Ben: Jonson Page


Every Man out of his Humour

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25


E V E R Y   M A N

OUT OF HIS

 H U M O U R.

A  Comical  Satyr.

First Acted in the Year 1599. By the then Lord CHAMBERLAIN his
Servants: with the Allowance of the Master of R
EVELS.


The Author B. J.

    Non aliena meo pressi pede | * si propius stes.
    Te capient magis
| * & decies repetita placebunt.     Hor.


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 born 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 despis'd. Now that the Printer, by a doubled Charge, thinks it worthy a longer life than commonly the Air of such things doth promise; I am careful to put it a servant to their Pleasures, who are the Inheriters of the first Favour born it. Yet, I command, it lie not in the way of your more Noble and Useful Studies to the publick. 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. JOHNSON.



E                                      The



26

The Names of the Actors.
A S P E R, the Presenter.
MACILENTE.
PUNTARVOLO. { His Lady.
Waiting Gent.
Huntsman.
Serving Men 2.
Dog and Cat.
CARLO BUFFONE.
FASTID. BRISK.       Cindedo his Page.    
DELIRO.
FALLACE.
{ Fido their Servant.
Musicians.
SAVIOLINA.
SORDIDO.     His Hind.    
FUNGOSO. { Taylor.
Haberdasher.
Shoe-maker.
SOGLARDO.
SHIFT.             Rustici. 
CLOVE. { A Groom.
Drawers.
Constable, and.
Officers.
ORANGE.
G R E X.
CORDATUS.                                 MITIS.

The Principal Comedians were
RIC. BURBADGE.
AUG. PHILIPS.
|
|
WILL. SLY.
JOH. HEMINGS.
|
|
HEN. CONDEL.
THO. POPE.

ASPER his Character.
H
E is of an ingenious and free spirit, eager and constant
 in reproof, without fear, controling the Worlds 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 Scho-
lar, and travail'd; who (wanting that place in the worlds
account which he thinks his merit capable of) falls into such
an envious Apoplexy, with which his judgment is so dazled
and distated, that he grows violently impatient of any opp-
site happiness in another.
      
PUNTARVOLO.    A vain-glorious Knight, over-En-
glishing his Travels, and wholly consecrated to singularity; the
very
Jacob's Staff of Complement: a Sir that hath liv'd to
see the revolution of Time in most of his Apparel. Of presence
good enough, but so palpable 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 perfor-
mances, resolving (in despight of publick derision) to stick to
his own particular Fashion, Phrase, and Gesture.
      
CARLO BUFFONE.    A publick, scurrilous, and prophane
Jester; that (more swift than
Circe) with absurd similes will
transform any Person into deformity. A good Feast-hound, or
Banket-beagle, that will sent you out a Supper some three Miles
off, and swear to his Patrons
(Damn him) he came in Oars,
when he was but wafted over in a Skuller. A slave that hath
an extraordinary gift in pleasing his Pallat, and will swill up
more Sack at a sitting than 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 Base-viol and tobacco:) swears tersly, and with variety;
cares not what Ladies favour he belyes, or great Mans fami-
liarity: a good property to perfume the Boot of a Coach. He
will borrow another Man's Horse 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 gingle of his Spur, and the
jerk of his Wand.
      
DELIRO.    A good doting Citizen, who (it is thought)
might be of the Common Councel for his Wealth: a fellow sin-
cerely besotted on his own Wife, and so rapt with a conceit of
her perfections, that he simply holds himself unworthy of her.
And in that hood-winkt humour lives more like a Suter than a
Husband; standing in as true dread of her displeasure, as
when he first made Love to her. He doth sacrifice two-pence in
Juniper to her every morning before she rises, and wakes her
with villanous-out-of-tune Musick, which she out of her con-
tempt (though not out of her judgment) is sure to dislike.
      
FALLACE.    Deliro's Wife, and Idol: a proud mincing

[column break]

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, admir'd by her self, and one more, her servant
Brisk.
      SORDIDO.    A wretched hob-nai'd Chuff, whose recrea-
tion is reading of Almanacks; and felicity, foul Weather.
One that never pray'd, but for a lean dearth, and ever wept
in a fat Harvest.
      
FUNGOSO.    The Son of Sordido, and a Student: one
that has revell'd in his time, and follows the Fashion a far off,
like a Spie. 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 un-
luckily, that he still lights short a Sute.
      
SHIFT.    A thread-bare Shark: one that never was Sol-
dier, yet lives upon lendings. His profession is skeldring and
odling, his bank
Pauls, and his ware-house Pict-hatch. Takes
up single Testons upon Oaths, till Dooms-day. Falls under Exe-
cutions of three Shillings, and enters into five-groat Bonds.
He way-lays the reports of services, and cons them without
Book, damning himself he came new from them, when all the
while he was taking the Diet in the bawdy-house, or lay pawn'd
in his Chamber for Rent and Victuals. He is of that admi-
rable 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 Cox-
combs, City born; The
Gemini, or Twins of foppery: that like
a pair of woodden Foyles, are fit for nothing but to be practis'd
upon. Being well flatter'd they'll lend Mony, 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 inforce their ignorance most despe-
rately, to set upon the understanding of any thing.
Orange is
the more humourous of the two (whose small portion of juice being
squeez'd out)
Clove serves to stick him with commendations.
      
CORDATUS.    The Author's Friend: an Man inly ac-
quainted with the scope and drift of his Plot: of a discreet and
understanding judgment; and has the place of a Moderator.
      
MITIS.    Is a Person of no action, and therefore we have
EVERY
reason to afford him no Character.



27


E V E R Y   M A N

OUT OF HIS

 H U M O U R.



After the second Sounding.

G R E X.

Cordatus, Asper, Mitis.

N

Ay, my dear Asper.
   Mit. Stay your Mind.
   Asp. Away.
   Who is so patient of this impious World,
That he can check his Spirit, or rein his Tongue?
Or who hath such a dead unfeeling Sense,
That Heavens horrid Thunders cannot wake?
To see the Earth crackt with the weight of Sin,
Hell gaping under us, and o're our Heads
Black rav'nous Ruin, with her Sail-stretcht Wings,
Ready to sink us down, and cover us.
Who can behold such Prodigies as these,
And have his Lips seal'd up? Not I: My Soul
Was never ground into such Oily Colours,
To flatter Vice, and dawb 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 stampt in a private Brow,
When I am pleas'd t' unmask a publick Vice.
I fear no Strumpets Drugs, nor Ruffians Stab,
Should I detect their hateful Luxuries:
No Brokers, Usurers, or Lawyers Gripe,
Were I dispos'd to say, They're all corrupt.
I fear no Courtiers Frown, should I applaud
The easie Flexure of his supple Hams.
Tut, these are so innate and popular,
That drunken Custom would not shame to laugh
(In scorn) at him, that should not dare to tax 'em.
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 perj'rous 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 Sanctity!
Religion in their Garments, and their Hair
Cut shorter than their Eye-brows! 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,

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It is in vain to spend it in these Moods.
   Asp. I not observ'd 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 censur'd by th' austerest Brow,
Where I want Art or Judgment, 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 Musick worth your Ears.
O, how I hate the monstrousness of Time,
Where every servile imitating Spirit,
(Plagu'd with an itching Leprosie of Wit)
In a meer halting Fury, strives to fling
His Ulc'rous Body in the Thespian Spring,
And streight 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 urg'd it for some Reasons, and the rather
To give these ignorant well-spoken Days
Some Taste of their Abuse of this word Humour.
   Cor. 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 rackt and tortur'd.   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 it self holds these two Properties,
Moisture and Fluxure: As, for demonstration,
Pour Water on this Floor, 'twill wet and run:
Likewise the Air (forc'd through a Horn or Trumpet)
Flows instantly away, and leaves behind
A kind of Dew; and hence we do conclude,
That whatsoe're hath Fluxure and Humidity,
As wanting power to contain it self,
Is Humour. So in every Humane 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 Mataphor, apply it self
Unto the general Disposition:
As when some one peculiar Quality
Doth so possess a Man, that it doth draw
E2                                               All




28 Every Man in his Humour.Every Man out of his Humour.


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 by wearing a py'd Feather,
The Cable Hatband, or the three-pil'd Ruff,
A Yard of Shoe-tye, or the Switzer's Knot
On his French Garters, should affect a Humour!
O, it is more than most ridiculous.
   Cor. He speaks pure Truth now; if an Idiot
Have but an apish or fantastick Strain,
It is his Humour.   Asp. Well, I will scourge those Apes,
And to these courteous Eyes oppose a Mirrour,
As large as is the Stage whereon we act;
Where they shall see the Times Deformity
Anatomiz'd 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 mov'd alike.
Do not I know the Times Condition?
Yes, Mitis, and their Souls, and who they be
That either will or can except 'gainst me,
None but a sort of Fools, so sick in taste,
That they contemn all Physick of the Mind,
And, like glad Camels, kick at every touch.
Good Men, and vertuous Spirits, that loath their Vices,
Will cherish my free Labours, love my Lines,
And with the fervor 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 seise on Vice, and with a Gripe
Squeeze out the Humour of such Spongy Natures,
As lick up every idle Vanity.
   Cor. Why, this is right Furor Poeticus!
Kind Gentlemen, we hope your Patience
Will yet conceive the best, or entertain
This Supposition, That a Mad-man speaks.
   Asp. What, are you ready there? Mitis, sit down,
And my Cordatus. Sound ho, 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 y'are 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 wreath'd, his Hat pull'd here,
Cries Mew, and nods, then shakes his empty Head,
Will shew more several Motions in his Face
Than the new London, Rome, or Niniveh,
And (now and then) breaks a dry Bisquet-Jest,
Which, that it may more easily be chew'd,
He steeps in his own Laughter.   Cor. Why, will that
Make it be sooner swallow'd?   Asp. O, assure you.
Or if it did not, yet, as Horace sings,
"Jejunus raro stomachus vulgaria temnit,
"Mean Cates are welcom still to hungry Guests.
   Cor. 'Tis true; but why should we observe 'em, Asper?
   Asp. O, I would know 'em; for in such Assemblies
Th' are 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 stark Ass,
Taking Mens Lines, with a Tabacco-face,

