 | Every Man In His Humour |  |
Scene i
[Enter] KITELY, CASH [and] DOWNRIGHTKITELY
Thomas, come hither,
There lies a note, within upon my desk;
Here, take my key; it is no matter, neither.
Where is the boy?
CASH
Within, sir, i' the warehouse.
KITELY
Let him tell over, straight, that Spanish gold,
And weigh it, with th' pieces of eight. Do you
See the delivery of those silver stuffs,
To Master Lucar. Tell him, if he will,
He shall ha' the grograns, at the rate I told him,
And I will meet him on the Exchange, anon.
CASH
Good, sir. [Exit]
KITELY
Do you see that fellow, brother Downright?
DOWNRIGHT
Aye, what of him?
KITELY
He is a jewel, brother.
I took him of a child, up, at my door,
And christened him, gave him mine own name, Thomas;
Since bred him at the Hospital; where proving
A toward imp, I called him home, and taught him
So much, as I have made him my cashier,
And given him, who had none, a surname, Cash;
And find him in his place so full of faith
That I durst trust my life into his hands.
DOWNRIGHT
So would not I in any bastard's, brother-
As it is like he is-although I knew
Myself his father. But you said y'had somewhat
To tell me, gentle brother: what is't? What is't?
KITELY
Faith, I am very loath to utter it,
As fearing, it may hurt your patience:
But that I know your judgement is of strength,
Against the nearness of affection-
DOWNRIGHT
What need this circumstance? Pray you be direct.
KITELY
I will not say how much I do ascribe
Unto your friendship; nor, in what regard
I hold your love; but, let my past behaviour,
And usage of your sister, but confirm
How well I've been affected to your
DOWNRIGHT
You are too tedious, come to the matter, the matter.
KITELY
Then, without further ceremony, thus.
My brother Wellbred, sir, I know not how,
Of late is much declined in what he was,
And greatly altered in his disposition.
When he came first to lodge here in my house,
Ne'er trust me if I were not proud of him:
Methought he bare himself in such a fashion,
So full of man, and sweetness in his carriage,
And (what was chief) it showed not borrowed in him,
But all he did became him as his own,
And seemed as perfect, proper, and possessed
As breath with life, or colour with the blood.
But, now, his course is so irregular,
So loose, affected, and deprived of grace,
And he himself withal so far fall'n off
From that first place, as scarce no note remains,
To tell men's judgements where he lately stood.
He's grown a stranger to all due respect,
Forgetful of his friends, and not content
To stale himself in all societies,
He makes my house here common as a mart,
A theatre, a public receptacle
For giddy humour, and diseased riot;
And here (as in a tavern, or a stews)
He and his wild associates spend their hours,
In repetition of lascivious jests;
Swear, leap, drink, dance, and revel night by night;
Control my servants; and indeed what not?
DOWNRIGHT
'Sdeynes, I know not what I should say to him, i' the whole world! He values me at a cracked three-farthings, for aught I see: it will never out o' the flesh that's bred i' the bone! I have told him enough, one would think, if that would serve. But counsel to him is as good as a shoulder of mutton to a sick horse. Well! He knows what to trust to, 'fore George. Let him spend, and spend, and domineer, till his heart ache; an' he think to be relieved by me, when he is got into one o' your City pounds, the Counters, he has the wrong sow by the ear, i' faith; and claps his dish at the wrong man's door. I'll lay my hand o' my halfpenny ere I part with't to fetch him out, I'll assure him.
KITELY
Nay, good brother, let it not trouble you thus.
DOWNRIGHT
'Sdeath, he mads me, I could eat my very spur-leathers, for anger! But why are you so tame? Why do you not speak to him, and tell him how he disquiets your house?
KITELY
Oh, there are divers reasons to dissuade, brother.
But, would yourself vouchsafe to travail in it,
(Though but with plain and easy circumstance),
It would both come much better to his sense,
And savour less of stomach, or of passion.
You are his elder brother, and that title
Both gives and warrants you authority;
Which (by your presence seconded) must breed
A kind of duty in him, and regard;
Whereas, if I should intimate the least
It would but add contempt to his neglect,
Heap worse on ill, make up a pile of hatred
That, in the rearing, would come tottering down,
And, in the ruin, bury all our love.
Nay, more than this, brother, if I should speak
He would be ready from his heat of humour,
And overflowing of the vapour in him,
To blow the ears of his familiars
With the false breath of telling what disgraces,
And low disparagements, I had put upon him.
Whilst they, sir, to relieve him in the fable,
Make their loose comments upon every word,
Gesture, or look, I use; mock me all over,
From my flat cap unto my shining shoes;
And, out of their impetuous rioting fant'sies,
Beget some slander, that shall dwell with me.
And what would that be, think you? Marry, this:
They would give out-because my wife is fair,
Myself but lately married, and my sister
Here sojourning a virgin in my house-
That I were jealous! Nay, as sure as death,
That they would say. And how that I had quarrelled
My brother purposely, thereby to find
An apt pretext to banish them my house.
DOWNRIGHT
Mass, perhaps so: they're like enough to do it.
KITELY
Brother, they would, believe it: so should I,
Like one of these penurious quack-salvers,
But set the bills up to mine own disgrace,
And try experiments upon myself;
Lend scorn and envy opportunity
To stab my reputation, and good name
[Enter] MATTHEW [and] BOBADILL
MATTHEW
I will speak to him
BOBADILL
Speak to him? Away, by the foot of Pharaoh, you shall not, you shall not do him
that grace. [To KITELY]
The
time of day to you, gentleman o' the house. Is Master Wellbred stirring?
DOWNRIGHT
How then? What should he do?
