Step. Ay, I know that, sir. I would not ha' come else. How doth my cousin Edward, uncle? Kno. O, well, coz, go in and see: I doubt he be scarce stirring yet. Step. Uncle, after I go in, can you tell me an' he have e'er a book of the sciences of hawking and hunting ? I would fain borrow it. Kno. Why, I hope you will not a hawking now, will you ? Step. No wosse, but I'll practise against the I have bought me a hawk, next year, uncle. and a hood, and bells, and all; I lack nothing but a book to keep it by. Kno. O, most ridiculous! Step. Nay, look you now, you are angry, uncle. Why, you know, an' a man have not skill in the hawking and hunting languages now-adays, I'll not give a rush for him. They are more studied than the Greek, or the Latin. He is for no gallant's company without them. And by Gad's lid I scorn it, I, so I do, to be a consort for every hum-drum; hang them scroyls, there's nothing in them, in the world. What do you talk on it? Because I dwell at Hogsdei. I shall keep company with none but the archers of Finsbury or the citizens, that come a ducking to Islington ponds! A fine jest i'faith! slid, a gentleman mun show himself like a gentleman. Uncle, I pray you be not angry. I know what I have to do; I trow, I am no novice. Kno. You are a prodigal, absurd coxcomb: go Nay, never look at me, 'tis I that speak. must Go cast away your money on a kite, And know not how to keep it, when you've done? O, 'tis comely! this will make you a gentleman! Well, cousin, well! I see you are e'en past hope Of all reclaim. Ay, so, now you're told on it, You look another way. Learn to be wise, and practise how to thrive; Except you make, or hold it. Who comes here? Serv. Save you, gentlemen. Step. Nay, we do not stand much on our gentility, friend; yet, you are welcome; and I assure you mine uncle here is a man of a thousand a-year, Middlesex land; he has but one son in all the world; I am his next heir (at the common law) master Stephen, as simple as I stand here; if my cousin die (as there is hope he will.) I have a pretty living o' my own too, beside, hard by here. Serv. In good time, sir. Step. In good time, sir ! why? and in very good time, sir. You do not filout, friend, do you ? Serv. Not I, sir. Step. Not you, sir! you were best not, sir; an' you should, here be them can perceive it, and that quickly too go to. And they can give it again soundly too, an' need be. Sero. Why, sir, let this satisfy you : good faith, I had no such intent. Step. Sir, an' I thought you had, I would talk with you, and that presently. Serv. Good master Stephen, so you may, sir, at your pleasure. Step. And so I would, sir, good my saucy companion, an' you were out of my uncle's ground, I can tell you; though I do not stand upon my gentility neither in it. Kno. Cousin ! cousin ! Will this ne'er be left ? Step. Whoreson, base fellow? a mechanical serving man? By this cudgel, an' 'twere not for shame, I would Kne. What would you do, you peremptory If you cannot be quiet, get you hence. To your unseasoned, quarrelling, rude fashion: Go, get you in! 'fore Heaven, I am ashamed [Exit STEPHEN. Serv. I pray you, sir, is this master Kno'well's house? Kno. Yes, marry, is it, sir. Serv. I should inquire for a gentleman here, one master Edward Kno'well: do you know any such, sir, I pray you? Kno. I should forget myself else, sir. Serv. Are you the gentleman? cry your mer-I cy, sir: I was required by a gentleman in the city, as I rode out at this end of the town, to deliver you this letter, sir. sent the like to the Grand Signior. One is a 'rhimer, sir, o' your own batch, your own leven; 'but doth think himself poet-major o' the town; Iwilling to be shewn, and worthy to be seen. The other-I will not venture his description 'with you till you come, because I would have 6 you make hither with an appetite. If the worst of them be not worth your journey, draw your 'bill of charges, as unconscionable as any Guild'hall verdict will give it you, and you shall be 'allowed your Viaticum. From the Windmill. From the Burdello, it might come as well; My son hath sung so, for the happiest wit, know not what he may be in the arts; ners, I judge him a profane and dissolute wretch : Kno. To me, sir? [To his most selected friend, Kno. Make this honest friend drink here. [Exeunt BRAINWORM and Servant. This letter is directed to my son : Of this young Well-bred: What have we here? [The letter.] "Why, Ned, I beseech thee, hast thou foresworn all thy friends i' the Old Jewry? or dost 'thou think us all Jews, that inhabit there? Leave 'thy vigilant father alone, to number over his 'green apricots, evening and morning, o' the * north-west wall: an' I had been his son, I had 'saved him the labour long since; if taking in all 'the young wenches that pass by, at the back'door, and coddling every kernel of the fruit for 'them would have served. But prithee, come ' over to me, quickly, this morning: I have such 'a present for thee! Our Turkey company never Why, what unhallowed ruffian would have writ tion Of your companions, than to have taken on trust Brain. Sir. Kno. Is the fellow gone, that brought this let- Brain. Yes, sir, a pretty while since. Kno. He spake not with the fellow, did he? Kno. Take you this letter, seal it, and deliver it to my son; But with no notice, that I have opened it, on your life. Brain. O lord, sir, that were a jest indeed! Nor practise any violent means to stay |
