, what do you meane,

The strength of these extreame conceites will kill you?

Bia.

Beshrew your hart blood, brother Prospero,

For putting such a toy into his head.

Pros.

Is a fit similie, a toy? will he be poysond with a similie?

Brother Thorello , what a strange and vaine imagination is this?

For shame be wiser, of my soule theres no such matter.

Tho.

Am I not sicke? how am I then not poysond?

Am I not poysond? how am I then so sicke?

Bia.

If you be sicke, your owne thoughts make you sicke.

Pros.

His iealoucie is the poyson he hath taken.

Enter Musco like the doctors man.

Mus.

Signior Thorello my maister doctor Clement salutes

you, and desires to speake with you, with all speede pos-

sible.

Tho.

No time but now? well, ile waite vpon his worship,

Pizo, Cob, ile seeke them out, and set them sentinelles till I re-

turne. Pizo, Cob, Pizo.

Exit.

Pros.

Musco, this is rare, but how gotst thou this apparrel of

the doctors man.

Mus.

Marry sir. My youth would needes bestow the wine

of me to heare some martiall discourse; where I so marshald

him, that I made him monstrous drunke, & because too much

heate vvas the cause of his distemper, I stript him starke na-

ked as he lay along a sleepe, and borrowed his sewt to deliuer

this counterfeit message in, leauing a rustie armoure, and an

olde browne bill to watch him; till my returne: which shall

be when I haue paund his apparrell, and spent the monie

perhappes.

Pros.

Well thou art a madde knaue Musco, his absence will

be a good subiect for more mirth: I pray the returne to thy

young maister Lorenzo, and will him to meete me and Hesperi-

da at the Friery presently: for here tell him the house is so

sturde with iealousie, that there is no roome for loue to stand

vpright in: but ile vse such meanes she shall come thether, and

that I thinke will meete best with his desires: Hye thee good

Musco.

Mus.

I goe sir.

Exit.

Enter Thorello to him Pizo.

Tho.

Ho Pizo, Cob, where are these villaines troe?

Oh, art thou there? Pizo harke thee here:

Marke what I say to thee, I must goe foorth;

Be carefull of thy promise, keepe good watch,

Note euery gallant and obserue him well,

That enters in my absence to thy mistrisse;

If she would shew him roomes, the ieast is stale,

Follow them Pizo or els hang on him,

And let him not go after, marke their lookes?

Note if she offer but to see his band,

Or any other amorous toy about him,

But prayse his legge, or foote, or if she say,

The day is hotte, and bid him feele her hand,

How hot it is, oh thats a monstrous thing:

Note me all this, sweete Pizo; marke their sighes,

And if they do but vvisper breake them off,

Ile beare thee out in it: vvilt thou do this?

Wilt thou be true sweete Pizo?

Pi.

Most true sir.

Tho.

Thankes gentle Pizo: vvhere is Cob? now: Cob?

Exit Thorello.

Bia.

Hees euer calling for Cob, I vvonder how hee im-

ployesCob soe.

Pros.

Indeede sister to aske how he imployes Cob, is a neces-

sary question for you that are his wife, and a thing not very

easie for you to be satisfied in: but this ile assure you Cobs wife

is an excellent baud indeede: and oftentimes your husband

hauntes her house, marry to vvhat end I cannot altogother ac-

cuse him, imagine you vvhat you thinke conuenient: but I

haue knowne fayre hides haue foule hartes eare now, I can

tell you.

Bia.

Neuer sayd you truer then that brother? Pizo fetch your

cloke, and goe vvith me, ile after him presently: I vvould to

Christ I could take him there I fayth.

Exenunt Pizo and Biancha.

Pros.

So let them goe: this may make sport anone, now my

fayr>e sister Hesperida: ah that you knew how happy a thing it

were to be fayre and bewtifull?

Hes.

That toucheth not me brother.

Pros.

Thats true: thats euen the fault of it, for indeede bew-

tie stands a woman in no stead, vnles it procure her touching:

but sister vvhether it touch you or noe, it touches your bew-

ties, and I am sure they will abide the touch, and they doe not

a plague of al ceruse say I, and it touches me to inpart, though

not in thee. Well, theres a deare and respected friend of mine

sister, stands very strongly affected towardes you, and hath

vowed to inflame vvhole bonefires of zeale in his hart, in ho-

nor of your perfections, I haue already engaged my promise

to bring you where you shal heare him conferme much more

then I am able to lay downe for him: Signior Lorenzo is the

man: vvhat say you sister shall I intreate so much fauour of

you for my friend, is too direct and attend you to his meeting?

vpon my soule he loues you extreamely, approue it sweete

Hesperida vvill you?

Hes.

Fayth I had very little confidence in mine owne con-

stancie if I durst not meete a man: but brother Prospero this

motion of yours sauours of an olde knight aduenturers ser-

uant, me thinkes.

Pros.

Whats that sister.

Hes.

Marry of the squire.

Pros.

No matter Hesperida if it did, I vvould be such an one

for my friend, but say, will you goe?

Hes.

Brother I will, and blesse my happy starres.

