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 But, now, we are all fall'n; youth, from their fear; When it puts off all this. Ay, it is like: And heart, in some. And rather than it should not, No No matter by what means. These are the trade of fathers, now! however, None of these household precedents; which are strong, But let the house at home be ne'er so clean If he will live abroad with his companions, 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? Either the wars might still supply thy wants, Now, afore me, whate'er he be that should 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, 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 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. |