Every MAN OUT OF HIS HUMOUR. A Comical Satire. Acted in the year 1599 By the then Lord CHAMBERLAINE his Servants.  
The Author B. I.  Non aliena meo pressi pede ‑ * si propius sles, Tec apient magis ‑ * & deries repetat● 〈◊〉. 
LONDON, Printed by W. Stansby for I. Smithwicke.  
1616   

TO THE NOBLEST NURSERIES OF HUMANITY, AND LIBERTY, IN THE KINGDOM: The Inns of Court.  
I Understand you, Gentlemen, not your houses: and a worthy succession of you, to all time, as being borne the judges of these studies. When I wrote this Poem, I had friendship with divers in your societies; who, as they were great Names in learning, so they were no less Examples of living. Of them, and then (that I say no more) it was not despised. Now that the Printer, by a doubled charge, thinks it worthy a longer life, then commonly the air of such things doth promise; I am careful to put it a servant to their pleasures, who are the inheritors of the first favour borne it. Yet, I command, it lie not in the way of your more noble, and useful studies to the public. For so I shall suffer for it: But, when the gown and cap is off, and the Lord of liberty reigns; then, to take it in your hands, perhaps may make some Bencher, tincted with humanity, read: and not repent him.  
By your true Honourer, BEN. JONSON.   

The Names of the Actors.  

ASPER, The Presenter.  
MACILENTE.  
PUNTERVOLO. 

His Lady.  
Waiting-Gent.  
Huntsman.  
Servingmen 2.  
Dog and Cat.    
CARLO BUFFONE.  
FAST. brisk. 

Cinedo his Page.    


DELIRO.  
FALLACE.  
Fido their Servant.  
Musicians.    
SAVIOLINA.  
SORDIDO. 

His Hind.    
FUNGOSO. 

Taylor.  
Haberdasher.  
Shoemaker.    
SOGLIARDO.  
SHIFT.  
CLOVE. 

Rustici.  
A Groom.  
Drawers.  
Constable, and  
Officers.    
ORANGE.  
GREX. 

CORDATUS.  
MITIS.      

ASPER his Character. 
HE is of an ingenious and free spirit, eager and constant in reproof, without fear controlling the world's abuses. One, whom no servile hope of gain, or frosty apprehension of danger, can make to be a Parasite, either to time, place▪ or opinion.  MACILENTE. 
A Man well parted, a sufficient Scholar, and travailed; who (wanting that place in the world's account, which he thinks his merit capable of) falls into such an envious apoplexy, with which his judgement is so dazzled, and distasted, that he grows violently impatient of any opposite happiness in another.  PUNTARVOLO. 
A Vain glorious Knight, over-englishing his travels, and wholly consecrated to singularity; the very jacob's staff of complement: a Sir, that hath lived to see the revolution of time in most of his apparel. Of presence good enough, but so palpably affected to his own praise, that (for want of flatterers) he commends himself, to the floutage of his own family. He deals upon returns, and strange performances, resolving (in despite of public derision) to stick to his own particular fashion, phrase, and gesture.  CARLO BUFFONE. 
A Public, scurrilous, and profane jester; that (more swift than Circe) with absurd similes will transform any person into deformity. A good Feast-hound, or Banket-beagell, that will sent you out a supper some three mile off, and swear to his Patrons (Damn him) he came in Oars, when he was but wafted over in a Sculler. A slave, that hath an extraordinary gift in pleasing his palate, and will swill up more sack at a sitting, then would make all the Guard a posset. His religion is railing, and his discourse ribaldry. They stand highest in his respect, whom he studies most to reproach.  FASTIDIUS brisk. 
A Neat, spruce, affecting Courtier, one that wears clothes well, and in fashion; practiseth by his glass how to salute; speaks good remnants (notwithstanding the Bass-viol and Tobacco:) swears tersely, and with variety; cares not what Ladies favour he belies, or great Man's familiarity: a good property to perfume the boot of a coach. He will borrow another man's borse to praise, and backs him as his own. Or, for a need, on foot can post himself into credit with his merchant, only with the jingle of his spur, and the jerk of his wand.  DELIRO. 
A Good doting Citizen, who (it is thought) might be of the common Council for his wealth: a fellow sincerely besotted on his own wife, and so rapt with a conceit of her perfections, that be simply holds himself unworthy of her. And in that hoodwinked humour, lives more like a suitor then a husband; standing in as true dread of her displeasure, as when he first made love to her. He doth sacrifice twopence in juniper to her, every morning, before she rises, and wakes her, with villanous-out-of-tune music, which she out of her contempt (though not out of her judgement) is sure to dislike.  FALLACE. 
DEliro's wife, and Idol: a proud mincing Peat, and as perverse as he is officious. She dotes as perfectly upon the Courtier, as her husband doth on her, and only wants the face to be dishonest.  SAVIOLINA. 
A Court Lady, whose weightiest praise is a light wit, admired by herself, and one more, her servant brisk.  SORDIDO. 
A Wretched hobnailed chuff, whose recreation, is reading of Almanacs; and felicity, foul, weather. One that never prayed, but for a lean dearth, and ever wept in a fat harvest.  FUNGOSO. 
THe son of Sordido, and a student: one that has revelled in his time, and follows the fashion a far off, like a spy. He makes it the whole bent of his endeavours, to wring sufficient means from his wretched father, to put him in the Courtiers cut: at which he earnestly aims, but so unluckily, that he still lights short a suit.  SOGLIARDO. 
AN essential Clown, brother to Sordido, yet so enamoured of the name of a Gentleman, that he will have it, though he buys it. He comes up every Term to learn to take Tobacco, and see new Motions. He is in his kingdom when he can get himself into company, where he may be well laughed at.  SHIFT. 
A Threadbare Shark. One that never was Soldier, yet lives upon lend. His profession is skeldering and odling, his bank Paul's, and his warehouse Pickt-hatch. Takes up single testons upon oaths, till dooms day. Falls under executions of three shillings, and enters into five-groat bonds. He way-layes the reports of services, and connes them without book, damning himself he came new from them, when all the while he was taking the diet in a bawdy house, or lay pawned in his chamber for rent, and victuals. He is of that admirable and happy memory, that he will salute one for an old acquaintance, that he never saw in his life before. He usurps upon cheats, quarrels, and robberies, which he never did, only to get him a name. His chief exercises are, taking the Whiff, squiring a Cockatrice, and making privy searches for Imparters.  CLOVE, and ORANGE. 
AN inseparable case of Coxcombs, City-borne; The Gemini or Twins of foppery: that like a pair of wooden soils, are fit for nothing, but to be practised upon. Being well flattered, they'll lend money, and repent when they ha' done. Their glory is to invite Players, and make suppers. And in company of better rank (to avoid the suspect of insufficiency) will enforce their ignorance, most desperately, to set upon the understanding of any thing. Orange is the more humorous of the two (whose small portion of juice being squeezed out) Clove serves to stick him, with commendations.  CORDATUS. 
THe Author's friend; A man inly acquainted with the scope and drift of his Plot: Of a discreet, and understanding judgement; and has the please of a Moderator.  MITIS. 
IS a person of no action, and therefore we have reason to afford him no Character.    
EVERY MAN OUT OF HIS HUMOUR.  

After the second Sounding. GREX. CORDATUS, ASPER, MITIS. 
NAy, my dear ASPER,  MIT. 
Stay your mind:  ASP. 
Away.  
Who is so patient of this impious world,  
That he can check his spirit, or rain his tongue?  
Or who hath such a dead unfeeling sense,  
That heavens horrid thunders cannot wake?  
To see the earth, cracked with the weight of sin,  
Hell gaping under us, and o'er our heads  
Black ravenous ruin, with her sail-stretched wings,  
Ready to sink us down, and cover vs.  
Who can behold such prodigies as these,  
And have his lips sealed up? not I: my soul  
Was never ground into such oily colours,  
To flatter vice and daub iniquity:  
But (with an armed, and resolved hand)  
I'll strip the ragged follies of the time,  
Naked, as at their birth:  COR. 
(Be not too bold.  ASP. 
You trouble me) and with a whip of steel,  
Print wounding lashes in their iron ribs.  
I fear no mood stamped in a private brow,  
When I am pleased t'unmask a public vice.  
I fear no strumpets drugs, nor ruffians stab,  
Should I detect their hateful luxuries;  
No brokers, usurers, or lawyers gripe,  
Were I disposed to say, they're all corrupt.  
I fear no courtiers frown, should I applaud  
The easy flexure of his supple hums.  
Tut, these are so innate, and popular,  
That drunken custom would not shame to laugh  
(In scorn) at him, that should but dare to taxe'hem.  
And yet, not one of these but knows his works,  
Knows what damnation is, the devil, and hell,  
Yet, hourly they persist, grow rank in sin,  
Puffing their souls away in perjurious air,  
To cherish their extortion, pride, or lusts.  MIT. 
Forbear, good ASPER, be not like your name.  ASP. 
O, but to such, whose faces are all zeal,  
And (with the words of HERCULES) invade  
Such crimes as these! that will not smell of sin,  
But seem as they were made of Sanctify!  
Religion in their garments, and their hair  
Cut shorter than their eyebrows! when the conscience  
Is vaster than the Ocean, and devours  
More wretches than the Counters.  MIT. 
Gentle ASPER,  
Contain your spirit in more stricter bounds,  
And be not thus transported with the violence  
Of your strong thoughts.  COR. 
Unless your breath had power  
To melt the world, and mould it new again,  
It is in vain; to spend it in these moods.  Here he makes address to the People. ASP. 
I not observed this thronged round till now.  
Gracious, and kind spectators, you are welcome,  
APOLLO, and the MUSES feast your eyes  
With graceful objects, and may our MINERVA  
Answer your hopes, unto their largest strain.  
Yet here, mistake me not, judicious friends.  
I do not this, to beg your patience,  
Or servilely to fawn on your applause,  
Like some dry brain, despairing in his merit:  
Let me be censured, by th'austerest brow,  
Where I want art, or judgement, tax me freely:  
Let envious Censors with their broadest eyes  
Look through and through me; I pursue no favour.  
Only vouchsafe me your attentions,  
And I will give you music worth your ears.  
O, how I hate the monstruousness of time,  
Where every servile imitating spirit,  
(Plagued with an itching leprosy of wit)  
In a mere halting fury, strives to fling  
His ulcerous body in the Thespian spring,  
And straight leaps forth a Poet! but as lame  
As VULCAN, or the founder of Cripplegate.  MIT. 
In faith, this Humour will come ill to some,  
You will be thought to be too peremptory.  ASP. 
This Humour? good; and why this Humour, MITIS?  
Nay do not turn, but answer.  MIT. 
Answer? what?  ASP. 
I will not stir your patience, pardon me,  
I urged it for some reasons, and the rather  
To give these ignorant wellspoken days,  
Some taste of their abuse of this word Humour.  CORD. 
O do not let your purpose fall, good ASPER,  
It cannot but arrive most acceptable,  
Chiefly to such, as have the happiness,  
Daily to see how the poor innocent word  
Is racked, and tortured.  MIT. 
I; I pray you proceed.  ASP. 
Ha? what? what is't?  COR. 
For the abuse of Humour.  ASP. 
O, I crave pardon, I had lost my thoughts.  
Why Humour (as 'tis ens) we thus define it  
To be a quality of air or water,  
And in itself holds these two properties,  
Moisture and fluxure: As, for demonstration,  
power water on this floor, 'twill wet and run:  
Likewise the air (forced through a horn or trumpet)  
Flows instantly away, and leaves behind  
A kind of dew; and hence we do conclude,  
That what soe'er hath fluxure, and humidity,  
As wanting power to contain itself,  
Is Humour: so in every human body  
The choler, melancholy, phlegm, and blood,  
By reason that they flow continually  
In some one part, and are not continent,  
Receive the name of Humours. Now thus far  
It may, by Metaphor, apply itself  
Unto the general disposition:  
As when some one peculiar quality  
Doth so possess a man, that it doth draw  
All his affects, his spirits, and his powers,  
In their confluctions, all to run one way,  
This may be truly said to be a Humour.  
But that a Rook, in wearing a pied feather,  
The cable hatband, or the three-piled ruff,  
A yard of shoe-tie, or the Swissers knot  
On his French garters, should affect a Humour!  
O, 'tis more than most ridiculous.  CORD. 
He speaks pure truth: now if an Idiot  
Have but an apish, or fantastic strain,  
It is his Humour.  ASP. 
Well I will scourge those Apes;  
And to these courteous eyes oppose a mirror,  
As large as is the stage, whereon we act:  
Where they shall see the times deformity  
Anatomised in every nerve, and sinew,  
With constant courage, and contempt of fear.  MIT. 
ASPER (I urge it as your friend) take heed,  
The days are dangerous, full of exception,  
And men are grown impatient of reproof.  ASP. 
Ha, ha:  
You might as well have told me, yond is heaven,  
This earth, these men; and all had moved alike.  
Do not I know the times condition?  
Yes MITIS, and their souls, and who they be  
That either will, or can except against me.  
None, but a sort of fools, so sick in taste,  
That they contemn all physic of the mind,  
And like galled camels kick at every touch.  
Good men, and virtuous spirits, that loath their vices,  
Will cherish my free labours, love my lives,  
And with the fervour of their shining grace,  
Make my brain fruitful to bring forth more objects,  
Worthy their serious, and intentive eyes.  
But why enforce I this? as fainting? no.  
If any here chance to behold himself,  
Let him not dare to challenge me of wrong,  
For, if he shame to have his follies known,  
First he should shame to act 'em: my strict hand  
Was made to cease on vice, and with a gripe  
Squeeze out the humour of such spongy souls,  
As lick up every idle vanity.  CORD. 
Why this is right Furor Poeticus!  
Kind gentlemen, we hope your patience  
Will yet conceive the best, or entertain  
This supposition, that a madman speaks.  ASP. 
What? are you ready there? MITIS sit down:  
And my CORDATUS. Sound hough, and begin.  
I leave you two, as censors, to sit here:  
Observe what I present, and liberally  
Speak your opinions, upon every Scene,  
As it shall pass the view of these spectators.  
Nay, now, you're tedious Sirs, for shame begin.  
And MITIS, note me, if in all this front,  
You can espy a gallant of this mark,  
Who (to be thought one of the judicious)  
Sits with his arms thus wreathed, his hat pulled here,  
Cries meaw, and nods, then shakes his empty head,  
Will show more several motions in his face,  
Then the new London, Rome, or Niniveh,  
And (now and then) breaks a dry biscuit jest,  
Which that it may more easily be chewed,  
He sleeps in his own laughter.  CORD. 
Why? will that  
Make it be sooner swallowed?  ASP. 
O, assure you.  
Or if it did not, yet as HORACE sings,  
" jeiunus raro stomachus vulgaria temnit,  
" Mean cares are welcome still to hungry guests.  CORD. 
'Tis true, but why should we observe 'em, ASPER?  ASP. 
O I would know 'em, for in such assemblies,  
theyare more infectious than the pestilence:  
And therefore I would give them pills to purge,  
And make 'em fit for fair societies.  
How monstrous, and detested is't, to see  
A fellow, that has neither art, nor brain,  
Sit like an ARISTARCHUS, or starke-asse,  
Taking men's lines, with a tobacco face,  
In snuff, still spitting, using his wried looks  
(In nature of a vice) to wrest, and turn  
The good aspect of those that shall sit near him,  
From what they do behold! O, 'tis most vile.  MIT. 
Nay, ASPER.  ASP. 
Peace, MITIS, I do know your thought.  
You'll say, your guests here will except at this:  
Pish, you are too timorous, and full of doubt.  
Then, he, a patient, shall reject all physic,  
'Cause the physician tells him, you are sick:  
Or, if I say, That he is vicious,  
You will not hear of virtue. Come, you're fond.  
Shall I be so extravagant to think,  
That happy judgements, and composed spirits,  
Will challenge me for taxing such as these?  
I am ashamed.  CORD. 
Nay, but good pardon us:  
We must not bear this peremptory sail,  
But use our best endeavours how to please.  ASP. 
Why, therein I commend your careful thoughts,  
And I will mix with you in industry  
To please, but whom? attentive auditors,  
Such as will join their profit with their pleasure,  
And come to feed their understanding parts:  
For these, I'll prodigally spend myself,  
And speak away my spirit into air;  
For these, I'll melt my brain into invention,  
Coin new conceits, and hang my richest words  
As polished jewels in their bounteous ears.  
But stay, I lose myself, and wrong their patience;  
If I dwell here, they'll not begin, I see:  
Friends sit you still, and entertain this troop  
With some familiar, and by-conference,  
I'll haste them sound. Now gentlemen, I go  
To turn an actor, and a Humorist,  
Where (ere I do resume my present person)  
We hope to make the circles of your eyes  
Flow with distilled laughter: if we fail,  
We must impute it to this only chance,  
" Art hath an enemy called Ignorance.  CORD. 
How do you like his spirit, MITIS?  MIT. 
I should like it much better, if he were less confident.  CORD. 
Why, do you suspect his merit?  MIT. 
No, but I fear this will procure him much envy.  CORD. 
O, that sets the stronger seal on his desert, if he had no enemies, I should esteem his fortunes most wretched at this instant.  MIT. 
You have seen his play, CORDATUS? pray you, how is't?  CORD. 
Faith sir, I must refrain to judge, only this I can say of it, 'tis strange, and of a particular kind by itself, somewhat like Vetus Comoedia: a work that hath bounteously pleased me, how it will answer the general expectation, I know not.  MIT. 
Does he observe all the laws of Comedy in it?  CORD. 
What laws mean you?  MIT. 
Why, the equal division of it into Acts, and Scenes, according to the Terentian manner, his true number of Actors; the furnishing of the Scene with GREX, or CHORUS, and that the whole Argument fall within compass of a days business.  CORD. 
O no, these are too nice observations.  MIT. 
They are such as must be received, by your favour, or it cannot be authentic.  CORD. 
Troth, I can discern no such necessity.  MIT. 
No?  CORD. 
No, I assure you, signor. If those laws you speak of, had been delivered us, ab initio, and in their present virtue and perfection, there had been some reason of obeying their powers: but 'tis extant, that that which we call Comoedia, was at first nothing but a simple, and continued Song, sung by one only person, till SUSARIO invented a second, after him EPICHARMUS a third; PHORMUS, and CHIONIDES devised to have four Actors, with a Prologue and Chorus; to which CRATINUS (long after) added a fift, and sixth; EUPOLIS more; ARISTOPHANES more than they: every man in the dignity of his spirit and judgement, supplied something. And (though that in him this kind of Poem appeared absolute, and fully perfected) yet how is the face of it changed since, in MENANDER, PHILEMON, CECILIUS, PLAUTUS, and the rest; who have utterly excluded the Chorus, altered the property of the persons, their names, and natures, and augmented it with all liberty, according to the elegancy and disposition of those times, wherein they wrote? I see not then, but we should enjoy the same licence, or free power, to illustrate and heighten our invention as they did; and not be tied to those strict and regular forms, which the niceness of a few (who are nothing but form) would thrust upon vs.  MIT. 
Well, we will not dispute of this now: but what's his Scene?  COR. 
Marry, Insula Fortunata, Sir.  MIT. 
O, the fortunate Island? mass, he has bound himself to a strict law there.  COR. 
Why so?  MIT. 
He cannot lightly alter the Scene, without crossing the seas.  COR. 
He needs not, having a whole Island to run through, I think.  MIT. 
No? how comes it then, that in some one Play we see so many seas, countries, and kingdoms, passed over with such admirable dexterity?  COR. 
O, that but shows how well the Authors can travail in their vocation, and outrun the apprehension of their auditory. But leaving this, I would they would begin once: this protraction is able to sour the best-settled patience in the Theatre.  MIT. 
They have answered your wish Sir: they sound.  CORD. 
O, here comes the Prologue: Now sir! if you had stayed a little longer, I meant to have spoke your prologue for you, I faith.  The third sounding. PROLOGUE. PROL. 
Marry, with all my heart, Sir, you shall do it yet, and I thank you.  CORD. 
Nay, nay, stay, stay, hear you?  PROL. 
You could not have studied to ha' done me a greater benefit at the instant, for I protest to you, I am unperfect, and (had I spoke it) I must of necessity have been out.  CORD. 
Why, but do you speak this seriously?  PROL. 
Seriously! I (wits my help do I) and esteem myself in debted to your kindness for it.  CORD. 
For what?  PROL. 
Why, for undertaking the prologue for me.  CORD. 
How? did I undertake it for you?  PROL. 
Did you! I appeal to all these gentlemen, whether you did or no? Come, it pleases you to cast a strange look on't now; but 'twill not serve.  CORD. 
'Fore me, but it must serve: and therefore speak your prologue.  PROL. 
And I do, let me die poisoned with some venomous hiss, and never live to look as high as the twopenny room again.  MIT. 
He has put you to it, sir.  COR. 
'Sdeath, what a humorous fellow is this? Gentlemen, good faith I can speak no prologue, howsoever his weak wit has had the fortune to make this strong use of me, here before you: but I protest—  CARLO BUFFONE. CARL. He enters with a boy, and wine. 
Come, come, leave these fustian protestations: away, come, I cannot abide these gray-headed ceremonies. Boy, fetch me a glass, quickly, I may bid these gentlemen welcome; give 'em a health here: I marl'e whose wit 'twas to put a prologue in you'd sack-buts mouth: they might well think he'd be out of tune, and yet you'd play upon him too.  CORD. 
Hang him, dull block.  CARL. 
O good words, good words, a well-timbered fellow, he would ha' made a good column, and he had been thought on, when the house was a building. O, art thou come? well said; give me boy, fill, so. Here's a cup of wine sparkles like a diamond. Gentlewomen (I am sworn to put them in first) and Gentlemen, a round, in place of a bad prologue, I drink this good draft to your health here, Canary, the very Elixir and spirit of wine. This is that our Poet calls Castalian liquour, when he comes abroad (now and then) once in a fortnight, and makes a good meal among Players, where he has Caninum appetitum: marry, at home he keeps a good philosophical diet, beans and buttermilk: an honest pure Rogue, he will take you off three, four, five of these, one after another, and look villainously when he has done, like a one-headed Cerberus (he do not hear me I hope) and then (when his belly is well balanced, and his brain rigged a little) he sails away withal, as though he would work wonders when he comes home. He has made a Play here, and he calls it, Every Man out of his humour: 'sblood, and he get me out of the humour he has put me in, I'll trust none of his Tribe again, while I live. Gentles, all I can say for him, is, you are welcome. I could wish my bottle here amongst you: but there's an old rule, No pledging your own health. Marry, if any here be thirsty for it, their best way (that I know) is, sit still, seal up their lips, and drink so much of the play, in at their ears. Exit.  
GREX.  MIT. 
What may this fellow be, CORDATUS?  COR. 
Faith, if the time will suffer his description, I'll give it you. He is one, the Author calls him CARLO BUFFONE, an impudent common jester, a violent railer, and an incomprehensible Epicure; one, whose company is desired of all men, but beloved of none; he will sooner lose his soul than a jest, and profane even the most holy things, to excite laughter: no honourable or reverend parsonage whatsoever, can come within the reach of his eye, but is turned into all manner of variety, by his adulterate similes.  MIT. 
You paint forth a monster.  COR. 
He will prefer all Countries before his native, and thinks he can never sufficiently, or with admiration enough, deliver his affectionate conceit of foreign Atheistical policies: but stay— Observe these, he'll appear himself anon.  MIT. 
O, this is your envious man (MACILENTE) I think.  COR. 
The same, sir.    

Act I.  

Scene I.  MACILENTE. 
VIri est, fortunae caecuatem facilè far.  
'tis true; but, Stoic, where (in the vast world)  
Doth that man breath, that can so much command  
His blood, and his affection? well: I see,  
I strive in vain to cure my wounded soul;  
For every cordial that my thoughts apply,  
Turns to a corrosive, and doth eat it farther.  
There is no taste in this Philosophy,  
'tis like a potion that a man should drink,  
But turns his stomach with the sight of it.  
I am no such piled Cynic, to believe  
That beggary is the only happiness;  
Or (with a number of these patient fools)  
To sing: My mind to me a kingdom is,  
When the lank hungry belly barks for food.  
I look into the world, and there I meet  
With objects, that do strike my bloodshot eyes  
Into my brain: where, when I view myself;  
Having before observed, this man is great,  
Mighty, and feared: that, loved and highly favoured:  
A third, thought wise and learned: a fourth, rich,  
And therefore honoured: a fifth, rarely featured:  
A sixth, admired for his nuptial fortunes:  
When I see these (I say) and view myself,  
I wish the organs of my sight were cracked;  
And that the engine of my grief could cast  
Mine eyeballs, like two globes of wildfire forth,  
To melt this unproportioned frame of nature.  
Oh, they are thoughts that have transfixed my heart,  
And often (i'th' strength of apprehension)  
Made my cold passion stand upon my face,  
Like drops of dew on a stiff cake of ice.  
GREX.  COR. 
This alludes well to that of the Poet,  
Inuidus suspirat, gemit, incutitque demes,  
Sudat frigidus, intuem quod odit.  MIT. 
O peace, you break the Scene.  MACI. 
Soft, who be these?  
I'll lay me down a while till they be passed.  
GREX.  COR. 
signor, note this gallant, I pray you.  MIT. 
What is he?  COR. 
A tame Rook, you'll take him presently: List.   