Enter Clement and Thorello.

Clem.

Why what villanie is this? my man gone on a false

message, and runne away when he has done, vvhy vvhat trick

is there in it trow? 1. 2. 3. 4. and 5.

Tho.

How: is my wife gone foorth, where is she sister?

Hes.

Shees gone abrode with Pizo.

Tho.

Abrode with Pizo? oh that villaine dors me,

He hath discouered all vnto my wife,

Beast that I vvas to trust him: vvhither vvent she?

Hes.

I know not sir.

Pros.

Ile tell you brother vvhither I suspect shees gone.

Tho.

Whither for Gods sake?

Pros.

To Cobs house I beleeue: but keepe my counsayle.

Tho.

I vvill, I vvill, to Cobs house? doth she haunt Cobs.

Shees gone a purpose now to cuckold me,

With that lewd rascall, vvho to vvinne her fauour,

Hath told her all.

Exit.

Clem.

But did you mistresse see my man bring him a mes-

sage.

Pros.

That vve did maister doctor.

Clem.

And vvhither vvent the knaue?

Pros.

To the Tauerne I thinke sir.

Ciem.

What did Thorello giue him any thing to spend for

the message he brought him? if he did I should commend my

mans wit exceedingly if he vvould make himselfe drunke,

vvith the ioy of it, farewell Lady, keepe good rule you two:

I beseech you now: by Gods marry my man makes mee

laugh.

Exit.

Pros.

What a madde Doctor is this? come sister lets away.

Exeunt.

Enter Matheo and Bobadillo.

Mat.

I vvonder signior what they vvill say of my going away: ha?

Bob.

Why, what should they say? but as of a discreet gentle-

(man.

Quick, wary, respectfull of natures,

Fayre liniamentes, and thats all.

Mat.

Why so, but what can they say of your beating?

Bob.

A rude part, a touch with soft wood, a kinde of grosse

batterie vsed, layd on strongly: borne most paciently, and

thats all.

Mat.

I but would any man haue offered it in Venice?

Bob.

Tut I assure you no: you shall haue there your Nobilis,

your Gentelezza, come in brauely vpon your reuerse, stand you

close, stand you ferme, stand you fayre, saue your retricato with

his left legge, come to the assaulto with the right, thrust with

braue steele, defie your base wood. But wherefore do I awake

this remembrance? I was bewitcht by Iesu: but I will be re-

uengd.

Mat.

Do you heare ist not best to get a warrant and haue

him arested, and brought before doctor Clement.

Bob.

It were not amisse would we had it.

Enter Musco.

Mat.

Why here comes his man, lets speake to him.

Bob.

Agreed, do you speake.

Mat.

God saue you sir.

Mus.

With all my hart sir?

Mat.

Sir there is one Giulliano hath abusd this gentleman

and me, and we determine to make our amendes by law, now

if you would do vs the fauour to procure vs a warrant for

his arest of your maister, you shall be well considered I

assure, I fayth sir.

Mus.

Sir you know my seruice is my liuing, such fauours as

these gotten of my maister is his onely preferment, and there-

fore you must consider me, as I may make benefit of my

place.

Mat.

How is that?

Mus.

Fayth sir, the thing is extraordinarie, and the gentle-

man may be of great accompt: yet be what he will, if you

will lay me downe fiue crownes in my hand, you shall haue it,

otherwise not.

Mat.

How shall we do signior? you haue no monie.

Bob.

Not a crosse by Iesu.

Mat.

Nor I before God but two pence: left of my two

shillings in the morning for vvine and cakes, let's giue him

some pawne.

Bob.

Pawne? we haue none to the value of his demaunde.

Mat.

Oh Lord man, ile pawne this iewell in my eare, and you

may pawne your silke stockins, and pull vp your bootes, they

will neare be mist.

Bob.

Well and there be no remedie: ile step aside and put

them of.

Mat.

Doe you heare sir, we haue no store of monie at this

time, but you shall haue good pawnes, looke you sir, this Iew-

ell, and this gentlemans silke stockins, because we would haue

it dispatcht ere we went to our chambers.

Mus.

I am content sir, I will get you the warrant presently

whats his name say you (Giulliano.)

Mat.

I, I, Giulliano.

Mus.

What manner of man is he?

Mat.

A tall bigge man sir, he goes in a cloake most com-

monly of silke russet: layd about with russet lace.

Mus.

Tis very good sir.

Mat.

Here sir, heres my iewell?

Bob.

And heare are stockins.

Mus.

Well gentlemen ile procure thisvvaarrant presently,

and appoynt you a varlet of the citie to serue it, if youle be v-

pon the Realto anone, the varlet shall meete you there.

Mat.

Very good sir I vvish no better.

Exeunt Bobadilla and Matheo.

Mus.

This is rare, now vvill I goe pawne this cloake of the

doctors mons at the brokers for a varlets sute, and be the var-

letmy selfe, and get eyther more pawnes, or more money of

Giulliano for my arrest.

Exit.

ACTVS QVINTVS. SCENA PRIMA.

Enter Lorenzo seni[unclear]r.

Lo.se.

