 | Every Man in his Humour |  |
Act I
Act I, Scene i
[Enter] KNOWELL, BRAINWORMKNOWELL
Call up your young master: bid him rise, sir.
Tell him I have some business to employ him.
BRAINWORM
KNOWELL
If he be at his book, disturb him not.
BRAINWORM
[Exit BRAINWORM]
KNOWELL
Could I (by any practice) wean the boy
From one vain course of study he affects.
He is a scholar, if a man may trust
The liberal voice of fame in her report,
Of good account in both our universities,
Either of which hath favoured him with graces;
But their indulgence must not spring in me
A fond opinion, that he cannot err.
Myself was once a student; and, indeed,
Fed with the self-same humour he is now,
Dreaming on nought but idle poetry,
That fruitless and unprofitable art,
Good unto none, but least to the professors,
Which then I thought the mistress of all knowledge:
But since, time and the truth have waked my judgement,
And reason taught me better to distinguish
The vain from th'useful learnings.
What news with you, that you are here so early?
STEPHEN
Nothing, but e'en come to see how you do, uncle.
KNOWELL
That's kindly done, you are welcome, coz.
STEPHEN
Aye, I know that, sir, I would not ha' come else. How do my cousin Edward, uncle?
KNOWELL
Oh, well, coz, go in and see; I doubt he be scarcestirring yet.
STEPHEN
Uncle, afore I go in, can you tell me an' he have e'er a book of the sciences of hawking, and hunting? I would fain borrow it.
KNOWELL
Why, I hope you will not a-hawking now, will you?
STEPHEN
No, wusse; but I'll practice against next year, uncle: I have bought me a hawk, and a hood, and bells, and all; I lack nothing but a book to keep it by.
Oh, most ridiculous.
STEPHEN
Nay, look you now, you are angry, uncle; why you know, an a' man have not skill in the hawking and hunting languages nowadays, I'll not give a rush for him. They are more studied than the Greek or the Latin. He is for no gallants' company without 'em. And by gad's lid I scorn it, I, so I do, to be a consort for every humdrum; hang 'em, scroyles, there's nothing in 'em i' the world. What do you talk on it? Because I dwell at Hogsden, I shall keep company with none but the archers of Finsbury? Or the citizens that come a ducking to Islington ponds? A fine jest, i' faith! 'Slid, a gentleman mun show himself like a gentleman. Uncle, I pray you be not angry, I know what I have to do, I trow, I am no novice.
KNOWELL
Nay, never look at me, it's I that speak.
Take't as you will sir, I'll not flatter you.
Ha' you not yet found means enow to waste
That which your friends have left you, but you must
Go cast away your money on a kite,
And know not how to keep it, when you ha' done?
Oh it's comely! This will make you a gentleman!
Well, cousin, well! I see you are e'en past hope
Of all reclaim. Aye, so, now you are told on it,
You look another way.
STEPHEN
KNOWELL
Learn to be wise, and practice how to thrive,
That would I have you do; and not to spend
Your coin on every bauble that you fancy,
Or every foolish brain that humours you.
I would not have you to invade each place,
Nor thrust yourself on all societies,
Till men's affections, or your own desert,
Should worthily invite you to your rank.
He that is so respectless in his courses
Oft sells his reputation at cheap market.
Nor would I, you should melt away yourself
In flashing bravery, lest while you affect
To make a blaze of gentry to the world,
A little puff of scorn extinguish it,
And you be left like an unsavoury snuff,
Whose property is only to offend.
I'd ha' you sober, and contain yourself:
Not, that your sail be bigger than your boat;
But moderate your expenses now (at first),
As you may keep the same proportion still;
Nor stand so much on your gentility,
From dead men's dust and bones, and none of yours
Except you make or hold it. Who comes here?
[Enter a SERVANT]
SERVANT
Save you, gentlemen.
STEPHEN
Nay, we don't stand much on our gentility, friend; yet, you are welcome, and I assure you, mine uncle here is a man of a thousand a year, Middlesex land; he has but one son in all the world, I am his next heir (at the common law), Master Stephen, as simple as I stand here, if my cousin die (as there's hope he will), I have a pretty living o' mine own too, beside, hard by here.
