E Kno. Nay, I'll neither do your judgment nor his folly tliat wrong, as to prepare your apprehension. I'll leave him to the mercy o' your search, if you can take him, so.

Well. Well, captain Bobudil, Mr Matthew, I pray you know this gentleman here; he is a friend of mine, and one that will deserve your affection. I know not your name, sir, but I shall be glad of any occasion to render me more familiar to you.

Step. My name is Mr Stephen, sir; I am this gentleman s own cousin, sir; his father is mine uncle, sir; I am somewhat melancholy, but you shall command me, sir, in whatsoever is incident to a gentleman.

Bob. Sir, I must tell you this, I am no general man, but for Mr Well-bred's sake (you may embrace it at what height of favour you please) I do communicate with you: and conceive you to be a gentleman of some parts; I love

few words.

E K. And I fewer, sir. I have scarce enow to thank you. Mat. But are you indeed, sir, so given to it? Ta Mr Stephen: Step. Ay, truly, sir, Lam mightily given to melancholy. Mat. Oh, it's your only fine humour, sir; your true melancholy breeds your perfect fine wit, sir: Iam melancholy myself divers times, sir; and then do I no more but take pen and paper presently, and overflow you half a score or a dozen of sonnets, at a sitting.

Step. Consin, is it well; am I melancholy enough?
E Kno. Oh, ay, excellent!

Well, Captain Bobadil, why muse you so?

E Kno. He is melancholy too.

Bob. Faith, sir, I was thinking of a most honourable piece of service was perform'd to-morrow, being St Mark's days shall be some ten years now.

E Kno. In what place, captain?

Bob. Why, at the beleag'ring of Strigonium, where, in less than two hours, seven hundred resolute gentlemen, as any where in Europe, lost their lives upon the breach. I'll tell you, gentlemen, it was the first, but the best leagure, that ever I beheld with these eyes, except the taking in of -what do you call it, last year, by the Genoese: but that (of all other) was the most fatal and dangercus exploit, that ever I was ranged in, since I first bore

H 4

arms before the face of the enemy, as I am a gentleman and soldier.

Step. 'So, I had as lief as an angel, I could swear as well as that gentleman?

E Kno. Then you were a servitor at both, it seems; at Strigonium? and what do you call't?

Bob. Oh Lord, sir! by St George, I was the first man that enter'd the breach: and, had not effected it with resolution, I had been slain, if I had had a million of lives.

E Kno. 'Twas pity you had not ten; a cat's, and your own i' faith. But, was it possible?

Mat. Pray you, mark this discourse, sir.

Step. So I do.

Bob. I assure you, upon my reputation, 'tis true, and yourself shall confess.

E Kno. You must bring me to the rack first.

Bob. Observe me judicially, sweet sir: they had planted me three demi-culverings, just in the mouth of the breach: now, sir, as we were to give on, their master gunner (a man of no mean skill and mark, you must think) confronts ine with his linstock, ready to give fire: I spying his intendment, discharg'd my petrionel in his bosom, and with these single arms, my poor rapier, ran violently upon the Moors, that guarded the ordnance, and put 'em all pell-mell to the sword.

Well. To the sword? to the rapier, captain ?

E Kno. Oh. it was a good figure observ'd, sir! but did you all this, captain, without hurting your blade?

Bob. Without any impeach o' the earth: you shall perceive, sir. It is the most fortunate weapon, that ever rid on poor gentleman's thigh: shall I tell you, sir? you talk of Morglay, Excalibur, Durindina, or so? tut, I lend no credit to that is fabled of 'em, I know the virtue of mine own, and therefore I dare the boldlier maintain it. Step. I marvel whether it be a Toledo, or no. Bob. A most perfect Toledo, I assure you, sir. Step, I have a countryman of his here. Mat. Pray you, let's see, sir: yes, faith, it is! Bcb. This is a Toledo? pish.

Step. Why do you pish, captain?

Bob. A Fleming, by heaven; I'll buy them for a gilder a piece, an' I would have a thousand of them.

:

E Kno.

E. Kno. How say you, cousin? I told you thus much. Well. Where bought you it, Mr. Stephen?

Step. Of a scurvy rogue soldier, (a hundred of lice go with him), he swore it was a Toledo.

Bob. A poor provant rapier, no better.

Mat. Mass, I think it be, indeed! now I look on't better.

E Kno. Nay, the longer you look on't the worse.. Put it up, put it up.

Step. Well, I will put it up, but by(I ha' forgot the captain's oath, I thought to have sworn by it) a'n e'er I meet him

Well. O, it's past help now, sir, you must ha' patience. Step. Whorson cony-catching rascal! I cou'd eat the very hilts for anger!