[column break]

In snuff, still spitting, using his wry'd 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 timerous, and full of doubt.
Then he, a Patient, shall reject all Physick,
'Cause the Physician tells him, you are sick:
Or, if I say, That he is vicious,
You will not hear of Vertue. Come, y'are fond.
Shall I be so extravagant, to think,
That happy Judgments, and composed Spirits,
Will challenge me for taxing such as these?
I am asham'd.   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 my self,
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 pollisht Jewels in their bounteous Ears.
But stay, I lose my self, 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 (e're 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,
[Exit Asper.
"Art hath an Enemy call'd Ignorance.
   Cord. How do you like his Spirit, Mitis?
   Mit. I should like it much better, if he were less con-
fident.
   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 particuliar kind by it
self, somewhat like Vetus Comœdia: a Work that hath
bounteously pleased me; how it will answer the general
expectation, I know not.
   Mit. Do's 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 Num-
ber 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 fa-
vour, or it cannot be authentick.
   Cord. Troth, I can discern no such Necessity.
   Mit. No?
   Cord. No, I assure you, Signior.  If those Laws you speak
of had been delivered us ab initio, and in their present
Vertue 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



Every Man in his Humour.Every Man out of his Humour. 29


Phormus and Chionides devised to have Four Actors, with
a Prologue and Chorus; to which Cratinus (long after)
added a Fifth and Sixth; Eupolis, more; Aristophanes,
more than they: Every Man in the dignity of his Spi-
rit and Judgment supplied something. And (though
that in him this kind of Poem appeared absolute, and
fully perfected) yet how is the Face of it chang'd since,
in Menander, Philemon, Cecilius, Plautus, and the rest?
who have utterly excluded the Chorus, altered the Pro-
perty of the Persons, their Names, and Natures, and
augmented it with all Liberty, according to the Elegan-
cy 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 us.
   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 cros-
sing 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, past
over with such admirable Dexterity?
   Cor. O, that but shews how well the Authors can tra-
vel in their Vocation, and out-run the Apprehension of
their Auditory. But leaving this, I would they would
begin once: This Protraction is able to sour the best-
setled Patience in the Theatre.
   Mit. They have answered your Wish, Sir: they
sound.
   Cor. O, here comes the Prologue. Now, Sir, if you
had staid 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 (Wit's my help, do I) and esteem
my self indebted 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, 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 poison'd with some vene-
mous Hiss, and never live to look as high as the Two-
penny Room again.
   Mit. He has put you to it, Sir.
   Cor. 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 ——

[column break]

[He enters with a Boy and Wine.
Carlo Buffone.

   Carl. Come, come, leave these fustian Protestations:
away, come, I cannot abide these gray-headed Ceremo-
nies. Boy, fetch me a Glass, quickly, I may bid these
Gentlemen welcome; give 'em a Health here. I mar'le
whose Wit 'twas to put a Prologue in yond' Sackbuts
Mouth; they might well think he'd be out of tune, and
yet you'ld play upon him too.
   Cord. Hang him, dull Block.
   Carl. O good words, good words; a well-timber'd Fel-
low, he would ha' made a good Column, an' 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 Draught to
your Health here, Canary, the very Elixir and Spirit of
Wine. This is that our Poet calls Castalian Liquor, 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 Butter milk; 'an honest
pure Rogue, he will take you off three, four, five of
these, one after another, and look villanously when he
has done, like a one-headed Cerberus (he do's not hear
me, I hope) and then (when his Belly is well ballac't,
and his Brain rigg'd a little) he sails away with all, 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:
But an' he get me out of the Humour
he has put me in, I'll trust none of his Tribe again while
I live. Genteels, all I can say for him, is, You are wel-
come: 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
[Exit.
Play in at their Ears.

G R E X.

   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 Buf-
fone,
an impudent common Jester, a violent Railer, and
an incomprehensible Epicure; one whose Company is
desir'd of all Men, but belov'd 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
Personage whatsoever, can come within the reach of his
Eye, but is turn'd into all manner of Variety, by his
adult'rate 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

V
Iri est, fortunæ cæcitatem facile ferre.
 'Tis true; but, Stoick, where (in the vast World)
Doth that Man breathe, 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 Corr'sive, and doth eat it farther.
There




30 Every Man out of his Humour.


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 pild Cynique, to believe
That beggery 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 blood-shot Eyes
Into my Brain: where, when I view my self,
Having before observ'd, this Man is great,
Might, and fear'd: that lov'd, and highly favour'd:
A third thought wise and learned: a fourth rich,
and therefore honour'd: a fifth rarely featur'd:
A sixth admir'd for his nuptial fortunes:
When I see these (I say) and view my self,
I wish the Organs of my sight were crackt;
And that the Engine of my grief could cast
Mine Eye-balls, like two Globes of wild-fire, forth,
To melt this unproportion'd frame of Nature.
Oh, they are thoughts that have transfixt my heart,
And often (i' the strength of apprehension)
Made my cold passion stand upon my Face,
Like drops of Dew on a stiff cake of Ice.

G R E X.

   Cor. This alludes well to that of the Poet,
Invidus suspirat, gemit, incutitque dentes,
Sudat frigidus, intuens quod odit.
   Mit. O peace, you break the Scene.
   Maci. Soft, who be there?
I'll lay me down a while till they be past.

G R E X.

   Cor. Signior, 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,comma should be omitted Buffone, Macilente.

N
AY, look you Carlo: this is my humour now! I
 have Land and Mony, my Friends left me well,
and I will be a Gentleman whatsoever it cost me.
   Car. A most Gentleman-like resolution.
   Sog. Tut, and I take an humour of a thing once, I
am like your Taylors Needle, I go through, but,
for my name, Signior, how think you? will it not serve
for a Gentlemans name, when the Signior is put to
it? ha?
   Car. Let me hear: how is't?
   Sog. Signior Insulso Sogliardo: methinks 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
Farmes you came by.
   Car. Good steps to Gentility too, marry: but Sogliar-
do,
if you affect to be a Gentleman indeed, you must
observe all the rare qualities, humours, and complements
of a Gentleman.
   Sog. I know it, Signior, and if you please to instruct,
I am not too good to learn, I'll assure you.
   Car. Enough Sir: I'll make admirable use i'the pro-
jection of my Medicine upon this lump of Copper here.
I'll bethink me for you Sir.

[column break]

   Sog. Signior, I will both pay you, and pray you, and
thank you, and think on you.

G R E X.

   Cor. Is not this purely good?
   Maci. Why, why should such a prick-ear'd HineHind as
this,
Be rich? ha? a Fool? such a transparent Gull
That may be seen through? wherefore should he have
      Land,
Houses, and Lordships? O, I could eat my Intrails,
And sink my Soul into the Earth with sorrow.
   Car. First (to be an accomplisht Centleman,Gentleman that is,
a Gentleman of the time) you must give o'er House-
keeping in the Country, and live altogether in the City
amongst Gallants; where, at your first appearance,
'twere good you turn'd four or five hundred Acres of
your best Land into two or three Trunks of Apparel
(you may do it without going to a Conjurer) and be
sure you mix your self 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 chuse but be a
Gentleman that ha's these excellent gifts: more, more,
I beseech you.
   Car. You must endeavour to feed cleanly at your Or-
dinary, sit melancholy, and pick your Teeth when you
cannot speak: and when you come to Plays, be hu-
mourous, look with a good starch't Face, and ruffle your
Brow like a new Boot, laugh at nothing but your own
Jests, or else as the Noble Men laugh. That's a special
grace you must observe.
   Sog. I warrant you, Sir.
   Car. I, and sit o'the Stage and flout, 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 Al-
lies.
   Sog. Lies! no Signior, I shall not need to do so, I have
Kindred i' the City to talk of: I have a Niece is a Mer-
chants Wife; and a Nephew, my Brother Sordido's Son,
of the Inns of Court.
   Car. O, but you must pretend Alliance with Cour-
tiers 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, feign'd from such a Noble Man, or such a
Knight, or such a Lady, To their worshipful, right rare
and nobly qualified Friend or Kinsman, Signior Insulso Sogli-
ardo;
give your self stile enough. And there (while
you intend circumstances of News, or enquiry 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 publickly at the Table: at which you must
seem to take as unpardonable offence, as if he had torn
your Mistresses Colours, or breath'd upon her Picture;
and pursue it with that hot grace, as if you would ad-
vance 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 Taylors 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 Taylor will presently
give out what I am, upon the reading of it, worth twen-
ty of your Gallants.
   Car. But then you must put on an extreme face of
discontment at your Man's negligence.
Sog. O,