SERVANT
In good time, sir.
STEPHEN
In good time, sir? Why! and in very good time, sir. You do not flout, friend, do you?
SERVANT
Not I, sir.
STEPHEN
Not you, sir? You were not best, sir; an' you should, here be them can perceive it, and that quickly too; go to. And they can give it again soundly too an' need be.
SERVANT
Why, sir, let this satisfy you: good faith, I had no such intent.
STEPHEN
Sir, an' I thought you had, I would talk with you, and that presently.
SERVANT
Good Master Stephen, so you may, sir, at your pleasure.
STEPHEN
And so I would sir, good my saucy companion, an' you were not o' mine uncle's ground, I can tell you; though I do not stand upon my gentility neither in't.
KNOWELL
Cousin! Cousin! Will this ne'er be left?
STEPHEN
Whoreson base fellow! A mechanical serving-man! By this cudgel, an't were not for shame, I would--
KNOWELL
If you cannot be quiet, get you hence.
You see the honest man demeans himself
Modestly towards you, giving no reply
To your unseasoned, quarrelling, rude fashion;
And still you huff it, with a kind of carriage
As void of wit as of humanity.
Go, get you in; 'fore heaven, I am ashamed
Thou hast a kinsman's interest in me.
[Exit STEPHEN]
SERVANT
I pray you, sir, is this Master Knowell's house?
KNOWELL
Yes, marry, is it sir.
SERVANT
I should inquire for a gentleman here, one Master Edward Knowell;
KNOWELL
I should forget myself else, sir.
SERVANT
Are you the gentleman? Cry you mercy sir: I was required by a gentleman i' the city, as I rode out at this end o' the town, to deliver you this letter, sir.
KNOWELL
To me, sir! What do you mean? Pray you, remember your court'sy.
[Reads]`To his most selected friend, Master Edward Knowell.' What might the gentleman's name be, sir, that sent it? Nay, pray you, be covered.
SERVANT
One Master Wellbred, sir.
KNOWELL
Master Wellbred! A young gentleman, is he not?
SERVANT
The same, sir; Master Kitely married his sister, the rich merchant i' the Old Jewry.
KNOWELL
You say very true. Brainworm!
[Enter BRAINWORM]
BRAINWORM
Sir.
KNOWELL
Make this honest friend drink here;
[To SERVANT]pray you go in.
[Exeunt BRAINWORM and SERVANT]Yet, I am Edward Knowell too, and may
With the safe conscience of good manners use
The fellow's error to my satisfaction.
Well, I will break it ope (old men are curious),
Be it but for the style's sake, and the phrase,
To see if both do answer my son's praises,
Who is, almost, grown the idolater
Of this young Wellbred. What have we here? What's this?
[Reads]'Why, Ned, I beseech thee: has thou forsworn all thy friends i' the Old Jewry? Or dost thou think us all Jews that inhabit there, yet? If thou dost, come over, and but see our frippery; change an old shirt for a whole smock with us. Do not conceive that antipathy between us and Hogsden, as was between Jews and hogs' flesh. Leave thy vigilant father alone to number over his green apricots, evening and morning, o' the north-west wall; an' I had been his son, I had saved him the labour, long since; if taking in all the young wenches that pass by at the back door, and coddling every kernel of the fruit for 'em, would ha' served. But, prithee, come over to me, quickly, this morning: I have such a present for thee (our Turkey Company never sent the like to the Grand Signior)! One is a rhymer, sir, o' your own batch, your own leaven, but doth think himself Poet-mayor o' the town: willing to be shown, and worthy to be seen. The other--I will not venture his description with you till you come, because I would ha' you make hither with an appetite. If the worst of 'em be not worth your journey, draw your bill of charges,
From the Windmill.'
The Spittle, or Pict-hatch. Is this the man
My son hath sung so for the happiest wit,
The choicest brain, the times hath sent us forth?