E Kno. A sign of good digestion! you have an ostrich stomach, cousin.

Step. A stomach? I would I had him here, you should see an' I had a stomach.

Well. It's better as 'tis: come, gentlemen, shall we go?
Enter BRAIN-WORM.

E. Kno. A miracle, cousin, look here! look here!
Step. O, god' slid, by your leave, do you know me, sir?
Brain. Ay, sir, I know you by sight.

Step. You sold me a rapier, did you not?

Brain. Yes, marry, did I, sir

Step. You said it was a Toledo, ha?

Brain. True, I did so.

Step. But it is none?

Brain. No, sir, I confess it is none.

Step. Do you confess it? Gentlemen, bear witness, he has confest it. By god's will, an' you had not confest itE. Kno. Oh, cousin, forbear, forbear.

Step. Nay, I have done, cousin.

Well. Why, you have done like a gentleman, he has confest it, what wou'd you more?

Step. Yet, by his leave, he is a rascal, under his favour, do you see?

E. Kno. Ay, by his leave, he is, and under favour: a pretty piece of civility! sirrah, how dost like him?

Well, O, it's a most precious fool, make much on him:

II 5

I can

I can compare him to nothing more happily, than a drum for every one may play upon him.

E. Kno. No, no, a child's whistle were far the fitter.
Brain. Sir, shali Iintreat a word with you?

E. Kno. With me sir? you have not another Toledo to sell ha' you?

Brain. You are conceited, sir your nsme is Mr.. Know well, as I take it.

E. Kno. You are i' the right; you mean not to proceed in the catechism, do you?

Brain. No, sir, I am none of that coat,

E. Kno. Of as bare a coat, though? well, say, sir,

Brain. Faith, sir, I am but servant to the drum extraordinary, and indeed, (this smoky varnish being wash'd off, and three or four patches removed) I appear your worship's in reversion, after the decease of your good father Brain-worm.

E. Kno. Brain-worm! Slight, what breath of a conjurer hath blown thee hither in this shape?

Brain. The breath o' your letter, sir, this morning: the same that blew you to the wind mill, and your father after you.

E. Kno. My father.

Brain. Nay, never start, 'tis true, he has followed you over the fields, by the foot, as you would do a hare i' the

snow.

E. Kno, Sirrah, Well-bred, what shall we do, sirrah ? my father is come over after me.

Well. Thy father, where is he?

Brain. At justice Clement's.house here, in Coleman-street, where he but stays my return; and then

Well. Who's this? Brain-worm ?

Brain. The same, sir.

Well. Why how, i'. the name of wit, comest thou transmuted thus?

Brain. Faith, a device, a device: nay, for the love of reason, gentlemen, and avoiding the danger, stand not here, withdraw, and I'll tell you all.

E. Kno. Come, cousin.

Exeunt

SCENE

Kite. What says he, Thomas? did you speak with him?
Gasb. He will expect you, sir, within this half hour.
Kite. Has he the money ready, can you tell?
Casb. Yes, sir, the money was brought in last night.
Kite. O, that's well: fetch me my cloke, my cloke,
Stay, let me see, an hour, to go and come;
Ay, that will be the least: and then it 'twill be
An hour before I can dispatch with him ;
Or very near; well, I will stay two hours.
Two hours? ha? things, never dream'd of yet,
May be contriv'd, ay, and effected too,
In two hours absence: well, I will not go.
Two hours; no, fleering opportunity,
I will not give your subtilty that scope.
Who will not judge him worthy to be robb'd
'That sets his doors wide open to a thief,
And shews the felon where his treasure lies?
Again, what earthly spirit but will attempt
To taste the fruit of beauty's golden tree,
When leaden sleep seals up the dragon's eyes?
I will not go. Business go by, for once.
No, beauty, no? you are too precious
To be left so, without a guard, or open!
You must be then kept up, close, and well-watch'd;
For, give you opportunity, no quick-sand
Devours, or swallows swifter! he that lends
His wife (if she be fair) or time, or place,
Compels her to be false. I will not go.

The dangers are too many. I am resolv'd for that.
Carry in my cloke again. Yet, stay. Yet, do too.
I will defer going, on all occasions.

Cash. Sir, Snare, your scrivener, will be there with the bonds.

Kite. That's true! fall on me! I had clean forgot it ; must go. What's o' clock?

Cash. Exchange time, sir.

Kite. 'Heart then well IVell-bred presently Le here too, With one or other of his loose consorts.