Every Man out of his Humour. 31


   Sog. O, so I will, and beat him too: I'll have a Man
for the purpose.
   Maci. You may, you have Land and Crowns: O
partial fate!
   Car. Mass, well remembred, you must keep your Men
gallant at the first, fine pyed Liveries laid with good
Gold Lace; there's no loss in it, they may rip't off and
pawn it when they lack Victuals.
   Sor. By'r Lady, that is chargeable Signior, '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 Signior? I would fain be a Poli-
tician.
   Car. O! look where you are indebted any great sum,
your Creditor observes you with no less regard, than
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 Mony. 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
acceptably than if you gave 'em a New-years gift.
   Sog. I perceive you, Sir: I will take up, and bring
my self 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 loose with a poor Gentlemans fortunes, to get
their own. Marry, these rich Fellows (that ha' the
World, or the better part of it, sleeping in their count-
ing Houses) they are ten times more placable, they;
either fear, hope, or modesty, restrains them from offer-
ing any outrages: but this is nothing to your followers,
you shall not run a penny more in arrearage for them,
an' you list your self.
   Sog. No? how should I keep 'em then?
   Car. Keep 'em? 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 methinks.
   Car. Why, after you have kept 'em a fortnight, or
so, and shew'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 Cullisen.
   Car. Why, now you ride to the City you may buy
one, I'll bring you where you shall ha' your choise for
Mony.
   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, Signior: 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 deliver'd of your fighting issue.
Who can indure to see blind Fortune dote thus?
To be enamour'd on this dusty Turf?
This Clod? a whorson puck-fist? O God, God, God,
      God, &c.
I could run wild with grief now, to behold
The rankness of her bounties, that doth breed
Such Bull-rushes; these Mushromp Gentlemen,
that shoot up in a Night to Place, and Worship.
   Car. Let him alone, some stray, some stray.

[column break]

   Sog. Nay, I will examine him before I go, sure.
   Car. The Lord of the Soil has all wefts and strays
here, has he not?
   Sog. Yes, Sir.
   Car. Faith then I pitty the poor Fellow, he's fal'n in-
to a Fools hands.
   Sog. Sirrah, who gave you a Commission to lye in
my Lordship?
   Maci. Your Lordship?
   Sog. How? my Lordship? do you know me, Sir?
   Maci. I do know you, Sir.
   Car. He answers him like an Eccho.
   Sog. Why, who am I, Sir?
   Maci. One of those that Fortune favours.
   Car. The Periphrasis 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, than to take such
base courses, as to live by my wits. What, dost thou
think I live by my wits?
   Maci. Methinks, Jester, you should not rellish 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 Ta-
vern and Ordinary; yet (methinks) you should have
turn'd your broad-side at this, and have been ready
with an Apologie, able to sink this bulk of ignorance into
the bottom and depth of his contempt.
   Car. Oh! 'tis Macilente! Signior, you are well en-
countered, how is't? O, we must not regard what he
says Man, a Trout, a shallow Fool, he has no more
Brain than a Butter-fly, a meer Stuft suit, he looks like
a musty Bottle new wickard, his Head's the Cork,
light, light. I am glad to see you so well return'd,
Signior.
   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? an' you knew him as I do, youl'd shun him, as
youl'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 mungril, he looks as if he
were Chop-fal'n, with barking at other Mens good for-
tunes: 'ware how you offend him, he carries Oyl 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 do's the
Cannon, shake an hour after at the report. Away,
come not near him.
   Sog. For God's sake let's be gone, an' he be a Scholar,
you know I cannot abide him. I had as lieve see a
Cockatrice, specially as Cockatrices go now.
   Car. What, you'l stay, Signior? this Gentleman Sogli-
ardo,
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 Buffone, for indeed
Neither his Fortunes nor his Parts deserve it:
But I do hate him, as I hate the Devil,
Or that Brass-visag'd monster Barbarism.
O, 'tis an open-throated, black-mouth'd Cur,
That bites at all, but eats not those that feed him.
A slave, that to your Face will (Serpent like)
Creep on the Ground, as he would eat the Dust;

And




32 Every Man out of his Humour.


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.

Sordido, 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
Dull'd, if not deaded with this spectacle?
I know him, 'tis Sordido, the Farmer,
A Boar, 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 swoun with laughter, O, O, O.
   Sord. Ha, ha, ha, I will not sow my Grounds this
year. Let me see what Harvest shall we have? June,
July, August?

   Maci. What is't, a Prognostication raps him so?
   Sord. The xx, xxi, xxii days, Rain and Wind, O
good, good! the xxiii, and xxiv, Rain and some Wind,
good! the xxv, Rain, good still! xxvi, xxvii, xxviii,
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: xxx, and xxxi, Wind and no Rain: no
Rain? 'Slid stay; this is worse and worse: what says
he of Saint Swithins? turn back, look, Saint Swithins:
no Rain?
   Maci. O, here's a precious durty damned Rogue.
That fats himself with expectation
Of rotten Weather, and unseason'd Hours;
And he is rich for it, and 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, St. Swithins, the xv day, variable Wea-
ther, 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: fifth, sixth, se-
venth, eighth, 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;
Heavens pleasure, would it were more though: the one
and twentieth, two and twentieth, three and twentieth,
great Tempests 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 priz'd as Life,
Since in it, is contain'd the very Life,
Blood, Strength, and Sinews of my Happiness.
Blest be the hour, wherein I bought this Book:
His studies happy that compos'd the Book.
And the Man fortunate that sold the Book.
Sleep with this Charm, and be as true to me,
As I am joy'd, and confident in thee.

[column break]

   Maci. Ha, ha, ha? I' not this good? Is't not pleasing
[The Hinde enters with a Paper.
this?
Ha, ha, ha! God pardon me! ha, ha!
Is't possible that such a spacious Villain
Should live, and not be plagu'd? or lies he hid
Within the wrinckled Bosom of the World,
Where Heaven cannot see him? why, (methinks)
'Tis rare, and strange, that he should breathe, and walk,
Feed with disgestion,digestion sleep, enjoy his Health,
And (like a boist'rous 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! Methinks, now, the Hectick,
Gout, Leprosie, or some such loath'd 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:
Methinks 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 thy self:
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 wrapt in Paper here, that should I take 'em,
Would poyson all the sweetness of my Book,
And turn my Honey into Hemlock-juyce.
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 Pauls.
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)
Licencious 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 wholsom 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 my self,
To sit 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 Flayls 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 out-sides 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 belyed.
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



Every Man out of his Humour. 33


Each Market-day, I will be seen to buy
Part of the purest Wheat, as for my Houshold;
Where when it comes, it shall increase my heaps,
'Twill yield me treble gain at this dear time,
Promis'd in this dear Book: I have cast all.
Till then 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 Peas and Barley;
What though a world of wretches starve the while?
"He that will thrive must think no Courses vile.

G R E X.

   Cor. Now, Signior, how approve you this? have the
Humorists exprest themselves truly or no?
   Mit. Yes, (if it be well prosecuted) 'tis hitherto hap-
py enough: but methinks Macilente went hence too
soon, he might have been made to stay, and speak some-
what in reproof of Sordido's wretchedness now at the last.
   Cor. O, no, that had been extreamly improper; be-
sides, he had continued the Scene too long with him, as
'twas, being in no more action.
   Mit. You may enforce the length as a necessary Rea-
son; but for propriety, the Scene would very well have
born it in my Judgment.
   Cor. O, worst of both; why, you mistake his Hu-
mour utterly then.
   Mit. How? do I mistake it? is't not Envy.
   Cor. Yes, but you must understand, Signior, he en-
vies him not as he is a Villain, a Woolf i' the Common-
wealth, but as he is rich and fortunate, for the true con-
dition of Envy, is, Dolor alienæ fælicitatis, to have our
Eyes continually fixt upon another Mans Prosperity,
that is, his chief happiness, and to grieve at that.
Whereas if we make his monstruous and abhord Acti-
ons 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 our selves.
   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 him-
self; therefore reprehension is out of his hate. And this
distinction hath he himself made in a Speech there (if
you markt it) where he says, I envy not this Buffon, but
I hate him.

   Mit. Stay, Sir: I envy not this Buffon, 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
possest of no one eminent Gift, but a most odious and
Fiend-like Disposition, that would turn Charity it self
into Hate, much more Envy, for the present.
   Mit. You have satisifed me, Sir, O, here comes the
Fool and the Jester again methinks.
   Cor. 'Twere pitty 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, o-
therwise call'd the fresh Frenchefied Courtier.
   Mit. A Humorist too?
   Cor. As humorous as Quick-silver, do but observe him,
the Scene is the Country still, remember.




Act. II.    Scene I.

Fast. Brisk, Cinedo, Carlo Buffone, Sogliardo.