I know not what he may be in the arts,
Nor what in schools; but surely, for his manners,
I judge him a profane and dissolute wretch;
Worse, by possession of such great good gifts,
Being the master of so loose a spirit.
Why, what unhallowed ruffian would have writ
In such a scurrilous manner to a friend!
Why should he think I tell my apricots?
Or play th' Hesperian dragon with my fruit,
To watch it? Well, my son, I had thought
You'd had more judgement, t'have made election
Of your companions, than t'have ta'en on trust
Such petulant, jeering gamesters, that can spare
No argument or subject from their jest.
But I perceive, affection makes a fool
Of any man, too much the father. Brainworm!
[Enter BRAINWORM]
BRAINWORM
Sir.
KNOWELL
Is the fellow gone that brought this letter?
BRAINWORM
Yes, sir, a pretty while since.
KNOWELL
And where's your young master?
BRAINWORM
In his chamber, sir.
KNOWELL
He spake not with the fellow, did he?
BRAINWORM
No, sir, he saw him not.
KNOWELL
Take you this letter, and deliver it my son, but with no notice that I have opened it, on your life.
BRAINWORM
Oh lord, sir, that were a jest indeed!
[Exit]
KNOWELL
Nor practice any violent mean, to stay
The unbridled course of youth in him; for that,
Restrained, grows more impatient; and, in kind,
Like to the eager but the generous greyhound,
Who, ne'er so little from his game withheld,
Turns head, and leaps up at his holder's throat.
There is a way of winning more by love,
And urging of the modesty, than fear:
Force works on servile natures, not the free.
He that's compelled to goodness, may be good;
By softness and example, get a habit.
Then, if they stray, but warn 'em: and the same
They should for virtue've done, they'll do for shame.
[Exit]
Act I, Scene ii
[Enter] EDWARD [holding a letter], BRAINWORMEDWARD
Did he open it, sayest thou?
BRAINWORM
Yes, o' my word, sir, and read the contents.
EDWARD
That scarce contents me. What countenance, prithee, made he, i' the reading of it? Was he angry, or pleased?
BRAINWORM
Nay sir, I saw him not read it, nor open it, I assure your Worship.
EDWARD
No? How know'st thou, then, that he did either?
BRAINWORM
Marry, sir, because he charged me, on my life, to tell nobody that he opened it; which, unless he had done, he would never fear to have it revealed.
EDWARD
That's true; well, I thank thee, Brainworm.
[He studies the letter]
[Enter STEPHEN]
STEPHEN
Oh, Brainworm, did'st thou not see a fellow here in a what-sha'-call-him doublet? He brought mine uncle a letter e'en now.
BRAINWORM
Yes, Master Stephen, what of him?
STEPHEN
Oh, I ha' such a mind to beat him. Where is he? Canst thou tell?
BRAINWORM
Faith, he is not of that mind: he is gone, Master Stephen.
STEPHEN
Gone? Which way? When went he? How long since?
BRAINWORM
He is rid hence. He took horse at the street door.
STEPHEN
And I stayed i' the fields! Whoreson scanderbag rogue! Oh that I had a horse to fetch him back again.
BRAINWORM
Why, you may ha' my master's gelding, to save your longing, sir.
STEPHEN
But I ha' no boots, that's the spite on't.
BRAINWORM
Why, a fine wisp of hay, rolled hard, Master Stephen.
STEPHEN
No, faith, it's no boot to follow him now: let him e'en go, and hang. 'Pray thee, help to truss me a little. He does so vex me--
BRAINWORM
You'll be worse vexed, when you are trussed, Master Stephen. Best keep unbraced, and walk yourself till you be cold: your choler may founder you else.
STEPHEN
By my faith, and so I will, now thou tell'st me on't. How dost thou like my leg, Brainworm?
BRAINWORM
A very good leg, Master Stephen! But the woollen stocking does not commend it so well.
STEPHEN
Foh, the stockings be good enough, now summer is coming on, for the dust. I'll have a pair of silk again' winter, that I go to dwell i' the
BRAINWORM
Believe me, Master Stephen, rarely well.
