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Step. Friend, I am a fool, that's granted: but I'll have it for that word's sake. Follow me for your money. Brain. At your service, sir.

Enter KNO'well.

[Exeunt.

Kno. I cannot loss the thought, yet of this letter
Sent to my son nor leave to admire the change
Of manners, and the breeding of our youth
Within the kingdom, since myself was one.
When I was young, he liv'd not in the stews
Durst have conceiv'd a scorn, and utter'd it
On a grey head: age was authority
Against a buffoon: and a man had then
A certain reverence paid unto his years,
That had none due unto his life.

But, now, we are all fall'n; youth, from their fear;
And age, from that which bred it, good example.
Nay, would ourselves were not the first, even parents.
That did destroy the hopes, in our own children:
Or they not learn'd our vices in their cradles,
And suck'd-in our ill customs with their milk.
Ere all their teeth be born, or they can speak,
We make their pallates cunning! The first words
We from their tongues with, are licenteous jests.
Can it call whore? cry bastard? O, then kiss it,
A witty child! can't swear! the father's daring!
Give it two plumbs. Nay, rather than't shall learn
No bawdy song, the mother herself will teach it!
But, this is in the infancy;

When it puts off all this. Ay, it is like:
When it is gone into the bone already.
No, no: this die goes deeper than the coat,
Or shirt, or skin. It stains unto the liver

And heart, in some. And rather than it should not,
Note, what we fathers do! Look how we live !
What mistresses we keep! at what expence,
And teach 'em all bad ways to buy affliction!
Well, I thank heaven, I never yet was he
That travell'd with my son before sixteen,
To shew him the Venetian courtezans,
Nor read the grammar of cheating, I had made
To my sharp boy at twelve: repeating still
The rule, Get money; still, get money, boy

No

No matter by what means.

These are the trade of fathers, now! however,
My son, I hope, hath met with in my threshold

None of these household precedents; which are strong,
And swift, to rape youth to their precipice.

But let the house at home be ne'er so clean
Swept, or kept sweet from filth!

If he will live abroad with his companions,
In dung, and brothels; it is worth a fear.
Nor is the danger of conversing less
Than all that I have mention'd of example.

Enter BRAIN-WORM.

Brain. My master? nay faith, have at you: I am flesh'd now, I have sped so well. Worshipful sir, I beseech you respect the state of a poor soldier; I am asham'd of this base course of life (God's my comfort) but extremity provokes me to't: what remedy?

Kno. I have not for you now.

Brain. By the faith I bear unto truth, gentleman, it is no ordinary custom in me, but only to preserve manhood. I protest to you, a man I have been, a man I may be by your sweet bounty.

Kno. Pr'ythee, good friend, be satisfied.

Brain. Good sir, by that hand, you may do the part of a kind gentleman, in lending a poor soldier the price of two cans of beer, a matter of small value; the king of heaven shall pay you, and I shall rest thankful: sweet worship

Kno. Nay, an' you be so importunate

Brain. Oh, tender sir, need will have his course: I was not made to this vile use! well, the edge of the enemy could not have abated me so much: [be weeps. [It's hard, when a man hath served in his prince's cause, and be thus

Honourable worship, let me derive a small piece of silver from you, it shall not be given in the course of time; by this good ground, I was fain to pawn my rapier last night for a poor supper; I had suck'd the hilts long before, I am a pagan else: sweet honour.

Kno. Believe me, I am taken with some wonder To think a fellow of thy outward presence

Should in the frame and fashion of his mind,

Be so degenerate, and sordid-base!

Art thou a man, and sham'st thou not to beg?
To practise such a servile kind of life?
Why, were thy education ne'er so mean,
Having thy limbs, a thousand fairer courses
Offer themselves to thy election.

Either the wars might still supply thy wants,
Or service of some virtuous gentleman,
Or honest labour: nay, what can I name
But would become thee better than to beg?
But men of thy condition feed on sloth,
As doth the beetle on the dung she breeds in,
Not caring how the metal of your minds
Is eaten with the rust of idleness.

Now, afore me, whate'er he be that should
Relieve a person of thy quality,

While thou insists in this loose desperate course,

I would esteem the sin not thine, but his.

Brain. Faith, sir, I would gladly find some other course, if so

Kno. Ay, you'ld gladly find it, but you will not seek it. Brain. Alas! sir, where should a man seek? in the wars, there's no ascent by desert in these days, but-and for service, would it were as soon purchas'd as wish'd for (the air's my comfort) I know what I would sayKno. What's thy name?