C
Inedo, 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
Pigmies Horse, or one of these Motions, in a great

[column break]

antique Clock: he would shew well upon a Habber-
dashers Stall, at a Corner Shop rarely.
   Fast. What a damn'd witty Rogue's this? how he con-
founds with his Similes?
   Car. Better with similes than smiles: and whetherwhither
were you riding now, Signior?
   Fast. Who, I? what a silly jest's that; whether should
I ride but to the Court?
   Car. O, Pardon me, Sir, twenty places more: your
Hot-house, or your Whore house ———
   Fast. By the virtue of my Soul, this Knight dwells in
Elizium here.
   Car. He's gone now, I thought he would flie out pre-
sently. 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 Ssquirrel,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-hobby
yet, didst thou?
   Car. No: ha' you such a one?
   Fast. The best in Europe (my good villain) thou'lt say,
when thou seest him.
   Car. But when shall I see him?
   Fast. There was a Noble Man i' the Court offered me
a hundred 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.
   Car. How? the sound of the Spur?
   Fast. O, it's your only humour now extant, Sir: a good
gingle, a good gingle.
   Car. You shall see him turn Morrice-dancer, he has got
him Bells, a good Sute, and a Hobby-horse.
   Sog. Signior, 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?
   Sog. Marry, Sir, I am telling this Gentleman of a Hobby-
horse, it was my Fathers indeed, and (though I say it —
   Car. That should not say it) on, on.
   Sog. He did dance in it, with as good humour, and
as good regard as any Man of his Degree whatsoever,
being no Gentleman: I have danc't in it my self too.
   Car. Not since the humour of Gentility was upon
you? did you?
   Sog. Yes, once; marry, that was but to shew what a
Gentleman might do in a Humour.
   Car. O, very good.

G R E X.

   Mit. Why, this Fellows discourse were nothing but
for the word Humour.
   Cor. O, bear with him, an' he should lack matter and
words too, 'twere pittiful.
   Sog. Nay, look you Sir, there's ne're a Gentleman
i' the Countrey ha's the like humours, for the Hobby-
horse, as I have; I have the method for the threding of
the Needle and all, the ———
   Car. How, the method?
   Sog. I, the Leigerity for that, the Whigh-hie,
and the Daggers in the Nose, and the Travels of the Egg
from Finger to Finger, all the Humours incident to the
Quality. The Horse hangs at home in my Parlor. I'll
keep it for a Monument as long as I live, sure.
   Car. Do so; and when you die, 'twill be an excellent
Trophee 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
hap to forget it else.
   Sog. Nay, I mean so, I'll not trust to them.
   Car. No, for Heirs and Executors are grown dam-
nably careless, specially since the Ghosts of Testa-
F                                      tors




34 Every Man out of his Humour.


tors left walking: how like you him, Signior?
   Fast. 'Fore Heavens, his humour arrides me exceed-
ingly.
   Car. Arrides you?
   Fast. I, pleases me (a pox on't) I am so haunted at
the Court, and at my Lodging, with your refin'd 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. Signior Carlo.

G R E X.

   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 Affectation, 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 lye,
than that's to wag: he sleeps with a Musk-cat every
night, and walks all day hang'd in Pomander Chains
for Penance: he has his Skin tan'd 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, Signior.
   Sog. 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
Michief Mischief) by this Air, I shall envy this Gentlemans place
in thy Affections, if you be thus private, i'faith. How
now? is the Knight arriv'd?

C I N E D O.

   Cin. No, Sir, but 'tis guest he will arrive presently, by
his Fore-runners.
   Fast. His Hounds! by Minerva an excellent Figure;
a good Boy.
   Car. 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.
   Car. 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: pr'y thee, how is his Disposition? I
ne're was so favour'd of my Stars, as to see him yet.
Boy, do you look to the Hobby?
   Cin. I, Sir, the Groom has set him up.
   Fast. 'Tis well: I rid out of my way of intent to vi-
sit him, and take knowledg of his —— Nay, good
wickedness, his Humour, his Humour.
   Car. Why, he loves Dogs, and Hawks, and his Wife:
well; he has a good riding face, and he can sit 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 instead of a Dragon, he will bran-
dish 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 deliver'd 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 encounter'd
before.
   Car. I, that he will, and make fresh love to her eve-
ry morning: this Gentleman has been a spectator of it,
Signior Insulso.
   Sog. I am resolute to keep a Page: say you Sir?
[He leaps from whispering with the Boy.


[column break]

   Car. You have seen Signior Puntarvolo accost his Lady?
   Sog. O, I Sir.
   Fast. And how is the manner of it pr'y thee, good Signior?
   Sog. 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,
Signior?
   Sog. O, yes Sir, first, the Gentlewoman, she looks
out at the Window.
   Car. After the Trumpet has summon'd a Parle, not
before?
   Sog. No, Sir, not before: and then says he, ha, ha,
ha, ha, &c.
   Car. What says he? be not rapt so.
   Sog. Says he, ha, ha, ha, ha, &c.
   Fast. Nay, speak, speak.
   Sog. Ha, ha, ha, says he: God save you, says he: ha,
ha, &c.
   Car. Was this the ridiculous motive to all this Passion?
   Sog. Nay, that, that comes after is, ha, ha, ha, ha, &c.
   Car. Doubtless he apprehends more than he utters,
[A cry of Hounds within.
this Fellow: or else,
   Sog. List, list, they are come from hunting: stand by,
close under this Tarras, and you shall see it done better
than I can shew it.
   Car. So it had need, 'twill scarce poize the observa-
tion else.
   Sog. Faith, I remember all, but the manner of it is
quite out of my Head.
   Fast. O, with-draw, with-draw, it cannot be but a
most pleasing Object.

Act II.    Scene II.

[To the rest.
Puntarvolo, Huntsman, Gentlewoman.

F
Orrester, give Wind to thy Horn. Enough; by
 this the Sound hath toucht the Ears of the inclosed:
Depart, leave the Dog, and take with thee what thou
hast deserv'd, the Horn, and Thanks.
   Car. I, marry, there's some taste in this.
   Fast. Is't not good?
   Sog. Ah, peace, now above, now above!
[The Gentlewoman appears at the Window.

   Punt. Stay: mine Eye hath (on the instant) through
the bounty of the Window, receiv'd the form of a Nymph.
I will step forward three Paces; 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 Gentlewo-
man.
   Car. He knew that before.
   Punt. Pardon me: Humanum est errare.
   Car. He learn'd 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 requir'd these three specials: the gnomon,
the puntilio's, and the superficies: the superficies, is that
we call place; the puntilio's, Circumstance; and the
gnomon Ceremony; in either of which, for a stranger to
err, 'tis easie and facile, and such am I.
   Car. 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; Sig-
nior Puntarvolo.
   Punt. Puntarvolo? O.
   Carl. Now must he ruminate.
   Fast. Does the Wench know him all this while, then?
Carl.




Every Man out of his Humour. 35


   Carl. O, do you know me, man? why, therein lyes
the Syrrup of the Jest; it's a project, a designment of
his own, a thing studyed, and rehearst 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 serv'd 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 has travail'd?
   Gent. I, forsooth, he hath been beyond Seas 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. Tut, 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 ab-
solutely 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. Pr'ythee, dear Nymph, intreat her Beauties to
shine on this side of the building.
   Carl. That he may erect a new Dial of Complement,                 
[Gent. leaves the Window.
with his gnomons and his puntilio's.
   Fast. Nay, thou art such another Cynique 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 Wanescot on: and the Dog watching him, lest
he should leap out on't.
   Fast. O, villain!
   Carl. Well, and e're I meet him in the City, I'll ha'
him joynted, I'll pawn him in East-cheap, among the
Butchers else.
   Fast. Peace, who be these, Carlo?

Act II.    Scene III.

[To the rest.
Sordido, Fungoso, Lady.

Y
Onder's your God-father; 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 him Son, my Nephew, there.
   Punt. You are not ill-come, Neighbour Sordido, though
I have not yet said, well-come: what, my God-son is
grown a great proficient by this?
   Sord. I hope he will grow great one day, Sir.
   Fast. What does he study? the Law?

[column break]

   Sog. I Sir, he is a Gentleman, though his Father be
but a Yeoman.
   Car. What call you your Nephew, Signior?
   Sog. Marry, his name is Fungoso.
   Car. Fungoso? O, he lookt somewhat like a Spunge in
that Pinct yellow Doublet, methought: well, make
much of him; I see he was never born to ride upon a moyl.
[Return'd above.
   Gent. My Lady will come presently, Sir.
   Sog. O, now, now.
   Punt. Stand by, retire your selves a space: nay, pray
you, forget not the use of your Hat; the Air is piercing.
[Sordido and Fungoso withdraw to the other part of
      the Stage, while the Lady is come to the Window.


   Fast. What? will not their Presence prevail against
the Current of his Humour?
   Car. O, no: it's a meer Flood, a Torrent carries all
afore it.
   Punt. What more than heavenly pulchritude is this?
            What magazine, or treasury of bliss?
            Dazle, you Organs to my optique sense,
            To view a Creature of such eminence:
            O, I am Planet-strook, and in yond sphere,
            A brighter Star than
Venus doth appear!
   Fast. How? in Verse!
   Car. An extasie, an extasie, Man,
   Lady. Is your desire to speak with me, Sir Knight?
   Car. 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.