Oh heare it is, I am glad I haue found it now,

Ho? who is within heare?

Enter Tib.

Tib.

I am within sir, whats your pleasure?

Lo.se.

To know vvho is vvithin besides your selfe.

Tib.

Why sir, you are no constable I hope?

Lo.se.

O feare you the constable? then I doubt not,

You haue some guests within deserue that feare,

Ile fetch him straight.

Tib.

A Gods name sir.

Lo.se.

Go to, tell me is not the young Lorenzo here?

Tib.

Young Lorenzo, I saw none such sir, of mine honestie.

Lo.se.

Go to, your honestie flies too lightly from you:

Theres no way but fetch the constable.

Tib.

The constable, the man is mad I think.

Claps to the doure.

Enter Pizo, and Biancha.

Pizo.

Ho, vvho keepes house here?

Lo.se.

Oh, this is the female copes-mate of my sonne.

Now shall I meete him straight.

Bia.

Knocke Pizo pray thee.

Pi.

Ho good vvife.

Tib.

Why vvhats the matter vvith you.

Enter Tib.

Bia.

Why vvoman, grieues it you to ope your doore?

Belike you get something to keepe it shut.

Tib.

What meane these questions pray ye?

Bia.

So strange you make it? is not Thorello my tryed hus-

band here.

Lo.se.

Her husband?

Tib.

I hope he needes not to be tryed here.

Bia.

No dame: he hoth it not sor neede but pleasure.

Tib.

Neyther for neede nor pleasure is he here.

Lo.se.

This is but a deuise to balke me vvith al; Soft, vvhoes this?

Enter Thorello.

Bia.

Oh sir, haue I fore-stald your honest market?

Found your close walkes? you stand amazd now, do you?

I fayth (I am glad) I haue smokt you yet at last;

Whats your iewell trow? In: come lets see her;

Fetch foorth your huswife, dame; if she be sayrer

In any honest iudgement then my selfe,

Ile be content vvith it: but she is chaunge,

She feedes you fat; she soothes your appetite,

And you are well; your vvife an honest vvoman,

Is meate twise sod to you sir; A you trecher.

Lo.se.

She cannot counterfeit this palpably.

Tho.

Out on thee more then strumpets impudencie,

Stealst thou thus to thy hauntes? and haue I taken,

Thy baud, and thee, and thy companion?

This hoary headed letcher, this olde goate

Close at your villanie, and wouldst thou scuse it,

With this stale harlots iest, accusing me?

O ould incontinent, dost thou not shame,

When all thy powers inchastitie is spent,

To haue a minde so hot? and to entise

And feede the intisements of a lustfull woman?

Bia.

Out I defie thee I, desembling wretch:

Tho.

Defie me strumpet? aske thy paunder here.

Can he denie it? or that wicked elder.

Lo.sen.

Why heare you signior?

Tho.

Tut, tut, neuer speake,

Thy guiltie conscience will discouer thee:

Lo.se.

What lunacie is this that haunts this man?

Enter Giulliano.

Giu.

Oh sister did you see my cloake?

Bia.

Not I, I see none.

Giu.

Gods life I haue lost it then, saw you Hesperida?

Tho.

Hesperida? is she not at home

Giu.

No she is gone abroade, and no body can tell me of it at home.

Exit.

Tho.

Oh heauen,? abroade? what light? a harlot too?

Why? why? harke you, hath she? hath she not a brother?

A brothers house to keepe? to looke vnto?

But she must fling abroade, my wife hath spoyld her,

She takes right after her, she does, she does,

Well you goody baud and —

Enter Cob.

That make your husband such a hoddy dody;

And you young apple squire, and olde cuckold miker,

Ile haue you euery one before the Doctor,

Nay you shall answere it I chardge you goe.

Lo.se.

Marry with all my hart, ile goe willingly: how haue

I vvvrongd my selfe in comming here.

Bi.

Go with thee? ile go with thee to thy shame, I warrant thee.

Cob.

Way vvhats the matter? vvhats here to doe?

Tho.

What Cob art thou here? oh I am abusd,

And in thy house, was neuer man so wrongd.

Cob.

Slid in my house? vvho vvrongd you in my house?

Tho.

Marry young lost in olde, and olde in young here,

Thy wifes their baud, here haue I taken them.

Cob.

Doe you here? did I not charge you

keepe your dores shut here, and do you let

them lie open for all cõmers, do you scratch.

Cob beates his
wife
.

Lo.se.

Friend haue patience if she haue done wrong in this

let her answere it afore the Magistrate.

Cob.

I, come, you shall goe afore' the Doctor.

Tib.

Nay, I will go, ile see and you may be aloud to beate

your poore wife thus at euery cuckoldly knaues pleasure, the

Diuell and the Pox take you all for me: vvhy doe you not

goe now.

Tho.

A bitter queane, come weele haue you tamd.

Exeunt

Enter Musco alone.

Mus.

