 | A Fine Companion |  |
Scena IIII.
Enter Captaine Whibble.Aur.
Whats he that interrupts our quiet sorrow?
Fid.
Sir, this is Captain Whibble, the Towne stale,
Of a new sect: none of your soothing Varletts,
But a swearing Sycophant, that frights a man
Into a beliefe of his worth; his Dialect
Is worse then the report of a Cannon,
And deafes a stranger with tales of his valour,
Till his conclusion be to borrow money.
His company is a Cipher in the reckoning,
'That helpes to multiply it: your deare brother
Admires his discipline, and will sweare to it.
Aur.
Is this one of his comrades?
Fid.
Sir, this is
His prime associate. Ile lay a hundred pound,
I guesse by his physiognomy his businesse,
Hee is either trudging now vnto a broaker,
Or to invite some new heire to a breakefast,
To seale for the commodity; or else
Wandring abroad to skelder for a shilling
Amongst your bowling alleyes; most commonly
There lyes his scene: or perhapps man some whore,
A province that he vsually adornes.
Aur.
Prethee good Fido, goe and baffull him:
Put an affront vpon him, if his valour
Prompt him to make resistance, Ile step out
And second thee.
Fid.
His valour? 'tis the least
Thing to be fear'd, he has not one sparke in him
To kindle a true anger.
Fido instles him
Cap.
Sulphur of Styx,
Can you not see? Death where be your eyes?
You'd haue me wash them in the chanell, would you?
Fid.
Yes very faine sir, if you durst attempt it.
Cap.
Heart, doe you stemme mee? and he had a beake
He might have split mee: body of Iupiter,
He ranne mee athwart the midships. Spirit of fury,
I thinke that he has sprung a planke in mee.
Fid.
Then you may lye by the Lee, and mend it.
Horrour of man, lay a Captaine aboard.
A man of warre, and not cry amaine to him?
Fid.
How, you a Captaine? I rather beleeue
That you are one of those that vpon service,
Were seene to carry Tomkins in your Gunnes,
And made a shift to discharge a league of:
Was it not so? that might take vp your bullet,
And shoote againe, and doe no hurt with it,
You a man of warre?
Cap.
S'life doe you question it?
Ile tell thee Slaue to thy astonishment,
I haue bene stil'd, the rocke of Pirats, I;
I haue plowd vp the Sea, till Bosphorus
Has worshipt me; I haue shot all the Gulphes,
And seene the navell of the world, you stinkard.
Fid.
How slaue, and stinkard, since you are so stout,
I will see your Commission ere I part.
Cap.
Strength of my braines, see my Commission?
Ile blow thee up like a deck. Sonne of Neptune,
Off or ile fire thee.
Fid.
I am grapled with you,
And will hang by your side, till you be calmer,
And be so, or Ile lay my trident on you.
Come to your tacklings.
Cap.
Tis a bold actiue boy,
I see there's nothing to be got but knocks by him.
Giue me thy hand old Rover, hoise up thy top Sayle,
And goe in peace.
Fid.
Sir this will not appease me,
I must haue satisfaction.
Cap.
Reach me thy fist,
And be reconcil'd: what thou dost not know me:
Though I am valiant, yet tis out of the road
Of my humour, to disgrace any man.
Fid.
This will not satisfie me.
Cap.
I say againe,
Giue me thy wrist. Know me, and my lodging;
Ile giue thee a Supper: there's a good plumpe wench,
My Hostesse, a watermans widdow at the signe
Fid.
But I must haue you leaue your swearing first,
And be temperate.
Cap.
Heare me honest Trojan.
As I am vertuous, as I loue my friends,
That I may sweare.
Fid.
No, not as you are vertuous.
Cap.
Why then on my word, ile giue thee a supper.
What? I will not offend thee my good drumsticke;
Ile conforme my selfe, come to me at night,
And ile be as good as my word, old Bracer.
Fid.
But if I come, and loose my labour, what followes?
Cap.
Then Teucer, in pure zeale and verity,
Fid.
Ile belabour you the next time I meet you.
Cap.
What Scufler, dost thou thinke ile faile my friends?
No Hector I scorne it. Ile pawne my cloake first.
Farewell Actorides.
Exit Captaine.
Enter Aurelio.
Aur.
What is he gone?
Fid.
I, and as glad he has escapt from me,
As from the Syrtes.
Aur.
How he bore it out
With impudence?
Fid.
Yes did you obserue him?
There's nothing can discountenance him, still
This is his posture, he were excellent,
To venter at a Lottery.
Aur.
Why mischiefe?
Fid.
I doe not thinke he would ever draw a blank.
Aur.
We must pursue the project. Sup with him
At any hand.
Fid.
The jest is behind to see,
In what a miserable perplexity,
He will be put to entertaine us.
Aur.
Come.
Exeunt.
| A Fine Companion | |