G R E X.

   Cor. He makes Congies to his Wife in Geometrical
Proportions.
   Mit. Is't possible there should be any such Humourist?
   Cor. Very easily possible, Sir, you see there is.
   Punt. I have scarce collected my Spirits, but lately
scatter'd 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 Forrest, was by adventure in
the pursuit of a Hart, brought to this place; which
Hart (dear Madam) escaped by Enchantment: the
Evening approaching (my self, and Servant wearied)
my suit is, to 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 en-
trance to Strangers, yet in the true regard of those inna-
ted Vertues, and fair Parts, which so strive to express
themselves, in you; I am resolv'd to entertain you to the
best of my unworthy power: which I acknowledg to be
nothing vallu'd with what so worthy a Person may de-
serve. Please you but stay while I descend.
   Punt. Most admir'd Lady, you astonish me!
   Carl. What? with speaking a Speech of your own
[She departs: Puntarvolo falls in with
   
Sordido and his Son.
penning?

   Fast. Nay, look; pr'y 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 Guevener? away. I marl in
what dull cold Nook he found this Lady out? that (be-
ing a Woman) she was blest with no more Copy of wit,
but to serve his humour thus. 'Slud I think he feeds
her with Porridge. I: she could ne're have such a thick
Brain else.
   Sogl. Why, is Porridge so hurtful, Signior?
   Carl. O, nothing under Heaven more prejudicial to
those ascending subtile Powers, or doth sooner abate
that which we call, acumen ingenii, than your gross
Fare: Why, I'll make you an Instance: your
F2                                      City                 




36 Every Man out of his Humour.


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, diving into the fat Capons, drinking your rich
Wines, feeding on Larks, Sparrows, Potato-pies, and such
good unctuous Meats) how their Wits are refin'd and ra-
rified; and sometimes a very Quintessence of Conceit
flows from 'em, able to drown a weak Apprehension.
   Fast. Peace, here comes the Lady.
   Lady. Gods me, here's Company; turn in again.
[Lady with her Gent. descended, seeing them,
   turns 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
[Carlo and the other two step forth.
Knight.
   Punt. Stay; who be these that address themselves to-
wards 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 Time?
   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 Feuterer, as I
do now; or one of Fortunes Moils, laden with Trea-
sure, and an empty Cloke-bag following him, gaping
when a Bag will untie.
   Punt. Peace, you Bandog, peace: What brisk Nym-
fadoro
is that in the white Virgin-Boot there?
   Carl, Marry, Sir, one that I must entreat you to take
a very particular knowledge of, and with more than or-
dinary respect; Monsieur Fastidius.
   Punt. Sir, I could wish, that for the time of your
vouchsaft abiding here, and more real Entertainment,
this my House stood on the Muses Hill, and these my
Orchards were those of the Hesperides.
   Fast. I possess as much in your Wish, Sir, as if I were
made Lord of the Indies; and I pray you believe it.
   Car. I have a better opinion of his Faith, than to
think it will be so corrupted.
   Sog. Come, Brother, I'll bring you acquainted with
Gentlemen, and good Fellows, such as shall do you more
grace than ———
   Sord. Brother, I hunger not for such Acquaintance:
Do you take heed, lest ———
[Carlo is coming toward them.

   Sog. Husht: My Brother, Sir, for want of Education,
Sir, somwhat nodding to the Boor, the Clown; but I
request you in private, Sir.
   Fung. By Heaven, it is a very fine Sute of Clothes.

G R E X.

   Cor. Do you observe that, Signior? There's another
Humour has now crackt the Shell.
   Mit. What? he is enamour'd of the Fashion, is he?
   Cor. O, you forestal the Jest.
   Fung. I mar'l what it might stand him in!
   Sog. Nephew?
   Fung. 'Fore me, it's an excellent Sute, and as neatly
becomes him. What said you, Uncle?
   Sog. When saw you my Niece?
   Fung. Marry, yesternight I supt there. That kind of
Boot do's very rare too!
   Sog. And what News hear you?
   Fung. The gilt Spur and all! Would I were hang'd,
but 'tis exceeding good. Say you, Uncle?
   Sog. Your Mind is carried away with somewhat else:
I ask what News you hear?
   Fung. Troth, we hear none. In good faith, I was ne-
ver so pleas'd with a Fashion days of my life. O (an' I
might have but my wish) I'ld ask no more of good now,
but such a Sute, such a Hat, such a Band, such a Doublet,
such a Hose, such a Boot, such a ———

[column break]

   Sog. They say, there's a new Motion of the City of
Niniveh, with Jonas the Whale, to be seen at Fleet-
bridge.
You can tell, Cousin?
   Fung. Here's such a world of Questions with him
now: Yes, I think there be such a thing, I saw the Pi-
cture. 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 will do it all, and Sute
me, 'fore the Heavens.
   Sog. I'll see all those Devices, an' I come to London
once.
   Fung. Gods 'slid, and I could compass it, 'twere rare.
Hark you Uncle.
   Sog. What says my Nephew?
   Fung. Faith Uncle, Il'd ha' desir'd 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,
Dyar, Brooke,
and Fitz-Herbert, divers such as I must have
e'er long; and you know, I were as good save five or six
Pound, as not, Uncle. I pray you, move it for me.
   Sog. That I will: When would you have me do it?
presently?
   Fung. O I, I pray you, good Uncle: God send me
good luck: Lord (an't be thy will) prosper it: O my
Stars, now, now, if it take now, I am made for ever.
   Fast. Shall I tell you, Sir? By this Air, I am the most
beholden to that Lord, of any Gentleman living; he
do's use me the most honourably, and with the greatest
respect, more indeed than can be utter'd with any Opi-
nion of Truth.
   Punt. Then have you the Count Gratiato.
   Fast. As true noble a Gentleman too as any breathes;
I am exceedingly endear'd to his Love: By this Hand,
(I protest to you, Signior, I speak it not gloriously, nor
out of affectation, but) there's he, and the Count Fru-
gale,
Signior Illustre, Signior 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 my self 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, e'er they could bring forth his Name;
and yet he pours them out as familiarly, as if he had
seen 'em stand by the Fire i' the Presence, or ta'n Ta-
bacco with them over the Stage i' the Lords Room.
   Punt. Then you must of necessity know our Court-
star there, that Planet of Wit, Maddona Saviolina?
   Fast. O Lord, Sir! my Mistris.
   Punt. Is she your Mistris!
   Fast. Faith here be some slight Favours of hers, Sir,
that do speak it, she is; as this Scarf, Sir, or this Ribband
in my Ear, or so; this Feather grew in her sweet Fan
sometimes, though now it be my poor Fortune to wear
it, as you see, Sir: slight, slight, a foolish Toy.
   Punt. Well, she is the Lady of a most exalted and in-
genious Spirit.
   Fast. Did you ever hear any Woman speak like her?
or inricht with a more plentiful Discourse?
   Carl. O villanous! nothing but Sound, Sound, a meer
Eccho; she speaks as she goes tir'd, in Cobweb-Lawn,
light, thin; good enough to catch Flies withal.
   Punt. O, manage your Affections.
   Fast. Well, if thou be'st not plagu'd for this Blasphe-
my 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 Judg-
ment) she has the most harmonious and musical strain
of Wit that ever tempted a true Ear; and yet to see,
a rude




Every Man out of his Humour. 37


a rude Tongue would profane 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 do's ob-
serve 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. An' I could study to get Forty shil-
lings more now! Well, I will put my self into the Fa-
shion, as far as this will go, presently.
   Sord. I wonder it rains not! The Almanack says, we
should have store of Rain to day.
   Punt. Why, Sir, to morrow I will associate you to
Court my self, 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 Jubile coming on, to
travel: And (because I will not altogether go upon Ex-
pence) I am determined to put forth some Five thou-
sand Pound, to be paid me Five for One, upon the re-
turn of my self, my Wife, and my Dog, from the Turk's
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 enter-
tain Time withal. Nay, go not, Neighbour Sordido,
stay to night, and help to make our Society the fuller.
Gentlemen, frolick: Carlo? what, dull now?
   Carl. I was thinking on your Project, Sir, an' you call
it so? Is this the Dog goes with you?
   Punt. This is the Dog, Sir.
   Carl. He do' not go bare-foot, 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 tra-
vell'd before, it's a huge Journey to Constantinople. I'll
tell you now (an' he were mine) I'ld have some present
Conference with a Physician, what Antidotes were
good to give him, Preservatives against Poyson; 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 Signior Deliro's Wife your Kinswoman?
   Sogl. I, Sir, she is my Niece, my Brother's Daughter
here, and my Nephew's Sister.
   Sord. Do you know her, Sir?
   Fast. O God, Sir, Signior 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 Signior 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 Signior
Deliro's often.
   Sogl. You shall ha' me at the Herald's Office, Sir,
for some Week or so at my first coming up. Come,
Carlo.

[column break]

G R E X.