Act I. Scene II.  SOGLIARDO, CARLO BUFFONE, MACILENTE. 
NAy look you CARLO: this is my Humour now! I have land and money, my friends left me well, and I will be a Gentleman whatsoever it cost me.  SOG. 
Tut, and I take an humour of a thing once, I am like your tailors needle, I go through: but, for my name, signor, how think you? will it not serve for a gentleman's name, when the signor is put to it? Ha?  CAR. 
Let me hear: how is't?  SOG. 
signor Insulso Sogliardo: me thinks it sounds well.  CAR. 
O excellent! tut, and all fitted to your name, you might very well stand for a gentleman: I know many Sogliardo's gentlemen.  SOG. 
Why, and for my wealth I might be a justice of Peace.  CAR. 
I, and a Constable for your wit.  SOG. 
All this is my Lordship you see here, and those Farms you came by.  CAR. 
Good steps to gentility too, marry: but SOGLIARDO, if you affect to be a gentleman indeed, you must observe all the rare qualities, humours, and compliments of a gentleman.  SOG. 
I know it, signor, and if you please to instruct, I am not too good to learn, He assure you.  CAR. 
Enough sir: I'll make admirable use i'the projection of my medicine upon this lump of copper here. I'll bethink me, for you sir.  SOG. 
signor, I will both pay you, and pray you, and thank you, and think on you.  
GREX.  CORD. 
Is not this purely good?  MACIL. 
'sblood, why should such a prick-card hine as this,  
Berich? Ha? a fool? such a transparent gull  
That may be scene through? wherefore should he have land,  
Houses, and lordships? O, I could eat my entrails,  
And sink my soul into the earth with sorrow.  CAR. 
First (to be an accomplished gentleman, that is, a gentleman of the time) you must give o'er housekeeping in the country, and live altogether in the city amongst gallants; where, at your first appearance, 'twere good you turned four or five hundred acres of your best land into two or three trunks of apparel (you may do it without going to a conjuror) and be sure, you mix yourself still, with such as flourish in the spring of the fashion, and are least popular; study their carriage, and behaviour in all: learn to play at Primero and Passage, and (ever when you lose) ha'two or three peculiar oaths to swear by, that no man else swears: but above all, protest in your play, and affirm, Upon your credit; As you are a true gentleman (at every cast) you may do it with a safe conscience, I warrant you.  SOG. 
O admirable rare! he cannot choose but be a gentleman, that has these excellent gifts: more, more, I beseech you.  CAR. 
You must endeavour to feed cleanly at your ordinary, sit melancholy, and pick your teeth when you cannot speak: and when you come to Plays, be humorous, look with a good startched face, and ruffle your brow like a new boot; laugh at nothing but your own jests, or else as the Noblemen laugh. That's a special grace you must observe.  SOG. 
I warrant you, sir.  CAR. 
I, and sit o'the stage, and stout: provided, you have a good suit.  SOG. 
O, I'll have a suit only for that, sir.  CAR. 
You must talk much of your kindred, and allies.  SOG. 
Lies! no signor, I shall not need to do so, I have kindred i'the city to talk of: I have a niece is a merchants wife; and a nephew, my brother SORDIDO'S son, of the Inns of Court.  CAR. 
O, but you must pretend alliance with Courtiers and great persons: and ever when you are to dine or sup in any strange presence, hire a fellow with a great chain (though it be copper it's no matter) to bring you letters, feigned from such a Nobleman, or such a Knight, or such a Lady, To their worshipful, right rare, and noble qualified friend or kinsman, signor Insulso Sogliardo; give yourself stile enough. And there (while you intent circumstances of news, or inquiry of their health, or so) one of your familiars (whom you must carry about you still) breaks it up (as 'twere in a jest) and reads it publicly at the table: at which, you must seem to take as unpardonable offence, as if he had torn your Mistress colours, or breathed upon her picture; and pursue it with that hot grace, as if you would advance a challenge upon it presently.  SOG. 
Stay, I do not like that humour of challenge, it may be accepted; but I'll tell you what's my humour now: I will do this. I will take occasion of sending one of my suits to the Tailors to have the pocket repaired, or so; and there such a letter, as you talk of (broke open and all) shall be left: O, the Tailor will presently give out what I am, upon the reading of it, worth twenty of your Gallants.  CAR. 
But than you must put on an extreme face of discontentment at your man's negligence.  SOG. 
O, so I will, and beat him too: I'll have a man for the purpose.  MACIL. 
You may; you have land and crowns: O partial fate!  CARL. 
Mass well remembered, you must keep your men gallant, at the first, fine pied liveries, laid with good gold lace, there's no loss in it, they may tiped off and pawn it, when they lack victuals.  SOG. 
By'r Lady, that is chargeable signor, 'twill bring a man in debt.  CAR. 
Debt? why, that's the more for your credit sir: it's an excellent policy to owe much in these days, if you note it.  SOG. 
As how good signor? I would feign be a Politician.  CAR. 
O! look where you are indebted any great sum, your creditor observes you with no less regard, then if he were bound to you for some huge benefit, and will quake to give you the least cause of offence, lest he lose his money. I assure you (in these times) no man has his servant more obsequious and pliant, than gentlemen their creditors: to whom (if at any time) you pay but a moiety, or a fourth part, it comes more acceptedly, then if you gave them a newyears gift.  SOG. 
I perceive you, sir: I will take up, and bring myself in credit sure.  CAR. 
Marry this, always beware you commerce not with bankrupts, or poor needy Ludgathians▪ they are impudent creatures, turbulent spirits, they care not what violent tragedies they stir, nor how they play fast and lose with a poor gentleman's fortunes, to get their own. Marry, these rich fellows (that ha' the world, or the better part of it, sleeping in their counting-houses) they are ten times more placable, they; either fear, hope, or modesty, restrains them from offering any outrages: but this is nothing to your followers, you shall not run a penny more in arrearage for them, and you list yourself.  SOG. 
No? how should I keep 'em then?  CAR. 
Keep 'em? 'sblood let them keep themselves, they are no sheep, are they? What? you shall come in houses, where plate, apparel, jewels, and divers other pretty commodities lie negligently scattered, and I would ha' those Mercuries follow me (I trow) should remember they had not their fingers for nothing.  SOG. 
That's not so good, me thinks.  CAR. 
Why, after you have kept 'em a fortnight, or so, and show'd 'em enough to the world, you may turn 'em away, and keep no more but a boy, it's enough.  SOG. 
Nay, my humour is not for boys, I'll keep men, and I keep any; and I'll give coats, that's my humour: but I lack a cullisance.  CAR. 
Why, now you ride to the city, you may buy one, I'll bring you where you shall ha' your choice for money.  SOG. 
Can you, sir?  CAR. 
O, I: you shall have one take measure of you, and make you a Coat of arms, to fit you of what fashion you will.  SOG. 
By word of mouth, I thank you, signor; I'll be once a little prodigal in a humour, i' faith, and have a most prodigious coat.  MACI. 
Torment and death! break head and brain at once,  
To be delivered of your fighting issue.  
Who can endure to see blind Fortune dote thus?  
To be enamoured on this dusty turf?  
This clod? a whoreson puckfist? O god, god, god, god, etc.  
I could run wild with grief now, to behold  
The rankness of her bounties, that doth breed  
Such bulrushes; these mushroom gentlemen,  
That shoot up in a night to place, and worship.  CAR. 
Let him alone, some stray, some stray.  SOG. 
Nay, I will examine him before I go, sure.  CAR. 
The Lord of the soil has all wests, and strays here? has he not?  SOG. 
Yes, sir.  CAR. 
Faith, than I pity the poor fellow, he's fallen into a fools hands.  SOG. 
Sirrah, who gave you commission to lie in my lordship?  MACI. 
Your lordship?  SOG. 
How? my lordship? do you know me, sir?  MACI. 
I do know you, sir.  CAR. 
S'heart, he answers him like an echo.  SOG. 
Why, who am I, Sir?  MACI. 
One of those that fortune favours.  CAR. 
The Perphrasis of a fool; I'll observe this better.  SOG. 
That fortune favours? how mean you that, friend?  MACI. 
I mean simply. THat you are one that lives not by your wits.  SOG. 
By my wits? No sir, I scorn to live by my wits, I. I have better means, I tell thee, then to take such base courses, as to live by my wits. 'sblood, dost thou think I live by my wits?  MACI. 
Me thinks, jester, you should not relilsh this well.  CAR. 
Ha? does he know me?  MACI. 
Though yours be the worst use a man can put his wit to, of thousands, to prostitute it at every tavern and ordinary; yet (me thinks) you should have turned your broad side at this, and have been ready with an Apology, able to sink this hulk of ignorance into the bottom, and depth of his contempt.  CAR. 
'sblood 'tis MACILENTE! signor, you are well encountered, how is't? O, we must not regard what he says man, a trout, a shallow fool, he has no more brain than a butterfly, a mere stuffed suit, he looks like a musty bottle, new wickered, his head's the cork, light, light. I am glad to see you so well returned, signor.  MACI. 
You are? Gramercy, good JANUS.  SOG. 
Is he one of your acquaintance? I love him the better for that.  CAR. 
God's precious, come away man, what do you mean? and you knew him as I do, you'd shun him, as you'd do the plague?  SOG. 
Why, sir?  CAR. 
O, he's a black fellow, take heed on him.  SOG. 
Is he a Scholar, or a Soldier?  CAR. 
Both, both; a lean apparel, he looks as if he were chap-fallen, with barking at other men's good fortunes: 'ware how you offend him, he carries oil and fire in his pen, will scald where it drops: his spirit's like powder, quick, violent: he'll blow a man up with a jest: I fear him worse than a rotten wall does the cannon, shake an hour after, at the report. Away, come not near him.  SOG. 
For God's sake let's be gone, and he be a Scholar, you know I cannot abide him, I had as leeve see a Cockatrice, specially as cockatrices go now.  CAR. 
What, you'll stay, signor? this gentleman SOGLIARDO, and I, are to visit the knight PUNTARVOLO, and from thence to the city, we shall meet there.  MACI. 
I, when I cannot shun you, we will meet.  
'Tis strange! of all the creatures I have seen,  
I envy not this BUFFOON, for indeed  
Neither his fortunes, nor his parts deserve it:  
But I do hate him, as I hate the devil,  
Or that brass-visaged monster Barbarism.  
O, 'tis an open-throated, black-mouthed cur,  
That bites at all, but eats on those that feed him.  
A slave, that to your face will (serpentlike)  
Creep on the ground, as he would eat the dust;  
And to your back will turn the tail, and sting  
More deadly than a scorpion: Stay, who's this?  
Now for my soul, another minion  
Of the old lady Chance's: I'll observe him.   

Act I. Scene III.  SOLDIDO, MACILENTE, HINE. 
O Rare! good, good, good, good, good! I thank my Stars, I thank my Stars for it.  MACI. 
Said I not true? doth not his passion speak  
Out of my divination? O my senses,  
Why lose you not your powers, and become  
Dulled, if not deadded with this spectacle?  
I know him, 'tis SORDIDO, the farmer,  
A Boor, and brother to that swine was here.  SORD. 
Excellent, excellent, excellent! as I would wish, as I would wish.  MACI. 
See how the strumpet Fortune tickles him,  
And makes him swoon with laughter, o, o, ô.  SORD. 
Ha, ha, ha, I will not sow my grounds this year. Let me see, what havest shall we have? june, july, August?  MACI. 
What is't, a Prognostication raps him so?  SORD. 
The xx, xxi, xxij, days, rain and wind, O good, good! the twenty-three, and xxiv, rain and some wind, good! the xxvi, rain, good still! xxvi, xxvij, xxviij, wind and some rain; would it had been rain and some wind: well 'tis good (when it can be no better) xxix, inclining to rain: inclining to rain? that's not so good now. thirty, and xxxi, wind and no rain: no rain? 'Slid stay; this is worse and worse: what says he of S. Swithins? turn back, look, S. Swithins: no rain?  MACI. 
O, here's a precious dirty damned rogue,  
That fat's himself with expectation  
Of rotten weather, and unseasoned hours;  
And he is rich for it, an elder brother!  
His barns are full! his reeks, and mows well trod!  
His garners crack with store! O, 'tis well; ha, ha, ha:  
A plague consume thee, and thy house.  SORD. 
O here, S. Swithins, the xv day, variable weather, for the most part rain, good; for the most part rain: Why, it should rain forty days after, now, more or less, it was a rule held, afore I was able to hold a plough, and yet here are two days, no rain; ha? it makes me muse. we'll see how the next month begins, if that be better. September, first, second, third, and fourth days, rainy, and blustering; this is well now: fift, sixth, seventh, eight, and ninth, rainy, with some thunder; I marry, this is excellent; the other was false printed sure: the tenth, and eleventh, great store of rain; O good, good, good, good, good! the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth days, rain; good still: fifteenth, and sixteenth, rain; good still: seventeenth, and eighteenth, rain, good still; nineteenth, and twentieth, good still, good still, good still, good still, good still! one and twentieth, some rain; some rain? well, we must be patient, and attend the heavens pleasure, would it were more though: the one and twentieth, two and twentieth, three and twentieth, great tempest of rain, thunder, and lightning. 
O good again, past expectation good!  
I thank my blessed angel; never, never,  
Laid I penny better out, than this,  
To purchase this dear book: not dear for price,  
And yet of me as dearly prized as life,  
Since in it, is contained the very life,  
Blood, strength, and sinews of my happiness.  
Blessed be the hour, wherein I bought this book,  
His studies happy, that composed the book,  
And the man fortunate, that sold the book.  
Sleep with this charm, and be as true to me,  
As I am joyed, and confident in thee.   MACI. The Hine enters with a paper. 
Ha, ha, ha? I' not this good? Is't not pleasing this?  
Ha, ha, ha! God pardon me! ha, ha!  
Is't possible that such a spacious villain  
Should live, and not be plagued? or lies he hid  
Within the wrinkled bosom of the world,  
Where heaven cannot see him? 'sblood (me thinks)  
'Tis rare, and strange, that he should breath, and walk,  
Feed with digestion, sleep, enjoy his health,  
And (like a boisterous whale, swallowing the poor)  
Still swim in wealth, and pleasure! is 't not strange?  
Unless his house, and skin were thunder-proof,  
I wonder at it! Me thinks, now, the hectic,  
Gout, leprosy, or some such loathed disease  
Might light upon him; or that fire (from heaven)  
Might fall upon his barns; or mice, and rats  
Eat up his grain; or else that it might rot  
Within the hoary reeks, e'en as it stands:  
Me thinks this might be well; and after all  
The devil might come and fetch him. I, 'tis true!  
Mean time he surfeits in prosperity,  
And thou (in envy of him) gnaw'st thyself,  
Peace, fool, get hence, and tell thy vexed spirit,  
" Wealth in this age will scarcely look on merit.  SORD. 
Who brought this same, sirrah?  HINE. 
Marry, sir, one of the justices men, he says 'tis a precept, and all their hands be at it:  SORD. 
I, and the prints of them stick in my flesh,  
Deeper than i'their letters: They have sent me  
Pills wrapped in paper here, that should I take 'em,  
Would poison all the sweetness of my book,  
And turn my honey into homlocke juice.  
But I am wiser than to serve their precepts,  
Or follow their prescriptions. Here's a device,  
To charge me bring my grain unto the markets:  
I, much, when I have neither barn nor garner,  
Nor earth to hide it in, I'll bring it; till then,  
Each corn I send shall be as big as Paul's.  
O, but (say some) the poor are like to starve.  
Why let 'em starve, what's that to me? are bees  
Bound to keep life in drones, and idle moths? no:  
Why such are these (that term themselves the poor,  
Only because they would be pitied,  
But are indeed a sort of lazy beggars)  
Licentious rogues, and sturdy vagabonds,  
Bred (by the sloth of a fat plenteous year)  
Like snakes, in heat of summer, out of dung,  
And this is all that these cheap times are good for:  
Whereas a wholesome, and penurious dearth  
Purges the soil of such vile excrements,  
And kills the vipers up.  HINE. 
O, but master,  
Take heed they hear you not.  SORD. 
Why so?  HINE. 
They will exclaim against you.  SORD. 
I, their exclaims  
Move me as much, as thy breath moves a mountain!  
Poor worms, they hiss at me, whilst I at home  
Can be contented to applaud myself,  
To fit and clap my hands, and laugh, and leap,  
Knocking my head against my roof, with joy  
To see how plump my bags are, and my barns.  
Sirrah, go, hie you home, and bid your fellows,  
Get all their flails ready, again ' I come.  HINE. 
I will, Sir.  SORD. 
I'll instantly set all my hines to thrashing  
Of a whole reek of corn, which I will hide  
Under the ground; and with the straw thereof  
I'll stuff the outsides of my other mows:  
That done, I'll have 'em empty all my garners,  
And i' the friendly earth bury my store,  
That, when the searchers come, they may suppose  
All's spent, and that my fortunes were belied.  
And, to lend more opinion to my want,  
And stop that many-mouthed vulgar dog,  
(Which else would still be baying at my door)  
Each market day, I will be seen to buy  
Part of the purest wheat, as for my household:  
Where when it comes, it shall increase my heaps,  
'twill yield me triple gain, at this dear time,  
promised in this dear book: I have cast all.  
Till than I will not sell an ear. I'll hang first.  
O, I shall make my prizes as I list,  
My house and I can feed on pease, and barley,  
What though a world of wretches starve the while?  
" He that will thrive, must think no courses vile.  
GREX.  COR. 
Now, signor, how approve you this? have the Humorists expressed themselves truly or no?  MIT. 
Yes (if it be well prosecuted) 'tis hitherto happy enough: but me thinks, MACILENTE went hence too soon, he might have been made to stay, and speak somewhat in reproof of SORDIDO'S wretchedness, now at the last.  COR. 
O, no, that had been extremely improper, besides, he had continued the Scene too long with him, as't was, being in no more action.  MIT. 
You may enforce the length, as a necessary reason; but for propriety, the Scene would very well have borne it, in my judgement.  COR. 
O, worst of both: why, you mistake his Humour utterly then.  MIT. 
How? do I mistake it? is't not envy?  COR. 
Yes, but you must understand, signor, he envies him not as he is a villain, a wolf i' the commonwealth, but as he is rich, and fortunate; for the true condition of envy, is, Dolour altenae foelicitatis, to have our eyes continually sixth upon another man's prosperity, that is, his chief happiness, and to grieve at that. Whereas, if we make his monstrous, and abhorred actions our object, the grief (we take then) comes nearer the nature of hate, than envy, as being bred out of a kind of contempt and loathing, in ourselves.  MIT. 
So you'll infer it had been hate, not envy in him, to reprehend the humour of SORDIDO?  CORD. 
Right, for what a man truly envies in another, he could always love, and cherish in himself: but no man truly reprehends in another, what he loves in himself; therefore reprehension is out of his hate. And this distinction hath he himself made in a speech there (if you marked it) where he says, I envy not this BUFFOON, but I hate him.  MIT. 
Stay, sir: I envy not this BUFFOON, but I hate him: why might he not as well have hated SORDIDO, as him?  COR. 
No, sir, there was subject for his envy in SORDIDO; his wealth: So was there not in the other. He stood possessed of no one eminent gift, but amostodious, and fiendlike disposition, that would turn charity itself into hate, much more envy, for the present.  MIT. 
You have satisfied me, sir; O, here comes the Fool and the jester, again, me thinks.  COR. 
'Twere pity they should be parted, sir.  MIT. 
What bright-shining gallant's that with them? the knight they went to?  COR. 
No, sir, this is one Monsieur FASTIDIUS brisk, otherwise called the fresh Frenchified courtier.  MIT. 
A humorist too?  COR. 
As humorous as quicksilver, do but observe him, the Scene is the country still, remember.    

Act II.  

Scene I.  FAST. brisk, CINEDO, CARLO BUFFONE, SOGLIARDO. 
CINEDO, watch when the knight comes, and give us word.  CINE. 
I will, sir.  FAST. 
How lik'st thou my boy, CARLO?  CAR. 
O, well, well. He looks like a colonel of the Pigmy's horse, or one of these motions, in a great antic clock: he would show well upon a haberdasher's stall, at a corner shop, rarely.  FAST. 
S'heart, what a damned witty rogne's this? how he confounds with his similes?  CARL. 
Better with similes, then smiles: and whither were you riding now, signor?  FAST. 
Who, I? what a silly jests that? whither should I ride, but to the court?  CARL. 
O, pardon me, sir, twenty places more: your hothouse, or your whorehouse—  FAST. 
By the virtue of my soul, this knight dwells in Elysium, here.  CARL. 
he's gone now, I thought he would fly out presently. These be our nimble-spirited Catso's, that ha' their evasions at pleasure, will run over a bog like your wild Irish: no sooner started, but they'll leap from one thing to another, like a squirrel, heigh: dance! and do tricks i' their discourse, from fire to water, from water to air, from air to earth, as if their tongues did but e'en lick the four elements over, and away.  FAST. 
Sirrah, CARLO, thou never saw'st my grey-hobbie yet, didst thou?  CARL. 
No: ha' you such a one?  FAST. 
The best in Europe (my good villain) thou'lt say, when thou seest him.  CARL. 
But when shall I see him?  FAST. 
There was a noble man i' the court offered me 100 pound for him, by this light: a fine little fiery slave, he runs like a (oh) excellent, excellent! with the very sound of the spur.  CARL. 
How? the sound of the spur?  FAST. 
O, it's your only humour now extant, sir: a good jingle, a good jingle.  CARL. 
'sblood, you shall see him turn morris-dancer, he has got him bells, a good suit, and a hobby-horse.  SOGL. 
signor, now you talk of a hobby-horse, I know where one is, will not be given for a brace of angels.  FAST. 
How is that, Sir?  SOGL. 
Marry, sir, I am telling this gentleman of a hobby-horse, it was my fathers indeed, and (though I say it—  CARL. 
That should not say it) on, on.  SOGL. 
He did dance in it, with as good humour, and as good regard, as any man of his degree what soever, being no gentleman: I have danced in it myself too.  CARL. 
Not since the humour of gentility was upon you? did you?  SOGL. 
Yes, once; marry, that was but to show what a gentleman might do, in a humour.  CARL. 
O, very good.  
GREX.  MIT. 
Why, this fellows discourse were nothing, but for the word Humour.  COR. 
O, bear with him, and he should lack matter, and words too, 'twere pitiful.  SOG. 
Nay, look you, sir, there's ne'er a gentleman i' the country has the like humours, for the hobby-horse, as I have; I have the method for the threading of the needle and all, the—  CAR. 
How, the method.  SOG. 
I, the legerity for that, and the wigh-hie, and the daggers in the nose, and the travels of the egg from singer to singer, all the humours incident to the quality. The horse hangs at home in my parlour. I'll keep it for a monument, as long as I live, sure.  CAR. 
Do so; and when you die, 'twill be an excellent trophy, to hang over your tomb.  SOG. 
Mass, and I'll have a tomb (now I think on't) 'tis but so much charges.  CAR. 
Best build it in your life time then, your heirs may hap to forget it else.  SOG. 
Nay, I mean so, I'll not trust to them.  CAR. 
No, for heirs, and executors, are grown damnably careless, specially, since the ghosts of testators left walking: how like you him, signor?  FAST. 
Fore heavens, his humour arrides me exceedingly.  CAR. 
Arrides you?  FAST. 
I, pleases me (a pox on't) I am so haunted at the count, and at my lodging, with your refined choice spirits, that it makes me clean of another garb, another sheaf, I know not how! I cannot frame me to your harsh vulgar phrase, 'tis against my genius.  SOG. 
signor CARLO.  
GREX.  COR. 
This is right to that of HORACE, Dum vitant stulti vitia, in contraria currunt: so this gallant, labouring to avoid popularity, falls into a habit of affection, ten thousand times hatefuller than the former.  CAR. 
Who, he? a gull, a fool, no salt in him i' the earth, man: he looks like a fresh salmon kept in a tub, he'll be spent shortly. His brain's lighter than his feather already, and his tongue more subject to lie, then that's to wag: he sleeps with a musk-cat every night, and walks all day hunged in pomander chains for penance: he has his skin tanned in civet, to make his complexion strong, and the sweetness of his youth lasting in the sense of his sweet lady. A good empty puff, he loves you well, signor.  SOGL. 
There shall be no love lost, sir, I'll assure you.  FAST. 
Nay, CARLO, I am not happy i' thy love, I see: pray thee suffer me to enjoy thy company a little (sweet mischief) by this air, I shall envy this gentleman's place in thy affections, if you be thus private, i'faith. How now? is the knight arrived?  CINEDO. CINE. 
No, sir, but 'tis guest he will arrive presently, by his forerunners.  FAST. 
His bounds! by MINERVA an excellent figure; a good boy.  CARL. 
You should give him a french crown for it: the boy would find two better figures i' that, and a good figure of your bounty beside.  FAST. 
Tut, the boy wants no crowns.  CARL. 
No crown: speak i' the singular number, and we'll believe you.  FAST. 
Nay, thou art so capriciously conceited now. Sirrah (damnation) I have heard this knight PUNTARVOLO, reported to be a gentleman of exceeding good humour; thou know'st him: prithee, how is his disposition? I ne'er was so favoured of my stars, as to see him yet. Boy, do you look to the hobby?  CINE. 
I, sir, the groom has set him up.  FAST. 
'Tis well: I rid out of my way of intent to visit him, and take knowledge of his— Nay, good wickedness, his humour, his humour.  CARL. 
Why, he loves dogs, and hawks, and his wife, well: he has a good riding face, and he can fit a great horse; he will taint a staff well at tilt: when he is mounted, he looks like the sign of the George, that's all I know; save, that in stead of a dragon, he will brandish against a tree, and break his sword as confidently upon the knotty bark, as the other did upon the scales of the beast.  FAST. 
O, but this is nothing to that's delivered of him. They say he has dialogues, and discourses between his horse, himself, and his dog: and that he will court his own lady; as she were a stranger never encountered before.  CARL. 
I, that he will, and make fresh love to her every morning: this gentleman has been a spectator of it, signor Insulso.  SOGL. 〈…〉 from whispering with the boy. 
I am resolute to keep a page: say you sir?  CARL. 
You have seen signor Puntarvolo accost his lady?  SOGL. 
O, I sir.  FAST. 
And how is the manner of it, prithee, good signor?  SOGL. 
Faith sir, in very good sort, he has his humours for it, sir: as first, (suppose he were now to come from riding, or hunting, or so) he has his trumpet to sound, and then the waiting gentlewoman, she looks out, and then he speaks, and then she speaks— very pretty i'faith, gentlemen.  FAST. 
Why, but do you remember no particulars, signor?  SOGL. 
O, yes sir: first, the gentlewoman, she looks out at the window.  CARL. 
After the trumpet has summoned a parley? not before?  SOGL. 
No, sir, not before: and then says he— ha, ha, ha, ha, etc.  CARL. 
What says he? be not rapt so.  SOGL. 
Says he— ha, ha, ha, ha, etc.  FAST. 
Nay, speak, speak.  SOGL. 
Ha, ha, ha, says he: God save you, says he: ha, ha, etc.  CARL. 
Was this the ridiculous motive to all this passion?  SOGL. 
Nay, that, that comes after, is— ha, ha, ha, ha, etc.  CARL. 
Doubtless, he apprehends more than he utters, this fellow: or else.  SOGL. 
List, list, they are come from hunting: stand by, close under this terrace, and you shall see it done, better than I can show it.  CARL. 
So it had need, 'twill scarce poise the observation else.  SOGL. 
Faith I remember all, but the manner of it is quite out of my head.  FAST. 
O, withdraw, withdraw, it cannot be but a most pleasing object.   