STEPHEN
In sadness, I think it would: I have a reasonable good leg.
BRAINWORM
You have an excellent good leg, Master Stephen, but I cannot stay to praise it longer now, and I am very sorry for't.
STEPHEN
Another time will serve, Brainworm. Gramercy for this.
[Exit BRAINWORM]
EDWARD
Ha, ha, ha! laughs having read the letter
STEPHEN
'Slid, I hope, he laughs not at me; an' he do--
EDWARD
Here was a letter, indeed, to be intercepted by a man's father, and do him good with him! He cannot but think most virtuously, both of me, and the sender, sure; that make the careful costermonger of him in our 'familiar Epistles'. Well, if he read this with patience, I'll be gelt, and troll ballads for Master John Trundle, yonder, the rest of my mortality. It is true, and likely, my father may have as much patience as another man; for he takes very much physic, and oft taking physic makes a man very patient. But would your packet, Master Wellbred, had arrived at him, in such a minute of his patience; then we had known the end of it, which now is doubtful, and threatens--[Sees STEPHEN] What! My wise cousin! Nay, then, I'll furnish our feast with one gull more toward the mess. He writes to me of a brace, and here's one, that's three. Oh, for a fourth; Fortune, if ever thou'lt use thine eyes, I entreat thee--
STEPHEN
Oh, now I see who he laughed at. He laughed at somebody in that letter. By this good light, an' he had laughed at me-
EDWARD
How now, cousin Stephen, melancholy?
STEPHEN
Yes, a little. I thought you had laughed at me, cousin.
EDWARD
Why, what an' I had, coz, what would you ha' done?
STEPHEN
By this light, I would ha' told mine uncle.
EDWARD
Nay, if you would ha' told your uncle, I did laugh at you, coz.
STEPHEN
Did you, indeed?
EDWARD
Yes, indeed.
STEPHEN
Why, then--
EDWARD
What then?
STEPHEN
I am satisfied, it is sufficient.
EDWARD
Why, be so, gentle coz. And, I pray you let me entreat a courtesy of you. I am sent for, this morning, by a friend i' the Old Jewry to come to him. It's but crossing over the fields to Moorgate. Will you bear me company? I protest, it is not to draw you into bond, or any plot against the state, coz.
STEPHEN
Sir, that's all one, an' 'twere: you shall command me twice so far as Moorgate to do you good in such a matter. Do you think I would leave you? I protest--
EDWARD
No, no, you shall not protest, coz.
STEPHEN
By my fackins, but I will, by your leave; I'll protest more to my friend than I'll speak of at this time.
EDWARD
You speak very well, coz.
Nay, not so, neither, you shall pardon me; but I speak to serve my turn.
EDWARD
Your turn, coz? Do you know what you say? A gentleman of your sort, parts, carriage, and estimation, to talk o' your turn i' this company, and to me alone, like a tankard-bearer at a conduit! Fie. A wight that (hitherto) his every step hath left the stamp of a great foot behind him, as every word the savour of a strong spirit! And he! This man! So graced, gilded, or (to use a more fit metaphor) so tin-foiled by nature, as not ten housewives' pewter (again' a good time) shows more bright to the world than he! And he (as I said last, so I say again, and still shall say it)--this man!--to conceal such real ornaments as these, and shadow their glory, as a milliner's wife does her wrought stomacher, with a smoky lawn, or a black cyprus? Oh, coz! It cannot be answered, go not about it. Drake's old ship, at Deptford, may sooner circle the world again. Come, wrong not the quality of your desert with looking downward, coz; but hold up your head, so: and let the Idea of what you are be portrayed i' your face, that men may read i' your physnomy, 'Here, within this place, is to be seen the true, rare, and accomplished monster, or miracle of nature', which is all one. What think you of this, coz?
STEPHEN
Why, I do think of it, and I will be more proud, and melancholy, and gentleman-like, than I have been: I'll ensure you.