   Mit. Methinks, Cordatus, he dwelt 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 al-
tered 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 be-
hold the Scene full, and reliev'd with variety of Speak-
ers to the end, than to see a vast empty Stage, and the
Actors come in (one by one) as if they were dropt
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 Judgment;
marry, you shall give me leave to make Objections.
   Cor. O, what else? It's the special Intent of the Au-
thor you should do so; for thereby others (that are
present) may as well be satisfied, who haply would ob-
ject 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 Signior 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 IV.

Deliro, Macilente, Fido, Fallace.

I
'Ll tell you by and by, Sir.
 Welcome (good Macilente) to my House,
To sojourn at my House for ever; if my best
Incates, and every sort of good Intreaty
[Deliro censeth. His Boy strews Flowers.

May move you stay with me.   Maci. I thank you, Sir.
And yet the muffled Fates (had it pleas'd them)
Might have supply'd me from their own full Store,
Without this Word (I thank you) to a Fool.
I see no Reason why that Dog (call'd 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.
Nath'less, his Wealth (but nodding on my Wants)
Must make me bow, and cry, (I thank you, Sir.)
   Deli. Dispatch, take heed your Mistris 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. Where will you have 'em burn, Sir?
[With more Perfumes and Herbs.

   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, Signior Deliro? all this cen-
sing?
   Deli. Cast in more Frankincense, yet more; well said.
O, Macilente, I have such a Wife!
So passing fair! so passing fair! 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




38 Every Man out of his Humour.


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 judgment to deny it,
For I do speak the very least 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 out-weigh'd 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 assur'd, she may command you.
When Women doubt most of their Husbands Loves,
They are most loving. Husbands 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 shew of that desire:
Be Kind, not Amorous; nor bewraying Kindness,
As if Love wrought it, 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 contended,contented
That I shall find my Kindness well return'd,
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 furnisht to her mind,
And so through all: all which, now, I have alter'd.
Then here, she hath a place (on my back-side)
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 perfum'd
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.      Fal. Here's a sweet stink indeed:
What, shall I ever be thus crost and plagu'd?
And sick of Husband? O, my Head doth ake,
As it would cleave asunder, with those favours,
All my Rooms alter'd, and but one poor walk
That I delighted in, and that is made
So fulsome with Perfumes, that I am fear'd
(My Brain doth sweat so) I have caught the Plague.
   Deli. Why, (gentle Wife) is now thy walk too sweet?
Thou said'st of late, it had sowr Airs about it,
And found'st much fault, that I did not correct it.

[column break]

   Fal. Why, an' I did find fault, Sir?
   Deli. Nay, dear Wife;
   I know, thou hast said, thou hast lov'd Perfumes,
No Woman better.      Fal. I, long since perhaps,
But now that Sense is alter'd: 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 chang'd.
   Fal. Why, those were growing Flowers,
And these within my walk, are cut and strew'd.
   Deli. But yet they have one scent.
   Fal. I! have they so?
In your gross judgment. 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 judgment have you chang'd the Cham-
      bers,
Leaving no Room, that I can joy to be in,
In all your House: and now my walk, and all,
You smoak 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 rul'd 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, e'er I be so happy,
To have a Wife of this exceeding form?
   Deli. Away with 'em, would I had broke a joynt,
When I devis'd this, that should so dislike her.
[Fido bears all away:
Away, bear all away.
   Fal. I, do: for fear
Ought that is there should like her. O, this Man,
How cunningly he can conceal himself!
As though he lov'd? nay, honour'd and ador'd?
   Deli. Why, my sweet Heart?
   Fal. Sweet Heart! O! better still!
And asking, why? wherefore? and looking strangely,
As if he were as White as Innocence.
Alas, you'r simple, you: you cannot change,
Look pale at pleasure, and then red with wonder:
No, no, not you! 'tis pitty o' your naturals.
I did but cast an amorous Eye, e'en now,
Upon a pair of Gloves, that somewhat lik't me,
And straight he noted it, and gave command,
All should be ta'en away.   Deli. Be they my bane then.
What, Sirrah, Fido, bring in those Gloves again,
You took from hence.      Fal. Sir, but do not,
Bring in no Gloves, to spite me: if you do ——
   Deli. Ay me, most wretched; how am I misconstru'd?
   Maci. O, how she tempts my Heart-strings with her
      Eye,
To knit them to her Beauties, or to break?
What mov'd 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 turn'd
To some fair Water-Nymph, that (set upon
The deepest Whirl-pit of the rav'nous Seas,)
My adamantive Eyes might head-long hale
This Iron World to me, and drown it all.

G R E X.

   Cor. Behold, behold, the translated Gallant.
   Mit. O, he is welcome.

Act




Every Man out of his Humour. 39


Act II.    Scene V.

[To the rest.
                  Fungoso.

S
Ave you Brother and Sister, save you, Sir; I have
 commendations for you out i' the Country: (I won-
der they take no knowledge of my Sute:) mine Uncle
Sogliardo is in Town. Sister, methinks, you are melan-
choly: why are you so sad? I think you took me for
Master Fastidius Brisk (Sister) did you not?
   Fast.Fal. Why should I take you for him?
   Fung. Nay, nothing — I was lately in Master Fastidius
his company, and methinks 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.
   Fal. 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?
   Fal. O, you are a Gallant in print now, Brother.
   Fung. Faith, how like you the Fashion? it's the last
Edition, I assure you.
   Fal. I cannot but like it, to the desert.
   Fung. Troth, Sister, I was fain to borrow these Spurs,
I ha' left my Gown in gage for 'em, pray you lend me
an Angel.
   Fal. Now, beshrow my Heart then.
   Fung. Good truth, I'll pay you again at my next ex-
hibition: I had but bare ten Pound of my Father, and
it would not reach to put me wholly into the Fashion.
   Fal. I care not.
   Fung. I had Spurs of mine own before, but they
were not ginglers. Monsieur Fastidius will be here anon,
Sister.
   Fal. You jest?
   Fung. Never lend me Penny more (while you live
then,) and that I'ld be loth to say, in truth.
   Fal. When did you see him?
   Fung. Yesterday, I came acquainted with him at Sir
Puntarvolo's: nay, sweet Sister.
   Maci. I fain would know of Heaven now, why yond
      Fool
Should wear a Suit of Sattin? he? that Rook?
That painted Jay, with such a deal of out-side?
What is his inside trow? ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.
Good Heaven, give me patience, patience, patience.
A number of these Popenjays there are,
Whom, if a Man confer, and but examine
Their inward merit, with such Men as want;
Lord, Lord, what things they are!
   Fal. Come, when will you pay me again, now?
   Fung. O good Sister!
   Maci. Here comes another.

Act II.    Scene VI.

[To the rest.
                   Fastidius Brisk.

S
Ave you, Signior Deliro: how do'st thou, sweet Lady?
 Let me kiss thee.
   Fung. How? a new Suit? Ay me.
   Deli. And how do's Master Fastidius Brisk?
   Fast. Faith, live in Court, Signior Delario; 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.
   Fal. Why look you so pale, Brother?
   Fung. 'Slid, all this Mony is cast away now.
   Maci. I, there's a newer Edition come forth.

[column break]

   Fung. 'Tis but my hard fortune! Well, I'll have my
Suit chang'd, I'll go fetch my Taylor presently, but first
I'll devise a Letter to my Father. Ha' you any Pen and
Ink, Sister?
   Fal. What would you do withall?
   Fung. I would use it. 'Slight, an' 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 than — and yesternight sent her Coach twice to
my Lodging, to intreat me accompany her, and my
sweet Mistris, with some two or three nameless Ladies
more: O, I have been grac't 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.
   Fal. 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 intend pre-
sently 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 gat
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.
   Fal. 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 shar'd the un-
fortunate wit that goes with it, I had not car'd: I might
have past for somewhat i' the World then.
   Fast. Why, assure you, Signior, 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 Holy-day where
it shines; sets the wits of Ladies at work, that other-
wise would be idle: furnisheth your two Shilling Or-
dinary; takes possession of your Stage at your new
Play; and enricheth your Oars, as scorning to go with
your Scull.
   Maci. Pray you, Sir, add this; it gives respect to your
Fools, makes many Thieves, as many Strumpets, and no
fewer Bankrupts.
   Fal. Out, out, unworthy to speak where he breatheth.
   Fast. What's he, Signior?
   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 your selves with such
poor Seam-rent Fellows.
   Fal. 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 vertue to be
regarded? ha?
   Deli. Marry, he is a Scholar, Sir.
   Fast. Nothing else?
   Deli. And he is well travail'd.
   Fast. He should get him Clothes; I would cherish
those good parts of travail in him, and prefer him to
some noble Man 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 de-
sert shall more than answer my praise.
   Fast. Why, an' he had good Clothes, I'ld 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




40 Every Man out of his Humour.


   Fast. You say well, Sir: faith, Signior Deliro, I am
come to have you play the Alchymist with me, and
change the species of my Land into that Mettle 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 promis'd to meet a Gentle-
man this Morning in Pauls, 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: (bring me a Cloke
there, one) still, upon his grace at Court, I am 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 Signior 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, chuse any object that delights thee: if thou
wilt eat the spirit of Gold, and drink dissolv'd Pearl in
Wine, 'tis for thee.
   Fal. So, Sir.
   Deli. Nay, my sweet Wife.
   Fal. Good Lord! how you are perfum'd! in your
terms and all! pray you leave us.
   Deli. Come, Gentlemen.
   Fast. Adieu, sweet Lady.
   Fal. 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 Count-
tess! he's a Man worthy (if a Woman may speak of a
Mans worth) to kiss the Lips of an Empress.
   Fung. What's Master Fastidius gone, Sister?
[Returned with his Taylor.

