E. Kno. Come away, you are a fool. Step. Friend, I am a fool, that's granted: but I'll have it for that word's sake. Follow me for your money.

Brain. At your service, sir.

Enter KNO'WELL.

Kno. I cannot lose the thought yet of this letter,

Sent to my son; nor leave to admire the change
Of manners, and the breeding of our youth
Within the kingdom, since myself was one.
When I was young, he lived not in the stews,
Durst have conceived a scorn, and uttered it,
On a grey head: age was authority
Against a buffoon; and a man had then
A certain reverence paid unto his years,
That had none due unto his life. So much
The sanctity of some prevailed for others.
But now we are fallen; youth from their fear,
And age from that, which bred it, good example.
Nay, would ourselves were not the first, even pa-
rents,

That did destroy the hopes in our own children;
Or they not learned our vices in their cradles,
And suck'd in our ill customs with their milk.
Ere all their teeth be born, or they can speak,
We make their pallats cunning. The first words
We form their tongues with, are licentious jests.
Can it call whore? Cry bastard? O, then kiss it,
A witty child! Can't swear? The father's dar-
ling!

Give it two plums. Nay, rather than it shall learn

No bawdy song, the mother herself will teach it!
But this is in the infancy; the days
Of the long coat: when it puts on the breeches,
It will put off all this. Ay, it is like;
When it is gone into the bone already!
No, no: this dye goes deeper than the coat,
Or shirt, or skin; it stains unto the liver

And heart, in some; and rather than it should not,

Note what we fathers do! look how we live!
What mistresses we keep! at what expence !
In our son's eyes! Where they may handle our
gifts,

Hear our lascivious courtships, see our dalliance,
Taste of the same provoking meats with us,
To ruin of our state! Nay, when our own
Portion is fled, to prey on their remainder,
We call them into fellowship of vice:
Bait 'em with the young chambermaid to seal,
And teach 'em all bad ways to buy affection.
This is one path; but there are millions more,
In which we spoil our own, with leading them.
Well, I thank Heaven, I never yet was he,
That travelled with my son before sixteen,
To shew him the Venetian courtezans,
Nor read the grammar of cheating, I had made,
To my sharp boy at twelve; repeating still
The rule, get money, still get money, boy,
No matter by what means. Money will do

His palate should degenerate, not his manners.
These are the trades of fathers now. However,
My son, I hope, hath met within my threshold
None of these household precedents; which are
strong

And swift, to rape youth to their precipice.
But let the house at home be ne'er so clean
Swept, or kept sweet from filth, nay dust and
cobwebs,

If he will live abroad with his companions,
In dung and leystals, it is worth a fear,
Nor is the danger of conversing less
Than all that I have mentioned of example.
Enter BRAIN-WORM.

Brain. My master! nay, faith, have at you; am fleshed now, I have sped so well; though I must attack you in a different way.-Worshipful sir, I beseech you, respect the state of a poor soldier! I am ashamed of this base course of life, (God's my comfort) but extremity provokes me to't: what remedy?

Kno. I have not for you.

Brain. By the faith I bear unto truth, gentleman, it is no ordinary custom in me, but only to preserve manhood. I protest to you, a man I have been, a man I may be, by your sweet bounty.

Kno. Prithee, good friend, be satisfied.

Brain. Good sir, by that hand you may do the part of a kind gentleman, in lending a poor soldier the price of two cans of beer, a matter of small value; the King of Heaven shall pay you, and I shall rest thankful: sweet worship

Kno. Nay, an' you be so importunateBrain. Oh, tender sir, need will have his course! I was not made to this vile use! Well, the edge of the enemy could not have abated me so much. [He weeps.] It's hard, when a man hath served in his prince's cause, to be thus-honourable worship, let me derive a small piece of silver from you; it shall not be given in the course of time. By this good ground, I was fain to pawn my rapier last night for a poor supper; I had sucked the hilt long before, I am a pagan else: sweet honour!

Kno. Believe me, I am taken with some won

der,

To think a fellow of thy outward presence,
Should, in the frame and fashion of his mind,
Be so degenerate and sordid base!
Art thou a man, and sham'st thou not to beg?
To practise such a servile kind of life?
Why, were thy education ne'er so mean,
Having thy limbs, a thousand fairer courses
Offer themselves to thy election.

Either the wars might still supply thy wants,
Or service of some virtuous gentleman,

But would become thee better than to beg!
But men of thy condition feed on sloth,
As doth the beetle on the dung she breeds in,
Not caring how the metal of your minds
Is eaten with the rust of idleness.
Now, afore me, whate'er he be, that should
Relieve a person of thy quality,

While thou insist in this loose desperate course,
I would esteem the sin not thine, but his.
Brain. Faith, sir, I would gladly find some
other course, if so-

Kno. Aye, you would gladly find it, but you will not seek it.

