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Every Man In His Humor, a play by Ben Jonson |
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Act 1 Scene 3 |
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_ ACT I SCENE III [SCENE III.-The Lane before Cob's House.
[Enter COB.] Cob. Who's there? O, master Mathew! give your worship good morrow. Mat. What, Cob! how dost thou, good Cob? dost thou inhabit here, Cob? Cob. Ay, sir, I and my lineage have kept a poor house here, in Our days. Mat. Thy lineage, monsieur Cob! what lineage, what lineage? Cob. Why, sir, an ancient lineage, and a princely. Mine ance'try came from a king's belly, no worse man; and yet no man either, by your worship's leave, I did lie in that, but herring, the king of fish (from his belly I proceed), one of the monarchs of the world, I assure you. The first red herring that was broiled in Adam and Eve's kitchen, do I fetch my pedigree from, by the harrot's book. His cob was my great, great, mighty great grandfather. Mat. Why mighty, why mighty, I pray thee? Cob. O, it was a mighty while ago, sir, and a mighty great cob. Mat. How know'st thou that? Cob. How know I! why, I smell his ghost ever and anon. Mat. Smell a ghost! O unsavoury jest! and the ghost of a herring cob? Cob. Ay, sir: With favour of your worship's nose, master Mathew, why not the ghost of a herring cob, as well as the ghost of Rasher Bacon? Mat. Roger Bacon, thou would'st say. Cob. I say Rasher Bacon. They were both broiled on the coals; and a man may smell broiled meat, I hope! you are a scholar, upsolve me that now. Mat. O raw ignorance!--Cob, canst thou shew me of a gentleman, one captain Bobadill, where his lodging is? Cob. O, my guest, sir, you mean. Mat. Thy guest! alas, ha, ha, ha! Cob. Why do you laugh, sir? do you not mean captain Bobadill? Mat. Cob, pray thee advise thyself well; do not wrong the gentleman, and thyself too. I dare be sworn, he scorns thy house; he! he lodge in such a base obscure place as thy house! Tut, I know his disposition so well, he would not lie in thy bed if thou'dst give it him. Cob. I will not give it him though, sir. Mass, I thought somewhat was in it, we could not get him to bed all night: Well, sir, though he lie not on my bed, he lies on my bench: an't please you to go up, sir, you shall find him with two cushions under his head, and his cloak wrapped about him, as though he had neither won nor lost, and yet, I warrant, he ne'er cast better in his life, than he has done to-night. Mat. Why, was he drunk? Cob. Drunk, sir! you hear not me say so: perhaps he swallowed a tavern-token, or some such device, sir, I have nothing to do withal. I deal with water and not with wine--Give me my tankard there, ho!--God be wi' you, sir. It's six o'clock: I should have carried two turns by this. What ho! my stopple! come. [Enter Tib with a water-tankard.] Mat. Lie in a water-bearer's house! a gentleman of his havings! Well, I'll tell him my mind. Cob. What, Tib; shew this gentleman up to the captain.[Exit Tib with Master Mathew.] Oh, an my house were the Brazen-head now! faith it would e'en speak Moe fools yet. You should have some now would take this master Mathew to be a gentleman, at the least. His father's an honest man, a worshipful fishmonger, and so forth; and now does he creep and wriggle into acquaintance with all the brave gallants about the town, such as my guest is (O, my guest is a fine man!), and they flout him invincibly. He useth every day to a merchant's house where I serve water, one master Kitely's, in the Old Jewry; and here's the jest, he is in love with my master's sister, Mrs. Bridget, and calls her mistress; and there he will sit you a whole afternoon sometimes, reading of these same abominable, vile (a pox on 'em! I cannot abide them), rascally verses, poetrie, poetrie, and speaking of interludes; 'twill make a man burst to hear him. And the wenches, they do so jeer, and ti-he at him--Well, should they do so much to me, I'd forswear them all, by the foot of Pharaoh! There's an oath! How many water-bearers shall you hear swear such an oath? O, I have a guest--he teaches me-he does swear the legiblest of any man christened: By St. George! the foot of Pharaoh! the body of me! as I am a gentleman and a soldier! such dainty oaths! and withal he does take this same filthy roguish tobacco, the finest and cleanliest! it would do a man good to see the fumes come forth at's tonnels.--Well, he owes me forty shillings, my wife lent him out of her purse, by sixpence at a time, besides his lodging: I would I had it! I shall have it, he says, the next action. Helterskelter, hang sorrow, care'll kill a cat, up-tails all, and a louse for the hangman. [Exit.] _ |
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