Act. II. Scene II.  PUNTARVOLO, HUNTSMAN, GENTLEWOMAN. To the rest. 
Forester, give wind to thy borne. Enough, by this, the sound hath touched the ears of the enclosed: Depart, leave the dog, and take with thee what thou hast deserved, the horn, and thanks.  CARL. 
I, marry, there's some taste in this.  FAST. 
Is't not good?  SOGL. 
Ah, peace, now above, now above!  PUNT. The gentlewoman appears at the window. 
Stay: mine eye hath (on the instant) through the bounty of the window, received the form of a Nymph. I will step forward three pases: of the which, I will barely retire one; and (after some little flexure of the knee) with an erected grace salute her (one, two, and three.) Sweet lady, God save you.  GENT. 
No, forsooth: I am but the waiting gentlewoman.  CARL. 
He knew that before.  PUNT. 
Pardon me: Humanum est errare.  CARL. 
He learned that of his chaplain.  PUNT. 
To the perfection of complement (which is the Dial of the thought, and guided by the Sun of your beauties) are required these three specials: the gnomon, the punctilioes, and the superficies: the superficies, is that we call, place; the punctilioes, circumstance; and the gnomon, ceremony: in either of which, for a stranger to err, 'tis easy and facile, and such am I  CARL. 
True, not knowing her horizon, he must needs err: which I fear, he knows too well.  PUNT. 
What call you the lord of the castle? sweet face.  GENT. 
The lord of the castle is a knight, sir; signor PUNTARVOLO.  PUNT: 
PUNTARVOLO? O.  CARL. 
Now must he ruminate.  FAST. 
Does the wench know him all this while, then?  CARL. 
O, doc you know me, man? why, therein lies the syrup of the jest, it's a project, a designment of his own, a thing studied, and rehearsed as ordinarily at his coming from hawking, or hunting, as a jig after a play.  SOGL. 
I, e'en like your jig, sir.  PUNT. 
'Tis a most sumptuous and stately edifice! of what years is the knight, fair damsel?  GENT. 
Faith, much about your years, sir.  PUNT. 
What complexion, or what stature bears he?  GENT. 
Of your stature, and very near upon your complexion.  PUNT. 
Mine is melancholy:  CARL. 
So is the dogs, just.  PUNT. 
And doth argue constancy, chiefly in love. What are his endowments? Is he courteous?  GENT. 
O, the most courteous knight in Christian land, sir.  PUNT. 
Is he magnanimous?  GENT. 
As the skin between your brows, sir.  PUNT. 
Is he bountiful?  CARL. 
'Slud, he takes an inventory of his own good parts.  GENT. 
Bountiful? I, sir, I would you should know it; the poor are seened at his gate, early, and late, sir.  PUNT. 
Is he learned?  GENT. 
O, I sir, he can speak the French, and Italian.  PUNT. 
Then he is travailed?  GENT. 
I, forsooth, he hath been beyond-sea, once, or twice.  CARL. 
As far as Paris, to fetch over a fashion, and come back again.  PUNT. 
Is he religious?  GENT. 
Religious? I know not what you call religious, but he goes to church, I am sure.  FAST. 
'Slid, methinks, these answers should offend him.  CARL. 
T'ut, no; he knows they are excellent, and to her capacity, that speaks 'em.  PUNT. 
Would I might see his face.  CARL. 
She should let down a glass from the window at that word, and request him to look in't.  PUNT. 
Doubtless, the gentleman is most exact, and absolutely qualified? doth the castle contain him?  GENT. 
No, sir, he is from home, but his lady is within.  PUNT. 
His lady? what, is she fair? splendidious? and amiable?  GENT. 
O, Lord, sir!  PUNT. 
Prithee, dear Nymph, entreat her beauties to shine on this side of the building.  CARL. Gent. leaves the window. 
That he may erect a new dial of complement, with his gnomon, and his punctilioes.  FAST. 
Nay, thou art such another Cynic now, a man had need walk uprightly before thee.  CARL. 
Heart, can any man walk more upright than he does? Look, look; as if he went in a frame, or had a suit of wainscot on: and the dog watching him, let he should leap out on't.  FAST. 
O, villain!  CARL. 
Well, and e'er I meet him in the city, I'll ha''him jointed, I'll pawn him in east cheap, among the butchers else.  FAST. 
Peace, who be these, CARLO?   

Act II. Scene III.  SORDIDO, FUNGOSO, LADY. To the rest. 
YOnder's your godfather; do your duty to him, son.  SOG. 
This, sir? a poor elder brother of mine, sir, a yeoman, may dispend some seven or eight hundred a year: that's his son, my nephew, there.  PUNT. 
You are not ill-come, neighbour SORDIDO, though I have not yet said, welcome: what, my godson is grown a great proficient by this?  SORD. 
I hope he will grow great one day, sir.  FAST. 
What does he study? the law?  SOGL. 
I sir, he is a gentleman, though his father be but a yeoman.  CARL. 
What call you your nephew, signor?  SOGL. 
Marry, his name is FUNGOSO.  CARL. 
FUNGOSO? O, he looked somewhat like a sponge in that pinked yellow doublet, me thought: well, make much of him; I see he was never borne to ride upon a moil.  GENT. Returned above. 
My lady will come presently, sir.  SOGL. 
O, now, now.  PUNT. Sordido & Fungoso withdraw to the other part of the stage, while the lady is come to the window. 
Stand by, retire yourselves a space: nay, pray you, forget not the use of your hat; the air is piercing.  FAST. 
What? will not their presence prevail against the current of his humour?  CARL. 
O, no: it's a mere flood, a torrent, carries all afore it.  PUNT. 
What more than heavenly pulchritude is this?  
What magazine, or treasury of bliss?  
Dazzle, you organs to my optic sense,  
To view a creature of such eminence:  
O, I am planet-struck, and in yond sphere,  
A brighter sharre than VENUS doth appear!  FAST. 
How? in verse!  CARL. 
An ecstasy, an ecstasy, man.  LADY. 
Is your desire to speak with me, sir knight?  CARL. 
He will tell you that anon; neither his brain, nor his body, are yet moulded for an answer.  PUNT. 
Most debonair, and luculent lady, I decline me low, as the basis of your altitude.  
GREX.  CORD. 
He makes congees to his wife in geometrical proportions.  MIT. 
Is't possible there should be any such Humorist?  CORD. 
Very easily possible, Sir, you see there is.  PUNT. 
I have scarce collected my spirits, but lately scattered in the admiration of your form; to which (if the bounties of your mind be any way responsible) I doubt not, but my desires shall find a smooth, and secure passage. I am a poor knight errant (lady) that hunting in the adjacent forest, was by adventure in the pursuit of a heart, brought to this place; which heart (dear Madame) escaped by enchantment: the evening approaching (my self, and servant wearied) my suit is, to enter your fair castle, and refresh me.  LADY. 
Sir knight, albeit it be not usual with me (chiefly in the absence of a husband) to admit any entrance to strangers, yet in the true regard of those innated virtues, and fair parts, which so strive to express themselves, in you; I am resolved to entertain you to the best of my unworthy power which I acknowledge to be nothing, valued with what so worthy a person may deserve. Please you but stay, while I descend.  PUNT. 〈…〉 falls in with Sordido, and his son. 
Most admired lady, you astonish me!  CARL. 
What? with speaking a speech of your own penning?  FAST. 
Nay, look; pry thee peace.  CARL. 
Pox on't▪ I am impatient of such foppery.  FAST. 
O, let's hear the rest.  CARL. 
What? a tedious chapter of courtship, after sir LANCELOT, and queen GVEVENER? away. I mar'le in what dull cold nook he found this lady out? that (being a woman) she was blessed with no more copy of wit, but to serve his humour thus. 'Slud, I think he feeds her with porridge, I: she could ne'er have such a thick brain else.  SOGL. 
Why, is porridge so hurtful, signor?  CARL. 
O, nothing under heaven more prejudicial to those ascending subtle powers, or doth sooner abate that which we call, acumen ingenij, than your gross fare: why, I'll make you an instance: your city wives, but observe 'em, you ha'not more perfect true fools i' the world bred, than they are generally; and yet you see (by the fineness and delicacy of their diet, living into the far capons, drinking your rich wines, feeding on larks, sparrows, potato-pies, and such good unctuous meats) how their wits are refined, and rarefied! and sometimes a very quintessence of conceit flows from 'em, able to drown a weak apprehension.  FAST. 
Peace, here comes the lady.  LADY. Lady with her gent. seeing them, turns in again. 
God's me, here's company: turn in again.  FAST. 
'Slight, our presence has cut off the convoy of the jest.  CARL. 
All the better; I am glad on't: for the issue was very perspicuous Come, let's discover, and salute the knight.  PUNT. Carlo, and the other two, step forth. 
Stay: who be these that address themselves towards us? what, CARLO? now, by the sincerity of my soul, welcome; welcome gentlemen: and how dost thou, thou grand scourge; or, second untruss of the rhyme?  CARL. 
Faith, spending my metal, in this reeling world (here and there) as the sway of my affection carries me, and perhaps stumble upon a yeoman pewterer, as I do now; or one of Fortune's moils, laden with treasure, and an empty cloak-bag following him, gaping when a bag will untie.  PUNT. 
Peace, you, bandog, peace: what brisk Nimfadoro is that in the white virgin boot there?  CARL. 
Marry, sir, one, that I must entreat you take a very particular knowledge of, and with more than ordinary respect: Monsieur FASTIDIUS.  PUNT. 
Sir, I could wish that for the time of your vouchsafed abiding here, and more real entertainment, this my house stood on the Muse's hill; and these my orchards were those of the Hesperideses.  FAST. 
I possess as much in your wish, sir, as if I were made lord of the Indies; and I pray you, believe it.  CARL. 
I have a better opinion of his faith, then to think it will be so corrupted.  SOGL. 
Come, brother, I'll bring you acquainted with gentlemen, and good fellows, such as shall do you more grace, then—  SORD. Carlo is coming toward them. 
Brother, I hunger not for such acquaintance:  
Do you take heed, lest—  SOGL. 
hushed: my brother, sir, for want of education, sir, somewhat nodding to the boor, the clown: but I request you in private, sir.  FUNG. 
By heaven, it's a very fine suit of clothes!  
GREX.  COR. 
Do you observe that, signor? there's another humour has new cracked the shell.  MIT. 
What? he is enamoured of the fashion, is he?  COR. 
O, you forestall the jest.  FUN. 
I mar'le what it might stand him in!  SOG. 
Nephew?  FUN. 
'Fore me, it's an excellent suit, and as neatly becomes him. What said you, uncle?  SOG. 
When saw you my niece?  FUN. 
Marry, yesternight I supped there. That kind of boot does very rare too!  SOG. 
And what news hear you?  FUN. 
The guilt spur and all! would I were hanged, but 'tis exceeding good. Say you, uncle?  SOG. 
Your mind is carried away with somewhat else: I ask what news you hear?  FUN. 
Troth, we hear none. In good faith, I was never so pleased with a fashion, days of my life! O (and I might have but my wish) I'd ask no more of god now, but such a suit, such a hat, such a band, such a doublet, such a hose, such a boot, and such a—  SOG. 
They say, there's a new Motion of the city of Niniveh, with Jonas, and the whale, to be seen at Fleet-bridge? you can tell, cousin?  FUN. 
Here's such a world of question with him, now: Yes, I think there be such a thing, I saw the picture: would he would once be satisfied. Let me see, the doublet, say fifty shillings the doublet, and between three or four pound the hose; then boots, hat, and band: some ten or eleven pound would do it all, and suit me for the heavens.  SOG. 
I'll see all those devices, and I come to London once.  FUN. 
God's 'slid, and I could compass it, 'twere rare: hark you, uncle.  SOG. 
What says my nephew?  FUN. 
Faith uncle, I'd ha' desired you to have made a motion for me to my father in a thing, that— walk aside and I'll tell you, sir, no more but this: there's a parcel of law— books, (some twenty pounds worth) that lie in a place for little more than half the money they cost; and I think for some twelve pound, or twenty mark, I could go near to redeem 'em; there's PLOWDEN, DIAR, BROOKE, and FITZ-HERBERT, divers such, as I must have ere long: and you know, I were as good save five or six pound as not, uncle. I pray you, move it form.  SOG. 
That I will: when would you have me do it? presently?  FUN, 
O, I, I pray you, good uncle: God send me good luck; Lord (and●t be thy will) prosper it: O, my stars, now, now, if it take now, I am made forever.  FAST. 
Shall I tell you, sir? by this air, I am the most beholding to that lord, of any gentleman living; he does use me the most honourably, and with the greatest respect, more indeed, then can be uttered with any opinion of truth.  PUNT. 
Then, have you the count GRATIATO?  FAST. 
As true nobles gentleman too, as any breaths; I am exceedingly endeared to his love: by this hand (I protest to you, signor, I speak it not gloriously, nor out of affectation, but) there's he, and the count FRUGAL, signor ILLUSTRE, signor LUCULENTO, and a sort of 'em; that (when I am at court) they do share me amongst 'em. Happy is he can enjoy me most private. I do wish myself sometime an ubiquitary for their love, in good faith.  CARL. 
There's ne'er a one of these, but might lie a week on the rack, ere they could bring forth his name; and yet he powers them out as familiarly, as if he had scene 'em stand by the fire i' the presence, or ta'en tobacco with them, over the stage, i' the lords room.  PUNT. 
Then you must of necessity know our court-star there? that planet of wit, MADONNA SAVIOLINA?  FAST. 
O, lord sir! my mistress.  PUNT. 
Is she your mistress?  FAST. 
Faith, here be some slight favours of hers, sir, that do speak it, she is: as this scarf, sir, or this rib and in mine ear, or so; this feather grew in her sweet sanne sometimes, though now it be my poor fortunes to wear it, as you see, sir: flight, flight, a foolish toy.  PUNT. 
Well, she is the lady of a most exalted, and ingenious spirit.  FAST. 
Did you ever hear any woman speak like her? or enriched with a more plentiful discourse?  CARL. 
O, villainous! nothing but sound, sound, a mere echo; she speaks as she goes tired, in cobweb lawn, light, thin: good enough to catch flies withal.  PUNT. 
O, manage your affections.  FAST. 
Well, if thou be'st not plagued for this blasphemy, one day—  PUNT. 
Come, regard not a jester: it is in the power of my purse, to make him speak well, or ill, of me.  FAST. 
Sir, I affirm it to you (upon my credit, and judgement) she has the most harmonious, and musical strain of wit, that ever tempted a true ear; and yet to see, a rude tongue would profine heaven, if it could.  PUNT. 
I am not ignorant of it, sir.  FAST. 
Oh, it flows from her like nectar, and she doth give it, that sweet, quick grace, and exornation in the composure, that (by this good air, as I am an honest man, would I might never stir, sir, but) she does observe as pure a phrase, and use as choice figures in her ordinary conferences, as any be i' the Arcadia.  CARL. 
Or rather in Green's works, whence she may steal with more security.  SORD. 
Well, if ten pound will fetch 'em, you shall have it, but I'll part with no more.  FUNG. 
I'll try what that will do, if you please.  SORD. 
Do so: and when you have 'em, study hard.  FUNG. 
Yes, sir. And I could study to get forty shillings more now! well, I will put myself into the fashion, as far as this will go presently.  SORD. 
I wonder it rains not! the Almanac says we should have store of rain, today.  PUNT. 
Why, sir, to morrow I will associate you to court myself; and from thence to the city, about a business, a project I have, I will expose it to you, sir: CARLO, I am sure, has heard of it.  CARL. 
What's that, sir?  PUNT. 
I do intend, this year of jubilee, coming on, to travail: and (because I will not altogether go upon expense) I am determined to put forth some five thousand pound, to be paid me, five for one, upon the return of myself, my wife, and my dog, from the Turks court in Constantinople. If all, or either of us miscarry in the journey, 'tis gone: if we be successful, why, there will be five and twenty thousand pound, to entertain time withal. Nay, go not neighbour SORDIDO, stay to night, and help to make our society the fuller. Gentlemen, frolic: CARLO? what? dull now?  CARL. 
I was thinking on your project, sir, and you call it so: is this the dog goes with you?  PUNT. 
This is the dog, sir.  CARL. 
He do not go barefoot, does he?  PUNT. 
Away, you traitor, away.  CARL. 
Nay, afore god, I speak simply; he may prick his foot with a thorn, and be as much as the whole venture is worth. Besides, for a dog that never travailed before, it's a large journey to Constantinople: I'll tell you now (and he were mine) I'd have some present conference with a physician, what antidotes were good to give him, preservatives against poison: for (assure you) if once your money be out, there'll be divers attempts made against the life of the poor animal.  PUNT. 
Thou art still dangerous.  FAST. 
Is signor DELIRO wife your kinswoman?  SOGL. 
I, sir, she is my niece, my brother's daughter here, and my nephews sister.  SORD. 
Do you know her, sir?  FAST. 
O, God sir, signor DELIRO, her husband, is my merchant.  FUNG. 
I, I have seen this gentleman there, often.  FAST. 
I cry you mercy, sir: let me crave your name, pray you.  FUNG. 
FUNGOSO, sir.  FAST. 
Good signor FUNGOSO, I shall request to know you better, sir.  FUNG. 
I am her brother, sir.  FAST. 
In fair time, sir.  PUNT. 
Come, gentlemen, I will be your conduct.  FAST. 
Nay, pray you, sir; we shall meet at signor DELIRO often.  SOGL. 
You shall ha' me at the Herald's office, sir, for some week or so, at my first coming up. Come, CARLO.  
GREX.  MIT. 
Methinks, CORDATUS, he dwelled somewhat too long on this Scene; it hung i' the hand.  COR. 
I see not where he could have insisted less, and t' have made the humours perspicuous enough.  MIT. 
True, as his subject lies: but he might have altered the shape of his argument, and explicated 'em better in single Scenes.  COR. 
That had been single indeed: why? be they not the same persons in this, as they would have been in those? and is it not an object of more state, to behold the Scene full, and relieved with variety of speakers to the end, then to see a vast empty stage, and the actors come in (one by one) as if they were dropped down with a feather, into the eye of the spectators?  MIT. 
Nay, you are better traded with these things than I, and therefore I'll subscribe to your judgement; marry, you shall give me leave to make objections.  COR. 
O, what else? it's the special intent of the author, you should do so: for thereby others (that are present) may as well be satisfied, who happily would object the same you do.  MIT. 
So, sir: but when appears MACILENTE again?  COR. 
Marry, he stays but till our silence give him leave: here he comes, and with him signor DELIRO, a merchant, at whose house he is come to sojourn: Make your own observation now, only transfer your thoughts to the city, with the Scene; where, suppose they speak.   

Act II. Scene IIII.  DELIRO, MACILENTE, FIDO, FALLACE. 
I'll tell you by and by, sir.  
Welcome (good MACILENTE) to my house,  
To sojourn even for ever: if my best  
In cares, and every sort of good entreaty  Deliro cometh. His boy strews flowers. 
May move you stay with me.  MACI. 
I thank you, sir:  
And yet the muffled fates (had it pleased them)  
Might have supplied me, from their own full store,  
Without this word (I thank you) to a fool.  
I see no reason, why that dog (called Chance)  
Should fawn upon this fellow, more than me:  
I am a man, and I have limbs, flesh, blood,  
Bones, sinews, and a soul, as well as he:  
My parts are every way as good as his,  
If I said better? why, I did not lie.  
Natheless, his wealth (but nodding on my wants)  
Must make me bow, and cry: (I thank you, sir.)  DELI. 
Dispatch, take heed your mistress see you not.  FIDO. 
I warrant you, sir. I'll steal by her softly.  DELI. 
Nay, gentle friend, be merry, raise your looks  
Out of your bosom, I protest (by heaven)  
You are the man most welcome in the world.  MACI. 
(I thank you, sir,) I know my cue, I think.  FIDO. With more perfumes and herbs. 
Where will you have 'em burn, sir?  DELI. 
Here, good FIDO▪  
What? she did not see thee?  FIDO. 
No, sir.  DELI. 
That's well:  
Strew, strew, good FIDO, the freshest flowers, so.  MACI. 
What means this, signor DELIRO? all this censing?  DELI. 
Cast in more frankincense, yet more, well said.  
O, MACILENTE, I have such a wife!  
So passing fair, so passing far unkind,  
But of such worth, and right to be unkind,  
(Since no man can be worthy of her kindness.)  MACI. 
What can there not?  DELI. 
No, that is sure as death,  
No man alive! I do not say, is not,  
But cannot possibly be worth her kindness!  
Nay, it is certain, let me do her right.  
How, said I? do her right? as though I could,  
As though this dull gross tongue of mine could utter  
The rare, the true, the pure, the infinite rights,  
That sit (as high as I can look) within her!  MACI. 
This is such dotage, as was never heard.  DELI. 
Well, this must needs be granted.  MACI. 
Granted, quoth you?  DELI. 
Nay, MACILENTE; do not so discredit  
The goodness of your judgement to deny it,  
For I do speak the very lest of her.  
And I would crave, and beg no more of heaven,  
For all my fortunes here, but to be able  
To utter first in fit terms, what she is,  
And then the true joys I conceive in her.  MACI. 
Is't possible, she should deserve so well,  
As you pretend?  DELI. 
I, and she knows so well  
Her own deserts, that (when I strive t'enjoy them)  
She weighs the things I do, with what she merits:  
And (seeing my worth outweighed so in her graces)  
She is so solemn, so precise, so froward,  
That no observance I can do to her,  
Can make her kind to me: if she find fault,  
I mend that fault; and then she says, I faulted,  
That I did mend it. Now, good friend, advise me,  
How I may temper this strange spleen in her.  MACI. 
You are too amorous, too obsequious,  
And make her too assured, she may command you.  
When women doubt most of their husband's loves,  
They are most loving. Husband's must take heed  
They give no gluts of kindness to their wives,  
But use them like their horses; whom they feed  
Not with a manger— full of meat together,  
But half a peck at once: and keep them so  
Still with an appetite to that they give them.  
He that desires to have a loving wife,  
Must bridle all the show of that desire:  
Be kind, not amorous; nor bewraying kindness,  
As if love wrought, but considerate duty.  
" Offer no love-rites, but let wives still seek them,  
" For when they come unsought, they seldom like them.  DELI. 
Believe me, MACILENTE, this is gospel.  
O, that a man were his own man so much,  
To rule himself thus. I will strive i'faith,  
To be more strange and careless: yet, I hope  
I have now taken such a perfect course,  
To make her kind to me, and live contented,  
That I shall find my kindness well returned,  
And have no need to fight with my affections.  
She (late) hath found much fault with every room  
Within my house; one was too big (she said)  
Another was not furnished to her mind,  
And so through all: all which, now, I have altered.  
Then here, she hath a place (on my backside)  
Wherein she loves to walk; and that (she said)  
Had some ill smells about it. Now, this walk  
Have I (before she knows it) thus perfumed  
With herbs, and flowers, and laid in divers places,  
(AS 'twere on altars, consecrate to her)  
Perfumed gloves, and delicate chains of amber,  
To keep the air in awe of her sweet nostrils:  
This have I done, and this I think will please her.  
Behold, she comes.  FALL. 
Here's a sweet stink indeed:  
What, shall I ever be thus crossed, and plagued?  
And sick of husband? O, my head doth ache,  
As it would cleave asunder with these favours,  
All my room's altered, and but one poor walk  
That I delighted in, and that is made  
So fulsome with perfumes, that I am feared  
(My brain doth sweat so) I have caught the plague.  DELI. 
Why (gentle wife) is now thy walk too sweet?  
Thou saidst of late, it had sour airs about it,  
And found'st much fault, that I did not correct it.  FALL. 
Why, and I did find fault, sir?  DELI. 
Nay, dear wife;  
I know, thou hast stayed, thou hast loved perfumes,  
No woman better.  FALL. 
I, long since perhaps,  
But now that sense is altered: you would have me  
(Like to a puddle, or a standing pool)  
To have no motion, nor no spirit within me.  
No, I am like a pure, and sprightly river,  
That moves for ever, and yet still the same;  
Or fire, that burns much wood, yet still one flame.  DELI. 
But yesterday, I saw thee at our garden,  
Smelling on roses, and on purple flowers,  
And since, I hope, the humour of thy sense  
Is nothing changed.  FALL. 
Why, those were growing flowers,  
And these, within my walk, are cut and strewed.  DELI. 
But yet they have one sent.  FALL. 
I! have they so?  
In your gross judgement. If you make no difference  
Betwixt the scent of growing flowers, and cut ones,  
You have a sense to taste lamp-oil, i'faith.  
And with such judgement have you changed the chambers,  
Leaving no room, that I can joy to be in,  
In all your house: and now my walk, and all,  
You smoke me from, as if I were a fox,  
And long, belike, to drive me quite away.  
Well, walk you there, and I'll walk where I list.  DELI. 
What shall I do? O, I shall never please her,  MACI. 
Out on thee, dotard! what star ruled his birth?  
That brought him such a star? blind Fortune still  
Bestows her gifts on such as cannot use them:  
How long shall I live, ere I be so happy,  
To have a wife of this exceeding form?  DELI. 
Away, with 'em, would I had broke a joint,  Fido bears all away. 
When I devised this, that should so dislike her.  
Away, bear all away.  FALL. 
I, do: for fear  
Ought that is there should like her. O, this man,  
How cunningly he can conceal himself!  
As though he loved? nay, honoured, and adored?  DELI. 
Why, my sweet heart?  FALL. 
Sweetheart! O! better still!  
And asking, why? wherefore? and looking strangely,  
As if he were as white as innocence.  
Alas, you're simple, you: you cannot change,  
Look pale at pleasure, and then red with wonder:  
No, no, not you! 'tis pity o'your naturals.  
I did but cast an amorous eye, e'en now,  
Upon a pair of gloves, that somewhat liked me,  
And straight he noted it, and gave command,  
All should be ta'en away.  DELI. 
Be they nay bane then.  
What, sirrah, FIDO, bring in those gloves again,  
You took from hence.  FALL. 
'Sbody, sir, but do not,  
Bring in no gloves, to spite me: if you do—  DELI. 
Ay, me, most wretched; how am I misconstrued?  MACI. 
O, how she tempts my heartstrings, with her eye,  
To knit them to her beauties, or to break?  
What moved the heavens, that they could not make  
Me such a woman? but a man, a beast,  
That hath no bliss like to others. Would to heaven  
(In wreak of my misfortunes) I were turned  
To some fair water- Nymph, that (set upon  
The deepest whirlpit of the ravenous seas,)  
My adamantine eyes might headlong hale  
This iron world to me, and drown it all.  
GREX.  COR. 
Behold, behold, the translated gallant.  MIT. 
O, he is welcome.   