Well of all my disguises yet now am I most like my

selfe beeing in this varlets suit, a man of my present professi-

on neuer counterfeites till he lay holde vpon a debtor, and

sayes he rests him, for then he bringes him to al manner of vn-

rest; A kinde of little kings we are, bearing the diminitiue of

a mace made like a young Hartechocke that alwayes carries

Pepper and salte in it selfe, well I know not what danger I vn-

der go by this exploite, pray God I come vvell of.

Enter Bobadilla and Matheo.

Mat.

See I thinke yonder is the varlet.

Bob.

Lets go in quest of him.

Mat.

God saue you friend, are not you here by the appoynt-

ment of doctor Clemants man.

Mus.

Yes and please you sir, he told me two gentlemen had

wild him to procure an arest vpon one signior Giulliano by a

vvarrant from his maister, vvhich I haue about me.

Mat.

It is honestly done of you both, and see where hee

coms you must arest, vppon him for Gods sake before hee

beware.

Enter Sephano.

Bob.

Beare backe Matheo?

Mus.

Signior Giulliano. I arest you sir in the Dukes name.

Step.

Signior Giulliano? am I signior Giulliano? I am one signi-

or Stephano I tell you, and you do not vvell by Gods slid to

arest me, I tell you truely; I

am not in your maisters bookes, I would you should vvell know I: and a plague of God on you

for making me afrayd thus.

Mus.

Why, how are you deceiued gentlemen?

Bob.

He weares such a cloake, and that deceiued vs,

But see here a coms, officer, this is he.

Enter Giulliano.

Giu.

Why how now signior gull: are you a turnd flincher of

late, come deliuer my cloake.

Step.

Your cloake sir? I bought it euen now in the market.

Mus

Signior Giulliano I must arest you sir.

Giu.

Arrest me sir, at whose suite?

Mus.

At these two gentlemens.

Giu.

I obey thee varlet; but for these villianes—

Mus.

Keepe the peace I charge you sir, in the Dukes name Sir.

Giu.

Whats the matter varlet?

Mus.

You must goe before maister doctor Clement sir, to

answere what these gentlemen will obiect agaynst you, harke

you sir, I will vse you kindely.

Mat.

Weele be euen with you sir, come signior Bobadilla

weele goe before and prepare the doctor: varlet looke to him.

Exeunt Bobadilla and Matheo.

Bob.

The varlet is a tall man by Iesu.

Giu.

Away you rascalles, Signior I shall haue my cloake.

Step.

Your cloake: I say once agayne I bought it, and ile keepe it.

Giu.

You will keepe it?

Step.

I, that I will.

Giu.

Varlet stay, heres thy fee arrest him.

Mus.

Signior Stephano I arrest you.

Step.

Arrest me? there take your cloake: ile none of it.

Giu.

Nay that shall not serue your turne, varlet, bring him

away, ile goe with thee now to the doctors, and carry him

along.

Step.

Why is not here your cloake? what would you haue?

Giu.

I care not for that.

Mus.

I pray you sir.

Giu.

Neuer talke of it; I will haue him answere it.

Mus.

Well sir then ile leaue you, ile take this gentlemans

woorde for his appearance, as I haue done yours.

Giu.

Tut ile haue no woordes taken, bring him along to

answere it.

Mus.

Good sir I pitie the gentlemans case, heres your mo-

nie agayne.

Giu.

Gods bread, tell not me of my monie, bring him a-

way I say.

Mus.

I warrant you, he will goe with you of himselfe.

Giu.

Yet more adoe?

Mus.

I haue made a fayre mashe of it.

Step.

Must I goe?

Exeunt.

Enter doctor Clement, Thorello, Lorenzo se. Biancha,
Pizo, Tib, a seruant or two of the Doctors.

Clem.

Nay but stay, stay giue me leaue; my chayre sirha?

you signior Lorenzo say you vvent thether to meete your

sonne.

Lo.se.

I sir.

Clem.

But vvho directed you thether?

Lo.se.

That did my man sir?

Clem.

Where is hee?

Lo.se.

Nay I know not now, I left him with your clarke,

And appoynted him to stay here for me.

Clem.

About vvhat time vvas this?

Lo.se.

Marry betweene one and two as I take it.

Clem.

So, what time came my man with the message to you

Signior Thorello?

Tho.

After two sir.

Clem.

Very good, but Lady how that you were at Cobs: ha?

Bia.

And please you sir, ile tell you: my brother Prospero

tolde me that Cobs house vvas a suspected place.

Clem.

So it appeares me thinkes; but on,

Bia.

And that my husband vsed thether dayly;

Clem.

No matter, so he vse himselfe well.

Bia.

True sir, but you know vvhat growes by such haunts

oftentimes.

Clem.

I, ranke fruites of a iealous brayne Lady: but did you

finde your husband there in that case, as you suspected.

Tho.

I found her there sir.

Clem.

Did you so? that alters the case; who gaue you know-

ledge of your wiues beeing there?

Tho.

Marry that did my brother Prospero.

Clem.

How Prospero, first tell her, then tell you after? vvhere

is Prospero.

Tho.

Gone vvith my sister sir, I know not vvhither.

Clem.

Why this is a meare tricke, a deuise; you are gulled in

this most grosly: alasse poore vvench vvert thou beaten for

this, how now sirha vvhats the matter?

