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Every Man Out Of His Humour, a play by Ben Jonson

Act 5 - Scene 3

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_ ACT V - SCENE III

SCENE III. -- THE PALACE STAIRS.

[ENTER SHIFT.]

SHIFT.
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. Well, 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.

[ENTER FASTIDIOUS, PUNTARVOLO, SOGLIARDO, FUNGOSO, AND MACILENTE.]

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 christen'd.

MACI.
O, this applause taints it foully.

SOG.
I think I did my part in courting. -- O, Resolution!

PUNT.
Ay me, my dog!

MACI.
Where is he?

FAST.
'Sprecious, go seek for the fellow, good signior

[EXIT FUNGOSO.]

PUNT.
Here, here I left him.

MACI.
Why, none was here when we came in now, but cavalier Shirt; enquire of him.

FAST.
Did you see sir Puntarvolo'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 has stolen 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 have none of your dog, sir.

PUNT.
Villain, thou liest.

SHIFT.
Lie, sir! s'blood, -- you are but a man, sir.

PUNT.
Rogue and thief, restore him.

SOG.
Take heed, sir Puntarvolo, what you do; he'll bear no coals, I can tell you, o' my word.

MACI.
This is rare.

SOG.
It's marle 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.

SOG.
Make him stoop, sir! Gentlemen, pacify him, or he'll be kill'd.

MACI.
Is he so tall a man?

SOG.
Tall a man! if you love his life, stand betwixt them. Make him stoop!

PUNT.
My dog, villain, or I will hang thee; thou hast confest robberies, and other felonious acts, to this gentleman, thy Countenance --

SOG.
I'll bear no witness.

PUNT.
And without my dog, I will hang thee, for them.

[SHIFT KNEELS.]

SOG. What! kneel to thine enemies!

SHIFT.
Pardon me, good sir; God is my witness, I never did robbery in all my life.

[RE-ENTER FUNGOSO.]

FUNG.
O, sir Puntarvolo, your dog lies giving up the ghost in the wood-yard.

MACI.
Heart, is he not dead yet!
[ASIDE.]

PUNT.
O, my dog, born to disastrous fortune! pray you conduct me, sir.

[EXIT WITH FUNGOSO.]

SOG.
How! did you never do any robbery in your life?

MACI.
O, this is good! so he swore, sir.

SOG.
Ay, I heard him: and did you swear true, sir?

SHIFT.
Ay, as I hope to be forgiven, sir, I never robbed any man; I never stood by the highwayside, sir, but only said so, because I would get myself a name, and be counted a tall man.

SOG.
Now out, base viliaco! thou my Resolution! I thy Countenance! By this light, gentlemen, he hath confest to me the most inexorable company of robberies, and damn'd 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!

[EXIT SHIFT.]

MACI.
O, how I do feed upon this now, and fat myself! here were a couple unexpectedly dishumour'd. Well, by this time, I hope, sir Puntarvolo and his dog are both out of humour to travel. [ASIDE.] -- 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.

SOG.
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.

[EXEUNT.]

MIT.
O, then their fear of Carlo, belike, makes them hold their meeting.

COR.
Ay, here he comes; conceive him but to be enter'd the Mitre, and 'tis enough. _

Read next: Act 5 - Scene 4

Read previous: Act 5 - Scene 2

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