Act II. Scene V.  FUNGOSO. To the rest. 
Save you brother, and sister, save you, sir; I have commendations for you out in the country: (I wonder they take no knowledge of my suit:) mine uncle SOCLIARDO is in town. Sister, me thinks, you are melancholy: why are you so sad? I think you took me for master FASTIDIUS BRISTLE (sister) did you not.  FALL. 
Why should I take you for him?  FUNG. 
Nay, nothing— I was lately in master FASTIDIUS his company, and, me thinks, we are very like.  DELI. 
You have a fair suit, brother, 'give you joy on't.  FUNG. 
Faith, good enough to ride in, brother, I made it to ride in.  FALL. 
O, now I see the cause of his idle demand, was his new suit.  DELI. 
Pray you good brother, try, if you can change her mood.  FUNG. 
I warrant you, let me alone. I'll put her out of her dumps. Sister, how like you my suit?  FALL. 
O, you are a gallant in print now, brother.  FUNG. 
Faith, how like you the fashion? it's the last edition, I assure you.  FALL. 
I cannot but like it, to the desert.  FUNG. 
Troth, sister, I was feign to borrow these spurs, I ha' left my gown in gage for'em, pray you lend me an angel.  FALL. 
Now, beshrew my heart, then.  FUNG. 
Good truth, I'll pay you again at my next exhibition: I had but bare ten pound of my father, and it would not reach to put me wholly into the fashion.  FALL. 
I care not.  FUNG. 
I had spurs of mine own before, but they were not ginglers. Monsieur FASTIDIUS will be here anon, sister.  FALL. 
You jest?  FUNG. 
Never lend me penny more (while you line then) and that I'd be loath to say, in truth.  FALL. 
When did you see him?  FUNG. 
Yesterday, I came acquainted with him at sir PVNTARVOLO'S: nay, sweet sister.  MACI. 
I feign would know of heaven now, why yond fool  
Should wear a suit of satin? he? that rook?  
That painted jay, with such a deal of outside?  
What is his inside trow? ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.  
Good heaven, give me patience, patience, patience.  
A number of these popen jays there are,  
Whom, if a man confer, and but examine  
Their inward merit, with such men as want;  
Lord, lord, what things they are!  FALL. 
Come, when will you pay me again, now?  FUNG. 
O god, sister!  MACI. 
Here comes another.   

Act II. Scene VI  FASTIDIUS brisk. To the rest. 
Save you, signor DELIRO: how dost thou, sweet lady? Let me kiss thee.  FUNG. 
How? a new suit? Aim.  DELI. 
And how does master FASTIDIUS brisk?  FAST. 
Faith, live in court, signor DELIRO; in grace, I thank god, both of the noble masculine, and feminine. I must speak with you in private, by and by.  DELI. 
When you please, sir.  FALL. 
Why look you so pale, brother?  FUNG. 
'Slid, all this money is cast away, now.  MACI. 
I, there's a newer edition come forth.  FUNG. 
'tis but my hard fortune! well, I'll have my suit changed, I'll go fetch my tailor presently, but first I'll devise a letter to my father. Ha' you any pen, and ink, sister?  FALL. 
What would you do withal?  FUNG. 
I would use it. 'Slight, and it had come but four days sooner, the fashion.  FAST. 
There was a countess gave me her hand to kiss to day, i' the presence: did me more good by that light, then— and yesternight sent her coach twice to my lodging, to entreat me accompany her, and my sweet mistress, with some two, or three nameless ladies more: O, I have been graced by 'em beyond all aim of affection: this 's her garter my dagger hangs in: and they do so commend, and approve my apparel, with my judicious wearing of it, it 's above wonder.  FALL. 
Indeed sir, 'tis a most excellent suit, and you do wear it as extraordinary.  FAST. 
Why, I'll tell you now (in good faith) and by this chair, which (by the grace of god) I intent presently to sit in, I had three suits in one year, made three great ladies in love with me: I had other three, un-did three gentlemen in imitation: and other three, got three other gentlemen widows of three thousand pound a year.  DELI. 
Is't possible?  FAST. 
O, believe it, sir; your good face is the witch, and your apparel the spells, that bring all the pleasures of the world into their circle.  FALL. 
Ah, the sweet grace of a courtier!  MACI. 
Well, would my father had left me but a good face for my portion yet; though I had shared the unfortunate wit that goes with it, I had not cared: I might have passed for somewhat i' the world then.  FAST. 
Why, assure you, signor, rich apparel has strange virtues: it makes him that hath it without means, esteemed for an excellent wit: he that enjoys it with means, puts the world in remembrance of his means: it helps the deformities of nature, and gives lustre to her beauties; makes continual holiday where it shines; sets the wits of ladies at work, that otherwise would be idle: furnisheth your two-shilling ordinary; takes possession of your stage at your new play; and enricheth your oars, as scorning to go with your skull.  MACI. 
Pray you, sir, add this; it gives respect to your fools, makes many thieves, as many strumpets, and no fewer bankrupts.  FALL. 
Out, out, unworthy to speak, where he breatheth.  FAST. 
What's he, signor?  DELI. 
A friend of mine, sir.  FAST. 
By heaven, I wonder at you, citizens, what kind of creatures you are!  DELI. 
Why, sir?  FAST. 
That you can consort yourselves, with such poor seam-rent fellows.  FALL. 
He says true.  DELI. 
Sir, I will assure you (how ever you esteem of him) he's a man worthy of regard.  FAST. 
Why? what has he in him, of such virtue to be regarded? ha?  DELI. 
Marry, he is a scholar, sir.  FAST. 
Nothing else?  DELI. 
And he is well travailed.  FAST. 
He should get him clothes; I would cherish those good parts of travail in him, and prefer him to some nobleman of good place.  DELI. 
Sir, such a benefit should bind me to you for ever (in my friends right) and, I doubt not, but his desert shall more than answer my praise.  FAST. 
Why, and he had good clothes, I'd carry him to court with me to morrow.  DELI. 
He shall not want for those, sir, if gold and the whole city will furnish him.  FAST. 
You say well, sir: faith, signor DELIRO, I am come to have you play the Alchemist with me, and change the species of my land, into that metal you talk of.  DELI. 
With all my heart, sir, what sum will serve you?  FAST. 
Faith, some three, or four hundred.  DELI. 
Troth, sir, I have promised to meet a gentleman this morning, in Paul's, but upon my return I'll dispatch you.  FAST. 
I'll accompany you thither.  DELI. 
As you please, sir; but I go not thither directly.  FAST. 
'Tis no matter, I have no other designment in hand, and therefore as good go along.  DELI. 
I were as good have a quartan fever follow me now, for I shall ne'er be rid of him: (being me a cloak there, one) Still, upon his grace at court, am I sure to be visited; I was a beast to give him any hope. Well, would I were in, that I am out with him, once, and— Come, signor MACILENTE, I must confer with you, as we go. Nay, dear wife, I beseech thee, forsake these moods: look not like winter thus. Here, take my keys, open my counting houses, spread all my wealth before thee, choose any object that delights thee: If thou willt eat the spirit of gold, and drink dissolved pearl in wine, 'tis for thee.  FALL. 
So, sir.  DELI. 
Nay, my sweet wife.  FALL. 
Good lord! how you are perfumed! in your terms, and all! pray you leave vs.  DELI. 
Come, gentlemen.  FAST. 
Adieu, sweet lady.  FALL. 
I, I! Let thy words ever sound in mine ears, and thy graces disperse contentment through all my senses! O, how happy is that lady above other ladies, that enjoys so absolute a gentleman to her servant! A countess give him her hand to kiss? ah, foolish countess! he's a man worthy (if a woman may speak of a man's worth) to kiss the lips of an empress.  FUNG. returned with his tailor. 
What's master FASTIDIUS gone, sister?  FALL. 
I, brother (he has a face like a Cherubin!)  FUNG. 
God's me, what luck's this? I have fetched my tailor and all: which way went he, sister? can you tell?  FALL. 
Not I, in good faith (and he has a body like an angel!)  FUNG. 
How long is't since he went?  FALL. 
Why, but e'en now: did you not meet him? (and a tongue able to ravish any woman i' the earth!)  FUNG. 
O, for god's sake (I'll please you for your pains:) but e'en now, say you? Come, good, sir: 'Slid, I had forgot it too: Sister, if any body ask for mine uncle SOGLIARDO, they shall ha' him at the Herald's office, yonder by Paul's.  FALL. 
Well, I will not altogether despair: I have heard of a citizens wife, has been beloved of a courtier; and why not I? heigh, ho: well, I will into my private chamber, lock the door to me, and think over all his good parts, one after another.  
GREX.  MIT. 
Well, I doubt, this last Scene will endure some grievous torture.  COR. 
How? you fear 'twill be racked, by some hard construction?  MIT. 
Do not you?  COR. 
No, in good faith: unless mine eyes could light me beyond sense. I see no reason, why this should be more liable to the rack, than the rest: you'll say, perhaps, the city will not take it well, that the merchant is made here to dote so perfectly upon his wife; and she again, to be so Fastidiously affected, as she is?  MIT. 
You have uttered my thought, sir, indeed.  COR. 
Why (by that proportion) the court might as well take offence at him we call the courtier, and with much more pretext, by how much the place transcends, and goes before in dignity and virtue: but can you imagine that any noble, or true spirit in court (whose sinewy, and altogether un-affected graces, very worthily express him a courtier) will make any exception at the opening of such an empty trunk, as this brisk is? or think his own worth impeached, by beholding his motley inside?  MIT. 
No sir, I do not.  COR. 
No more, assure you, will any grave, wise citizen, or modest matron, take the object of this folly in DELIRO, and his wife: but rather apply it as the foil to their own virtues. For that were to affirm, that a man, writing of NERO, should mean all Emperors: or speaking of MACHIAVELLI, comprehend all Statesmen; or in our SORDIDO, all Farmers; and so of the rest: than which, nothing can be uttered more malicious, or absurd. Indeed, there are a sort of these narrow-eyed decypherers, I confess, that will extort strange, and abstruse meanings out of any subject, be it never so conspicuous and innocently delivered. But to such (where e'er they sit concealed) let them know, the author defies them, and their writing-tables; and hopes, no sound or safe judgement will infect itself with their contagious comments, who (indeed) come here only to pervert, and poison the sense of what they hear, and for nought else.  MIT. 
Stay, what new Mute is this, that walks so suspiciously?  COR. 
O, marry this is one, for whose better illustration; we must desire you to presuppose the stage, the middle isle in Paul's; and that, the west end of it.  MIT. 
So, sir: and what follows?  COR. 
Faith, a whole volume of humour, and worthy the unclasping.  MIT. 
As how? what name do you give him first?  COR. 
He hath shift of names, sir: some call him APPLE JOHN, some signor WHIFF, marry, his main standing name is CAVALIER SHIFT: the rest are but as clean shirts to his natures.  MIT. 
And what makes he in Paul's, now?  COR. 
Troth, as you see, for the advancement of a Siquiss, or two; wherein he has so varied himself, that if any one of 'em take, he may hull up and down i' the humorous world, a little longer.  MIT. 
It seems then, he bears a very changing sail?  COR. 
O, as the wind, sir: here comes more.    

Act III.  

Scene I.  SHIFT, ORANGE, CLOVE. 
THis is rare, I have set up my bills, without discovery.  ORAN. 
What? signor whiff? what fortune has brought you into these west parts?  SHIFT. 
Troth, signor, nothing but your rheum; I have been taking an ounce of tobacco hard by here, with a gentleman, and I am come to spit private, in Paul's. Save you sir.  ORAN. 
Adieu, good signor whiff.  CLOVE. 
Master APPLE JOHN? you are well met: when shall we sup together; and laugh, and be fat with those good wenches? ha?  SHIFT. 
Faith, sir, I must now leave you, upon a few humours, and occasions: but when you please, sir.  CLOVE. 
Farewell, sweet APPLE JOHN: I wonder, there are no more store of gallants here!  
GREX.  MIT. 
What be these two, signor?  COR. 
Marry, a couple sir, that are mere strangers to the whole scope of our play; only come to walk a turn or two, in'is Scene of Paul's, by chance.  ORAN. 
Same you, good master CLOVE.  CLOVE. 
Sweet master ORANGE.  
GREX.  MIT. 
How? CLOVE, and ORANGE?  COR. 
I, and they are well met, for 'tis as dry an ORANGE as ever grew: nothing, but Salutation; and, O god, sir; and, It pleases you to say so, Sir; one that can laugh at a jest for company with a most plausible, and extemporal grace; and some hour after, in private, ask you what it was: the other, monsieur CLOVE, is a more spiced youth: he will fit you a whole afternoon sometimes, in a booksellers shop, reading the Greek, Italian, and Spanish; when he understands not a word of either: if he had the tongues, to his suits, he were an excellent linguist.  CLOVE. 
Do you hear this reported, for certainty?  ORAN. 
O god, sir.   

Act III. Scene II.  PUNTARVOLO, CARLO. 
SIrrah, take my cloak: and you sir knave, follow me closer. If thou losest my dog, thou shalt die a dog's death; I will hang thee.  CARL. 
Tut, fear him not, he's a good lean slave, he loves a dog well, I warrant him; I see by his looks, I: mass he's somewhat like him. 'Slud poison him, make him away with a crooked pin, or somewhat, men; thou mayst have more security of thy life: and so sir, what? you ha' not put out your whole venture yet? ha you?  PUNT. 
No, I do want yet some fifteen, or sixteen hundred pounds: but my lady (my wife) is out of her humour; she does not now go.  CARL. 
No? how then?  PUNT. 
Marry, I am now enforced to give it out, upon the return of myself, my dog, and my cat.  CARL. 
Your cat? where is she?  PUNT. 
My squire has her there, in the bag: Sirrah, look to her: How lik'st thou my change, CARLO?  CARL. 
Oh, for the better, sir; your cat has nine lines, and your wife ha' but one.  PUNT. 
Besides, she will never be seasick, which will save me so much in conserves: when saw you signor SOGLIARDO?  CARL. 
I came from him but now, he is at the Herald's office yonder: he requested me to go afore, and take up a man or two for him in Paul's, against his cognisance was ready.  PUNT. 
What? has he purchased arms, then?  CARL. 
I, and rare ones too: of as many colours, as e'er you saw any fools coat in your life. I'll go look among yond bills, and I can fit him with legs to his arms—  PUNT. They go to look upon the bills. 
With legs to his arms! Good: I will go with you, sir.   

Act III. Scene III.  FASTIDIUS, DELIRO, MACILENTE. 
COme, let's walk in Mediterraneo: I assure you, sir, I am not the least respected among ladies; but let that pass: do you know how to go into the presence, sir?  MACI. 
Why, on my feet, sir.  FAST. 
No, on your head, sir: for 'tis that must bear you out, I assure you: as thus, sir. You must first have an especial care so to wear your hat, that it oppress not confusedly this your predominant, or foretop; because (when you come at the presence door) you may, with once or twice stroking up your forehead thus, enter, with your predominant perfect: that is, standing up stiff.  MACI. 
As if one were frighted?  FAST. 
I, sir.  MACI. 
Which indeed, a true fear of your mistress should do, rather than gum water, or whites of eggs: is't not so, sir?  FAST. 
An ingenious observation: give me leave to crave your name, Sir.  DELI. 
His name is, MACILENTE, sir.  FAST. 
Good signor MACILENTE: if this gentleman, signor DELIRO, furnish you (as he says he will) with clothes, I will bring you, to morrow by this time, into the presence of the most divine, and acute lady in court: you shall see sweet silent rhetoric, and dumb eloquence speaking in her eye; but when she speaks herself, such an anatomy of wit, so sinewized and arterized, that 'tis the goodliest model of pleasure that ever was to behold. Oh! she strikes the world into admiration of her; (o, o, o) I cannot express 'em, belewe me.  MACI. 
O, your only admiration, is your silence, sir.  PUNT. 
'Fore god, CARLO, this is good; let's read 'em again. If there be any lady, or gentlewoman of good carriage, that is desirous to entertain (to her private uses) a young, straight, and upright gentleman, of the age of five, or six and twenty at the most: who can serve in the nature of a gentleman usher, and hath little legs of purpose, and a black satin foot of his own, to go before her in: which foot (for the more sweetening) now lies in lavender: and can hide his face with her fan, if need require: or sit in the cold at the stair foot for her, as well as another gentleman: Let her subscribe her name and place, and diligent respect shall be given. This is above measure excellent! ha?  CARL. 
No, this, this! here's a fine slave.  PUNT. 
IF this city, or the suburbs of the same, do afford any young gentleman, of the first, second, or third head, more or less, whose friends are but lately deceased, and whose lands are but new come to his hands, that (to be as exactly qualified as the best of our ordinary gallants are) is affected to entertain the most gentlemanlike use of tobacco: as first, to give it the most exquisite perfume; then, to know all the delicate sweet forms for the assumption of it: as also the rare corollary, and practice of the Cuban ebolition, EURIPUS, and whiff; which he shall receive, or take in, here at London, and evaporate at Uxbridge, or farther, if it please him. If there be any such generous spirit, that is truly enamoured of these good faculties: May it please him, but (by a note of his hand) to specify the place, or ordinary where he uses to eat, and lie; and most sweet attendance, with tobacco, and pipes of the best sort, shall be ministered: STET QVAESO CANDIDE LECTOR.  PUNT. 
Why this is without parallel, this!  CARL. 
Well, I'll mark this fellow for SOGLIARDO'S use presently.  PUNT. 
Or rather, SOGLIARDO, for his use,  CARL. 
Faith, either of 'em will serve, they are both good properties: I'll design the other a place too, that we may see him.  PUNT. 
No better place, than the Mitre, that we may be spectators with you, CARLO. Soft, behold, who enters here: signor SOGLIARDO! save you.   

Act III. Scene IIII.  SOGLIARDO. To them. 
Save you, good sir PUNTARVOLO; your dog's in health, sir, I see: how now, CARLO?  CARL. 
We have ta'en simple pains, to choose you out followers here.  PUNT. 
Come hither, signor.  CLOVE. They show him the bills. 
Monsieur ORANGE, yond gallants observe us; pray thee let's talk fustian a little, and gull 'em: make 'em believe we are great scholars.  ORANG. 
O lord, sir.  CLOVE. 
Nay, pray thee let's, believe me, you have an excellent habit in discourse.  ORANG. 
It pleases you to say so, sir.  CLOVE. 
By this church, you ha' lafoy: nay, come, begin: ARISTOTLE in his Daemonologia, approves SCALIGER for the best Navigator in his time: and in his Hypercritiques, he reports him to be Heautontimorumenos: you understand the Greek, sir?  ORANG. 
O god, sir.  MACIL. 
For society's sake he does. O, here be a couple of fine tame parrots.  CLOVE. 
Now, sir, whereas the Ingenuity of the time, and the souls Synderisis are but Embryos in nature, added to the paunch of Esquiline, and the Intervallum of the Zodiac, besides the Ecliptic line being optic, and not mental, but by the contemplative & theoric part thereof, doth demonstrate to us the vegetable circumference, and the ventosity of the Tropics and whereas our intellectual, or mincing capreal (according to the metaphysics) as you may read in PLATO's Histriomastix— You conceive me, sir?  ORANG. 
O lord, sir.  CLOVE. 
Then coming to the pretty Animal, as Reason long since is fled to animals, you know, or indeed for the more modelizing, or enameling, or rather diamondizing of your subject, you shall perceive the Hipothesis, or Galaxia, (whereof the Meteors long since had their initial inceptions and notions) to be merely Pythagorical, Mathematical, and Aristocratical— For look you, sir, there is ever a kind of concinnity and species— Let us turn to our former discourse, for they mark us not.  FAST. 
Mass, yonder 's the knight PUNTARVOLO.  DELI. 
And my cousin SOGLIARDO, me thinks.  MACI. 
I, and his familiar that baunts him, the devil with a shining face.  DELI. Sogliardo, Puntarvolo, Carlo, walk. 
Let 'em alone, observe 'em not.  SOGL. 
Nay, I will have him, I am resolute for that. By this parchment, gentlemen, I have been so toiled among the Heralds yonder, you will not believe, they do speak i' the strangest language, and give a man the hardest terms for his money, that ever you knew.  CARL. 
But ha' you arms? ha your arms?  SOGL. 
Y faith, I thank god, I can write myself gentleman now, here's my patent, it cost me thirty pound, by this breath.  PUNT. 
A very saire coat, well charged, and full of armory.  SOGL. 
Nay, it has as much variety of colours in it, as you have seen a cost have, how like you the crest, sir?  PUNT. 
I understand it not well, what is't?  SOGL. 
Marry, sir, it is your Boar without a head Rampant.  PUNT. 
A Boar without a head, that's very rare!  CARL. 
I, and rampant too: troth, I commend the Herald's wit, he has deciphered him well: A Swine without a head, without brain, wit, any thing indeed, ramping to gentility. You can blazon the rest, signor? can you not?  SOGL. 
O, I, I have it in writing here of purpose, it cost me two shillings the tricking.  CARL. 
Let's hear, let's hear.  PUNT. They salute as they meet in the valley. 
It is the most vile, foolish, absurd, palpable, & ridiculous escutcheon, that ever this eye survised. Save you, good monsieur FASTIDIUS.  CARL. 
Silence, good knight: on, on.  SOGL. 
GURONY, of eight pieces; AZURE and GULES, between three plates; a CHEVRON, engrailed checky, OR, VERT, and ERMINES; on a chief ARGENT between two ANNULETS, sables; a Boar's head, PROPER.  CARL. 
How's that? on a chief ARGENT?  SOGL. Here they 〈…〉 with Puntarvolo Carlo, and Sogliardo, 〈…〉 and Orange, 〈…〉. 
On a chief ARGENT, a Boar's head, PROPER between two ANNULETS sables.  CARL. 
'Sblood, it's a Hogs-cheeke, and puddings in a pewter field this.  SOGL. 
How like you 'em, signor?  PUNT. 
Let the word be, Not without mustard; your crest is very rare, sir.  CARL. 
A frying pan to the crest had had no fellow.  FAST. 
Entreat your poor friend to walk off a little, signor, I will salute the knight.  CARL. 
Come, laped up, laped up.  FAST. 
You are right well encountered, sir, how does your saire dog?  PUNT. 
In reasonable state, sir: what citizen is that you were consorted with? a merchant of any worth?  FAST. 
'Tis signor DELIRO, sir.  PUNT. Salute. 
Is it he? Save you, sir.  DELI. 
Good sir PUNTARVOLO.  MACI. 
O, what copy of fool would this place minister, to one endued with patience, to observe it?  CARL. 
Nay, look you sir, now you are gentleman, you must carry a more exalted presence, change your mood, and habit, to a more austere form, be exceeding proud, stand upon your gentility, and scorn every man. Speak nothing humbly, never discourse under a nobleman, though you ne'er saw him butriding to the star-chamber, it's all one. Love no man. Trust no man. Speak ill of no man to his face: nor well of any man behind his back. Salute fairly on the front, and wish 'em hanged upon the turn. Spread yourself upon his bosom publicly, whose heart you would eat in private. These be principles, think on 'em, I'll come to you again presently.  PUNT. 
Sirrah, keep close; yet not so close: thy breath will thawmy ruff.  SOGI. 
O, good cousin, I am a little busy, how does my niece? I am to walk with a knight, here.   

Act III. Scene V.  FUNGOSO. TAYLOR. To them. 
O He is here, look you sir, that's the gentleman.  TAIL. 
What, he i'the blush-coloured satin?  FUNG. 
I, he sir: though his suit blush, he blushes not, look you, that's the suit, sir: I would have mine, such a suit without difference, such stuff, such a wing, such a sleeve, such a skirt, belly, and all; therefore, pray you observe it. Have you a pair of tables?  FAST. 
Why, do you see, sir? they say I am fantastical: why, true, I know it, and I pursue my humour still, in contempt of this censorious age. 'Slight, and a man should do nothing, but what a sort of stolen judgements about this town will approve in him, he were a sweet ass: I'd beg him i'faith. I ne'er knew any more find fault with a fashion, than they that knew not how to put themselves in to't. For mine own part, so I please mine own appetite, I am careless what the fusty world speaks of me. Puh.  FUNG. 
Do you mark, how it hangs at the knee there?  TAIL. 
I warrant you, sir.  FUNG. 
For god's sake, do, note all: do you see the collar, sir?  TAIL. 
Fear nothing, it shall not differ in a stitch, sir.  FUNG. 
Pray heaven, it do not, you'll make these linings serve? and help me to a chapman for the outside, will you?  TAIL. 
I'll do my best, sir: you'll put it off presently?  FUNG. 
I, go with me to my chamber, you shall have it— but make haste of it, for the love of a customer, for I'll fit i'my old suit, or else lie a bed, and read the Arcadia, till you have done.  CARL. 
O, if ever you were struck with a jest, gallants, now, now. I do usher the most strange piece of military profession, that ever was discovered in Insula Paulina.  FAST. 
Where? where?  PUNT. 
What is he, for a creature?  CARL. 
A pimp, a pimp, that I have observed yonder, the rarest superficies of a humour; he comes every morning to empty his hangs in Paul's here: and offers up some five, or six Hecatombs of faces, and sighs, and away again. Here he comes; nay, walk, walk, be not seen to note him, and we shall have excellent sport.   