Enter one of the Domen.

Ser.

Sir theres a gentleman in the court vvithout desires to

speake with your vvorship.

Clem.

A gentleman? vvhats he?

Ser.

A Souldier, sir, he sayeth.

Clem.

A Souldier? fetch me my armour, my sworde, quickly

a souldier speake vvith me, vvhy vvhen knaues, — come on,

come on, hold my cap there, so; giue me my gorget, my sword

stand by I vvill end your matters anone; let the souldier en-

ter, now sir vvhat haue you to say to me?

Enter Bobadillo and Matheo.

Bob.

By your vvorships fauour.

Clem.

Nay keepe out sir, I know not your pretence, you send

me vvord sir you are a souldier, vvhy sir you shall bee answe-

red here, here be them haue beene amongst souldiers. Sir

your pleasure.

Bob.

Fayth sir so it is: this gentleman and my selfe haue beene

most violently vvronged by one signior Giulliano: a gallant of

the citie here and for my owne part I protest, beeing a man

in no sorte giuen to this filthy humor of quarreling, he hath

asaulted me in the vvay of my peace: dilpoyld me of mine

honor, disarmd me of my vveapons, and beaten me in the

open streetes: vvhen I not so much as once offered to re-

sist him.

Clem.

Oh Gods precious is this the souldier? here take my ar-

mour quickly, twill make him swoone I feare; he is not fit to

looke on't, that vvill put vp a blow.

Enter Seruant.

Mat.

Andt please your worship he was bound to the peace.

Clem.

Why, and he were sir, his hands, were not bound, were

they?

Ser.

There is one of the varlets of the citie, has brought two

gentlemen here vpon arest sir.

Clem.

Bid him come in, set by the picture: now

sir, what? signior Giulliano? ist you that are arested

at signior freshwaters suit here.

Enter Mus.
with Giu. &
Stephano.

Giu.

Ifayth maister Doctor, and heres another brought at my suite.

Clem.

What are yo sir.

Step.

A gentleman sir? oh vncle?

Clem.

Vncle? vvho, Lorenzo?

Lo.se.

I Sir.

Step.

Gods my vvitnesse my vncle, I am vvrongd here mon-

strously, he chargeth me with stealing of his cloake, & vvould

I might neuer stir, if I did not finde it in the street by chance.

Giu.

Oh did you finde it now? you saide you bought it ere

vvhile?

Step.

And you sayd I stole it, nay now my vnckle is here I

care not.

Clem.

Well let this breath a while; you that haue cause to

complaine there, stand foorth; had you a vvarrant for this

arrest.

Bob.

I andt please your vvorship.

Clem.

Nay do not speake in passion so, vvhere had you it?

Bob.

Of your clarke sir.

Clem.

Thats vvell and my clarke can make vvarrants, and

my hand not at them; vvhere is the vvarrant? varlet haue

you it?

Mus.

No sir your vvorshippes man bid me doe it; for these

gentlemen and he vvould be my discharge.

Clem.

Why signior Giulliano, are you such a nouice to be ar-

rested and neuer see the vvarrant?

Giu.

Why sir, he did not arrest me.

Clem.

No? how then?

Giu.

Marry sir he came to me and sayd he must arrest me, and

he vvould vse me kindely, and so foorth.

Clem.

Oh Gods pittie, was it so sir, he must arrest you: giue

me my long sworde there: helpe me of; so, come on sir varlet,

I must cut of your legges sirha; nay stand vp ile vse you kind-

ly; I must cut of your legges I say.

Mus.

Oh good sir I beseech you, nay good maister doctor,

Oh good sir.

Clem.

I must do it; there is no remedie;

I must cut of your legges sirha.

I must cut of your eares, you rascall I must do it;

I must cut of your nose, I must cut of your head.

Mus.

Oh for God sake good Maister Doctor.

Clem.

Well rise how doest thou now? doest thou feele thy

selfe well? hast thou no harme?

Mus.

No I thanke God sir and your good worshippe.

Clem.

Why so I sayd I must cut of thy legges, and I must

cut of thy armes, and I must cut of thy head: but I did not

do it: so you sayd you must arrest this gentleman, but you

did not arrest him you knaue, you slaue, you rogue, do you say

you must arrest sirha: away with him to the iayle, ile teach

you a trike for your must.

Mus.

Good M. Doctor I beseech you be good to me.

Clem.

Marry a God: away vvith him I say.

Mus.

Nay sblood before I goe to prison, ile put on my olde

brasen face, and disclaime in my vocation Ile discouer thats

flat, and I be committed, it shall be for the committing of

more villainies then this, hang me, and I loose the least graine

of my fame.

Clem.

Why? vvhen knaue? by Gods marry, ile clappe thee

by the heeles

Mus.

Hold, hold, I pray you.

Clem.

Whats the matter? stay there.

Mus.

Fayth sir afore I goe to this house of bondage, I haue

a case to vnfolde to your worshippe: which (that it may ap-

peare more playne vnto your worshippes view) I do thus first

of all vncase, & appeare in mine owne proper nature, seruant

to this gentleman: and knowne by the name of Musco.)