   Fal. I, Brother (he has a Face like Cherubin!)
   Fung. Gods me, what luck's this? I have fetcht my
Taylor and all: which way went he, Sister? can you
tell?
   Fal. Not I, in good faith (and he has a Body like an
Angel!)
   Fung. How long is't since he went?
   Fal. Why, but e'en now: did you not meet him?
first bracket '(' omittedand 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 Of-
fice yonder by Pauls.
   Fal. Well, I will not altogether despair: I have heard
of a Citizens Wife has been belov'd 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.

G R E X.

   Mit. Well, I doubt, this last Scene will endure some
grievous torture.
   Cor. How? you fear 'twill be rackt 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, per-
haps, 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?

[column break]

   Cor.Mit. You have utter'd 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 Vertue; but can you
imagine that any noble or true spirit in Court (whose
snowy, and altogether un-affected graces, very worthily
express him a Courtier) will make any exception at
the opening of such an empty Trunk, as his Brisk is?
or think his own worth empeacht, by beholding his
mostly inside?
   Mit. No, Sir, I do not.
   Cor. No more, assure you, will any grave wife Citi-
zen, or modest Matron, take the object of this folly in
Deliro, and his Wife: but rather apply it as the foil to
their own Vertues. For that were to affirm, that a
Man writing of Nero, should mean all Emperors: or
in our Sordido, all Farmers; and so of the rest: than
which, nothing can be utter'd more malicious, or ab-
surd. Indeed, there are a sort of these narrow-ey'd de-
cypherers, I confess, that will extort strange and ab-
struse meanings out of any subject, be it never so con-
spicuous and innocently deliver'd. But to such (where
e'er they sit conceal'd) let them know, the Author de-
fies them and their Writing-Tables; and hopes no sound
or safe judgment will infect it self with their contagi-
ous Comments, who (indeed) come here only to per-
vert and poyson 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 illustrati-
on, we must desire you to presuppose the Stage, the
middle Isle in Pauls; and that, the West end of it.
   Mit. So, Sir, and what follows?
   Cor. Faith, a whole Volume of humour, and worthy
the unclapsing.
   Mit. As how? what name do you give him first?
   Cor. He hath shift of names, Sir: some call him Ap-
ple John,
some Signior 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 Pauls now?
   Cor. Troth, as you see, for the advancement of a Si-
quis,
or two; wherein he has so varied himself, that if
any one of 'em take, he may hull up and down in 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.

T
HIS is rare, I have set up my Bills without disco-
 very.
   Oran. What? Signior Whiff! what fortune has brought
you into these West parts?
   Shift. Troth, Signior, nothing but your Rheum; I
have been taking an Ounce of Tabacco hard by here,
with a Gentleman, and I am come to spit private in
Pauls. 'Save you, Sir.
   Oran. Adieu, good Signior Whiff.
   Clov. 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.
   Clov. Farewell, sweet Apple John: I wonder there are
no more store of Gallants here!
G R E X.




Every Man out of his Humour. 41


G R E X.

   Mit. What be these two, Signior?
   Cor. Marry a couple, Sir, that are meer strangers to
the whole scope of our Play; only come to walk a
turn or two i' this Scene of Pauls by chance.
   Orang. 'Save you, good Master Clove.
   Clove. Sweet Master Orange.

G R E X.

   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 spic't youth:
he will sit you a whole after-noon sometimes in a
Book-sellers Shop, reading the Greek, Italian, and Spa-
nish;
when he understands not a word of either: if
he had the Tongues to his Sutes, he were an excellent
Linguist.
   Clove. Do you hear this reported for certainty?
   Orang. O God, Sir.

ACT III.    Scene II.

Puntarvolo, Carlo.

S
Irrah, take my Cloak: and you Sir Knave, follow me
 closer. If thou losest my Dog, thou shalt dye a
Dogs death; I will hang thee.
   Car. 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 poyson him, make
him away with a crooked Pin, or somewhat, Man;
thou maist have more security of they 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 hun-
dred Pounds; but my Lady (my Wife) is out of her
humour; she does not now go.
   Car. No? how then?
   Punt. Marry, I am now enforc't to give it out, upon
the return of my Self, my Dog, and my Cat.
   Car. 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?
   Car. Oh, for the better, Sir; your Cat has nine lives,
and you Wife ha' but one.
   Punt. Besides, she will never be Sea-sick, which will
save me so much in Conserves: when saw you Signior
Sogliardo?

   Car. I came from him but now, he is at the Heralds
Office yonder: he requested me to go afore, and take
up a Man or two for him in Pauls, against his Cognisance
was ready.
   Punt. What, has he purchast Arms, then?
   Car. 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, an' I can fit him with Legs to his
Arms ——
   Punt. With Legs to his Arms! Good: I will go with
[They go to look upon the Bills.
you, Sir.

Act III.    Scene III.

Fastidius, Deliro, Macilente.

C
Ome, 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?

[column break]

   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 fore-top; because
(when you come at the Presence Door) you may with
once or twice stroaking up your Fore-head 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 Mistris
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 Signior Macilente, if this Gentleman, Sig-
nior Deliro,
furnish you (as he says he will) with Clothes,
I will bring you to morrow by this time, into the pre-
sence of the most divine and accute Lady in Court:
you shall see sweet silent Rhetorique, and dumb Elo-
quence speaking in her Eye; but when she speaks her
self, such an Anatomy of wit, so sinewiz'd and arte-
riz'd, 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, be-
lieve me.
   Maci. O, your only admiration, is your silence, Sir.
   Punt. 'Fore God, Carlo, this is good; let's read 'em
again.

The first BILL.
   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 Satten Sute of his own, to go before her in: which
Sute (for the more sweetning) now lies in Lavander: 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.

   Punt. This is above measure excellent! ha?
   Car. No, this, this! here's a fine slave.

The second BILL.
   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 into his hands, that (to be as exactly qualified
as the best of our ordinary Gallants are) is affected to enter-
tain the most Gentleman-like use of Tabacco: 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 eva-
porate at
Uxbridge, or farther, if it please him. If there be
any such generous spirit, that is truly enamour'd of these good
faculties: May it please him, but (by a note of his Hand) to speci-
fie the Place or Ordinary where he uses to eat and lie; and
most sweet attendance with Tabacco and Pipes of the best sort,
shall be ministred:
Stet Quæso Candide Lector.
   Punt. Why this is without parallel, this!
   Car. Well, I'll mark this Fellow for Sogliardo's use pre-
sently.
   Punt. Or rather, Sogliardo for his use.
   Car. 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:
Signior Sogliardo! save you.

Act




42 Every Man out of his Humour.


Act III.    Scene IV.

[To them.
            Sogliardo.

S
Ave you, good Sir Puntarvolo; your Dog's in health,
 Sir, I see: how now, Carlo?
   Carl. We have ta'ne simple pains, to choose you out
followers here.
   Punt. Come hither, Signior.
   Clove, Monsieur Orange, yond' Gallants observe us;
pr'y thee let's talk fustain a little, and gull 'em: make
[They shew him the Bills.
'em believe we are great Schollars.
   Orange. O Lord, Sir.
   Clove. Nay, pr'y thee let's, believe me, you have an
excellent habit in discourse.
   Orange. It pleases you to say so, Sir.
   Clove. By this Church, you ha' la: nay, come, begin:
Aristotle in his Dæmonologia, approves Scaliger for the best
Navigator in his time: and in his Hypercritiques, he reports
him to be Heautontimorumenos:
you understand the Greek,
Sir,
   Orange. O God, Sir.
   Maci. For Societies sake he does. O, here be a Cou-
ple of fine tame Parrots.
   Clove. Now, Sir, whereas the Ingenuity of the time,
and the Souls Synderisis are but Embrions in Nature, added
to the Panch of Esquiline, and the Inter-vallum of the
Zodiack, besides the Ecliptick line being optick, and not,
mentall, but by the contemplative and theorick part thereof,
doth demonstrate to us the vegetable cicumference,circumference and the
ventosity of the Tropicks, and whereas our intellectual, or
mincing capreal (according to the Metaphysicks) as you
may read in Plato's Historiomastix — You conceive me,
Sir?
   Orange. 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 modellizing, or enamelling or rather diamondizing of
your subject, you shall percive the Hypothesis, 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 dis-
course, for they mark us not.
   Fast. Mass, yonder's the Knight Puntarvolo.
   Deli. And my Cousin Sogliard,Sogliardo methinks.
   Maci. I, and his Familiar that haunts him, the Devil
with the shining face.
   Deli. Let 'em alone, observe 'em not.
   Sog. Nay, I will have him, I am resolute for that, By

Sogiardo, Pun   
tarvolo, Carlo,
walks.
this Parchment Gentlemen, I have been so
toil'd among the Harrots 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.
   Car. But ha' you Arms, ha' you Arms?
   Sog. Y'faith, I thank them, I can write my self
Gentleman now, here's my Pattent, it cost me Thirty
Pound, by this breath.
   Punt. A very fair Coat, well charg'd and full of Ar-
mory.
   Sog. Nay, it has as much variety of Colours in it, as
you have seen a Coat have, how like you the Crest,
Sir?
   Punt. I understand it not well, what is't?
   Sog. Marry, Sir, it is your Bore without a head Ram-
pant.