Act III. Scene VI  SHIFT. To them. PUN. 
'Slid, he vented a sigh●'ne now, I thought he would have blown up the church.  CAR. 
O, you shall have him give a number of those false fires ere he depart.  FAST. 
See, now he is expostulating with his rapier! look, look.  CARL. 
Did you ever, in your days, observe better passion over a hilt?  PUNT. 
Except it were in the person of a cutler's boy, or that the fellow were nothing but vapour, I should think it impossible.  CARL. 
See, again, he claps his sword o'the head, as who should say, well, go to.  FAST. 
O violence! I wonder the blade can contain itself, being so provoked.  CARL. 
With that, the moody squire thumped his breast,  
Andreared his eyen to heaven, for revenge.  SOGL. 
Troth, and you be good gentlemen let's make 'em friends, and take up the matter, between his rapier, and him.  CARL. 
Nay, if you intent that, you must lay down the matter, for this rapier (it seems) is in the nature a hanger on, and the good gentleman would happily be rid of him.  FAST. 
By my faith, and 'tis to be suspected, I'll ask him.  MACI. 
O, here's rich stuff, for life's sake, let us go.  
A man would wish himself a senseless pillar,  
Rather than view these monstrous prodigies:  
Nil habet infoelix paupertas durius in se,  
Quàm quòd ridiculos homines facit—  FAST. 
signor.  SHIFT. 
At your service.  FAST. 
Will you sell your rapier?  CARL. 
'sblood, he is turned wild upon the question, he looks as he had seen a sergeant.  SHIFT. 
Sell my rapier? now fate bless me.  PUNT. 
Amen.  SHIFT. 
You asked me, if I would sell my rapier, sir?  FAST. 
I did indeed.  SHIFT. 
Now, lord have mercy upon me.  PUNT. 
Amen, I say still.  SHIFT. 
'Sblood sir, what should you behold in my face, sir, that should move you (as they say, sir) to ask me, sir, if I would sell my rapier?  FAST. 
Nay (let me pray you, sir) be not moved: I protest, I would rather have been silent, than any way offensive, had I known your nature.  SHIFT. 
Sell my rapier? 'ods lid! Nay, sir (for mine own part) as I am a man that has served in causes, or so, so I am not apt to injure any gentleman in the degree of falling foul, but (sell my rapier?) I will tell you sir, I have served with this foolish rapier, where some of us dare not appear in haste, I name no man: but let that pass. (Sell my rapier?) death to my lungs. This rapier, sir, has travailed by my side, sir, the best part of France and the low Country: I have seen Vlishing Brill, and the Haghe, with this rapier, sir, in my lord of Leister's time: and (by gods will) he that should offer to disrapier me now, I would— Look you sir, you presume to be a gentleman of sort, and so likewise your friends here, if you have any disposition to travel, for the sight of service, or so, one, two, or all of you, I can lend you letters to divers officers and commanders in the low Countries, that shall for my cause do you all the good offices, that shall pertain or belong to gentlemen of your— Please you to show the bounty of your mind, sir, to impart some ten groats, or half a crown to our use, till our ability be of growth to return it, and we shall think ourself— 'sblood! sell my rapier?  SOGL. 
I pray you, what said he, signor, he's a proper man.  FAST. 
Marry, he tells me, if I please to show the bounty of my mind, to impart some ten groats to his use, or so.  PUNT. 
Break his head, and give it him.  CARL. 
I thought he had been playing o' the jews trump, I.  SHIFT. 
My rapier? no sir: my rapier is my guard, my defence, my revenue, my honour: (if you cannot impart, be secret, I beseech you) and I will maintain it, where there is a grain of dust, or a drop of water. (Hard is the choice when the valiant must eat their arms, or clem:) Sell my rapier? no, my dear, I will not be divorced from thee, yet, I have ever found thee true as steel— and (you cannot impart sir?) Save you gentlemen: (nevertheless if you have a fancy to it, sir.)  FAST. 
Pray thee away: is signor DELIRO departed?  CAR. 
Ha'you seen a pimp outface his own wants better?  SOG. 
I commend him, that can dissemble 'em so well.  PUNT. 
True, and having no better a cloak for it, than he has neither.  FAST. 
God's precious, what mischievous luck is this! adieu gentlemen.  PUNT. 
Whither? in such haste, Monsieur FASTIDIUS?  FAST. 
After my merchant, signor DELIRO, sir.  CARL. 
O hinder him not, he may hap lose his tide, a good flounder i'faith.  ORAN. 
Hark you, signor WHIFF, a word with you.  CARL. Orange and Clove call Shift aside. 
How? signor WHIFF?  ORAN. 
What was the difference between that gallant that's gone, and you, sir.  SHIFT. 
No difference: he would ha'giu'n me five pound for my rapier, and I refused it; that's all.  CLOVE. 
O, was't no otherwise? we thought you had been upon some terms.  SHIFT. 
No other than you saw, sir.  CLOVE. 
Adieu, good Master APPLE-JOHN.  CARL. 
How? WHIFF, and APPLE-JOHN too? Heart, what'll you say if this be the appendix, or label to both yond indentures?  PUNT. 
It may be.  CARL. 
Resolve us of it, JANUS, thou that look'st every way: or thou Hercules, that hast travailed all countries.  PUNT. 
Nay, CARLO, spend not time in invocations now, 'tis late.  CARL. 
signor, here's a gentleman desirous of your name, sir.  SHIFT. 
Sir, my name is CAVALIER SHIFT: I am known sufficiently in this walk, sir.  CARL. 
SHIFT? I heard your name varied e'en now, as I take it.  SHIFT. 
True, sir, it pleases the world (as I am her excellent Tabbacconist) to give me the stile of signor WHIFF: as I am a poor esquire about the town here, they call me Master APPLE-JOHN. Varierie of good names does well, sir.  CARL. 
I, and good parts, to make those good names: out of which I imagine yond bills to be yours.  SHIFT. 
Sir, if I should deny the manuscripts, I were worthy to be banished the middle I'll, for ever.  CARL. 
I take your word, sir: this gentleman has subscribed to 'em, and is most desirous to become your pupil. Marry you must use expedition. signor Insulso Sogliardo, this is the professor.  SOGL. 
In good time, sir, nay, good sir, house your head, do you profess those sleights in tobacco?  SHIFT. 
I, do more than profess, sir, and (if you please to be a practitioner) I will undertake in one fortnight to bring you, that you shall take it plausibly in any ordinary, theatre, or the tiltyard, if need be, i'the most popular assembly that is.  PUNT. 
But you cannot bring him to the whiff so soon?  SHIFT. 
Yes, as soon, sir, he shall receive the first, second, and third whiff, if it please him, and (upon the receipt) take his horse, drink his three cups of Canary, and expose one at Hounslow, a second at Stanes, and a third at Bogshot.  CARL. 
Baw-waw!  SOGL. 
You will not serve me, sir, will your I'll give you more than countenance.  SHIFT. 
Pardon me, sir, I do scorn to serve any man.  CARL. 
Who? he serve? 'sblood he keeps high men, and low men, he; he has a fair living at Fullam.  SHIFT. 
But in the nature of a fellow, I'll be your follower, if you please.  SOGL. 
Sir, you shall stay, and dine with me, and if we can agree, we'll not part in haste: I am very bountiful to men of quality. Where shall we go, signor?  PUNT. 
Your Mitre is your best house.  SHIFT. 
I can make this dog take as many whiffs as I list, and he shall retain, or efume them at my pleasure.  PUNT. 
By your patience, follow me, fellows.  SOGL. 
Sir, PUNTARVOLO!  PUNT. 
Pardon me, my dog shall not eat in his company for a million.  CARL. 
Nay, be not you amazed, signor WHIFF, what ere that stiffnecked gentleman says.  SOGL. 
No, for you do not know the humour of the Dog, as we do: where shall we dine, CARLO? I would feign go to one of these ordinaries, now I am a gentleman.  CARL. 
So you may, were you never at any yet?  SOGL. 
No faith, but they say, there resorts your most choice gallants.  CARL. 
True, and the fashion is, when any stranger comes in amongst 'em, they all stand up and stare at him, as he were some unknown beast, brought out of Africa, but that'll be helped with a good adventurous face, you must be impudent enough, sit down, and use no respect; when any thing's propounded above your capacity, smile at it, make two or three faces, and 'tis excellent, they'll think you have travailed: though you argue a whole day in silence thus, and discourse in nothing but laughter, 'twill pass. Only (now and then) give fire, discharge a good full oath, and offer a great wager, 'twill be admirable.  SOGL. 
I warrant you, I am resolute: come, good signor, there's a poor french crown, for your ordinary.  SHIFT. 
It comes well, for I had not so much as the least portcullis of come before.  
GREX.  MIT. 
I travel with another objection, signor, which I fear will be enforced against the author, ere I can be delivered of it.  COR. 
What's that, sir?  MIT. 
That the argument of his Comedy might have been of some other nature, as of a duke to be in love with a countess, and that countess to be in love with the duke's son, and the son to love the ladies waiting maid: some such cross wooing, with a clown to their servingman, better than to be thus near, and familiarly allied to the time.  COR. 
You say well, but I would feign hear one of these autumne-judgements define once, Quid sit Comoedia? if he cannot, let him content himself with CICERO'S definition (till he have strength to propose to himself a better) who would have a Comedy to be Imitatio vitae, Speculum consuetudinis, Imago veritatis; a thing throughout pleasant, and ridiculous, and accommodated to the correction of manners: if the maker have failed in any particle of this, they may worthily tax him, but if not, why— be you (that are for them) silent, as I will be for him; and give way to the actors.   

Act III. Scene VII.  SORDIDO, HINE. 
NAy, gods precious, if the weather and season be so respectless, that beggars shall live as well as their betters; and that my hunger, and thirst for riches, shall not make them hunger and thirst with poverty; that my sleeps shall be broke, and their hearts not broken; that my coffers shall be full, and yet care; theirs empty, and yet merry! 'tis time, that a cross should bear flesh and blood, since flesh and blood cannot bear this cross.  
GREX.  MIT. 
What, will he hang himself?  COR. 
Faith I, it seems his Prognostication has not kept touch with him, and that makes him despair.  MIT. 
Beshrew me, he will be out of his humour then, indeed.  SOR. 
Tut, these star-monger knaves, who would trust 'em? one says, dark and rainy, when 'tis as clear as crystal; another says, tempestuous blasts, and storms, and 'twas as calm as a milke-bowle; here be sweet rascals for a man to credit his whole fortunes with: You sky-staring coxcombs you, you fat brains, out upon you; you are good for nothing but to sweat nightcaps, and make rug-gowns dear! You learned men, and have not a legion of devils, a vostre service! a vostre service! by heaven, I think I shall die a better scholar than they! but soft, how now, sirrah.  HINE. 
Here's a letter come from your son, sir.  SORD. 
From my son, sir? what would my son, sir? some good news, no doubt.  
Sweet and dear father (desiring you first to send me your blessing, which is more worth to me then gold or silver) I desire you likewise to be advertised, that this Shrovetide (contrary to custom) we use always to have revels; which is indeed dancing, and makes an excellent show in truth; especially if we gentlemen be well attired; which our seniors note, and think the better of our fathers, the better we are maintained, and that they shall know if they come up, and have any thing to do in the law: therefore, good father, these are (for your own sake as well as mine) to re-desire you; that you let me not want, that which is fit for the setting up of our name, in the honourable volume of gentility, that I may say to our calumniators, with TULLY, Ego sum ortus domus meae, tu occasus tuae. And thus (not doubting of your fatherly benevolence) I humbly ask you blessing, and pray god to bless you.  
Yours, if his own.  
How's this? Yours, if his own? is he not my son, except he be his own son? Belike this is some new kind of subscription the gallants use. Well, wherefore dost thou stay, knave? Away: go. Here's a letter indeed! revels? and benevolence? is this a weather to send benevolence? or is this a season to revel in? 'Slid the devil and all takes part to vex me, I think! this letter would never have come now else, now, now, when the sun shines, and the air thus clear. Soul, if this hold, we shall shortly have an excellent crop of corn spring out of the high ways: the streets, and houses of the town will be hid with the rankness of the fruits, that grow therein spite of good husbandry. Go to, I'll prevent the sight of it, come as quickly as it can, I will prevent the sight of it. I have this remedy, heaven. Stay; I'll try the pain thus a little, O, nothing, nothing. Well now, shall my son gain a benevolence by my death? or any body be the better for my gold, or so forth? No, alive, I kept it from 'em, and (dead) my ghost shall walk about it, and preserve it, my son and daughter shall starve ere they touch it, I have bid it as deep as hell from the sight of heaven, and to it I go now. Falls off.   

Act III. Scene VIII.  RUSTICI. RUST. 1. To him. 
Ay me, what pitiful sight is this! help, help, help.  RUST. 2. 
How now? what's the matter?  RUST. 1. 
O, here's a man has hanged himself, help to get him again.  RUST. 2. 
Hanged himself? 'Slid carry him afore a justice, 'tis chance medley, o' my word.  RUST. 3. 
How now, what's here to do?  RUST. 4. 
How comes this?  RUST. 2. 
One has executed himself, contrary to order of law, and by my consent he shall answered.  RUST. 5. 
Would he were in case, to answer it.  RUST. 1. 
Stand by, he recovers, give him breath.  SORD. 
Oh.  RUST. 5. 
Mass, 'twas well you went the footway, neighbour.  RUST. 1. 
I, and I had not cut the halter.  SORD. 
How! cut the halter? Ay me, I am undone, I am undone.  RUST. 2. 
Marry, if you had not been undone, you had been hanged, I can tell you.  SORD. 
You threadbare horse-bread-eating rascals, if you would needs have been meddling, could you not have untied it, but you must out it? and in the midst too! Ay me.  RUST. 1. 
Out on me, 'tis the caterpillar SORDIDO! how cursed are the poor, that the viper was blessed, with this good fortune?  RUST. 2. 
Nay, how accursed art thou, that art cause to the curse of the poor?  RUST. 3. 
I, and to save so wretched a caitiff?  RUST. 4. 
Cursed be thy fingers that loosed him.  RUST. 2. 
Some desperate fury possess thee, that thou mayst hang thyself too.  RUST. 5. 
Never mayst thou be saved, that saved so damned a monster.  SORDID. 
What curses breath these men! how have my deeds  
Made my looks differ from another man's,  
That they should thus detest, and loath my life!  
Out on my wretched humour, it is that  
Makes me thus monstrous in true human eyes.  
Pardon me (gentle friends) I'll make fair mends  
For my foul errors passed, and twentyfold  
Restore to all men, what with wrong I robbed them:  
My barns, and garners shall stand open still  
To all the poor that come, and my best grain  
Be made alms-bread, to feed half-famished mouths.  
Though hither to amongst you I have lived,  
Like an unsavourie muckhill to myself,  
Yet now, my gathered heaps being spread abroad,  
Shall turn to better, and more fruitful uses.  
Bless then this man, curse him no more for saving  
My life, and soul together. O, how deeply  
The bitter curses of the poor do pierce!  
I am by wonder changed; come in with me  
And witness my repentance: now I prove,  
" No life is blessed, that is not graced with love.  RUST. 2. 
O miracle! see when a man has grace!  RUST. 3. 
Haded not been pity, so good a man should have been cast away?  RUST. 2. 
Well, I'll get our clerk put his conversion in the Acts, and Monuments.  RUST. 4. 
Do, for I warrant him he's a Martyr.  RUST. 
O god, how he wept, if you marked it! did you see how the tears trilled?  RUST. 5. 
Yes, believe me, like master vicar's bowls upon the green, for all the world.  3. or 4. 
O neighbour, god's blessing o' your heart, neighbour, 'twas a good grateful deed.  
GREX.  COR. 
How now, MITIS? what's that you consider so seriously?  MIT. 
Troth, that which doth essentially please me, the warping condition of this green, and soggy multitude: but in good saith, signor, your author hath largely outstripped my expectation in this Scene, I will liberally confess it. For, when I saw SORDIDO so desperately intended, I thought I had had a hand of him, then.  COR. 
What? you supposed he should have hung himself, indeed?  MIT. 
I did, and had framed my objection to it ready, which may yet be very fitly urged, and with some necessity: for though his purposed violence lost th' effect, and extended not to death, yet the intent and horror of the object, was more than the nature of a Comedy will in any sort admit.  COR. 
I? what think you of PLAUTUS, in his Comedy, called Cistellaria, there? where he brings in ALCESIMARCHUS with a drawn sword ready to kill himself, and as he is e'en fixing his breast upon it, to be restrained from his resolved outrage, by SILENIUM, and the bawd: is not his authority of power to give our Scene approbation?  MIT. 
Sir, I have this only evasion left me, to say, I think it be so indeed, your memory is happier than mine: but I wonder, what engine he will use to bring the rest out of their humours!  COR. 
That will appear anon, never preoccupy your imagination withal. Let your mind keep company with the Scene still, which now removes itself from the country, to the court. Here comes MACILENTE, and signor brisk, freshly suited, lose not yourself, for now the Epitasis, or busy part of our subject, is in act.   

Act III. Scene IX.  MACILENTE, brisk, CINEDO, SAVIOLINA. FAST. 
WEll, now, signor MACILENTE, you are not only welcome to the court but also to my mistress withdrawing chamber: Boy, get me some tobacco, I'll but go in, and show I am here, and come to you presently, sir.  MACI. 
What's that he said? by heaven, I marked him not:  
My thoughts, and I, were of another world.  
I was admiring mine own outside here,  
To think what privilege, and palm it bears  
Here, in the court! Be a man ne'er so vile  
In wit, in judgement, manners, or what else;  
If he can purchase but a silken cover,  
He shall not only pass, but pass regarded:  
Whereas, let him be poor, and meanly clad,  
Though ne'er so richly parted; you shall have  
A fellow (that knows nothing but his beef,  
Or how to rinse his clammy guts in beer)  
Will take him by the shoulders, or the throat,  
And kick him down the stairs. Such is the state  
Of virtue, in bad clothes! ha, ha, ha, ha,  
That raiment should be in such high request!  
How long should I be, ere I should put off  
To the lord chancellors tomb, or the Shrives' posts?  
By heaven (I think) a thousand, thousand year.  
His gravity, his wisdom, and his faith,  
To my dread Sovereign (graces that survive him)  
These I could well endure to reverence,  
But not his tomb: no more than I'd commend  
The chapel organ, for the guilt without,  
Or this base viol, for the varnished face.  FAST. 
I fear I have made you stay somewhat long, sir, but is my tobacco ready, boy?  CINE. 
I, sir.  FAST. 
Give me, my mistress is upon coming, you shall see her presently, sir, (Tab.) you'll say you never accosted a more piercing wit. This tobacco is not dried, boy, or else the pipe's defective. Oh, your wits of Italy are nothing comparable to her! her brain's a very quiver of jests! and she does dart them abroad with that sweet lose, and judicial aim, that you would— here she comes sir.  MACI. She is seen and goes in again. 
'Twas time, his invention had been bogged else.  SAVI. 
Give me my fan there.  MACI. 
How now, Monsieur brisk?  FAST. 
A kind of affectionate reverence strikes me with a cold shivering (me thinks.)  MACI. 
I like such tempers well, as stand before their mistresses with fear and trembling, and before their maker, like impudent mountains.  FAST. 
By this hand, I'd spend twenty pound my vaulting-horse stood here now, she might see me do but one trick?  MACI. 
Why, does she love activity?  CINE. 
Or if you had but your long stockings on, to be dancing a galliard, as she comes by.  FAST. 
I either. O, these stirring humours make ladies mad with desire: she comes. My good GENIUS embolden me, boy, the pipe quickly.  MACI. 
What? will he give her music?  FAST. 
A second good morrow to my fair mistress.  SAVI. 
Fair servant, I'll thank you a day hence, when the date of your salutation comes forth.  FAST. 
How, like you that answer? is't not admirable?  MACI. 
I were a simple courtier, if I could not admire trifles, sir.  FAST. He talks, and takes tobacco between. 
Troth, sweet lady, I shall (Tab.) be prepared to give you thanks for those thanks, and (Tab.) study more officious, and obsequious regards (Tab.) to your fair beauties. (Tab.) mend the pipe, boy.  MACI. 
I ne'er knew tobacco taken as a parenthesis, before.  FAST. 
Fore god (sweet lady) believe it, I do honour the meanest rush in this chamber, for your love.  SAVI. 
I, you need not tell me that, sir, I do think, you do prize a rush, before my love.  MACI. 
Is this the wonder of nations?  FAST. 
O, by this air, pardon me, I said, for your love, by this light: but it is the accustomed sharpness of your ingenuity, sweet mistress, to— Mass your viol's new strung, methinks.  MACI. He takes down the viol, and plays between. 
Ingenuity. I see his ignorance will not suffer him to slander her, which he had done most notably, if he had said wit, for ingenuity, as he meant it.  FAST. 
By the soul of music, lady (hum, hum.)  SAVI. 
Would we might hear it once.  FAST. 
I do more adore, and admire your (hum, hum) predominant perfections, than (hum, hum) ever I shall have power, and faculty to express (hum.)  SAVI. 
Upon the viol de Gamba, you mean?  FAST. 
It's miserably out of tune, by this hand.  SAVI. 
Nay, rather by the fingers.  MACI. 
It makes good harmony with her wit.  FAST. 
Sweet lady, tune it. Boy, some tobacco.  MACI. 
Tobacco again? he does court his mistress with very exceeding good changes.  FAST. 
signor MACILENTE, you take none, sir? (Tab.)  MACI. 
No, unless I had a Mistress, signor, it were a great indecorum for me to take tobacco.  FAST. 
How like you her wit? (Tab.)  MACI. 
Her ingenuity is excellent, sir.  FAST. 
You see the subject of her sweet fingers, there? (Tab.) Oh, she tickles it so, that (Tab.) she makes it laugh most divinely; (Tab.) I'll tell you a good jest now, and yourself shall say it's a good one: I have wished myself to be that instrument (I think) a thousand times, and not so few, by heaven (Tab.)  MACI. 
Not unlike, sir: but how? to be cased up, and hung by on the wall?  FAST. 
O, no, sir, to be in use I assure you; as your judicious eyes may testify. (Tab.)  SAVI. 
Here, servant, if you will play, come.  FAST. 
Instantly, sweet lady. (Tab.) In good faith, here's most divine tobacco!  SAVI. 
Nay, I cannot stay to dance after your pipe.  FAST. 
Good! nay, dear lady, stay: by this sweet smoke, I think your wit be all fire. (Tab.)  MACI. 
And, he's the Salamander belongs to it.  SAVI. 
Is your tobacco perfumed, servant? that you swear by the sweet smoke?  FAST. 
Still more excellent! (before heaven, and these bright lights) I think (Tab.) you are made of ingenuity, I. (Tab.)  MACI. 
True, as your discourse is: O abominable!  FAST. 
Will your ladyship take any?  SAVI. 
O, peace I pray you; I love not the breath of a woodcocks head.  FAST. 
Meaning my head, lady?  SAVI. 
Not altogether so, sir; but (as it were fatal to their follies that think to grace themselves with taking tobacco, when they want better entertainment) you see your pipe bears the true form of a woodcocks head.  FAST. 
O admirable simile!  SAVI. 
'Tis best leaving of you in admiration, sir.  MACI. 
Are these the admired lady-wits, that having so good a plainsong, can run no better division upon it? S'heart, all her jests are of the stamp, (March was fifteen years ago.) Is this the Comet, Monsieur FASTADIUS, that your gallants wonder at so?  FAST. 
heart of a gentleman, to neglect me afore presence thus! Sweet sir, I beseech you be silent in my disgrace. By the Muses, I was never in so vile a humour in my life, and her wit was at the cloud too. Report it not for a million, good sir; let me be so far endeared to your love.  
GREX.  MIT. 
What follows next, signor CORDATUS? this gallants humour is almost spent, me thinks, it ebbs apace, with this contrary breath of his mistress.  COR. 
O, but it will blow again for all this, till there come a general drought of humour among all our actors, and then, I fear not but his will fall as low as any. See, who presents himself here!  MIT. 
What, i'the old case?  COR. 
I'faith, which makes it, the more pitiful, you understand where the Scene is?    

Act IIII.  

Scene I.  FALLACE. FUNGOSO. 
WHy, are you so melancholy, brother?  FUNG. 
I am not melancholy, I thank you, sister.  FALL. 
Why are you not merry then? there are but two of us in all the world, and if we should not be comforts one to another, god help vs.  FUNG. 
Faith, I cannot tell, sister, but if a man had any true melancholy in him, it would make him melancholy, to see his yeomanly father cut his neighbour's throats, to make his son a gentleman: and yet when he has cut 'em, he will see his sons throat cut too, ere he make him a true gentleman indeed, before death cut his own throat. I must be the first head of our house, and yet he will not give me the head till I be made so. Is any man termed a gentleman that is not always i'the fashion? I would know but that.  FALL. 
If you be melancholy for that, brother, I think I have as much cause to be melancholy, as one: for I'll be sworn, I live as little in the fashion, as any woman in London. By the faith of a Gentlewoman, (beast that I am to say it) I ha'not one friend i'the world besides my husband. When saw you master FASTIDIUS brisk, brother?  FUNG. 
But a while since, sister, I think: I know not well in truth. By this hand, I could fight with all my heart, me thinks.  FALL. 
Nay, good brother, be not resolute.  FUNG. 
I sent him a letter, and he writes me no answer neither.  FALL. 
Oh, sweet FASTIDIUS brisk! O fine courtier! thou art he makest me sigh, and say, how blessed is that woman that hath a courtier to her husband! and how miserable a dame she is, that hath neither husband, nor friend i' the court! O, sweet FASTIDIUS! O, fine courtier! How comely he bows him in his curtsy! how full he hits a woman between the lips when he kisses! how upright he sits at the table! how daintily he carves! how sweetly he talks, and tells news of this lord, and of that lady! how cleanly he wipes his spoon, at every spoonful of any white-meat he eats, and what a neat case of pick-teeth he carries about him, still! O, sweet FASTIDIUS! O, fine courtier!   

Act IIII. Scene II.  DELIRO, MUSICIANS, MACILENTE, FUNGOSO. 
SEe, yonder she is, gentlemen. Now (as ever you'll bear the name of musicians) touch your instruments sweetly, she has a delicate ear, I tell you: play not a false note, I beseech you.  MUSI. 
Fear not, siguior DELIRO.  DELI. 
O, begin, begin, some sprightly thing: Lord, how my imagination labours with the success of it. Well said, good i'faith! heaven grant it please her. I'll not be seen, for then she'll be sure to dislike it.  FALL. 
hay— damn! this is excellent! I'll lay my life, this is my husband's dotage. I thought so; nay, never play peekaboo with me, I know, you do nothing but study how to anger me, sir.  DELI. 
Anger thee, sweet wife? why didst thou not send for musicians to supper last night, thyself?  FALL. 
To supper, sir? now, come up to supper, I beseech you: as though there were no difference between supper time, when folks should be merry, and this time when they would be melancholy? I would never take upon me to take a wife, if I had no more judgement to please her.  DELI. 
Be pleased, sweet wife, and they shall ha' done: and would to fate, my life were done, if I can never please thee.  MACI. 
Save you, lady, where is master DELIRO?  DELI. 
Here, master MACILENTE: you are welcome from court, sir; no doubt you have been graced exceedingly of master BRISKE'S Mistress, and the rest of the ladies, for his sake?  MACI. 
Alas, the poor fantastic! he's scarce known  
To any lady there; and those that know him,  
Know him the simplest man of all they know:  
Deride, and play upon his amorous humours,  
Though he but apishly doth imitate  
The gallantest courtiers, kissing ladies pumps.  
Holding the cloth for them, praising their wits,  
And servilely observing every one,  
May do them pleasure: fearful to be seen  
With any man (though he be ne'er so worthy)  
That's not in grace with some, that are the greatest.  
Thus courtiers do, and these he counterfeits.  
But sets not such a sightly carriage  
Upon their vanities, as they themselves;  
And therefore they despise him: for indeed  
he's like the Zany, to a tumbler,  
That tries tricks after him, to make men laugh.  FALL. 
Here's an unthankful spiteful wretch! the good gentleman vouchsafed to make him his companion (because my husband put him into a few rags) and now see, how the unrude rascal backbites him!  DELI. 
Is he no more graced amongst 'em, then? say you?  MACI. 
Faith, like a pawn, at Chess: fills up a room, that's all.  FALL. 
O monster of men! can the earth bear such an envious caitiff?  DELI. 
Well, I repent me, I e'er credited him so much: but (now I see what he is, and that his masking vizor is off) I'll forbear him no longer. All his lands are mortgaged to me, and forfeited: besides, I have bonds of his in my hand, for the receipt of now fifty pound, now a hundred, now two hundred: still, as he has had a fan but wagged at him, he would be in a new suit. Well, I'll salute him by a Sergeant, the next time I see him, i'faith, I'll suit him.  MACI. 
Why, you may soon see him, sir, for he is to meet signor PUNTARVOLO at a Notaries, by the Exchange, presently: where he means to take up, upon return—  FALL. 
Now, out upon thee, JUDAS; canst thou not be content to backbite thy friend, but thou must betray him? willt thou seek the undoing of any man? and of such a man too? and will you, sir, get your living by the counsel of traitors?  DELI. 
Dear wife, have patience.  FALL. 
The house will fall, the ground will open, and swallow us: I'll not bind here, for all the gold, and silver in heaven.  DELI. 
O, good MACILENTE, let's follow and appease her, or the peace of my life is at an end.  MACI. 
Now pease, and not peace, feed that life, whose head bangs so heavily over a woman's manger.  FALL. Deliro follow's his wife. 
Help me, brother: odds body, and you come here, I'll do myself a mischief.  DELI. 
Nay, hear me, sweet wife, unless thou willt have me go, I will not go.  FALL. 
Tut, you shall ne'er ha' that vantage of me, to say, you are undone by me: I'll not bid you stay, I. Brother, sweet brother, here's four angels, I'll give you toward your suit: for the love of gentry, and as ever you came of christen creature, make haste to the water fide (you know where Master FASTIDIUS uses to land) and give him warning of my husband's malicious intent; & tell him of that lean rascals treachery: O heavens! how my flesh rises at him! nay, sweet brother, make haste: you may say, I would have writ to him, but that necessity of the time would not permit. He cannot choose but take it extraordinarily from me: and commend me, to him, good brother, say, I sent you.  FUNG. 
Let me see, these four angels, and then, forty shillings more I can borrow on my gown in Fetter-lane. Well, I will go presently, say on my suit, pay as much money as I have, and swear myself into credit with my tailor, for the rest.  DELI. Deliro, and Macilente, pass over the stage. 
O, on my soul you wrong her, MACILENTE,  
Though she be froward, yet I know she is honest.  MACI. 
Well, then have I no judgement: would any woman (but one that were wild in her affections) have broke out into that immodest and violent passion against her husband? or is't possible—  DELI. 
If you love me, forbear; all the arguments i' the world shall never wrest my heart to believe it.  
GREX.  COR. 
How like you the deciphering of his dotage?  MIT. 
O, strangely! and of the others envy too, that labours so seriously to set debate betwixt a man, and his wife. Stay, here comes the knight adventurer.  COR. 
I, and his scrivener with him.   