Lo. se.

Ha? Musco.

Step.

Oh vncle, Musco has beene with my cosen and I

all this day.

Clem.

Did not I tell you there was some deuise.

Mus.

Nay good M. Doctor since I haue layd my selfe thus

open to your worship: now stand strong for me, till the pro-

gresse of my tale be ended, and then if my vvit do not deserue

your countenance: Slight throw it on a dogge, and let me goe

hang my selfe.

Cle.

Body of me a merry knaue, giue me a boule of Sack, sig-

nior Lorenzo, I bespeak your patience in perticuler, marry your

eares in generall, here knaue, Doctor Clement drinkes to thee.

Mus.

I pledge M. Doctor and't were a sea to the bottome.

Cle.

Fill his boule for that, fil his boule: so, now speak freely.

Mus.

Indeede this is it will make a man speake freely. But

to the poynt, know then that I Musco (beeing some what more

trusted of my maister then reason required, and knowing his

intent to Florence) did assume the habit of a poore souldier in

wants, and minding by some meanes to intercept his iorney in

the mid way between the grandg and the city, I encountred him,

where begging of him in the most accomplisht and true garbe

(as they tearme it) contarie toal expectation, he reclaimd me

from that bad course of life; entertayned me into his seruice,

imployed me in his business possest me with his secrets, which

I no sooner had receiued, but (seeking my young maister, and

finding him at this gentlemans house) I reuealed all mosham-

ply: this done by the deuise of signior Prospero, and him to-

gether, I returnd (as the Rauen did to the Arke) to mine olde

maister againe, told him he should finde his sonne in what ma-

ner he knows, at one Cobs house, where indeede he neuer ment

to come, now my maister he to maintayne the iest, went the-

ther, and left me with your vvorships clarke: who being of a

most fine supple disposition (as most of your clarkes are) prof-

fers me the wine, which I had the grace to accept very easily,

and to the tauerne we went: there after much ceremonie, I

made him drunke in kindenesse, stript him to his shurt, and

leauing him in that coole vayne, departed, frolicke, courtier

like, hauing obtayned a suit: which suit fitting me exceedingly

well, I put on and vsurping your mans phrase & action, caried

a message to Signior Thorello in your name: vvhich message

vvas meerely deuised but to procure his absence, while signior

Prospero might make a conueiance of Hesperida to my maister.

Clem.

Stay, fill me the boule agayne, here; twere pittie of his

life vvould not cherish such a spirite: I drinke to thee, fill him

wine, why now do you perceiue the tricke of it.

Tho.

I, I, perceiue vvell vve vvere all abusd.

Lose.

Well vvhat remec he?

Clem.

Where is Lorenzo, and Prospero canst thou tell?

Mus.

I sir, they are at supper at the Meeremaid, where I left

your man.

Clem.

Sirha goe vvarme them hether presently before me:

and if the hower of your fellowes resurrection become bring

him to. But forwarde, forwarde, vvhen thou hadst beene at

Thorrellos.

Exit seruant.

Mus.

Marry sir (comming along the streete) these two gen-

tlemen meet me, and very strongly supposing me to be your

vvorships scribe, entreated me to procure them a vvarrant, for

the arrest of signior Giulliano, I promist them vpon some paire

of silke stockins or a iewell, or so, to do it, and to get a varlet of

the citie to serue it, vvhich varlet I appoynted should meete

them vpon the Realto at such an houre, they no sooner gone,

but I in a meere hope of more gaine by signior Giulliano, went

to one of Satans old Ingles a broker, & there paund your mans

liuerie, for a varlets suite, vvhich here vvith my selfe, I offer

vnto your vvorships consideration.

Clem.

Well giue me thy hand:Prob. superi ingeniu magnum

quis nose it Homerum. Illiasaterenum si latuisser opus? I admire thee

I honor thee, and if thy maister, or any man here be angry with

thee, I shall suspect his wit while I know him for it, doe you

heare Signior Thorello, Signior Lorenzo, and the rest of my

good friendes, I pray you let me haue peace when they come,

I haue sent for the two gallants and Hesperida, Gods marry I

must haue you friendes, how now? what noyse is there?

Enter seruant, then Peto.

Ser.

Sir it is Peto is come home.

Cle.

Peto bring him hether, bring him hether, what how now

signior drunckard, in armes against me, ha? your reason your

(reason for this.

Pe.

I beseech your worship to pardon me.

Clem.

Well, sirha tell him I do pardon him.

Pe.

Truly sir I did happen into bad companie by chance and

they cast me in a sleepe and stript me of all my cloathes.

Clem.

Tut this is not to the purpose touching your armour,

what might your armour signifie.

Pe.

Marry sir it hung in the roome where they stript me, and

I borrowed it of on of the drawers, now in the euening to come

home in, because I was loth to come through the street in my

(shurt.

Enter Lorenzo iunior, Prospero, Hesperida.

Clem.

Well disarme him, but its no matter let him stand by,

who be these? oh young gallants; welcome, welcome, and you

Lady, nay neuer scatter such amazed lookes amongst vs, Qui

nil potest sperare desperet nihil.

