 | Every Man in his Humour |  |
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]
| Every Man in his Humour | |