BOBADILL
[To KITELY]
Gentleman
of the house, it is to you: is he within, sir?
KITELY
He came not to his lodging tonight sir, I assure you.
DOWNRIGHT
[To BOBADILL]
Why,
do you hear? You.
BOBADILL
The gentleman-citizen hath satisfied me, I'll talk to no scavenger.
[Exeunt MATTHEW and BOBADILL]DOWNRIGHT
How, scavenger? Stay sir, stay.
KITELY
Nay, brother Downright. [Restrains him
from following BOBADILL]
DOWNRIGHT
'Heart! Stand you away, an' you love me.
KITELY
You shall not follow him now, I pray you, brother, good faith you shall not: I will overrule you.
DOWNRIGHT
Ha? Scavenger? Well, go to, I say little; but, by this good day (God forgive me I should swear) if I put it up so, say I am the rankest cow that ever pissed. 'Sdeynes, an' I swallow this, I'll ne'er draw my sword in the sight of Fleet Street again, while I live: I'll sit in a barn, with madge-howlet, and catch mice first. Scavenger? 'Heart, and I'll go near to fill that huge tumbrel-slop of yours, with somewhat, an' I have good luck: your Gargantua breech cannot carry it away so.
KITELY
Oh do not fret yourself thus, never think on't.
DOWNRIGHT
These are my brother's consorts, these! These are his comrades, his walking mates! He's a gallant, a Cavaliero too, right hangman cut! Let me not live, an' I could not find in my heart to swinge the whole gang of 'em, one after another, and begin with him first. I am grieved it should be said he is my brother, and take these courses. Well, as he brews, so he shall drink, 'fore George, again. Yet, he shall hear on't, and that tightly too, an' I live, i' faith.
KITELY
But, brother, let your reprehension, then,
Run in an easy current, not o'er-high
Carried with rashness, or devouring choler;
But rather use the soft persuading way
Whose powers will work more gently, and compose
Th' imperfect thoughts you labour to reclaim:
More winning than enforcing the consent.
DOWNRIGHT
Aye, aye, let me alone for that, I warrant you.
Bell ringsKITELY
How now? Oh, the bell rings to breakfast.
Brother, I pray you go in, and bear my wife
Company till I come; I'll but give order
For some dispatch of business to my servants-
[Exit DOWNRIGHT]
[COB passes by with his tankard.]
What, Cob? Our maids will have you by the back, i' faith, for coming so late this morning.
COB
Perhaps so, sir; take heed somebody have not them by the belly, for walking so
late in the evening. [Exit]
KITELY
Well, yet my troubled spirit's somewhat eased,
Though not reposed in that security
As I could wish. But I must be content.
Howe'er I set a face on't to the world,
Would I had lost this finger, at a venture,
So Wellbred had ne'er lodged within my house.
Why't cannot be, where there is such resort
Of wanton gallants, and young revellers,
That any woman should be honest long.
Is't like, that factious beauty will preserve
The public weal of chastity, unshaken,
When such strong motives muster, and make head
Against her single peace? No, no. Beware,
When mutual appetite doth meet to treat,
And spirits of one kind, and quality,
Come once to parley, in the pride of blood:
It is no slow conspiracy that follows.
Well, to be plain, if I but thought the time
Had answered their affections, all the world
Should not persuade me, but I were a cuckold.
Marry, I hope, they ha' not got that start:
For opportunity hath balked 'em yet,
And shall do still, while I have eyes and ears
To attend the impositions of my heart.
My presence shall be as an iron bar, '
Twixt the conspiring motions of desire:
Yea, every look or glance mine eye ejects
Shall check occasion, as one doth his slave,
When he forgets the limits of prescription.
[Enter DAME KITELY and BRIDGET]
DAME KITELY
Sister Bridget, pray you fetch down the rosewater above in the closet.
[Exit BRIDGET]Sweetheart, will you come in to breakfast?
KITELY
[Aside]
An' she have
overheard me now?
DAME KITELY
I pray thee, good muss, we stay for you.
KITELY
[Aside]
By heaven I would not for a
thousand angels!
DAME KITELY
What ail you sweetheart, are you not well? Speak, good muss.
KITELY
Troth, my head aches extremely, on a sudden.
DAME KITELY
[Feeling his forehead]
Oh,
the Lord!
KITELY
How now? What?
DAME KITELY
Alas, how it burns! Muss, keep you warm; good truth, it is this new disease! There's a number are troubled withal! For love's sake, sweetheart, come in, out of the air.
KITELY
[Aside]
How simple, and how subtle are her answers!
A new disease, and many troubled with it!
Why, true: she heard me, all the world to nothing.
DAME KITELY
I pray thee, good sweetheart, come in; the air will do you harm, in troth.
KITELY
[Aside]
The air! She has me i' the wind!
[To Dame Kitely]
Sweetheart! I'll come to you presently: 'twill away, I hope.
DAME KITELY
Pray heaven it do. [Exit]
KITELY
A new disease? I know not, new or old,
But it may well be called poor mortals' plague:
For, like a pestilence, it doth infect
The houses of the brain. First, it begins
Solely to work upon the fantasy,
Filling her seat with such pestiferous air,
As soon corrupts the judgement; and from thence
Sends like contagion to the memory,
Still each to other giving the infection.
Which, as a subtle vapour, spreads itself,
Confusedly, through every sensive part,
Till not a thought or motion in the mind,
Be free from the black poison of suspect.
Ah, but what misery is it, to know this?
Or, knowing it, to want the mind's erection
In such extremes? Well, I will once more strive
(In spite of this black cloud) myself to be,
And shake the fever off, that thus shakes me. [Exit]
| Every Man In His Humour | |