 | Every Man in his Humour |  |
Act II, Scene ii
[Enter] BRAINWORM [disguised as a soldier]BRAINWORM
'Slid, I cannot choose but laugh, to see myself translated thus, from a poor creature to a creator; for now must I create an intolerable sort of lies, or my present profession loses the grace; and yet the lie to a man of my coat is as ominous a fruit as the fico. Oh sir, it holds for good polity ever, to have that outwardly in vilest estimation, that inwardly is most dear to us. So much for my borrowed shape. Well, the troth is, my old master intends to follow my young, dry foot, over Moorfields to London this morning; now I, knowing of this hunting-match, or rather conspiracy, and to insinuate with my young master (for so must we that are blue-waiters, and men of hope and service do, or perhaps we may wear motley at the year's end, and who wears motley, you know) have got me afore, in this disguise, determining here to lie in ambuscado, and intercept him in the mid-way. If I can but get his cloak, his purse, his hat, nay, anything, to cut him off, that is, to stay his journey, veni, vidi, vici, I may say with Captain Caesar, I am made for ever, i' faith. Well, now must I practice to get the true garb of one of these lance-knights, my arm here, and my
[Enter EDWARD and STEPHEN]--young master! And his cousin, Master Stephen, as I am true counterfeit man of war, and no soldier!
EDWARD
So sir, and how then, coz?
STEPHEN
[Searching himself]
'Sfoot, I have lost my purse, I think.
EDWARD
How? Lost your purse? Where? When had you it?
STEPHEN
I cannot tell. Stay!
BRAINWORM
'Slid, I am afeared they will know me, would I could get by them.
[Moves aside to conceal himself]EDWARD
What? Ha' you it?
STEPHEN
No, I think I was bewitched, I--
EDWARD
Nay, do not weep the loss, hang it, let it go.
STEPHEN
Oh, it's here: no, an' it had been lost, I had not cared, but for a jet ring Mistress Mary sent me.
EDWARD
A jet ring? Oh, the posy, the posy?
STEPHEN
Fine, i' faith! 'Though fancy sleep, my love is deep.' Meaning that though I did not fancy her, yet she loved me dearly.
EDWARD
Most excellent!
And then, I sent her another, and my posy was: 'The deeper, the sweeter, I'll be judged by St. Peter.'
EDWARD
How, by St. Peter? I do not conceive that!
STEPHEN
Marry, St. Peter, to make up the metre.
EDWARD
Well, there the Saint was your good patron, he helped you at your need: thank him, thank him.
BRAINWORM
[He is come back]
I cannot take leave on 'em, so: I will venture, come what will. Gentlemen, please you change a few crowns for a very excellent good blade, here? I am a poor gentleman, a soldier, one that (in the better state of my fortunes) scorned so mean a refuge, but now it is the humour of necessity to have it so. You seem to be gentlemen, well affected to martial men, else I should rather die with silence, than live with shame; however, vouchsafe to remember, it is my want speaks, not myself. This condition agrees not with my spirit--
EDWARD
Where hast thou served?
BRAINWORM
May it please you, sir, in all the late wars of Bohemia, Hungaria, Dalmatia, Poland, where not, sir? I have been a poor servitor, by sea and land, any time this fourteen years, and followed the fortunes of the best commanders in Christendom. I was twice shot at the taking of Aleppo, once at the relief of Vienna; I have been at Marseilles, Naples, and the Adriatic gulf, a gentleman-slave in the galleys, thrice, where I was most dangerously shot in the head, through both the thighs, and yet, being thus maimed, I am void of maintenance, nothing left me but my scars, the noted marks of my resolution.
STEPHEN
How will you sell this rapier, friend?
BRAINWORM
Generous sir, I refer it to your own judgement; you are a gentleman, give me what you please.
STEPHEN
True, I am a gentleman, I know that, friend; but what though? I pray you say, what would you ask?
BRAINWORM
I assure you, the blade may become the side or thigh of the best prince in Europe.
EDWARD
Aye, with a velvet scabbard, I think.
STEPHEN
Nay, an't be mine, it shall have a velvet scabbard, coz, that's flat: I'd not wear it as 'tis, an' you would give me an angel.
BRAINWORM
At your worship's pleasure, sir: nay, 'tis a most pure Toledo.
STEPHEN
I had rather it were a Spaniard! But tell me, what shall I give you for it? An' it had a silver hilt--
EDWARD
Come, come, you shall not buy it; [To BRAINWORM] hold, there's a shilling fellow, take thy rapier.
STEPHEN
Why, but I will buy it now, because you say so, and there's another shilling, fellow. I scorn to be outbidden. What, shall I walk with a cudgel, like Higginbottom? And may have a rapier, for money?
EDWARD
You may buy one in the city.
STEPHEN
Tut, I'll buy this i' the field, so I will, I have a mind to't, because 'tis a field rapier. Tell me your lowest price.
You shall not buy it, I say.
STEPHEN
By this money, but I will, though I give more than 'tis worth.
EDWARD
Come away, you are a fool.
STEPHEN
Friend, I am a fool, that's granted: but I'll have it, for that word's sake.
[To Brainworm]Follow me, for your money.
BRAINWORM
At your service, sir.
[Exeunt]
| Every Man in his Humour | |