Pros.

Faith M. Doctor thats euen I, my hopes are smal, and my

dispaire shal be as little. Brother, sister, brother what cloudy,

cloudy? and will noe sunshine on these lookes appeare, well since

there is such a tempest towarde, ile be the porpuis, ile daunce:

wench be of good cheare, thou hast a cloake for the rayne yet,

where is he? S'hart how now, the picture of the prodigal, go to

ile haue the calfe drest for you at my charges.

Lo.se.

Well sonne Lorenzo, this dayes worke of yours hath

much deceiued my hopes troubled my peace, and stretcht my

patience further then became the spirite of dutie.

Cle.

Nay Gods pitie signior Lorenzo you shal vrge it no more

come since you are here, ile haue the disposing of all, but first

signior Giulliano at my request take your cloake agayne.

Giu.

Well sir I am content.

Cle.

Stay now let me see, oh signior Snow-liuer I had almost

forgotten him, and your Genius there, what doth he suffer for

a good conscience to? doth he beare his crosse with patience.

Mu.

Nay they haue scarse one cros between thé both to beare.

Clem.

Why doest thou know him, what is he? what is he?

Mus.

Marry search his pocket sir, and these shew you he isan

Author Sir.

Cle.

Dic mihi musa virum: are you an Author sir, giue me leaue

a little, come on sir, ile make verses with you now in honor of

the Gods, and the Goddesses for what you dare extempore; and

now I beginne.

Mount the my Pblegon muse, and testifie,

How Saturne sitting in an Ebon cloud,

Disrobd his podex, white as iuorie,

And through the welkin thundred all aloud. theres for you sir.

Pros.

Oh he writes not in that height of stile.

Clem.

No: weele come a steppe or two lower then.

From Catadupa and the bankes of Nile,

Where onely breedes your monstrous Crocodile:

Now are we purposd for to fetch our stile.

Pros.

Oh too farre fetcht for him still maister Doctor:

Clem.

I, say you so, lets intrea: a sight of his vaine then?

Pros.

Signior, maister Doctor desires to see a sight of your

vaine, nay you must not denie him.

Cle.

What; al this verse, body of me he carries a whole realme;

a common wealth of paper in his hose, lets see some of his

subiects.

Vnto the boundlesse ocean of thy bewtie,

Runnes this poore riuer, chargd with streames of zeale,

Returning thee the tribute of my dutie:

Which here my youth, my plaints, my loue reueale.

Good? is this your owne inuention?

Mat.

No sir; I translated that out of a booke, called Delia.

C. Oh but I wold see some of your owne, some of your owne.

Mat.

Sir; heres the beginning of a sonnet I made to my

mistresse.

Clem.

That that: who? to Maddona Hesperida is she your

mistresse.

Pros.

It pleaseth him to call her so, sir.

Clem.

In Sommer time when Phæbus golden rayes.

You translated this too? did you not?

Pros.

No this is inuention; he found it in a ballad.

Mat.

Fayth sir, I had most of the conceite of it out of a bal-

lad indeede.

Clem.

Conceite, fetch me a couple of torches, sirha,

I may see the conceite: quickly? its very darke?

Giu.

Call you this poetry?

Lo.iu.

Poetry? nay then call blasphemie, religion;

Call Diuels, Angels; and Sinne, pietie:

Let all things be preposterously transchangd.

Lo se.

Why how now sonne? what? are you startled now?

Hath the brize prickt you? ha? go to; you see,

How abiectly your Poetry is ranckt, in generall opinion.

Lo.iu.

Opinion, O God let grosse opinió sinck & be damnd

As deepe as Barathrum,

If it may stand with your most wisht content,

I can refell opinion and approue,

The state of poesie, such as it is,

Blessed, æternall, and most true deuine:

Indeede if you will looke on Poesie,

As she appeares in many, poore and larme,

Patcht vp in remnants and olde worne ragges,

Halfe starud for want of her peculiar foode:

Sacred inuention, then I must conferme,

Both your conceite and censure of her merrite,

But view her in her glorious ornaments,

Attired in the maiestie of arte,

Set high in spirite vvith the precious taste,

Of sweete philosophie, and vvhich is most,

Crownd vvith the rich traditions of a soule,

That hates to haue her dignitie prophand,

With any relish of an earthly thought:

Oh then how proud a presence doth she beare.

Then is she like her selfe fit to be seene,

Of none but graue and consecrated eyes:

Nor is it any blemish to her fame,

That such leane ignorant, and blasted wits,

Such brainlesse guls, should vtter their stolne wares

With such aplauses in our vulgar eares:

Or that their slubberd lines haue currant passe,

From the fat iudgements of the multitude,

But that this barren and infected age,

Should set no difference twixt these empty spirits,

And a true Poet: then which reuerend name,

Nothing can more adorne humanitie.

Enter with torches.

Clem.