Brain. Alas! sir, where should a man seek? in the wars there's no ascent by desert in these days, but-and for service, would it were as soon purchased as wished for! (the air's my comfort) I know what I would say

Kno. What's thy name?

Brain. Please you, Fitz-Sword, sir.
Kno. Fitz-Sword,

Say that a man should entertain thee now,
Would'st thou be honest, humble, just, and true?
Brain. Sir, by the place and honour of a sol-
dier-
Kno. Nay, nay, I like not those affected oaths!

SCENE L-Stocks-Market.

Brain. Yes, sir, straight: I will but garter my hose. Oh! that my belly were hooped now, for I am ready to burst with laughing! Never was a bottle or bag-pipe fuller. S'lid! was there ever seen a fox in years to betray himself thus? Now I shall be possessed of all his counsels! and by that conduct my young master. Well, he is resolved to prove my honesty; faith, and I am resolved to prove his patience. Oh, I shall abuse him intolerably! This small piece of service will bring him clean out of love with the soldier for ever. He will never come within the sight of a red coat, or a musket-rest again. He will hate the musters at Mile-end to his dying day. It's no matter; let the world think me a bad counterfeit, if I cannot give him the slip at an instant. Why, this is better than to have staid his journey! Well, I will follow him. Oh, how I long to be employed!

Enter MATTHEW, WELL-BRED, and BOBADIL. Mat. Yes, faith, sir! we were at your lodging to seek you too.

Well. Oh, I came not there to-night. Bob. Your brother delivered us as much. Well. Who? My brother Down-right? Bob. He. Mr Well-bred, I know not in what kind you hold me; but let me say to you this: as sure as honour, I esteem it so much out of the sunshine of reputation, to throw the least beam of regard upon such a

Well. Sir, I must hear no ill words of my brother.

Bob. I protest to you, as I have a thing to be saved about me, I never saw any gentleman-like part

Well. Good captain, [faces about.] to some

other discourse.

Bob. With your leave, sir, an' there were no more men living upon the face of the earth, I should not fancy him, by St George.

Mat. Troth, nor I; he is of a rustical cut, I know not how he doth not carry himself like a gentleman of fashion

Well. Oh, Master Matthew, that is a grace peculiar but to a few, quos æquus amavit Jupiter. Mat. I understand you, sir.

Enter Young KNO'WELL and STEPHEN. Well. No question you do, or you do not, sir. Ned Kno'well! By my soul, welcome! How dost thou, sweet spirit, my genius? 'Slid, I shall love

[Exit.

Apollo and the mad Thespian girls the better, while I live for this, my dear fury. Now I see there's some love in thee! Sirrah, these be the two I writ to thee of. Nay, what a drowsy humour is this now! Why dost thou not speak? E. Kno. Oh, you are a fine gallant; you sent me a rare letter.

Well. Why, was it not rare?

E. Kno. Yes, I'll be sworn; I was never guilty of reading the like. Match it in all Pliny's epistles, and I'll have my judgment burned in the ear for a rogue; make much of thy vein, for it is inimitable. But I marvel what camel it was that had the carriage of it, for, doubtless, he was no ordinary beast that brought it.

Well. Why?

E. Kno. Why, sayest thou? Why, dost thou think that any reasonable creature, especially in the morning, the sober time of the day too, could have mistaken my father for me?

Well. 'Slid, you jest, I hope.

E. Kno. Indeed, the best use we can turn it to, is to make a jest on't now; but I'll assure you, my father had the full view of your flourishing style, before I saw it.

Well. What a dull slave was this! But, sirrah, what said he to it, i'faith?

E. Kno. Nay, I know not what he said: but I have a shrewd guess what he thought. Well. What, what?

E. Kno. Marry, that thou art some strange, dissolute young fellow, and I not a grain or two better, for keeping thee company.

Well. Tut! that thought is like the moon in

her last quarter, 'twill change shortly. But, sirrah, I pray thee be acquainted with my two hang-bys here; thou wilt take exceeding pleasure in them, if thou hearest them once go: my wind-instruments. I'll wind them up-But what strange piece of silence is this?"The sign of the dumb man?

E. Kno. Oh, sir, a kinsman of mine, one that may make your music the fuller, an' he please; he has his humour, sir.

Well. Oh, what is't, what is't?