Act IIII. Scene III.  PUNTARVOLO, NOTARY, CARLO, SERVANTS. 
I Wonder, Monsieur FASTIDIUS comes not! but, NOTARY, if thou please to draw the indentures the while, I will give thee thy instructions.  NOTA. 
With all my heart, sir; and I'll fall in hand with 'em presently.  PUNT. 
Well then, first, the sum is to be understood.  NOTA. 
Good, sir.  PUNT. 
Next, our several appellations, and character of my dog, and cat, must be known: show him the cat, sirrah.  NOTA. 
So, sir.  PUNT. 
Then, that the intended bound, is the Turks court in Constantinople: the time limited for our return, a year: and that if either of us miscarry, the whole venture is lost. These are general, conceivest thou? or if either of us turn Turk.  NOTA. 
I, sir.  PUNT. 
Now for particulars: That I may make my travails by sea or land, to my best liking: and that (hiring a coach for myself) it shall be lawful for my dog, or cat, or both, to ride with me in the said coach.  NOT. 
Very good, sir.  PUN. 
That I may choose to give my dog, or cat fish, for fear of bones: or any other nutriment, that (by the judgement of the most authentical physicians, where I travail) shall be thought dangerous.  NOT. 
Well, sir.  PUN. 
That (after the receipt of his money) he shall neither in his own person, nor any other, either by direct or indirect means, as magic, witchcraft, or other such exotic arts, attempt, practice, or complot anything, to the prejudice of me, my dog, or my cat: Neither shall I use the help of any such forceries, or enchantments, as unctuous, to make our skins impenetrable, or to travail invisible by virtue of a powder, or a ring, or to hang any three-forked charm about my dogs neck, secretly conveyed into his collar: (understand you?) but that all be performed, sincerely, without fraud, or imposture.  NOT. 
So, sir.  PUN. 
That (for testimony of the performance) myself am to bring thence a Turk's mustachio, my dog a Gracian hares lip, and my cat the train, or tail of a Thracian rat.  NOT. 
'Tis done, sir.  PUN. 
'Tis said, sir, not done, sir: but forward. That upon my return, and landing on the Tower-wharf, with the aforesaid testimony, I am to receive five for one, according to the proportion of the sums put forth.  NOT. 
Well, sir.  PUN. 
Provided, that if before our departure, or setting forth, either myself, or these be visited with sickness, or any other casual event, so that the whole course of the adventure be hindered, thereby; that then, he is to return, and I am to receive the prenominated proportion, upon fair and equal terms.  NOT. 
Very good, sir, is this all?  PUN. 
It is all, sir: and dispatch them, good NOT agaric.  NOT. 
As fast as is possible, sir.  PUN. 
O, CARLO! welcome: saw you Monsieur brisk?  CAR. 
Not I: did he appoint you, to meet here?  PUN. 
I, and I muse he should be so tardy: he is to take an hundred pounds of me in venture, if he maintain his promise.  CAR. 
Is his hour past?  PUN. 
Not yet, but it comes on apace.  CAR. 
Tut, be not jealous of him: he will sooner break all the commandments, than his hour, upon my life, in such a case trust him.  PUN. 
Me thinks, CARLO, you look very smooth! ha?  CAR. 
Why, I come but now from a hothouse, I must needs look smooth.  PUN. 
From a hothouse!  CAR. 
I, do you make a wonder on't? why it's your only physic. Let a man sweat once a week in a hothouse, and be well rubbed, frotted, with a good plump juicy wench, and sweet linen: he shall ne'er ha' the pox.  PUNT. 
What, the French pox?  CARL. 
The French pox! our pox. 'Sblood we have 'em in as good form as they, man: what?  PUNT. 
Let me perish, but thou art a salt one! was your new-created gallant there with you? SOGLIARDO?  CARL. 
O, purpose! hang him, no: he's a lieger at Horns ordinary yonder: his villainous GANYMEDE, and he ha' been droning a tobacco pipe there, ever sing yesterday no one.  PUNT. 
Who? signor TRIPARTITE, that would give my dog the Whiff?  CARL. 
I, he. They have hired a chamber, and all private to practise in, for the making of the Patoun, the Receipt reciprocal, and a number of other mysteries, not yet extant. I brought some dozen, or twenty gallants this morning to view 'em (as you'd do a piece of Perspective) in at a keyhole: and there we might see SOGLIARDO sit in a chair, holding his snout up like a sow under an appletree, while th' other opened his nostrils with a poking-stick, to give the smoke a more free delivery. They had spit some three, or fourscore ounces between 'em, afore we came away.  PUNT. 
How! spit three, or fourscore ounces?  CARL. 
I, and preserved it in porringers; as a barber does his blood▪ when he opens a vein.  PUNT. 
Out, Pagan: how dost thou open the vein of thy friend?  CARL. 
Friend? Is there any such foolish thing i'the world? ha? 'Slid I ne'er relished it yet.  PUNT. 
Thy humour is the more dangerous.  CARL. 
No, not a whit, signor: Tut, a man must keep time in all. I can oil my tongue when I meet him next, and look with a good slick forehead; 'twill take away all soil of suspicion, and that's enough: what LYNCEUS can see my heart? Pish, the title of a friend, it's a vain idle thing, only venerable among fools: you shall not have one that has any opinion of wit affect it.   

Act IIII. Scene IIII.  DELIRO, MACILENTE. To them. 
Save you, good sir PUNTARVOLO.  PUNT. 
signor DELIRO! welcome.  DELI. 
Pray you, sir, did you see Master FASTIDIUS brisk? I heard he was to meet your worship here.  PUNT. 
Your heard no sigment, sir, I do expect him at every pulse of my watch.  DELI. 
In good time, sir.  CARL. 
There's a fellow now, looks like one of the Patricians of Sparta, marry his wit's after ten i'the hundred. A good bloodhound, a close-mouthed dog, he follows the sent well, marry he's at a fault now, me thinks.  PUNT. 
I should wonder at that creature is free from the danger of thy tongue.  CARL. 
O, I cannot abide these limbs of satin, or rather Satan indeed, that will walk (like the children of darkness) all day in a melancholy shop, with their pockets full of blanks, ready to swallow up as many poor unthrifts, as come within the verge.  PUNT. 
So! and what hast thou for him that is with him, now?  CARL. 
O, (dam' me) Immortality! I'll not meddle with him, the pure element of fire, all spirit, extraction.  PUNT. 
HOW, CARLO? ha, what is he, man?  CARL. 
A scholar, MACILENTE, do you not know him? a lank raw-boned anatomy, he walks up and down like a charged musket, no man dares encounter him: that's his rest there.  PUNT. 
His rest? why has he a forked head?  CARL. 
Pardon me, that's to be suspended, you are too quick, too apprehensive.  DELI. 
Troth (now I think on't) I'll defer it till some other time.  MACI. 
Not, by any means, signor, you shall not lose this opportunity, he will be here presently now.  DELI. 
Yes saith, MACILENTE, 'tis best. For look you, sir, I shall so exceedingly offend my wife in't, that—  MACI. 
Your wife? now for shame lose these thoughts, and become the master of your own spirits. Should I (if I had a wife) suffer myself to be thus passionately carried (to and fro) with the stream of her humour? and neglect my deepest affairs, to serve her affections? 'Slight I would geld myself first.  DELI. 
O but, signor, had you such a wife as mine is, you would—  MACI. 
Such a wife? Now hate me, sir, if ever I discerned any wonder in your wife, yet, with all the speculation I have: I have seen some that ha' been thought fairer than she, in my time; and I have seen those, ha' not been altogether so tall, esteemed properer women; and I have seen less noses grow upon sweeter faces, that have done very well too, in my judgement: but in good faith, signor, for all this, the gentlewoman is a good pretty proud hard-favoured thing, marry not so peerelessely to be doted upon, I must confess: nay, be not angry.  DELI. 
Well, sir, (how ever you please to forget yourself) I have not deserved to be thus played upon, but henceforth, pray you forbear my house, for I can but faintly endure the favour of his breath at my table, that shall thus jade me for my courtesies.  MACI. 
Nay, then, signor, let me tell you, your wife is no proper woman, and, by my life, I suspect her honesty, that's more, which you may likewise suspect (if you please:) do you see? I'll urge you to nothing, against your appetite, but if you please, you may suspect it.  DELI. 
Good, sir.  MACI. 
Good sir? Now horn upon horn pursue thee, thou blind egregious dotard.  CARL. 
O, you shall hear him speak like ennie. signor MACILENTE, you saw monsieur brisk lately? I heard you were with him at court.  MACI. 
I, BUFFONE, I was with him.  CARL. 
And how is he respected there? (I know you'll deal ingenuously with us) is he made of amongst the sweeter sort of gallants?  MACI. 
Faith I, his civet and his casting-glasse,  
Have helped him to a place amongst the rest:  
And there, his Seniors give him good sleight looks,  
After their garb, smile, and salute in French  
With some new complement.  CARL. 
What, is this all?  MACI. 
Why say, that they should show the frothy fool,  
Such grace, as they pretend comes from the heart,  
He had a mighty windfall out of doubt.  
Why, all their Graces are not to do grace  
To virtue, or desert: but to ride both  
With their guilt sputres quite breathless, from themselves.  
'Tis now esteemed Precisianism in wit;  
And a disease in nature, to be kind  
Toward desert, to love, or seek good names:  
Who feeds with a good name? who thrives with loving?  
Who can provide feast for his own desires,  
With serving others? ha, ha, ha:  
'Tis folly, by our wisest worldlings proved,  
(If not to gain by love) to be beloved.  CARL. 
How like you him? is't not a good spiteful slave? ha?  PUNT. 
Shrewd, shrewd.  CARL. 
Dam'me, I could eat his flesh now: divine sweet villain!  MACI. 
Nay, pray thee leave: what's he there?  CARL. 
Who? this i'the starched beard? it's the dull stiff knight PUNTARVOLO, man; he's to travail now presently: he has a good knotty wit, marry he carries little o't out of the land, with him.  MACI. 
How then?  CARL. 
He puts it forth in venture, as he does his money; upon the return of a dog, and cat.  MACI. 
Is this he?  CARL. 
I, this is he; a good tough gentleman: he looks like a shield of brawn, at Shrovetide, out of date, and ready to take his leave: or a dry paul of ling upon Easter-eve, that has furnished the table all Lent, as he has done the city this last vacation.  MACI. 
Come, you'll never leave your stabbing smile's: I shall ha' you aiming at me with 'em by and by, but—  CARL. 
O, renounce me then: pure, honest, good devil, I love thee above the love of women: I could e'en melt in admiration of thee, now! gods so, look here, man; Sir DAGONET, and his squire!   

Act IIII. Scene V.  SOGLIARDO, SHIFT. To them. 
Save you, my dear GALLANTO'S: nay, come approach, good CAVALIER: pray thee (sweet knight) know this gentleman, he's one that it pleases me to use as my good friend, and companion; and therefore do him good offices: I beseech you, gentles, know him, know him all over.  PUNT. 
Sir (for signor SOGLIARDO'S sake) let it suffice, I know you.  SOGL. 
Why (as I am true gentleman) I thank you, knight, and it shall suffice. Hark you, sir PUNTARVOLO, you'd little think it; he's as resolute a piece of flesh, as any's i'the world.  PUNT. 
Indeed, sir?  SOGL. 
Upon my gentility, sir: CARLO, a word with you; Do you see that same fellow, there?  CARL. 
What? CAVALIER SHIFT?  SOGL. 
O, you know him; cry you mercy: before me, I think him the tallest man, living within the walls of Europe.  CARL. 
The walls of Europe! take heed what you say, signor, Europe's a huge thing within the walls.  SOGL. 
Tut, (and 'twere as huge again) I'd justify what I speak. 'Slid, he swaggered e'en now in a place where we were: I never saw a man do it more resolute.  CARL. 
Nay, indeed swaggering is a good argument of resolution. Do you hear this, signor?  MACI. 
I, to my grief. O, that such muddy flags,  
For every drunken flourish, should achieve  
The name of manhood; whilst true perfect valour  
(Hating to show itself) goes by despised!  
Heart, I do know now (in a fair just cause)  
I dare do more than he, a thousand times:  
Why should not they take knowledge of this? ha?  
And give my worth allowance before his?  
Because I cannot swagger! Now the pox  
Light on your Pickt-hatch prowess.  SOGL. 
Why, I tell you, sir, he has been the only Bid-stand that ever kept New-market, Salisbury-plaine, Hockley i'the hole, Gadshill; all the high places of any request: he has had his mares and his geldings, he, ha' been worth forty, threescore, a hundred pound a horse, would ha' sprung you over hedge, and ditch, like your greyhound, he has done five hundred robberies in his time, more or less, I assure you.  PUNT. 
What? and scaped?  SOGL. 
Scaped! i'faith I: he has broken the jail when he has been in irons, and irons; and been out, and in again; and out, and in; forty times, and not so few, he.  MACI. 
A fit trumpet, to proclaim such a person.  CARL. 
But can this be possible?  SHIFT. 
Why, 'tis nothing, sir, when a man gives his affections to it.  SOGL. 
Good PYLADES, discourse a robbery, or two, to satisfy these gentlemen of thy worth.  SHIFT. 
Pardon me, my dear ORESTES: Causes have their quiddits, and 'tis ill jesting with bell-ropes.  CARL. 
How? PYLADES, and ORESTES?  SOGL. 
I, he is my PYLADES, and I am his ORESTES: how like you the conceit?  CARL. 
O, it's an old stolen interlude device: No, I'll give you names myself, look you, he shall be your JUDAS, and you shall be his Elder tree, to hang on.  MACI. 
Nay, rather, let him be captain POD, and this his Motion; for he does nothing but show him.  CARL. 
Excellent: or thus, you shall be HOLDEN, and he your Camel.  SHIFT. 
You do not mean to ride, gentlemen?  PUNT. 
Faith, let me end it for you, gallants: you shall be his Countenance, and he your Resolution.  SOGL. 
Troth, that's pretty: how say you, Cavalier, shalt be so?  CARL. 
I, I, most voices.  SHIFT. 
Faith, I am easily yielding to any good impressions.  SOGL. 
Then give hands, good Resolution.  CARL. 
Mass, he cannot say, good Countenance, now (properly) to him again.  PUNT. 
Yes, by an irony.  MACI. 
O, sir, the countenance of Resolution should, as he is, be altogether grim, and unpleasant.   

Act IIII. Scene VI  FASTIDIUS brisk. 
GOod hours make music with your mirth, gentlemen, and keep time to your humours: how now, CARLO?  PUNT. 
Monsieur brisk! many a long look have I extended for you, sir.  FAST. 
Good faith, I must crave pardon; I was invited this morning ere I was out of my bed, by a bevie of ladies, to a banquet: whence it was almost one of HERCULES labours for me, to come away, but that the respect of my promise did so prevail with me: I know they'll take it very ill, especially one that gave me this bracelet of her hair but overnight, and this pearl another gave me from her forehead, marry, she— what? are the writings ready?  PUNT. 
I will send my man to know. Sirrah, go you to the Notaries, and learn if he be ready: leave the dog, sir.  FAST. 
And how does my rare qualified friend, SOGLIARDO? oh, signor MACILENTE! by these eyes, I saw you not, I had saluted you sooner else, o'my troth: I hope, sir, I may presume upon you, that you will not divulge my late check, or disgrace, indeed, sir.  MACI. 
You may, sir.  CARL. 
S'heart, he knows some notorious jest by this gull, that he hath him so obsequious.  SOGL. 
Monsieur FASTIDIUS, do you see this fellow there? does he not look like a clown? would you think there's any thing in him?  FAST. 
Anything in him? beshrew me, I; the fellow hath a good ingenious face.  SOGL. 
By this element, he is an ingenious tall man, as ever swaggered about London: he, and I, call Countenance, and Resolution, but his name is CAVALIER SHIFT.  PUNT. 
CAVALIER, you knew signor CLOG, that was hanged for the robbery at Harrow o'the hill?  SOGL. 
Knew him, sir! why, 'twas he gave all the directions for the action.  PUNT. 
How? was't your project, sir?  SHIFT. 
Pardon me, Countenance, you do me some wrong to make that public, which I imparted to you in private.  SOGL. 
God's will! here are none but friends, Resolution.  SHIFT. 
That's all one; things of consequence must have their respects, where, how, and to whom. Yes, sir, he showed himself a true CLOG in the coherence of that affair, sir; for if he had managed matters as they were corroborated to him, it had been better for him by a forty, or fifty score of pounds, sir, and he himself might ha' lived (in despite of fates) to have fed on woodcocks, with the rest: but it was his heavy fortune to sink, poor CLOG, and therefore talk no more of him.  PUNT. 
Why, had he more aiders, then?  SOGL. 
O god, sir! I, there were some present there, that were the nine Worthies to him, i'faith.  SHIFT. 
I, sir, I can satisfy you at more convenient conference: but (for mine own part) I have now reconciled myself to other courses, and profess a living out of my other qualities.  SOGL. 
Nay, he has left all now (I assure you) and is able to live like a gentleman, by his quality. By this dog, he has the most rare gift in tobacco, that ever you knew.  CARL. 
S'heart, he keeps more ado with this monster, than ever BANKS did with his horse, or the fellow with the elephant.  MACI. 
He will hang out his picture shortly, in a cloth, you shall see.  SOGL. 
O, he does manage a quarrel, the best that ever you saw, for terms, and circumstances.  FAST. 
Good faith, signor, (now you speak of a quarrel) I'll acquaint you with a difference, that happened between a gallant, and myself sir PUNTARVOLO, you know him if I should name him, signor LUCULENTO.  PUNT. 
LUCULENTO! what inauspicious chance interposed itself to your two loves?  FAST. 
Faith, sir, the same that sundered AGAMEMNON, and great THETIS son; but let the cause escape, sir: He sent me a challenge (mict with some few braves) which I restored, and in fine we met. Now indeed, sir, (I must tell you) he did offer at first very desperately, but without judgement: for look you, sir. I cast myself into this figure: now he, comes violently on, and withal advancing his rapier to strike, I thought to have took his arm (for he had left his whole body to my election, and I was sure he could not recover his guard) Sir, I missed my purpose in his arm, rashed his doublet sleeve, ran him close by the left cheek, and through his hair. He again, lights me here (I had on, a gold cable hatband, then new come up, which I wore about a murrey French hat I had) cuts my hatband (and yet it was massy, goldsmiths' work) cuts my brims, which by good fortune (being thick embroidered with gold-twist, and spangles) disappointed the force of the blow: Nevertheless, it grazed on my shoulder, takes me away six purls of an Italian cutwork band I wore (cost me three pound in the exchange, but three days before.)  PUNT. 
This was a strange encounter!  FAST. 
Nay, you shall hear, sir: with this we both fell out, and breathed. Now (upon the second sign of his assault) I betook me to the former manner of my defence; he (on the other side) abandoned his body to the same danger, as before, and follows me still with blows: But I (being loath to take the deadly advantage that lay before me of his left side) made a kind of stramazon, ran him up to the hilts, through the doublet, through the shirt, and yet missed the skin. He (making a reverse blow) falls upon my embossed girdle (I had thrown off the hangers a little before) strikes off a skirt of a thick— laced satin doublet I had (lined with some four taffetas) cuts off two panes, embroidered with pearl, rends through the drawings out of tissue, enters the linings, and skips the flesh.  CARL. 
I wonder he speaks not of his wrought shirt!  FAST. 
Here (in the opinion of mutual damage) we paused: but (ere I proceed) I must tell you, signor, that (in this last encounter) not having leisure to put off my silver spurs, one of the rowels catched hold of the ruffle of my boot, and (being Spanish leather, and subject to tear) overthrows me, rends me two pair of silk stockings (that I put on, being somewhat a raw morning, a peach colour and another) and strikes me some half inch deep into the side of the calf; He (seeing the blood come) presently takes horse, and away. I (having bound up my wound with a piece of my wrought shirt)—  CARL. 
O! comes it in there?  FAST. 
Rid after him, and (lighting at the ourt-gate, both together) embraced, and marched hand in hand up into the presence: was not this business well carried?  MACI. 
Well? yes, and by this we can guess what apparel the gentleman wore.  PUNT. 
Fore valour, it was a designment begun with much resolution, maintained with as much prowess, and ended with more humanity. How now, what says the Notary?  SERU. 
He says, he is ready, sir, he stays but your worship's pleasure.  PUNT. 
Come, we will go to him, Monsieur. Gentlemen, shall we entreat you to be witnesses?  SOGL. 
You shall entreat me, sir: come Resolution.  SHIFT. 
I follow you, good Countenance.  CARL. 
Come, signor, come, come.  MACI. 
O, that there should be fortune  
To cloth these men, so naked in desert!  
And that the just storm of a wretched life,  
Beats 'em not ragged, for their wretched souls,  
And, since as fruitless, even as black as coals!  
GREX.  MIT. 
Why, but signor, how comes it, that FUNGOSO appeared not with his sister's intelligence, to brisk?  COR. 
Marry, long of the evil angels that she gave him, who have indeed tempted the good simple youth, to follow the tail of the fashion, and neglect the imposition of his friends. Behold, here he comes, very worshipfully attended and with good variety.   

Act IIII. Scene VII.  FUNGOSO, TAYLOR, SHOEMAKER, HABERDASHER. 
Gramercy, good shoemaker, I'll put to strings myself. Now, sir, let me see, what must you have for this hat?  HABER. 
Here's the bill, sir.  FUNG. 
How does't become me? well?  TAIL. 
Excellent, sir, as ever you had any hat in your life.  FUNG. 
Nay, you'll say so, all.  HABE. 
In faith, sir, the hat's as good as any man i' this town can serve you; and will maintain fashion as long: ne'er trust me for a groat else.  FUNG. 
Does it apply well to my suit?  TAIL. 
Exceeding well, sir.  FUNG. 
How lik'st thou my suit, haberdasher?  HABE. 
By my troth, sir, 'tis very rarely well made, I never saw a suit sit better, I can tell, on.  TAIL. 
Nay, we have no art to please our friends, we.  FUNG. 
Here, haberdasher, tell this fame.  HABE. 
Good faith, sir, it makes you have an excellent body.  FUNG. 
Nay (believe me) I think I have as good a body in clothes, as another.  TAIL. 
You lack points, to bring your apparel together, sir.  FUNG. 
I'll have points anon: how now? is't right?  HABE. 
Faith, sir, 'tis too little, but upon farther hopes— Good morrow to you, sir.  FUNG. 
Farewell, good haberdasher. Well, now master SNIP, let me see your bill.  
GREX.  MIT. 
Me thinks he discharges his followers too thick.  COR. 
O, therein he fancily imitates some great man. I warrant you, though he turns off them, he keeps this tailor, in place of a page, to follow him still.  FUNG. 
This bill is very reasonable, in faith (hark you, master SNIP) Troth, sir, I am not altogether so well furnished at this present, as I could wish I were, but— If you'll do me the favour to take part in hand, you shall have all I have, by this hand—  TAIL. 
Sir—  FUNG. 
And, but give me credit for the rest, till the beginning of the next term.  TAIL. 
O lord, sir—  FUNG. 
Fore god, and by this light, I'll pay you to the utmost, and acknowledge myself very deeply engaged to you, by the courtesy.  TAIL. 
Why, how much have you there, sir?  FUNG. 
Marry I have here four angels, and fifteen shillings of white money: it's all I have, as I hope to be blessed.  TAIL. 
You will not fail me, at the next term, with the rest.  FUNG. 
No, and I do, pray heaven, I be hanged. Let me never breath again, upon this mortal stage, as the philosopher calls it. By this air, and (as I am a gentleman) I'll hold.  
GREX.  CORD. 
He were an iron-hearted fellow, in my judgement, that would not credit him upon this volley of oaths.  TAIL. 
Well, sir, I'll not stick with any gentleman for a trifle: you know what 'tis, remains?  FUNG. 
I, sir, and I give you thanks in good faith. O fate! how happy am I made in this good fortune! Well, now I'll go seek out Monsieur brisk. Odds so, I have forgot ribbon for my shoes, and points. 'Slid, what luck 's this! how shall I do? Master SNIP, pray let me reduct some two or three shillings for points, and ribbon: as I am an honest man, I have utterly disfurnished myself, in the default of memory, pray'le me be beholding to you, it shall come home i'the bill, believe me.  TAIL. 
Faith, sir, I can hardly depart with ready money, but I'll take up, and send you some by my boy, presently. What coloured ribbon would you have?  FUNG. 
What you shall think meet i'your judgement, sir, to my suit.  TAIL. 
Well, I'll send you some presently.  FUNG. 
And points too, sir?  TAIL. 
And points too, sir.  FUNG. 
Good lord! how shall I study to deserve this kindness of you, sir? Pray, let your youth make haste, for I should have done a business an hour since, that I doubt I shall come too late. Now, in good faith, I am exceeding proud of my suit.  
GREX.  COR. 
Do you observe the plunges, that this poor gallant is put to (signor) to purchase the fashion?  MIT. 
I, and to be still a fashion behind with the world, that's the sport.  COR. 
Stay: O here they come, from sealed, and delivered.   