KNOWELL
Why, that's resolute Master Stephen! [Aside] Now, if I can but hold him up to his height, as it is happily begun, it will do well for a suburb-humour: we may hap have a match with the city, and play him for forty pound. Come, coz.
STEPHEN
I'll follow you.
EDWARD
Follow me? You must go before.
STEPHEN
Nay, an' I must, I will. Pray you, show me, good cousin.
[Exeunt]
Act I, Scene iii
[Enter] MATTHEWMATTHEW
I think this be the house: what ho?
COB
[Within]
Who's there?
[Opens the door]Oh, Master Matthew! Gi' your worship good morrow.
MATTHEW
What! Cob! How dost thou, good Cob? Dost thou inhabit here, Cob?
COB
Aye, sir, I and my lineage ha' kept a poor house here, in our days.
MATTHEW
Thy lineage, Monsieur Cob, what lineage? What lineage?
COB
Why, sir, an ancient lineage, and a princely. Mine ance'try came from a king's belly, no worse man; and yet no man neither (by your worship's leave, I did lie in that) but Herring the king of fish, from his belly I proceed, one o' the monarchs o' the world, I assure you. The first red herring that was broiled in Adam and Eve's kitchen do I fetch my pedigree
MATTHEW
Why mighty? Why mighty, I pray thee?
COB
Oh, it was a mighty while ago, sir, and a mighty great cob.
MATTHEW
How know'st thou that?
COB
How know I? Why, I smell his ghost, ever and anon.
MATTHEW
Smell a ghost? Oh unsavoury jest! And the ghost of a herring, Cob!
COB
Aye, sir, with favour of your worship's nose, Master Matthew, why not the ghost of a herring-cob, as well as the ghost of rasher-bacon?
MATTHEW
Roger Bacon, thou would'st say?
COB
I say rasher-bacon. They were both broiled o' the coals? And a man may smell broiled meat, I hope? You are a scholar: upsolve me that, now.
MATTHEW
Oh raw ignorance! Cob, canst thou show me of a gentleman, one Captain Bobadill, where his lodging is?
COB
Oh, my guest, sir, you mean!
MATTHEW
Thy guest! Alas! Ha, ha.
COB
Why do you laugh, sir? Do you not mean Captain Bobadill?
MATTHEW
Cob, 'pray thee, advise thyself well: do not wrong the gentleman, and thyself too. I dare be sworn, he scorns thy house. He! 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 thou'dst gi'it him.
COB
I will not give it him, though, sir. Mass, I thought somewhat was in't, we could not get him to bed all night! Well, sir, though he lie not o' my bed, he lies o' my bench: an't please you to go up, sir, you shall find him with two cushions under his head, and his cloak wrapped about him, as though he had neither won nor lost, and yet, I warrant, he ne'er cast better in his life than he has done tonight.
MATTHEW
Why? Was he drunk?
COB
Drunk, sir? You hear not me say so. Perhaps he swallowed a tavern-token, or some such device, sir: I have nothing to do withal. I deal with water, and not with wine. Gi'me my tankard there, ho. God b'w'you, sir. It's six o'clock: I should ha' carried two turns, by this. What ho! My stopple! Come.
MATTHEW
Lie in a water-bearer's house! A gentleman of his havings! Well, I'll tell him my mind.
[Enter TIB, carrying the tankard and stopple]
COB
What, Tib, show this gentleman up to the Captain.
[Exit TIB and MATTHEW]Oh, an' my house were the Brazen-head now, faith, it would e'en speak, 'Mo' fools yet'. You should ha' some now would take this Master Matthew to be a gentleman, at the least. His father's an honest man, a worshipful fishmonger, and so forth; and now does he creep and wriggle into acquaintance with all the brave gallants about the town, such as my guest is (oh, my guest is a fine man), and they flout him invincibly. He useth every
[Exit]
Act I, Scene iv
BOBADILL is discovered lying on his benchBOBADILL
Hostess, hostess.
[Enter TIB]
TIB
What say you, sir?
BOBADILL
A cup o' thy small beer, sweet hostess.