I Lorenzo, but election is now gouernd altogether

by the influence of humor, which insteed of those holy flames

that should direct and light the soule to eternitie, hurles foorth

nothing but smooke and congested vapours, that stifle her vp,

& bereaue her of al sight & motion. But she must haue store of

v Ellebore, giuen her to purge these grosse obstructions: oh thats

well sayd, giue me thy torch, come lay this stuffe together. So,

giue fire? there, see, see, how our Poets glory shines brighter,

and brighter, still, still it increaseth, oh now its at the highest,

and now it declines as fast: you may see gallants, Sic transit glo-

ria mundi. Well now my two Signior out sides, stand foorth,

and lend me your large eares, to asentence, to a sentence: first

you signior shall this night to the cage, and so shall you sir,

from thence to morrow morning, you signior shall be carried

to the market crosse, and be there bound: and so shall you sir,

in a large motlie coate, with a rodde at your girdle; and you in

an olde suite of sackcloth, and the ashes of your papers (saue

the ashes sirha) shall mourne all day, and at night both toge-

ther sing some ballad of repentance very pitteously, which

you shall make to the tune of Who list to leade and a souldiers life.

Sirha bil man, imbrace you this torch, and light the gentlemen

to their lodgings, and because we tender their safetie, you shall

watch them to night, you are prouided for the purpose, away

and looke to your charge with an open eye sirha.

Bob.

Well I am armd in soule agaynst the worst of fortune.

Mat.

Fayth so should I be, and I had slept on it.

Pe.

I am armd too, but I am not like to sleepe on it.

Mus.

Oh how this pleaseth me.

Exeunt.

Clem.

Now Signior Thorello, Giulliano, Prospero, Biancha.

Step.

And not me sir.

Clem.

Yes and you sir: I had lost a sheepe and he had not

bleated, I must haue you all friends: but first a worde with

you young gallant, and you Lady.

Giu.

Wel brother Prospero by this good light that shines here

I am loth to kindle fresh coles, but and you had come in my

walke within these two houres I had giuen you that you

should not haue clawne of agayne in hast, by Iesus I had done

it, I am the arrenst rogue that euer breathd else, but now be-

shrew my hart if I beare you any malice in the earth.

Pros.

Fayth I did it but to hould vp a iest: and helpe my sis-

ter to a husband. but brother Thorello, and sister, you haue a

spice of the iealous yet both of you, (in your hose I meane,)

come do not dwell vpon your anger so much, lets all be smoth

foreheaded once agayne.

Tho.

He playes vpon my fore head, brother Giulliano, I pray

you tell me one thing I shall aske you: is my foreheade any

thing rougher then it was wont to be.

Giu.

Rougher? your forehead is smoth enough man.

Tho.

Why should he then say? be smoth foreheaded,

Vnlesse he iested at the smothnesse of it?

And that may be; for horne is very smoth;

So are my browes? by Iesu, smoth as horne?

Bia.

Brother had he no haunt thether in good fayth?

Pros.

No vpon my soule.

Bia.

Nay then sweet hart: nay I pray the be not angry, good

faith ile neuer suspect thee any more, nay kisse me sweet musse.

Tho.

Tell me Biancha, do not you play the woman with me.

Bia.

Whats that sweete hart.

Tho.

Dissemble?

Bia.

Dissemble?

Tho.

Nay doe not turne away: but say I fayth was it not a

match appoynted twixt this old gentleman and you?

Bia.

A match.

Tho.

Nay if it were not, I do not care: do not weepe I pray

thee sweete Biancha, nay so now? by Iesus I am not iealous, but

resolued I haue the faythfulst wife in Italie.

For this I finde where iealousie is fed,

Hornes in the minde, are worse then on the head:

See what a droue of hornes flie in the arye ,

Wingd with my cleansed, and my credulous breath:

Watch them suspicious eyes, watch where they fall,

See see, on heades that thinke they haue none at all.

Oh what a plentiuous world of this will come,

When ayre raynes hornes, all men besure of some.

Clem.

Why thats well, come then: what say you are all a-

greed? doth none stand one.

Pros.

None but this gentleman: to whom in my owne per-

son I owe all dutie and affection: but most seriously intreate

pardon, for whatsoeuer hath past in these occurrants, that

might be contrarie to his most desired content.

Lo.

Fayth sir it is a vertue that persues,

Any saue rude and vncomaposed spirites,

To make a fayre construction and indeede

Not to stand of, when such respectiue meanes,

Inuite a generall content in all.

Clem.

Well then I coniure you all here to put of all discon-

tentment, first you Signior Lorenzo your cares; you, and you,

your iealosie: you your anger, and you your wit sir: and for a

peace offering, heres one willing to be sacrifised vppon this

aulter: say do you approue my motion?

Pros.

We doe ile be mouth for all.

Clem.

VVhy then I wish them all ioy, and now to make our

euening happinesse more full: this night you shall be all my

guestes: where weele inioy the very spirite of mirth, and ca-

rrouse to the health of this Heroick spirite, whom to honor the

more I do inuest in my owne robes, desiring you two Giulli-

ano, and Prospero, to be his supporters, the trayne to follow, my

selfe will leade, vsherd by my page here with this honorable

verse. Claudite iam riuos pueri sat prata biberunt.

Puol's o. a red Herring