Brain. Please you, Fitz-Sword, sir.

Kno. Fitz-Sword?

Say that a man would entertain thee now,
Would'st thou be honest, humble, just, and true ?
Brain. Sir, by the place and honour of a soldier-
Kno. Nay, nay, I like not those affected oaths;
Speak plainly, man; what think'st thou of my words?
Brain. Nothing, sir, but wish my fortunes were as hap-
py, as my service should be honest.

Kno. Well, follow me; I'll prove thee, if thy deeds will carry a proportion to thy words.

Brain. Yes, sir, straight; I'll but garter my hose. Oh that belly were hoop'd now, for I am ready to burst with laughing! Never was bottle or bag-pipe fuller.

was there ever seen such a fox in years to betray himself thus? Now shall I be possessed of all his counsels; and by that conduit, my young master. Well, he is resolv'd to prove my honesty; faith and I am resolv'd to prove his patience :

patience: Oh, I shall abuse him intolerably. This small piece of service will bring him clean out of love with the soldier for ever. He will never come within the sight of a red coat, or a musket-rest again. It's no matter, let the world think me a bad counterfeit, if I cannot give him the slip at an instant: why, this is better than to have staid his journey! well, I follow him: Oh! how I long to be employ'd!

Y

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Enter MATTHEW, WELL-BRED, and BOBADIE.

MATTHEW.

Exit.]

ES, faith, sir; we were at your lodging to seek you

too.

Well, Oh, I came not there to-night.

Bob. Your brother delivered us as much.

Well. Who? my brother Down-right?

Bob. He. Mr Well-bred, I know not in what kind you hold me; but let me say to you this as sure as honour, 1 esteem it so much out of the sun-shine of reputation to throw the least beam of regard upon such a ---

Well. Sir, I must hear no ill words of my brother.

Bob. I protest to you, as I have a thing to be saved about me, I never saw any gentleman-like part-—————

Well. Good captain [faces about] to some other dis

Couse.

Bob. With your leave, sir, an' there were no more men living upon the face of the earth, I should not fancy him, by St George.

Mat. Troth, nor 1; he is of a rustical cut, I know not how: he doth not carry himself like a gentleman of fashi

on

Well. Oh, Mr Matthew, that's a grace peculiar bat to a few; quos æquus amavit Jupiter.

Mut. I understand you, sir.

Enter Y. KNO'WELL and STEPIIEN.

Well. No question you do, or you do not, sir. Ned

H 3.

Kno'well!

Kno'well! by my soul, welcome! how dost thou, sweet spirit, my genius? 'Sid, I shall love Apollo and the mad Thespian girls the better while I live, for this, my dear fùry: now I see there's some love in thee! sirrah, these be the two I writ to thee of: nay, what a drowsy humour is this now? Why dost thou not speak?

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

Well. Why, was't not rare ?

E Kno. Yes, I'll be sworn, I was never guilty of reading the like; match it in all Pliny's epistles, and I'll have ny judgment burn'd in the ear for a rogue: make much of thy vein, for it is inimitable. But 1 marvel what camel it was that had the carriage of it? for doubtless, he was no ordinary beast that brought it!

Well. Why?

E Kno. Why, sayest thou? why dost thou think that any reasonable creature, especially in the morning (the soher time of the day too) could have mistaken my father for me?

Well. 'Slid, vou jest, I hope.

E Kno. Indeed, the best use we can turn it to, is to make a jest on't now: but I'll assure you, my father had the full view o' your flourishing style, before I saw it.

Well. What a dull slave was this? But, sirrah, what said be to it, i' faith?

E Kno. Nay, I know not what he said: but I have a shrewd guess what he thought.

Well. What, what?

E Kno. Marry, thou art some strange, dissolute young fellow, and I not a grain or two better, for keeping thee company.

Well. Tut, that thought is like the moon in her last quarter, 'twill change shortly: but, sirrah, I pray thee be acquainted with my two hangbys here; thou wilt take exceeding pleasure in 'em if thou hear'st 'em once go: my wind-instruments. I'll wind 'em up.-But what strange piece of silence is this? the sign of the dumb man?

E Kno. Oh, sir, a kinsman of mine, one that may make your music the fuller, an' he please, he has his humour,

ris.

Well. Oh, what is't, what is t?

E Kno.

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