E. Kno. Nay, I'll neither do your judgment, nor his folly, that wrong, as to prepare your apprehension. I'll leave him to the mercy of your search, if you can take him so.

Well. Well. Captain Bobadil, Master Matthew, I pray you know this gentleman here; he is a friend of mine, and one that will deserve your affection. I know not your name, sir, but shall be glad of any occasion to render me more familiar to you.

Step. My name is Master Stephen, sir; I am this gentleman's own cousin, sir: his father is mine uncle, sir; I am somewhat melancholy, but you shall command me, sir, in whatsoever is incident to a gentleman.

Bob. Sir, I must tell you this, I am no general man; but for Mr Well-bred's sake (you may embrace it at what height of favour you please) I do communicate with you; and conceive you to be a gentleman of some parts. I love few words.

E. Kno. And I fewer, sir. I have scarce enow to thank you.

Mat. But are you indeed, sir, so given to it? [To Master STEPHEN. Step. Ay, truly, sir, I am mightily given to melancholy.

Mat. Oh, it is your only fine humour, sir; your true melancholy breeds your perfect fine wit, sir: I am melancholy myself, divers times, sir; and then do I no more but take a pen and paper presently, and overflow you half a score or a dozen of sonnets at a sitting.

E. Kno. Sure he utters them then by the gross. [Aside. Step. Truly, sir, and I love such things out of

measure.

E. Kno. I'faith, better than in measure, I'll undertake.

Mat. Why, I pray you, sir, make use of my study, it's at your service.

Step. I thank you, sir, I shall be bold, I warrant you; have you a stool there to be melancholy upon?

Mat. That I have, sir, and some papers of my ●wn doing, at idle hours, that you'll say there's some sparks of wit in 'em, when you see 'em.

Well. Would the sparks would kindle once, and become a fire among 'em, I might see selflove burnt for her heresy.

Step. Cousin, is it well? am I melancholy enough?

E. Kno. O, ay, excellent!

Well. Captain Bobadil, why muse you so?
E. Kno. He is melancholy, too.

Bob. Faith, sir, I was thinking of a most honourable piece of service was performed to-morrow, being St Mark's day, shall be some ten years

now.

E. Kno. In what place, captain?

Bob. Why, at the beleaguering of Strigonium, where, in less than two hours, seven hundred resolute gentlemen, as any were in Europe, lost their lives upon the breach. I'll tell you, gentlemen; it was the first, but the best leaguer, that ever I beheld with these eyes, except the taking ofwhat do you call it, last year, by the Genoese; but that (of all others) was the most fatal and dangerous exploit that ever I was ranged in,

since I first bore arms before the face of the enemy, as I am a gentleman and a soldier.

Step. 'So, I had as lief as an angel, I could swear as well as that gentleman!

E. Kno. Then you were a servitor at both, it seems; at Strigonium, and what do you call it?

Bob. Oh, lord, sir! by St George, I was the first man that entered the breach; and had I not effected it with resolution, I had been slain, if I had had a million of lives.

E. Kno. It was a pity you had not ten; a cat's, and your own, i'faith. But was it possible? Mat. Pray you, mark this discourse, sir. Step. So I do.

Bob. I assure you, upon my reputation, it is true, and yourself shall confess.

E. Kno. You must bring me to the rack first. Bob. Observe me judicially, sweet sir: they had planted me three demi-culverins, just in the mouth of the breach: now, sir, as we were to give on, their master-gunner (a man of no mean skill and mark, you must think) confronts me with his linstock, ready to give fire: I, spying his intendment, discharged my petrionel in his bosom, and with these single arms, my poor rapier, ran violently upon the Moors that guarded the ordnance, and put them all, pell-mell, to the sword.

Well. To the sword! to the rapier, captain! E. Kno. Oh, it was a good figure observed, sir! but did you all this, captain, without hurting your blade?

Bob. Without any impeach o' the earth: you shall perceive, sir. It is the most fortunate wea pon that ever rid on poor gentleman's thigh. Shall I tell you, sir? You talk of Morglay, Excalibar, Durindana, or so? Tut, I lend. no credit to what is fabled of them; I know the virtue of mine own, and therefore I dare the bolder maintain it.

Step. I marvel whether it be a Toledo, or no.
Bob. A most perfect Toledo, I assure you, sir.
Step. I have a countryman of his here.
Mat. Pray you, let's see, sir. Yes, faith, it is!
Bob. This a Toledo! pish.

Step. Why do you pish, captain?

Bob. A Fleming, by Heaven! I'll buy them for a guilder a-piece, an' I would have a thousand of them.

