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Every Man In His Humor, a play by Ben Jonson |
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Act 4 Scene 1 |
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_ ACT IV SCENE I [SCENE I---A Room in KITELY'S House.
Dame K. Alas, brother, what would you have me to do? I cannot help it; you see my brother brings them in here; they are his friends. Dow. His friends! his fiends. 'Slud! they do nothing but haunt him up and down like a sort of unlucky spirits, and tempt him to all manner of villainy that can be thought of. Well, by this light, a little thing would make me play the devil with some of them: an 'twere not more for your husband's sake than anything else, I'd make the house too hot for the best on 'em; they should say, and swear, hell were broken loose, ere they went hence. But, by God's will, 'tis nobody's fault but yours; for an you had done as you might have done, they should have been parboiled, and baked too, every mother's son, ere they should have come in, e'er a one of them. Dame K. God's my life! did you ever hear the like? what a strange man is this! Could I keep out all them, think you? I should put myself against half a dozen men, should I? Good faith, you'd mad the patien'st body in the world; to hear you talk so, without any sense or reason. [Enter Mistress BRIDGET, Master MATHEW, and BOBADILL; followed, at a distance, by WELLBRED, E. KNOWELL, STBPHEN, and BBAINWORM.]
Dow. Hoy-day, here is stuff! Wel. O, now stand close; pray Heaven, she can get him to read! he should do it of his own natural impudency. Brid. Servant, what is this same, I pray you? Mat. Marry, an elegy, an elegy, an odd toy-- Dow. To mock an ape withal! O, I could sew up his mouth, now. Dame K. Sister, I pray you let's hear it. Dow. Are you rhyme-given too? Mat. Mistress, I'll read it if you please. Brid. Pray you do, servant. Dow. O, here's no foppery! Death! I can endure the stocks better. [Exit.] E. Know. What ails thy brother? can he not hold his water at reading of a ballad? Wel. O, no; a rhyme fu him is worse than cheese, or a bag-pipe; but mark; you lose the protestation. Mat. Faith, I did it in a humour; I know not how it is; but please you come near, sir. This gentleman has judgment, he knows how to censure of a--pray you, sir, you can judge? Step. Not I, sir; upon my reputation, and by the foot of Pharaoh! Wel. O, chide your cousin for swearing. E. Know. Not I, so long as he does not forswear himself. Bob. Master Mathew, you abuse the expectation of your dear mistress, and her fair sister: fie! while you live avoid this prolixity. Mat. I shall, sir, well; incipere dulce. E. Know. How, insipere duke! a sweet thing to be a fool, indeed! Wel. What, do you take incipere in: that sense? E. Know. You do not, you! This was your villainy, to gull him with a motte. Wel. O, the benchers' phrase: pauca verba, pauca verba! E. Know. This is Hero and Leander. Wel. O, ay: peace, we shall have more of this. Mat.
E. Know. 'Slight, he shakes his head like a bottle, to feel an there be any brain in it.
Wel. O, forgive it him. E. Know. A filching rogue, hang him!---and from the dead! it's worse than sacrilege. [WELLBRED, E. KNOWELL, and Master STEPHEN, come forward.] Wel. Sister, what have you here, verses? pray you let's see: who made these verses? they are excellent. good. Mat. O, Master Wellbred, 'tis your disposition to say so, sir. They were good in the morning: I made them ex tempore this morning. Wel. How! ex tempore? Mat. Ay, would I might be hanged else; ask Captain Bobadill: he saw me write them, at the--pox on it!--the Star, yonder. Brai. Can he find in his heart to curse the stars so? E. Know. Faith, his are even with him; they have curst him enough already. Step. Cousin, how do you like this gentleman's verses? E. Know. O, admirable! the best that ever I heard, coz. Step. Body O' Caesar, they are admirable! the best that I ever heard, as I am a soldier! [Re-enter DOWNRIGHT.] Dow. I am vext, I can hold ne'er a bone of me still: 'Heart, I think they mean to build and breed here. Wel. Sister, you have a simple servant here, that crowns your beauty with such encomiums and devices; you may see what it is to be the mistress of a wit, that can make your perfections so transparent, that every blear eye may look through them, and see him drowned over head and ears in the deep well of desire: Sister Kitely. I marvel you get you not a servant that can rhyme, and do tricks too. Dow. O monster! impudence itself! tricks! Dame K. Tricks, brother! what tricks? Brid. Nay, speak, I pray you what tricks? Dame K. Ay, never spare any body here; but say, what tricks. Brid. Passion of my heart, do tricks! Wel. 'Slight, here's a trick vied and revied! Why, you monkeys, you, what a cater-wauling do you keep! has he not given you rhymes and verses and tricks? Dow. O, the fiend! Wel. Nay, you lamp of virginity, that take it in snuff so, come, and cherish this tame poetical fury in your servant; you'll be begg'd else shortly for a concealment: go to, reward his muse. You cannot give him less than a shilling in conscience, for the book he had it out of cost him a teston at least. How now, gallants! Master Mathew! Captain! what, all sons of silence, no spirit? Dow. Come, you might practise your ruffian tricks somewhere else, and not here, I wuss; this is no tavern or drinking-school, to vent your exploits in. Wel. How now; whose cow has calved? Dow. Marry, that has mine, sir. Nay, boy, never look askance at me for the matter; I'll tell you of it, I, sir; you and your companions mend yourselves when I have done. Wel. My companions! Dow. Yes, sir, your companions, so I say; I am not afraid of you, nor them neither; your hang-byes here. You must have your poets and your potlings, your soldados and foolados to follow you up and down the city; and here they must come to domineer and swagger. Sirrah, you ballad-singer, and slops your fellow there, get you out, get you home; or by this steel, I'll cut off your ears, and that presently. Wel. 'Slight, stay, let's see what he dare do; cut off his ears! cut a whetstone. You are an ass, do you see; touch any man here, and by this hand I'll run my rapier to the hilts in you. Dow. Yea, that would I fain see, boy. [They all draw.] Dame K. O Jesu! murder! Thomas! Gasper! Brid. Help, help! Thomas! [Enter CASH and some of the house to part them.] E. Know. Gentlemen, forbear, I pray' you. Bob. Well, sirrah, you Holofernes; by my hand, I will pink your flesh full of holes with my rapier for this; I will, by this good heaven! nay, let him come, let him come, gentlemen; by the body of St. George, I'll not kill him. [Offer to fight again, and are parted.] Cash. Hold, hold, good gentlemen. Dow. You whoreson, bragging coystril! [Enter KITELY.]
Wel. Come, let's go: this is one of my brother's ancient humours, this. Step. I am glad nobody was hurt by his ancient humour. [Exeunt Wellbred, Stephen, E. Knowell, Bobadill, and Brainworm.]
Dow. A sort of lewd rake-hells, that care neither for God nor the devil And they must come here to read ballads, and roguery, and trash! I'll mar the knot of 'em ere I sleep, perhaps; especially Bob there, he that's all manner of shapes: and songs and sonnets, his fellow.
[Exit.] Kit. O, that was some love of yours, sister. Brid. Dame K. Indeed he seem'd to be a gentleman of a very exceeding fair disposition, and of excellent good parts. [Exeunt Dame Kitely and Bridget.] Kit.
My mistress and your sister- Kit. Are any of the gallants within? Cash. No, sir, they are all gone. Kit. Art thou sure of it---? Cash. I can assure you, sir. Kit. What gentleman was that they praised so, Thomas? Cash. One, they call him Master Knowell, a handsome young gentleman, sir. [Exeunt.] _ |