Act IIII. Scene VIII.  PUNTARVOLO, FASTIDIUS brisk, SERVANTS CARLO, SOGLIARDO, MACILENTE, SHIFT. FUNGOSO. To them. 
WEll, now my whole venture is forth, I will resolve to depart shortly.  FAST. 
Faith, sir PUNTARVOLO, go to the court, and take leave of the ladies first.  PUNT. 
I care not, if it be this afternoons labour. Where is CARLO?  FAST. 
Here he comes.  CARL. 
Faith, gallants, I am persuading this gentleman to turn courtier. He is a man of fair revenue, and his estate will bear the charge well. Besides, for his other gifts of the mind, or so, why, they are as nature lent him 'em, pure, simple, without any artificial drug or mixture of these two threadbare beggarly qualities, learning, and knowledge, and therefore the more accommodate, and genuine. Now, for the life itself—  FAST. 
O, the most celestial, and full of wonder, and delight, that can be imagined, signor, beyond all thought, and apprehension of pleasure! A man lives there, in that divine rapture, that he will think himself i'the ninth heaven for the time, and lose all sense of mortality whatsoever; when he shall behold such glorious (and almost immortal) beauties, hear such angelical and harmonious voices, discourse with such flowing and ambrosiam spirits, whose wits are as sudden as lightning, and humorous as nectar, Oh: it makes a man all quintessence, and flame, & lifts him up (in a moment) to the very crystal crown of the sky, where (hovering in the strength of his imagination) he shall behold all the delights of the HESPERIDES, the Insulae Fortunatae, ADONIS' gardens, Tempe or what else (condfined within the amplest verge of poesy) to be mere umbrae, and imperfect figures, conferred with the most essential felicity of your court.  MACI. 
Well, this Encomion was not extemporal, it came too perfectly off.  CARL. 
Besides, sir, you shall never need to go to a hothouse, you shall sweat there with courting your mistress, or losing your money at primero, as well as in all the stones in Sweden. Marry this, sir, you must ever be sure to carry a good strong perfume about you, that your mistress dog may smell you out amongst the rest; and (in making love to her) never fear to be out: for you may have a pipe of tobacco, or a base viol shall hang o'the wall, of purpose, will put you in presently. The tricks your Resolution has taught you in tobacco, (the whisse, and those sleights) will stand you in very good ornament there?  FAST. 
I, to some perhaps: but, and he should come to my mistress with tobacco (this gentleman knows) she'd reply upon him, i'faith. O, (by this bright sun) she has the most acute, ready, and facetious wit, that— tut there's no spirit able to stand her. You can report it, signor, you have seen her?  PUNT. 
Then can he report no less, out of his judgement, I assure him.  MACI. 
Troth, I like her well enough, but she's too self-conceited, me thinks.  FAST. 
I indeed, she's a little too self conceited, and 'twere not for that humour, she were the most-to-be-admired lady in the world.  PUNT. 
Indeed, it is a humour that takes from her other excellencies.  MACI. 
Why, it may easily be made to forsake her, in my thought.  FAST. 
Easily, sir? then are all impossibilities easy.  MACI. 
You conclude too quick upon me, signor, what will you say, if I make it so perspicuously appear now, that yourself shall confess nothing more possible?  FAST. 
Marry, I will say, I will both applaud, and admire you for it.  PUNT. 
And I will second him, in the admiration.  MACI. They whisper. 
Why, I'll show you, gentlemen. CARLO, come hither.  SOGL. 
Good faith, I have a great humour to the court: what thinks my Resolution? shall I adventure?  SHIFT. 
Troth, Countenance, as you please; the place is a place of good reputation, and capacity.  SOGL. 
O, my tricks in tobacco (as CARLO says) will show excellent there.  SHIFT. 
Why, you may go with these gentlemen now, and see fashions: and after, as you shall see correspondence.  SOGL. 
You say true. You will go with me, Resolution?  SHIFT. 
I will meet you, Countenance, about three or four of clock, but, to say to go with you I cannot, for (as I am APPLE-JOHN) I am to go before the Cockatrice you saw this morning, and therefore pray, present me excused, good Countenance.  SOGL. 
Farewell, good Resolution, but fail not to meet.  SHIFT. 
As I live.  PUNT. 
Admirably excellent!  MACI. 
If you can but persuade SOGLIARDO to court, there's all now.  CARL. 
O let me alone, that's my task.  FAST. 
Now, by wit, MACILENTE, it's above measure excellent: 'twill be the only court-exploit that ever proved courtier ingenious.  PUNT. 
Upon my soul, it puts the lady quite out of her humour, and we shall laugh with judgement.  CARL. 
Come, the gentleman was of himself resolved to go with you, afore I moved it.  MACI. 
Why then, gallants, you two, and CARLO, go afore to prepare the jest: SOGLIARDO and I will come some while after you.  CARL. 
Pardon me, I am not for court.  PUNT. 
That's true: CARLO comes not at court indeed. Well, you shall leave it to the faculty of monsieur brisk, and myself, upon our lives we will manage it happily. CARLO shall bespeak supper, at the mitre, against we come back: where we will meet, and dimple our cheeks with laughter at the success.  CARL. 
I, but will you all promise to come?  PUNT. 
Myself shall manfred it for them: he that fails, let his reputation lie under the lash of thy tongue.  CARL. 
God's so, look who comes here!  SOGL. 
What, nephew!  FUNG. 
Uncle, god save you; did you see a gentleman, one monsieur brisk? a Courtier, he goes in such a suit as I do.  SOGL. 
Here is the gentleman, nephew, but not in such a suit.  FUNG. He swoons. 
Another suit!  SOGL. 
How now, nephew?  FAST. 
Would you speak to me, sir?  CARL. 
I, when he has recovered himself: poor poll.  PUNT. 
Some Rosa-solis.  MACI. 
How now, signor?  FUNG. 
I am not well, sir.  MACI. 
Why, this it is, to dog the fashion.  CARL. 
Nay, come gentlemen, remember your affairs; his disease is nothing but the flux of apparel.  PUNT. 
Sirs, return to the lodging, keep the cat safe; I'll be the dog's Guardian myself.  SOGL. 
Nephew, will you go to court with us? these gentlemen and I are for the court: nay, be not so melancholy.  FUNG. 
By god's lid, I think no man in christendom has that rascally fortune that I have.  MACI. 
Faith, your suit is well enough, signor.  FUNG. 
Nay, not for that, I protest; but I had an errand to Monsieur FASTIDIUS, and I have forgot it.  MACI. 
Why, go along to court with us, and remember it, come. Gentlemen, you three take one boat, and SOGLIARDO and I will take another: we shall be there instantly.  FAST. 
Content: good sir, vouchsafe us your pleasance.  PUNT. 
Farewell, CARLO; remember.  CARL. 
I warrant you: would I had one of Kemp's shoes to throw after you.  PUNT. 
Good Fortune will close the eyes of our jest, fear not: and we shall frolic.  
GREX.  MIT. 
This MACILENTE, signor, begins to be more sociable on a sudden, me thinks, than he was before: there's some portent in't, I believe.  COR. 
O, he's a fellow of a strange nature. Now does he (in this calm of his humour) plot, and store up a world of malicious thoughts in his brain, till he is so full with 'em, that you shall see the very torrent of his envy break forth like a land-floud: and, against the course of all their affections oppose itself so violently, that you will almost have wonder to think, how 'tis possible the current of their dispositions shall receive so quick, and strong an alteration.  MIT. 
I marry, sir, this is that, on which my expectation has dwelled all this while: for I must tell you, signor (though I was loath to interrupt the Scene) yet I made it a question in mine own private discourse, how he should properly call it, Every man out of his Humour, when I saw all his actors so strongly pursue, and continue their humours?  COR. 
Why, therein his art appears most full of lustre, and approacheth nearest the life: especially, when in the flame, and height of their humours, they are laid flat, it fills the eye better, and with more contentment. How tedious a sight were it to behold a proud exalted tree lopped, and cut down by degrees, when it might be field in a moment? and to set the axe to it before it came to that pride, and fullness, were, as not to have it grow.  MIT. 
Well, I shall long till I see this fall, you talk of.  COR. 
To help your longing, signor, let your imagination be swifter them a pair of oars: and by this, suppose PUNTARVOLO, brisk, FUNGOSO, and the dog arrived at the court gate, and going up to the great chamber. MACILENTE, and SOGLIARDO, we'll leave them on the water, till possibility and natural means may land 'em. Here come the gallants, now prepare your expectation.    

Act V.  

Scene I.  PUNTARVOLO, FASTIDIUS brisk, FUNGOSO, GROOM, MACILENTE, SOGLIARDO. 
COme, gentles. signor, you are sufficiently instructed.  FAST. 
Who, I, sir?  PUNT. 
No, this gentleman. But stay, I take thought how to bestow my dog, he is no competent attendant for the presence.  FAST. 
Mass, that's true indeed, knight, you must not carry him into the presence.  PUNT. 
I know it, and I (like a dull beast) forgot to bring one of my cormorants to attend me.  FAST. 
Why, you're best leave him at the porters lodge.  PUNT. 
Not so: his worth is too well known amongst them, to be forthcoming.  FAST. 
'Slight, how'll you do then?  PUNT. 
I must leave him with one, that is ignorant of his quality, if I will have him to be safe. And see! Here comes one that will carry coals, ergo, will hold my dog. My honest friend, may I commit the tuition of this dog to thy prudent care?  GROO. 
You may, if you please, sir.  PUNT. 
Pray thee let me find thee here at my return: it shall not be long, till I will ease thee of thy employment, and please thee. Forth, gentles.  FAST. 
Why, but will you leave him with so slight command, and infirse no more charge, upon the fellow?  PUNT. 
Charge? no; there were no policy in that: that were to let him know the value of the gem he holds, and so, to tempt frail nature against her disposition. No, pray thee let thy honesty be sweet, as it shall be short.  GROO. 
Yes, sir.  PUNT. 
But hark you gallants, and chiefly Monsieur brisk. When we come in eye-shot, or presence of this lady, let not other matters carry us from our project: but (if we can) single her forth to some place—  FAST. 
I warrant you.  PUNT. 
And be not too sudden, but let the device induce itself with good circumstance. On.  FUNG. 
Is this the way? good truth, here be fine hangings.  GROO. 
Honesty sweet, and short? marry it shall, sir, doubt you not: for even at this instant if one would give me twenty pounds, I would not deliver him; there's for the sweet; but now, if any man come offer me but two pence, he shall have him; there's for the short now. 'Slid, what a mad humorous gentleman is this to leave his dog with me? I could run away with him now, and he were worth any thing.  MACI. 
Come on, signor, now prepare to court this all-witted lady, most naturally, and like yourself.  SOGL. 
Faith, and you say the word, I'll begin to her in tobacco.  MACI. 
O, fie on't: no: you shall begin with, How does my sweet lady? or, Why are you so melancholy, Madame? though she be very merry, it's all one: be sure to kiss your hand often enough; pray for her health, and tell her, how, more than most fair she is. Screw your face at one side thus, and protest; let her fleer, and look a skance, and hide her teeth with her fan, when she laughs a fit, to bring her into more matter, that's nothing: you must talk forward (though it be without sense, so it be without blushing) 'tis most courtlike, and well.  SOGL. 
But shall I not use tobacco at all?  MACI. 
O, by no means, 'twill but make your breath suspected, and that you use it only to confound the rankness of that.  SOGL. 
Nay, I'll be advised, sir, by my friends.  MACI. 
God's my life, see, where sir PUNTAR'S dog is.  GROO. 
I would the gentleman would return for his follower here, I'll leave him to his fortunes else.  MACI. 
S'heart, 'twere the only true jest in the world to poison him now: ha? by this hand, I'll do it, if I could but get him of the fellow. signor SOGLIARDO, walk aside, and think upon some device, to entertain the lady with.  SOGL. 
So I do, sir.  MACI. 
How now, mine honest friend? whose dog-keeper art thou?  GROO. 
Dog-keeper, sir? I hope I scorn that i'faith.  MACI. 
Why? dost thou not keep a dog?  GROO. He throws off the dog. 
Sir, now I do, and now I do not: I think this be sweet and short. Make me his dog-keeper?  MACI. 
This is excellent, above expectation: nay stay, sir, you'd be travailing, but I'll give you a dram shall shorten your voyage: here. So sir, I'll be bold to take my leave of you. Now to the Turks court in the devils name, for you shall never go o'gods name. SOGLIARDO, come.  SOGL. 
I ha' 't ysaith now, will sting it.  MACI. 
Take heed you lose it not, signor, ere you come there: preserve it.  
GREX.  CORD. 
How like you this first exploit of his?  MITIS. 
O, a piece of true envy: but I expect the issue of the other device.  CORD. 
Here they come, will make it appear.   

Act V. Scene II.  SAVIOLINA, PUNTARVOLO, FASTIDIUS brisk, FUNGOSO, MACILENTE, SOGLIARDO. To them. 
WHy, I thought, sir PUNTARVOLO, you had been gone your voyage?  PUNT. 
Dear, and most amiable lady, your divine beauties do bind me to those offices, that I cannot depart when I would.  SAVI. 
'Tis most courtlike spoken, sir: but how might we do to have a sight of your dog, and cat?  FAST. 
His dog is in the court, lady.  SAVI. 
And not your cat? how dare you trust her behind you, sir?  PUNT. 
Troth, madame, she hath sore eyes, and she doth keep her chamber: marry I have left under sufficient guard, there are two of my followers to attend her.  SAVI. 
I'll give you some water for her eyes: when do you go, sir?  PUNT. 
Certes, sweet lady, I know not.  FAST. 
He doth stay the rather, madame, to present you acute judgement with so courtly, and wel-parted a gentleman, as yet your ladyship hath never seen.  SAVI. 
What's he, gentle Monsieur brisk? not that gentleman?  FAST. 
No lady, this is a kinsman to justice Silence.  PUNT. 
Pray sir, give me leave to report him: he's a gentleman (lady) of that rare and admirable faculty, as (I protest) I know not his like in Europe: he is exceedingly valiant, an excellent scholar, and so exactly travailed, that he is able in discourse, to deliver you a model of any prince's court in the world: speaks the languages with that purity of phrase, and facility of accent, that it breeds astonishment: his wit, the most exuberant, and (above wonder) pleasant, of all that ever entered the concave of this eve.  FAST. 
'Tis most true, lady: marry, he is no such excellent proper man.  PUNT. 
His travails have changed his complexion, madame.  SAVI. 
O, sir PUNTARVOLO, you must think, every man was not borne to have my servant BRISKE'S feature.  PUNT. 
But that which transcends all, lady; he doth so peerelessely imitate any manner of person for gesture, action, passion, or whatever—  FAST. 
I, especially a rustic, or a clown, madame, that it is not possible for the sharpest-sighted wit (in the world) to discern any sparks of the gentleman in him, when he does.  SAVI. 
O, Monsieur brisk, be not so tyrannous to confine all wits within the compass of your own: not find the sparks of a gentleman in him, if he be a gentleman?  FUNG. 
No in truth (sweet lady) I believe you cannot.  SAVI. 
Do you believe so? why, I can find sparks of a gentleman in you, sir.  PUNT. 
I, he is a gentleman, madame, and a reveller.  FUNG. 
Indeed, I think I have seen your ladyship at our revels.  SAVI. 
Like enough, sir: but would I might see this wonder you talk of: may one have a sight of him, for any reasonable sum?  PUNT. 
Yes, madame, he will arrive presently.  SAVI. 
What, and shall we see him clown it?  FAST. 
I faith (sweet lady) that you shall: see, here he comes.  PUNT. 
This is he! pray observe him, lady.  SAVI. 
Be shrew me, he clowns it properly indeed.  PUNT. 
Nay, mark his courtship.  SOGL. 
How does my sweet lady? hot, and moist? beautiful and lusty? ha?  SAVI. 
Beautiful, and it please you, sir, but not lusty.  SOGL. 
O ho, lady; it pleases you to say so in truth: and how does my sweet lady? in health? Bonaroba, quaeso, que novelles? que novels? sweet creature.  SAVI. 
O excellent: why gallants, is this he that cannot be deciphered? they were very blear-witted, i'faith, that could not discern the gentleman in him.  PUNT. 
But, do you, in earnest, lady?  SAVI. 
Do I, sir? why, if you had any true court-iudgement in the carriage of his eye, and that inward power that forms his countenance, you might perceive his counterfeiting as clear, as the noonday: Alas— Nay, if you would have tried my wit, indeed, you should never have told me he was a gentleman, but presented him for a true clown indeed; and then have seen if I could have deciphered him.  FAST. 
Fore god, her ladyship says true (knight:) but does he not affect the clown most naturally, mistress?  PUNT. 
O, she cannot but affirm that, out of the bounty of her judgement.  SAVI. 
Nay, out of doubt he does well, for a gentleman, to imitate; but I warrant you, he becomes his natural carriage of the gentleman, much better than his clownery.  FAST. 
'Tis strange, in truth, her ladyship should see so far into him.  PUNT. 
I, is't not?  SAVI. 
Faith, as easily as may be: not decipher him, quoth you?  FUNG. 
Good sadness, I wonder at it!  MACI. 
Why, has she deciphered him, gentlemen?  PUNT. 
O, most miraculously, and beyond admiration!  MACI. 
Is't possible?  FAST. 
She hath gathered most infallible signs of the gentleman in him, that's certain.  SAVI. 
Why, gallants, let me laugh at you, a little: was this your device, to try my judgement in a gentleman?  MACI. 
Nay, lady, do not scorn us, though you have this gift of perspicacy above others: What if he should be no gentleman now, but a clown indeed, lady?  PUNT. 
How think you of that? would not your ladyship be out of your humour?  FAST. 
O, but she knows it is not so.  SAVI. 
What if he were not a man, ye may as well say? nay, if your worships could gull me so, indeed, you were wiser than you are taken for.  MACI. 
In good faith, lady, he is a very perfect clown, both by father, and mother: that I'll assure you.  SAVI. 
O, sir, you are very pleasurable.  MACI. 
Nay, do but look on his hand, and that shall resolve you: look you, lady, what a palm here is.  SOGL. 
Tut, that was with holding the plough.  MACI. 
The plough! did you discern any such thing in him, madame?  FAST. 
Faith no, she saw the gentleman as bright, as at noonday, she: she deciphered him at first.  MACI. 
Troth, I am sorry your ladyships sight should be so suddenly struck.  SAVI. 
O, you're goodly beagles!  FAST. 
What, is she gone?  SOGL. 
Nay, stay, sweet lady, que novelles? que novelles?  SAVI. 
Out, you fool, you.  FUNG. 
she's out of her humour i'faith.  FAST. 
Nay, let's follow it while 'tis hot, gentlemen.  PUNT. 
Come, on mine honour we shall make her blush in the presence: my spleen is great with laughter.  MACI. 
Your laughter will be a child of a feeble life, I believe, sir. Come, signor, your looks are too dejected, me thinks: why mix you not mirth with the rest?  FUNG. 
By gods will, this suit frets me at the soul. I'll have it altered to morrow, sure.   

Act V. scene III.  SHIFT. FASTIDIUS, PUNTARVOLO, SOGLIARDO, FUNGOSO, MACILENTE. To him. 
I Am come to the court, to meet with my Countenance SOGLIARDO: poor men must be glad of such countenance, when they can get no better. Wel. Need may insult upon a man, but it shall never make him despair of consequence. The world will say, 'tis base: tush, base! 'tis base to live under the earth, not base to live above it, by any means.  FAST. 
The poor lady is most miserably out of her humour, i'faith.  PUNT. 
There was never so witty a jest broken, at the tilt of all the court-wits christened.  MACI. 
O, this applause taints it, foully.  SOGL. 
I think, I did my part in courting. O! Resolution!  PUNT. 
Ay me, my dog.  MACI. 
Where is he?  FAST. H●send●aw●y Fungoso. 
God's precious, go seek for the fellow, good signor.  PUNT. 
Here, here I left him.  MACI. 
Why, none was here when we came in now, but CAVALIER SHIFT, inquire of him.  FAST. 
Did you see sir PVNTARVOLO'S dog here, Cavalier, since you came?  SHIFT. 
His dog sir? he may look his dog, sir, I saw none of his dog, sir.  MACI. 
Upon my life, he hath stol'n your dog, sir, and been hired to it by some that have ventured with you: you may guess by his peremptory answers.  PUNT. 
Not unlike; for he hath been a notorious thief by his own confession. Sirrah, where is my dog?  SHIFT. 
Charge me with your dog, sir? I ha' none of your dog, sir.  PUNT. 
Villain, thou liest.  SHIFT. 
Lie, sir? 'Sblood, y' are but a man, sir.  PUNT. 
Rogue, and thief, restore him.  SOGL. 
Take heed, sir PUNTARVOLO, what you do: he'll bear no coals, I can tell you (o' my word.)  MACI. 
This is rare.  SOGL. 
It's marvel he stabs you not: by this light, he hath stabbed forty, for forty times less matter, I can tell you, of my knowledge.  PUNT. 
I will make thee stoop, thou abject.  SOGL. 
Make him stoop, sir! gentlemen, pacify him or he'll be killed.  MACI. 
Is he so tall a man?  SOGL. 
Tall a man? if you love his life, stand betwixt 'em: make him stoop!  PUNT. 
My dog, villain, or I will hang thee: thou hast confessed robberies, and other felonious acts, to this gentleman thy Countenance—  SOGL. 
I'll bear no witness.  PUNT. 
And, without my dog, I will hang thee, for them.  SOGL. Shift kneels. 
What? kneel to thine enemies?  SHIFT. 
Pardon me, good sir; god is my witness, I never did robbery in all my life.  FUNG. Fungoso returned. 
O, sir PUNTARVOLO, your dog lies giving up the ghost in the woodyard.  MACI. 
Heart! is he not dead, yet?  PUNT. 
O, my dog, born to disastrous fortune! pray you conduct me, sir.  SOGL. 
How? did you never do any robbery, in your life?  MACI. 
O, this is good: so he swore, sir.  SOGL. 
I, I heard him. And did you swear true, sir?  SHIFT. 
I, (as I hope to be forgiven, sir) I ne'er robbed any man, I never stood by the highway-side, sir, but only said so, because I would get myself a name, and be counted a tall man.  SOGL. 
Now out, base viliaco: Thou my Resolution? I thy Countenance? By this light, gentlemen, he hath confessed to me the most inexorable company of robberies, and damned himself that he did 'em; you never heard the like: out scoundrel, out, follow me no more, I command thee: out of my sight, go, hence, speak not: I will not hear thee: away camouccio.  MACI. 
O, how I do feed upon this now, and fat myself! here were a couple unexpectedly dishumoured: well, by this time, I hope, sir PUNTARVOLO and his dog are both out of humour to travail. Nay, gentlemen, why do you not seek out the knight, and comfort him? our supper at the Mitre must of necessity hold to night, if you love your reputations.  FAST. 
'Fore god, I am so melancholy for his dog's disaster, but I'll go.  SOGL. 
Faith, and I may go too, but I know, I shall be so melancholy.  MACI. 
Tush, melancholy? you must forget that now, and remember you lie at the mercy of a fury: CARLO will rack your sinews asunder, and rail you to dust, if you come not.  GREX. MIT. 
O, than their fear of CARLO, belike, makes them hold their meeting.  COR. 
I, here he comes: conceive him but to be entered the Mitre, and 'tis enough.   

Act V. Scene IIII.  CARLO, DRAWER, GEORGE. 
HOlla: where be these shot-sharks?  DRAW. 
By and by: you're welcome, good master BUFFONE.  CARL. 
Where's GEORGE? calm GEORGE hither, quickly.  DRAW. 
What wine please you have, sir? I'll draw you that's neat, master BUFFONE.  CARL. 
Away NEOPHYTE, do as I bid thee, bring my dear GEORGE to me: Mass, here he comes.  GEOR 
Welcome, master CARLO.  CARL. 
What! is supper ready, GEORGE?  GEOR 
I, sir, almost: will you have the cloth laid, master CARLO?  CARL. 
O, what else? are none of the gallants come, yet?  GEOR 
None yet, sir.  CARL. 
Stay, take me with you, GEORGE: let me have a good faloyne of pork laid to the fire, presently.  GEOR 
It shall, sir.  CARL. 
And withal, hear you? draw me the biggest shaft you have, out of the butt you wot of: away, you know my meaning, GEORGE, quick.  GEOR 
Done, sir.  CARL. 
I never hungered so much for thing in my life, as I do to know our gallants success at court: now is that lean bald-rib MACILENTE, that salt villain, plotting some mischicuous device, and lies a soaking in their frothy humours like a dry crust, till he has drunk 'em all up: could the pumice but hold up his eyes at other men's happiness, in any reasonable proportion: 'Slid, the slave were to be loved next heaven, above honour, wealth, rich fare, apparel, wenches, all the delights of the belly, and the groin, whatever.  GEOR 
Here, master CARLO.  CARL. 
Is't right, Boy?  GEOR 
I, sir, I assure you 'tis right.  CARL. He puts forth the drawers, and shuts the door. 
Well said, my dear GEORGE, depart: Come, my small gimlet, you in the false scabbard, away, so. Now to you, sir Burgomaster, let's taste of your bounty.  
GREX.  MIT. 
What, will he deal upon such quantities of wine, alone?  COR. 
You will perceive that, sir.  CARL. He sets the two cups asunder, and first drinks with the one, and pledges with the other. 
I marry, sir, here's purity: O, GEORGE, I could bite off his nose for this, now: Sweet rogue, he has drawn Nectar, the very soul of the grape! I'll wash my temples with some on't presently, and drink some half a score draughts; 'twill heat the brain, kindle my imagination, I shall talk nothing but crackers, and firework, to night. So, sir! please you to be here, sir, and I here: So.  
GREX.  COR. 
This is worth the observation, signor.  CARL. 1. Cap. 
Now, sir; here's to you; and I present you with so much of my love.  2. Cap. 
I take it kindly from you, sir, and will return you the like proportion: but withal, sir, remembering the merry night we had at the countesses, you know where, sir.  1. 
By heaven, you put me in mind now of a very necessary office, which I will propose in your pledge, sir: the health of that honourable countess, and the sweet lady that sat by her, sir.  2. 
I do vail to it with reverence. And now, signor, with these ladies, I'll be bold to mix the health of your divine Mistress.  1. 
Do you know her, sir?  2. 
O lord, sir, I: and in the respectful memory and mention of her, I could wish this wine were the most precious drug in the world.  1. 
Good faith, sir, you do honour me in't exceedingly.  
GREX.  MIT. 
Whom should he personate in this, signor?  COR. 
Faith, I know not, sir, observe, observe him.  2. 
If it were the basest filth, or mud that runs in the channel, I am bound to pledge it, respectively, sir. And now, sir, here is a replenished bowl, which I will reciprocally turn upon you, to the health of the count FRUGAL.  1. 
The count FRUGALE'S health, sir? I'll pledge it on my knees, by this light.  2. 
Will you, sir? I'll drink it on my knee, then, by the light.  
GREX.  MIT. 
Why, this is strange!  COR. 
Ha' you heard a better drunken dialogue?  2. 
Nay, do me right, sir.  1. 
So I do, in good faith.  2. 
Good faith you do not; mine was fuller.  1. 
Why, believe me, it was not.  2. 
Believe me, it was: and you do lie.  1. 
Lie, sir?  2. 
I, sir.  1. 
'Swounds!  2. 
O, come, stab if you have a mind to it.  1. 
Stab? dost thou think I dare not?  CARL. 
Nay, I beseech you, gentlemen, what means this? nay, look, for shame respect your reputations.   