TIB
Sir, there's a gentleman, below, would speak with you.
BOBADILL
A gentleman! 'Odso, I am not within.
TIB
My husband told him you were, sir.
BOBADILL
What a plague--what meant he?
MATTHEW
[Below]
Captain Bobadill?
BOBADILL
Who's there? (Take away the basin, good hostess.) Come up, sir.
TIB
He would desire you to come up, sir.
[Enter MATTHEW]You come into a cleanly house, here.
[Exit]
MATTHEW
'Save you, sir. 'Save you, Captain.
BOBADILL
Gentle Master Matthew! Is it you, sir? Please you sit down.
MATTHEW
Thank you, good Captain; you may see, I am somewhat audacious.
BOBADILL
Not so, sir. I was requested to supper last night by a sort of gallants, where you were wished for, and drunk to, I assure you.
MATTHEW
Vouchsafe me, by whom, good Captain.
BOBADILL
Marry, by young Wellbred, and others. Why, hostess, a stool here, for this gentleman.
MATTHEW
No haste, sir, 'tis very well.
BOBADILL
Body of me! It was so late ere we parted last night, I can scarce open my eyes, yet; I was but new risen, as you came. How passes the day abroad, sir? You can tell.
Faith, some half hour to seven. Now, trust me, you have an exceeding fine lodging here, very neat, and private!
BOBADILL
Aye, sir; sit down, I pray you. Master Matthew, in any case, possess no gentleman of our acquaintance with notice of my lodging.
MATTHEW
Who? I sir? No.
BOBADILL
Not that I need to care who know it, for the cabin is convenient, but in regard I would not be too popular, and generally visited, as some are.
MATTHEW
True, Captain, I conceive you.
BOBADILL
For, do you see, sir, by the heart of valour in me--except it be to some peculiar and choice spirits, to whom I am extraordinarily engaged, as yourself, or so--I could not extend thus far.
MATTHEW
Oh Lord, sir, I resolve so.
BOBADILL
I confess, I love a cleanly and quiet privacy, above all the tumult and roar of fortune. What new book ha' you there? What! 'Go by, Hieronymo'?
MATTHEW
Aye, did you ever see it acted? Is't not well penned?
BOBADILL
Well penned? I would fain see all the poets of these times pen such another play as that was! They'll prate and swagger, and keep a stir of art and devices, when (as I am a gentleman) read 'em, they are the most shallow, pitiful, barren fellows that live upon the face of the earth, again!
MATTHEW
Indeed, here are a number of fine speeches in this book! 'Oh eyes, no eyes, but fountains fraught with tears'! There's a conceit! 'Fountains fraught with tears'! 'O life, no life, but lively form of death'! Another! 'Oh world, no world, but mass of public wrongs'! A third! 'Confused and filled with murder and misdeeds'! A fourth! Oh, the Muses! Is't not excellent? Is't not simply the best that ever you heard, Captain? Ha? How do you like it?
BOBADILL
'Tis good.
MATTHEW
[Reads]
The most refind essence heaven covers,
Send I these lines, wherein I do commence
The happy state of turtle-billing lovers.
If they prove rough, unpolished, harsh and rude,
Haste made the waste. Thus, mildly, I conclude.
BOBADILL is making him ready all this while
BOBADILL
Nay, proceed, proceed. Where's this?
MATTHEW
This, sir? A toy o' mine own, in my nonage: the infancy of my Muses! But when will you come and see my study? Good faith, I can show you some very good things I have done of late. That boot becomes your leg passing well, Captain, methinks!
BOBADILL
So, so; it's the fashion gentlemen now use.
MATTHEW
Troth, Captain, an' now you speak o' the fashion, Master Wellbred's elder brother and I are fall'n out exceedingly. This other day, I happened to enter into some discourse of a hanger, which I assure you, both for fashion and workmanship, was most peremptory-beautiful, and
BOBADILL
Squire Downright? The half-brother? Was't not?
MATTHEW
Aye, sir, he.