E. Kno. How say you, cousin? I told you thus much.

But would become thee better than to beg!
But men of thy condition feed on sloth,
As doth the beetle on the dung she breeds in,
Not caring how the metal of your minds
Is eaten with the rust of idleness.
Now, afore me, whate'er he be, that should
Relieve a person of thy quality,

While thou insist in this loose desperate course,
I would esteem the sin not thine, but his.
Brain. Faith, sir, I would gladly find some
other course, if so-

Kno. Aye, you would gladly find it, but you will not seek it.

Brain. Alas! sir, where should a man seek? in the wars there's no ascent by desert in these days, but—and for service, would it were as soon purchased as wished for! (the air's my comfort) I know what I would say

Kno. What's thy name?

Brain. Please you, Fitz-Sword, sir.
Kno. Fitz-Sword,

Say that a man should entertain thee now,
Would'st thou be honest, humble, just, and true?
Brain. Sir, by the place and honour of a sol-
dier-

Kno. Nay, nay, I like not those affected oaths!

SCENE L-Stocks-Market.

Brain. Nothing, sir, but wish my fortunes were as happy, as my service should be honest.

Kno. Well, follow me; I will prove thee, if thy deeds will carry a proportion to thy words. [Exit.

Brain. Yes, sir, straight: I will but garter my hose. Oh! that my belly were hooped now, for I am ready to burst with laughing! Never was a bottle or bag-pipe fuller. S'lid! was there ever seen a fox in years to betray himself thus? Now I shall be possessed of all his counsels! and by that conduct my young master. Well, he is resolved to prove my honesty; faith, and I am resolved to prove his patience. Oh, I shall abuse him intolerably! This small piece of service will bring him clean out of love with the soldier for ever. He will never come within the sight of a red coat, or a musket-rest again. He will hate the musters at Mile-end to his dying day. It's no matter; let the world think me a bad counterfeit, if I cannot give him the slip at an instant. Why, this is better than to have staid his journey! Well, I will follow him. Oh, how I long to be employed!

Enter MATTHEW, WELL-BRED, and BOBADIL. Mat. Yes, faith, sir! we were at your lodging to seek you too.

Well. Oh, I came not there to-night. Bob. Your brother delivered us as much. Well. Who? My brother Down-right? Bob. He. Mr Well-bred, I know not in what kind you hold me; but let me say to you this: as sure as honour, I esteem it so much out of the sunshine of reputation, to throw the least beam of regard upon such a

Well. Sir, I must hear no ill words of my brother.

Bob. I protest to you, as I have a thing to be saved about me, I never saw any gentleman-like part

Well. Good captain, [faces about.] to some other discourse.

Bob. With your leave, sir, an' there were no more men living upon the face of the earth, I should not fancy him, by St George.

Mat. Troth, nor I; he is of a rustical cut, I know not how he doth not carry himself like a gentleman of fashion

Well. Oh, Master Matthew, that is a grace peculiar but to a few, quos æquus amavit Jupiter. Mat. I understand you, sir.

Enter Young KNO'WELL and STEPHEN. Well. No question you do, or you do not, sir. Ned Kno'well! By my soul, welcome! How dost thou, sweet spirit, my genius? 'Slid, I shall love

[Exit.

Apollo and the mad Thespian girls the better, while I live for this, my dear fury. Now I see there's some love in thee! Sirrah, these be the two I writ to thee of. Nay, what a drowsy humour is this now! Why dost thou not speak?

E. Kno. Oh, you are a fine gallant; you sent me a rare letter.

Well. Why, was it not rare?

E. Kno. Yes, I'll be sworn; I was never guilty of reading the like. Match it in all Pliny's epistles, and I'll have my judgment burned in the ear for a rogue; make much of thy vein, for it is inimitable. But I marvel what camel it was that had the carriage of it, for, doubtless, he was no ordinary beast that brought it.

Well. Why?

E. Kno. Why, sayest thou? Why, dost thou think that any reasonable creature, especially in the morning, the sober time of the day too, could have mistaken my father for me?

Well. 'Slid, you jest, I hope.

E. Kno. Indeed, the best use we can turn it to, is to make a jest on't now; but I'll assure you, my father had the full view of your flourishing style, before I saw it.

Well. What a dull slave was this! But, sirrah, what said he to it, i'faith?

E. Kno. Nay, I know not what he said: but I have a shrewd guess what he thought. Well. What, what?

E. Kno. Marry, that thou art some strange, dissolute young fellow, and I not a grain or two better, for keeping thee company.

Well. Tut! that thought is like the moon in