Act V. Scene V.  MACILENTE, CARLO, GEORGE. 
WHy, how now CARLO! what humour's this?  CARL. 
O, my good Mischief! art thou come? where are the rest? where are the rest?  MACI. 
Faith, three of our ordinance are burst.  CARL. 
Burst? how comes that?  MACI. 
Faith, overcharged, overcharged.  CARL. 
But did not the train hold?  MACI. 
O, yes, and the poor lady is irrecoverably blown up.  CARL. 
Why, but which of the munition is miscarried? ha?  MACI. 
Inprimis, sir PUNTARVOLO: next, the COUNTENANCE, and RESOLUTION.  CARL. 
How? how for the love of wit?  MACI. 
Troth, the Resolution is proved recreant; the Countenance hath changed his copy: and the passionate knight is shedding funeral tears over his departed dog.  CARL. 
What's his dog dead?  MACI. 
Poisoned, 'tis thought: marry, how, or by whom, that's left for some cunning woman here o' the Bankside to resolve. For my part, I know nothing, more than that we are like to have an exceeding melancholy supper of it.  CARL. 
'Slife, and I had purposed to be extraordinarily merry, I had drunk off a good preparative of old sack here: but will they come, will they come?  MACI. 
They will assuredly come: may, CARLO (as thou lov'st me) run over 'em all freely to night, and especially the knight; spare no sulphurous jest that may come out of that sweaty forge of thine: but ply 'em with all manner of shot, minion, saker, culvertine, or any thing what thou willt.  CARL. 
I warrant thee, my dear case of petronels, so I stand not in dread of thee, but that thou'lt second me.  MACI. 
Why, my good german tapster, I will.  CARL. 
What, GEORGE. Lomtero, Lomtero, etc. He dances.  GEOR 
Did you call, master CARLO?  CARL. 
More nectar, GEORGE: Lomtero, etc.  GEOR 
Your meat's ready, sir, and your company were come.  CARL. 
Is the loin of pork enough?  GEOR 
I, sir, it is enough.  MACI. 
Pork? heart, what dost thou with such a greasy dish? I think thou dost varnish thy face with the fat on't, it looks so like a gluepot.  CARL. 
True, my raw-bon'd-rogue, and if thou wouldst farce thy lean ribs with it too, they would not (like ragged lathes) rub out so many doublets as they do: but thou know'st not a good dish, thou. O, it's the only nourishing meat in the world. No marvel though that saucy, stubborn generation, the jews, were forbidden it: for what would they ha' done, well pampered with fat pork, that durst murmur at their maker out of garlic, and onions. 'Slight, fed with it, the whoreson strummell, patched, goggle-eyed Grumbledories, would ha' Gigantomachized. Well said, my sweet GEORGE, fill, fill.  
GREX.  MIT. 
This savours too much of profanation.  COR. 
O, servetur ad imum, qualis ab incepto processerit, & sibi conflet. The necessity of his vain compels a toleration: for, bar this, and dash him out of humour, before his time.  CARL. 
'Tis an Axiom in natural philosophy, What comes nearest the nature of that it feeds, converts quicker to nourisment, and doth sooner essentiate. Now nothing in flesh, and entrails, assimulates or resembles man more, than a hog, or swine—  MACI. 
True; and he (to requite their courtesy) oftentimes doffeth his own nature, and puts on theirs; as when he becomes as churlish as a hog, or as drunk as a sow: but to your conclusion.  CARL. 
Marry, I say, nothing resembling man more than a swine, it follows, nothing can be more nourishing: for indeed (but that it abhors from our nice nature) if we fed one upon another, we should shoot up a great deal faster, and thrive much better: I refer me to your usurous Cannibals, or such like: but since it is so contrary, pork, pork, is your only feed.  MACI. 
I take it, your devil be of the same diet; he would ne'er ha' desired to been incorporated into swine else. O, here comes the melancholy mess: upon 'em CARLO, charge, charge.  CARL. 
'Fore god, sir PUNTARVOLO, I am sorry for your heaviness: body a me, a shrewd mischance! why, had you no unicorns horn, nor bezoars stone about you? ha?   

Act V. Scene VI.  PUNTARVOLO, CARLO, MACILENTE, FAST. brisk, SOGLIARDO, FUNGOSO. 
SIr, I would request you, be silent.  MACI. 
Nay, to him again.  CARL. 
Take comfort, good knight, if your cat ha' recovered her catarrh, fear nothing; your dogs mischance may be helped.  FAST. 
Say how (sweet CARLO) for so god mend me, the poor knights moves draw me into fellowship of his misfortunes. But be not discouraged, good sir PUNTARVOLO, I am content your adventure shall be performed upon your cat.  MACI. 
I believe you, musk cod, I believe you, for rather than thou wouldst make present repayment, thou wouldst take it upon his own bare return from Calais.  CARL. 
Nay, 'ds life, he'd be content (so he were well rid out of his company) to pay him five for one, at his next meeting him in Paul's. But for your dog, sir PUNTAR, if he be not outright dead, there is a friend of mine, a quacksalver, shall put life in him again, that's certain.  FUNG. 
O, no, that comes too late.  MACI. 
God's precious, knight, will you suffer this?  PUNT. 
Drawer, get me a candle, and hard wax, presently.  SOGL. 
I, and bring up supper; for I am so melancholy.  CARL. 
O, signor, where's your Resolution?  SOGL. 
Resolution! hang him rascal: O, CARLO, if you love me, do not mention him.  CARL. 
Why, how so? how so?  SOGL. 
O, the arrantest crocodile that ever Christian was acquainted with. By my gentry, I shall think the worse of tobacco while I live, for his sake: I did think him to be as tall a man—  MACI. 
Nay, BUFFONE, the knight, the knight.  CARL. 
S'hid, he looks like an image carved out of box, full of knots: his face is (for all the world) like a dutch purse, with the mouth downward; his beard the tassels: and he walks (let me see) as melancholy as one o' the Master's side in the Counter. Do you hear, sir PUNTAR?  PUNT. 
Sir, I do entreat you no more, but enjoin you to silence, as you affect your peace.  CARL. 
Nay, but dear knight, understand (here are none but friends, and such as wish you well) I would ha' you do this now; Flea me your dog presently (but in any case keep the head) and stuff his skin well with straw, as you see these dead monsters at Bartholomew fair.  PUNT. 
I shall be sudden, I tell you.  CARL. 
Or if you like not that, sir, get me somewhat a less dog, and clap into the skin; here's a slave about the town here, a jew, one YOHAN; or a fellow that makes perukes, will glue it on artificially, it shall ne'er be discerned, besides, 'twill be so much the warmer for the hound to travail in, you know.  MACI. 
Sir PUNTARVOLO, 'death, can you be so patient?  CARL. 
Or thus, sir: you may have (as you come through Germany) a familiar for little or nothing, shall turn itself into the shape of your dog, or any thing (what you will) for certain hours; 'ods my life, knight, what do you mean? you'll offer no violence, will you? hold, hold.  PUNT. 
'Sdeath, you slave, you bandog, you.  CARL. 
As you love wit, stay the enraged knight, gentlemen.  PUNT. 
By my knighthood, he that stirs in his rescue, die. Drawer, be gone.  CARL. 
Murder, murder, murder.  PUNT. 
I, are you howling, you wolf? Gentlemen, as you tender your lives, suffer no man to enter, till my revenge be perfect. Sirrah, BUFFONE, lie down; make no exclamations, but down: down, you cur, or I will make thy blood flow on my rapier hilts.  CARL. 
Sweet knight, hold in thy fury, and 'fore heaven, I'll honour thee more, than the Turk does MAHOMET.  PUNT. 
down (I say.) Who's there?  CONS. Within. 
Here's the Constable, open the doors.  CARL. 
Good, MACILENTE.  PUNT. 
Open no door, if the ADALANTADO of Spain were here, he should not enter: On, help me with the light, gentlemen: you knock in vain, sir officer.  CARL. 
Et in Brute!  PUNT. 
Sirrah, close your lips, or I will drop it in thine eyes by heaven.  CARL. He seals up his lips. 
O, O.  CONS. 
Open the door, or I will break it open.  MACI. 
Nay, good Constable, have patience a little, you shall come in presently, we have almost done.  PUNT. They all draw, and disperse. 
So; now, are you out of your humour, sir? Shift, gentlemen.   

Act V. Scene VII.  CONSTABLE, OFFICERS, DRAWERS. To them. 
LAy hold upon this gallant, and pursue the rest.  FAST. 
Lay hold on me, sir! for what?  CONS. 
Marry, for your not here, sir, with the rest of your companions.  FAST. 
My riot! master Constable, take heed what you do. CARLO, did I offer any violence?  CONS. 
O, sir, you see he is not in case to answer you, and that makes you so peremptory.  FAST. 
Peremptory, 'slife I appeal to the drawers, if I did him any hard measure.  GEOR 
They are all gone, there's none of them will be laid any hold on.  CONS. 
Well, sir, you are like to answer till the rest can be found out.  FAST. 
'Slid, I appear to GEORGE, here.  CONS. 
Tut, GEORGE was not here: away with him to the Counter, sirs. Come, sir, you were best get yourself dressed somewhere.  GEOR 
Good lord, that master CARLO could not take heed, and knowing what a gentleman the knight is, if he be angry.  DRAW. 
A pox on 'em, they have left all the meat on our hands, would they were choked with it form.  MACI. . 
What, are they gone, sirs?  GEOR 
O, here's master MACILENTE.  MACI. 
Sirrah, GEORGE, do you see that concealment there? that napkin under the table?  GEOR 
God's so, signor FUNGOSO!  MACI. 
Her's good pawn for the reckoning, be sure you keep him here, and Ice him not go away till I come again, though he offer to discharge all: I'll return presently.  GEOR 
Sirrah, we have a pawn for the reckoning.  DRAW. 
What? of MACILENTE?  GEOR 
No, look under the table.  FUNG. 
I hope, all be quiet now: if I can get but forth of this street, I care not, masters, I pray you tell me, is the Constable gone?  GEOR . 
What? master FUNGOSO?  FUNG. 
Was't not a good device this same of me, sirs?  GEOR 
Yes saith; ha' you been here all this while?  FUNG. 
O god, I▪ good sir, look, and the coast be clear, I'd feign be going.  GEOR 
all's clear, sir, but the reckoning; and that you must clear, and pay before you go, I assure you.  FUNG. 
I pay? 'Slight, I eat not a bit since I came into the house, yet.  DRAW. 
Why, you may when you please, sir, 'tis all ready below, that was bespoken.  FUNG. 
Bespoken? not by me, I hope?  GEOR 
By you, sir? I know not that: but 'twas for you, and your company, I am sure.  FUNG. 
My company? 'Slid, I was an invited guest, so I was.  DRAW. 
Faith, we have no thing to do with that, sir, they're all gone but you, and we must be answered; that's the short and the long on't.  FUNG. 
Nay, if you will grow to extremities, my masters, than would this pot, cup, and all were in my belly, if I have a cross about me.  GEOR 
What, and have such apparel? do not say so, signor, that mightily discredits your clothes.  FUNG. 
As I am an honest man, my tailor had all my money this morning, and yet I must be feign to alter my suit too: good sirs, let me go, 'tis friday night, and in good truth I have no stomach in the world, to eat any thing.  DRAW. 
That's no matter, so you pay, sir.  FUNG. 
Pay? gods light, with what conscience can you ask me to pay that I never drank for?  GEOR 
Yes, sir, I did see you drink once.  FUNG. 
By this cup, (which is silver) but you did not, you do me infinite wrong, I looked in the pot once, indeed, but I did not drink.  DRAW. 
Well sir, if you can satisfy our master, it shall be all one to vs. (by and by.)  
GREX.  CORD. 
Lose not yourself now signor.   

Act V. Scene VIII.  MACILENTE, DELIRO, FALLACE. 
TVt, sir, you did bear too hard a conceit of me in that, but I will now make my love to you most transparent, in spite of any dust of suspicion, that may be raised to cloud it: and henceforth, since I see it is so against your humour, I will never labour to persuade you.  DELI. 
Why, I thank you, signor, but what's that you tell me may concern my peace so much?  MACI. 
Faith, sir, 'tis thus. Your wives brother, signor FUNGOSO, being at supper to night at a tavern, with a sort of gallants, there happened some division amongst 'em, and he is left in pawn for the reckoning: now, if ever you look that time shall present you with a happy occasion to do your wife some gracious and acceptable service, take hold of this opportunity, and presently go, and redeem him; for, being her brother, and his credit so amply engaged as now it is, when she shall hear (as he cannot himself, but he must out of extremity report it) that you came, and offered yourself so kindly, and with that respect of his reputation, why, the benefit cannot but make her dote, and grow mad of your affections.  DELI. 
Now, by heaven, MACILENTE, I acknowledge myself exceedingly indebted to you, by this kind tender of your love; and I am sorry to remember that I was ever so rude, to neglect a friend of your importance: bring me shoes, and a cloak there, I was going to bed, if you had not come, what tavern is it?  MACI. 
The Mitre, sir.  DELI. 
O, why FIDO, my shoes. Good faith it cannot but please her exceedingly.  FALL. 
Come, I marl what piece of nightwork you have in hand now, that you call for your cloak, and your shoes! what, is this your Pander?  DELI. 
O, sweet wife, speak lower, I would not he should hear thee for a world—  FALL. 
Hang him rascal, I cannot abide him for his treachery, with his wild quickset beard there. Whither go you now with him?  DELI. 
No whither with him, dear wife, I go alone to a place, from whence I will return instantly. Good MACILENTE, acquaint not her with it by any means, it may come so much the more accepted, frame some other answer. I'll come back immediately.  FALL. 
Nay, and I be not worthy to know whither you go, stay, till I take knowledge of your coming back.  MACI. 
Hear you, mistress DELIRO.  FALL. 
So sir, and what say you?  MACI. 
Faith lady, my intents will not deserve this slight respect, when you shall know 'em.  FALL. 
Your intents? why, what may your intents be, for god sake!  MACI. 
Troth, the time allows no circumstance, lady, therefore know, this was but a device to remove your husband hence, and bestow him securely, whilst (with more conveniency) I might report to you a misfortune that hath happened to Monsieur brisk— nay comfort, sweet lady. This night (being at supper a sort of young gallants committed a riot, for the which he (only) is apprehended and carried to the Counter, where if your husband, and other creditors should but have knowledge of him, the poor gentleman were undone for ever.  FALL. 
Ay me! that he were.  MACI. 
Now therefore, if you can think upon any present means for his delivery, do not foreslow it. A bribe to the officer that committed him, will do it.  FALL. 
O god, sir, he shall not want for a bribe: pray you, will you commend me to him, and say I'll visit him presently?  MACI. 
No, lady, I shall do you better service, in protracting your husband's return, that you may go with more safety.  FALL. 
Good truth, so you may: farewell, good sir. Lord, how a woman may be mistaken in a man? I would have sworn upon all the testaments in the world, he had not loved master brisk. Bring me my keys there, maid. Alas, good gentleman, if all I have i' this earthly world will pleasure him, it shall be at his service.  
GREX.  MIT. 
How MACILENTE sweats in'is business, if you mark him.  COR. 
I, you shall see the true picture of spite anon: here comes the pawn, and his redeemer.   

Act V. Scene IX.  DELIRO, FUNGOSO, DRAWERS▪ MACILENTE. 
COme, brother, be not discouraged for this, man, what?  FUNG. 
No truly, I am not discouraged, but I protest to you, brother, I have done imitating any more gallants either in purse or apparel, but as shall become a gentleman, for good carriage, or so.  DELI. 
You say well. This is all, i' the bill here? is't not?  GEOR 
I, sir.  DELI. 
There's your money, tell it: and brother, I am glad I met with so good occasion to show my love to you.  FUNG. 
I will study to deserve it in good truth, and I live.  DELI. 
What, is't right?  GEOR 
I, sir, and I thank you.  FUNG. 
Let me have a capon's leg saved, now the reckoning is paid.  GEOR 
You shall, sir.  MACI. 
Where's signor DELIRO?  DELI. 
Here, MACILENTE.  MACI. 
Hark you, sir, ha' you dispatched this same?  DELI. 
I marry have I.  MACI. 
Well then, I can tell you news, brisk is i'the Counter.  DELI. 
I'the Counter?  MACI. 
'Tis true, sir, committed for the stir here to night. Now would I have you send your brother home afore, with the report of this your kindness done him, to his sister, which will so pleasingly possess her, and out of his mouth too, that i' the mean time you may clap your action on brisk, and your wife (being in so happy a mood) cannot entertain it ill, by any means.  DELI. 
'Tis very true, she cannot indeed, I think.  MACI. 
Think? why 'tis past thought, you shall never meet the like opportunity, I assure you.  DELI. 
I will do it. Brother, pray you go home afore, this gentleman, and I have some private business; and tell my sweet wife, I'll come presently.  FUNG. 
I will, brother.  MACI. 
And, signor, acquaint your sister, how liberally and out of his bounty, your brother has used you. (Do you see?) made you a man of good reckoning; redeemed that you never were possessed of, credit; gave you as gentlemanlike terms as might be; found no fault with your coming behind the fashion; nor nothing.  FUNG. 
Nay, I am out of those humours now.  MACI. 
Well, if you be out, keep your distance, and be not made a shot-clog any more. Come, signor, let's make haste.   

Act V. Scene X.  FALLACE, FAST. brisk. 
O Master FASTIDIUS, what pity is't to see so sweet a man as you are, in so sour a place?  
GREX.  COR. 
As upon her lips, does she mean?  MIT. 
O, this is to be imagined the Counter, belike?  FAST. 
Troth, fair lady, 'tis first the pleasure of the Fates, and next of the Constable, to have it so: but, I am patient, and indeed comforted the more in your kind visitation.  FALL. 
Nay, you shall be comforted in me, more than this, if you please, sir. I sent you word by my brother, sir, that my husband laid to rest you this morning, I know not whether you received it, or no.  FAST. 
No, believe it, sweet creature, your brother gave me no such intelligence.  FALL. 
O, the lord!  FAST. 
But has your husband any such purpose?  FALL. 
O sweet master brisk, yes: and therefore be presently discharged, for if he come with his actions upon you (lord deliver you) you are in for one half a score year; he kept a poor man in Ludgate once, twelve year, for sixteen shillings. Where's your keeper? for loves sake call him, let him take a bribe, and dispatch you. Lord, how my heart trembles! here are no spies? are there?  FAST. 
No, sweet mistress, why are you in this passion?  FALL. 
O lord, Master FASTIDIUS, if you knew how I took up my husband to day, when he said he would arrest you; and how I railed at him that persuaded him to't, the scholar there, (who on my conscience loves you now) and what care I took to send you intelligence by my brother; and how I gave him four sovereigns for his pains; and now, how I came running out hither without man or boy with me, so soon as I heard on't; you'd say, I were in a passion indeed: your keeper, for god's sake. O, Master brisk (as 'tis in EUPHVES) Hard is the choice, when one is compelled either by silence to die with grief, or by speaking to live with shame.  FAST. 
Fair lady, I conceive you, and may this kiss assure you, that where adversity hath (as it were) contracted, prosperity shall not— gods me! your husband.  FALL. 
O, me!   

Act V. Scene XI.  DELIRO, MACILENTE, FALLACE, FAST. brisk. 
I? is't thus!  MACI. 
Why, how now, signor DELIRO? has the wolf seen you? ha? hath GORGON'S head made marble of you?  DELI. 
Some Planet strike me dead.  MACI. 
Why, look you; sir, I told you, you might have suspected this long afore, had you pleased; and ha' saved this labour of admiration now, and passion, and such extremities as this frail lump of flesh is subject unto. Nay, why do you not dote now, signor? Me thinks you should say it were some enchantment, deceptio visus, or so, ha? if you could persuade yourself it were a dream now, 'twere excellent: saith, try what you can do, signor; it may be your imagination will be brought to it in time, there's nothing impossible.  FALL. 
Sweet husband:  DELI. 
Out lascivious strumpet.  MACI. 
What? did you see, how ill that stolen vein became him afore, of sweet wife, and dear heart? and are you fallen just into the same now? with sweet husband. Away, follow him, go, keep state, what? Remember you are a woman, turn impudent: give him not the head, though you give him the horns. Away. And yet me thinks you should take your leave of Enfans-perdus here, your forlorn hope. How now, Monsieur brisk? what? friday night? and in affliction too? and yet your Pulpamenta? your delicate morsels? I perceive, the affection of ladies and gentlewomen, pursues you wheresoever you go, Monsieur.  FAST. 
Now, in good faith (and as I am gentle) there could not have come a thing, i' this world, to have distracted me more, than the wrinkled fortunes of this poor spinster.  MACI. 
O, yes, sir: I can tell you a thing will distract you much better, believe it. signor DELIRO has entered three actions against you, three actions, Monsieur; marry, one of them (I'll put you in comfort) is but three thousand, and the other two, some five thousand a piece, trifles, trifles.  FAST. 
O, I am undone.  MACI. 
Nay, not altogether so, sir, the knight must have his hundred pound repaid, that will help too, and then sixscore pound for a diamond, you know where. These be things will weigh, Monsieur, they will weigh.  FAST. 
O, heaven!  MACI. 
What, do you sigh? this it is to kiss the hand of a countess, to have her coach sent for you, to hang poniards in ladies' garters, to wear bracelets of their hair, and for every one of these great favours to give some slight jewel of five hundred crowns, or so, why 'tis nothing. Now, Monsieur, you see the plague that treads o' the heels of your foppery: well, go your ways in, remove yourself to the twopenny ward quickly, to save charges, and there set up your rest to spend sir PUNTAR'S hundred pound for him. Away, good pomander, go.  
Why, here's a change! Now is my soul at peace.  
I am as empty of all envy now,  
As they of merit to be envied at.  
My humour (like a flame) no longer lasts  
Than it hath stuff to feed it, and their folly,  
Being now raked up in their repentant ashes,  
Affords no ampler subject to my spleen.  
I am so far from malicing their states,  
That I begin to pity 'em. It grieves me  
To think they have a being. I could wish  
They might turn wise upon it, and be saved now,  
So heaven were pleased: but let them vanish, vapours.  
Gentlemen, how like you it? hast not been tedious?  
GREX.  COR. 
Nay, we ha' done censuring, now.  MIT. 
Yes, faith.  MAC. 
How so?  COR. 
Marry, because we'll imitate your actors, and be out of our Humours. Besides, here are those (round about you) of more ability in censure than we, whose judgements can give it a more satisfying allowance: we'll refer you to them.  MAC. 
I? is't e'en so? Well, gentlemen, I should have gone in, and returned to you, as I was ASPER at the first: but (by reason the shift would have been somewhat long, and we are loath to draw your patience farther) we'll entreat you to imagine it. And now (that you may see I will be out of humour for company) I stand wholly to your kind approbation, and (indeed) am nothing so peremptory as I was in the beginning: Marry, I will not do as PLAUTUS, in his Amphytrio, for all this (Summi jonis causa, Plaudite:) beg a Plaudite, for god's sake; but if you (out of the bounty of your good liking) will bestow it; why, you may (in time) make lean MACILENTE as fat, as Sir JOHN FALSTAFF.   
THE END.   

Which, in the presentation before Queen E. was thus varied, BY MACILENTE.  
Never till now did object greet mine eyes  
With any light content: but in her graces,  
All my malicious powers have lost their stings.  
Envy is fled my soul, at sight of her,  
And she hath chased all black thoughts from my bosom,  
Like as the sun doth darkness from the world.  
My stream of humour is run out of me.  
And as our city's torrent (bent t'infect  
The hallowed bowels of the silver Thames)  
Is checked by strength, and clearness of the river,  
Till it hath spent itself e'en at the shore;  
So, in the ample, and unmeasured flood  
Of her perfections, are my passions drowned:  
And I have now a spirit as sweet, and clear,  
As the most rarefied and subtle air.  
With which, and with a heart as pure as fire,  
(Yet humble as the earth) do I implore,  
O heaven, that she (whose presence hath effected  
This change in me) may suffer most late change  
In her admired and happy government:  
May still this Land be called fortunate,  
And rugged treason tremble at the sound  
When Fame shall speak it with an emphasis.  
Let foreign polity be dull as lead,  
And pale invasion come with half a heart,  
When he but looks upon her blessed soil.  
The throat of war be stopped within her land,  
And turtle-footed peace dance fairy rings  
About her court: where, never may there come  
Suspect, or danger, but all trust, and safety:  
Let flattery be dumb, and envy blind  
In her dread presence: death himself admire her:  
And may her virtues make him to forget  
The use of his inevitable hand.  
Fly from her age; Sleep time before her throne,  
Our strongest wall falls down, when she is gone.   

This Comical Satire was first acted in the year 1599  
By the then Lord Chamberlain his Servants.  
The principal Comedians were, 

RIC. BURBADGE.  
AUG. PHILIPS.  
WIL SLY..  
JOH. HEMINGS.  
HEN. CONDEL.  
THO. POPE.    
With the allowance of the Master of REVELS.