BOBADILL
Hang him, rook, he! Why, he has no more judgement than a malt-horse. By St. George, I wonder you'd lose a thought upon such an animal: the most peremptory absurd clown of Christendom, this day, he is holden. I protest to you, as I am a gentleman and a soldier, I ne'er changed words with his like. By his discourse, he should eat nothing but hay. He was born for the manger, pannier, or pack-saddle! He has not so much as a good phrase in his belly, but all old iron and rusty proverbs! A good commodity for some smith, to make hobnails of.
MATTHEW
Aye, and he thinks to carry it away with his manhood still, where he comes. He brags he will gi' me the bastinado, as I hear.
BOBADILL
How! He the bastinado! How came he by that word, trow?
MATTHEW
Nay, indeed, he said cudgel me; I termed it so for my more grace.
BOBADILL
That may be: for I was sure, it was none of his word. But, when? When said he so?
MATTHEW
Faith, yesterday, they say: a young gallant, a friend of mine told me so.
BOBADILL
By the foot of Pharaoh, an' 'twere my case now, I should send him a chartel, presently. The bastinado! A most proper, and sufficient dependence, warranted by the great Caranza. Come hither. You shall chartel him. I'll show you a trick or two you shall kill him with, at pleasure: the first stoccata, if you will, by this air.
MATTHEW
Indeed, you have absolute knowledge i' the mystery, I have heard, sir.
BOBADILL
Of whom? Of whom ha' you heard it, I beseech you?
MATTHEW
Troth, I have heard it spoken of divers, that you have very rare, and un-in-one-breath-utterable skill, sir.
BOBADILL
By heaven, no, not I; no skill i' the earth: some small rudiments i' the science, as to know my time, distance, or so. I have professed it more for noblemen and gentlemen's use than mine own practice, I assure you. Hostess, accommodate us with another bed-staff here, quickly. [Enter TIB] Lend us another bed-staff. [Exit TIB] The woman does not understand the words of action. Look you, sir. Exalt not your point above this state, at any hand, and let your poniard maintain your defence, thus. [Enter TIB with bed-staff] Give it to the gentleman, and leave us. [Exit TIB] So, sir. Come on. Oh, twine your body more about, that you may fall to a more sweet comely gentleman-like guard. So, indifferent. Hollow your body more sir, thus. Now, stand fast o' your left leg, note your distance, keep your due proportion of time--oh, you disorder your point most irregularly!
MATTHEW
How is the bearing of it now, sir?
BOBADILL
Oh, out of measure ill! A well-experienced hand would pass upon you, at pleasure.
How mean you, sir, pass upon me?
BOBADILL
Why, thus, sir (make a thrust at me), come in upon the answer, control your point, and make a full career at the body. The best-practiced gallants of the time, name it the passada: a most desperate thrust, believe it!
MATTHEW
Well, come, sir.
BOBADILL
Why, you do not manage your weapon with any facility or grace to invite me: I have no spirit to play with you. Your dearth of judgement renders you tedious.
MATTHEW
But one venue, sir.
BOBADILL
Venue! Fie. Most gross denomination, as ever I heard. Oh, the stoccata, while you live, sir. Note that. Come, put on your cloak, and we'll go to some private place where you are acquainted, some tavern or so--and have a bit--I'll send for one of these fencers, and he shall breathe you, by my direction; and then I will teach you your trick. You shall kill him with it, at the first, if you please. Why, I will learn you, by the true judgement of the eye, hand, and foot, to control any enemy's point i' the world. Should your adversary confront you with a pistol, 'twere nothing, by this hand, you should, by the same rule, control his bullet, in a line; except it were hail-shot, and spread. What money ha' you about you, Master Matthew?
MATTHEW
Faith, I ha' not past a two shillings, or so.
BOBADILL
'Tis somewhat with the least; but, come. We will have a bunch of radish and salt, to taste our wine; and a pipe of tobacco, to close the orifice of the stomach; and then we'll call upon young Wellbred. Perhaps we shall meet the Corydon, his brother, there, and put him to the question.
[Exeunt]
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