   A Bore without a Head, that's very rare!
   Car. I, and Rampant too: troth, I commend the He-
ralds
wit, he has decyphered him well: A Swine without
a Head, without Brain, Wit, any thing indeed, ramp-
ing to Gentility. You can blazon the rest, Signior?
can you not?

[column break]

   Sog. O, I, I have it in writing here of purpose, it
cost me two Shillings the tricking.
   Carl. Let's hear.
   Punt. It is the most vile, foolish, absurd, palpable, and
ridiculous Escutcheon that ever this Eye survis'd. Save
you, good Monsieur Fastidius.
[They salute as they meet in the Walk.

   Car. Silence, good Knight: on, on.
   Sog. Gyrony, of eight peeces; Azure and Gules, between
three Plates; a Chev'ron, engrailed checkey, Or, Vert, and
Ermins; on a cheefe Argent between two Ann'lets, sables;
a Bores Head, Proper.
   Car. How's that, on a cheef Argent.
   Sog. On a cheef Argent, a Bores head Proper, between
two Ann'lets sables.
   Car, 'Slud, it's a Hogs-cheek, and Puddings in a Pew-
ter Field this.
[Here they shift. Fastidius mixes with Puntarvolo, Carlo and
Sogliardo, Deliro and Macilente, Clove and Orange, four
Couple.




   Sog. How like you 'em, Signior?
   Punt. Let the word be, Not without Mustard; your
Crest is very rare, Sir.
   Car. A Frying-pan, to the Crest, had had no fellow.
   Fast. Intreat your poor Friend to walk off a little,
Signior, I will salute the Knight.
   Car. Come, lap't up, lap't up.
   Fast. You are right well enountered, Sir, how does
your fair Dog?
   Punt. In reasonable state, Sir: what Citizen is that you
were consorted with? a Merchant of any worth?
   Fast. 'Tis Signior Deliro, Sir.
[Salute.                     
   Punt. Is it he? Save you, Sir.
   Deli. Good Sir Puntarvolo.
   Maci. O, what Copy of fool would this place mini-
ster, to one endew'd with patience, to observe it?
   Car. Nay look you Sir, now you are a 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
Noble-man, though you ne're saw him but riding 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 hang'd upon the turn. Spread your self upon
his Bosom publickly, whose Heart your would eat in pri-
vate. These be Principles, think on them, I'll come to
you again presently.
   Punt. Sirrah, keep close; yet no so close: thy breath
will draw my Ruff.
   Sog. O, good Cousin, I am a little busie, how does
my Neece? I am to walk with a Knight, here.

Act III.    Scene V.

[To them.
                  Fungoso, Taylor.

O
 He is here, look you Sir, that's the Gentleman.
   Tay. What, he i' the Blush-coloured Sattin?
   Fung. I, he Sir: though his Sute blush, he blushes not,
look you, that's the Sute, Sir: I would have mine
such a Sute 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 Phantasti-
cal: why, true, I know it, and I pursue my Humour
still, in contempt of this censorious Age. 'Slight an'
a Man should do nothing, but what a sort of stale Judg-
ments about this Town will approve in him, he were a
sweet Ass: I'ld beg him i'faith. I ne're knew any more find
more fault with a Fashion, than they that knew not
how to put themselves into't. For mine own part, so I
please mine own Appetite, I am careless what the fusty
Fung.                        
World speaks of me. Puh.



Every Man out of his Humour. 43


   Fung. Do you mark, how it hangs at the Knee there?
   Tay. I warrant you, Sir.
   Fung. For Gods sake do, note all: do you see the Col-
ler, Sir.
   Tay. Fear nothing, it shall not differ in a Stich, Sir.
   Fung. Pray heav'n it do not, you'l make these Li-
nings serve? and help me to a Chapman for the Out-side,
will you?
   Tay. I'll do my best, Sir: you'l 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 sit i' my old Sute, or else lye a Bed, and read the
Arcadia till you have done.
   Car. O, if ever you were struck with a Jest, Gallants,
now, now, I do usher the most strange piece of Mili-
tary profession that ever was discover'd in Insula Paulina.
   Fast. Where? where?
   Punt. What is he for a Creature?
   Car. A Pimp, a Pimp, that I have observ'd yonder,
the rarest superfices of a humour; he comes every morn-
ning to empty his Lungs in Pauls 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.

[To them.
                  Shift.

Punt.
S
'Lid, he vented a Sigh e'ne now, I thought he
 would have blown up the Church.
   Car. O, you shall have him give a number of those
false Fires e're he depart.
   Fast. See, now he is expostulating with his Rapier!
look, look.
   Car. Did you ever, in your days, observe better Pas-
sion over a Hilt?
   Punt. Except it were in the Person of a Cutlers Boy,
or that the fellow were nothing but Vapour, I should
think it impossible.
   Car. 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 it
self, being so provokt.
   Car. With that, the moody Squire thumpt his Breast,
            And rear'd his Eye to Heaven for revenge.

   Sog. Troth, an' you be good Gentlemen, let's make
'em Friends, and take up the matter between his Rapier
and him.
   Car. Nay, if you intend that, you must lay down
the matter; for this Rapier (it seems) is in the nature
of 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 Lifes sake, let us go.
A Man would wish himself a senseless Pillar,
Rather than view these monstrous Prodigies:
   Nil habet infœlix paupertas durius in se,
   Quam quod ridiculos homines facit ——

   Fast. Signior.
   Shift. At your Service.
   Fast. Will you sell your Rapier?
   Car. He is turn'd wild upon the question, he looks as
he had seen a Serjeant.
   Shift. Sell my Rapier? now fate bless me.
   Punt. Amen.
   Shift. You ask't 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. 'Slid 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?

[column break]

   Fast. Nay (let me pray you, Sir) be not mov'd: 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 serv'd in Causes, or
so, so I am not apt to injure any Gentleman in the de-
gree of falling foul, but (sell my Rapier?) I will tell
you, Sir, I have serv'd 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 travail'd by my side, Sir, the best
part of France and the Low Countrey: I have seen Vlishing,
Brill,
and the Hague, with this Rapier, Sir, in my Lord
of Leysters time: and (by Gods will) he that should of-
fer 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 tra-
vel, for the sight of service, or so, one, two, or all of
you, I can lend you Letters, to divers Officers and Com-
manders 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 shew the
bounty of your mind, Sir, to impart some Ten Groats,
or half a Crown to use, till our ability be of growth
to return it, and we shall think our self —— What,
sell my Rapier?
   Sog. I pray you, what said he, Signior? he's a proper
Man.
   Fast. Marry he tells me, if I please to shew the boun-
ty of my mind, to impart some ten Groats to his use,
or so ————
   Punt. Break his head and give it him.
   Car. I thought he had been playing o' the Jews Trump, I.
   Shif. My Rapier? no Sir: my Rapier is my Guard,
my Defence, my Revenue, my Honour: (if you can-
not impart, be secret, I beseech you) and I will main-
tain 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 divorc'd 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. Prethee away: is Signior Deliro departed?
   Car. Ha' you seen a Pimp out-face his own wants bet-
ter?
   Sog. I commend him, that can dissemble 'em so well.
   Punt. True, and having no better a cloke for it, than
he has neither.
   Fast. Gods precious, what mischievous luck is this!
adieu Gentlemen.
   Punt. Whither in such haste? Monsieur Fastidius.
   Fast. After my Merchant, Signior Deliro, Sir.
   Carl. O hinder him not, he may hap lose his tide, a
good Flounder i' faith.
   Oran. Hark you, Signior Whiffe, a word with you.
[Orange and Clove call Shift aside.

   Car. How, Signior Whiffe?
   Oran. What was the difference between that Gallant
that's gone, and you, Sir?
   Shif. No difference: he would ha' given me Five
Pound for my Rapier, and I refus'd it; that's all.
   Clov. O, was't no otherwise? we thought you had
been upon some Terms.
   Shif. No other than you saw, Sir.
   Clov. Adieu, good Master Apple-John.
   Car. How? Whiffe, and Apple-John too? Heart, what'll
you say if this be the Appendix, or Label to both yond'
Indentures?
   Punt. It may be.
   Car. Resolve us of it Janus, thou that look'st every way:
or thou Hercules, that hast travell'd all Countries.
   Punt. Nay, Carlo, spend not time in Invocations now,
'tis late.
G2                                Car.               




44 Every Man out of his Humour.


   Car. Signior, here's a Gentleman desirous of your
Name, Sir.
   Shif. Sir, my name is Cavalier Shift: I am known suf-
ficiently in this walk, Sir.
   Car. Shift? I heard your name varied e'en now, as I
take it,
   Shif. True, Sir, it pleases the World (as I am her ex-
cellent Tabacconist) to give me the Stile of Signior
Whiffe: as I am a poor Esquire about the Town here,
they call me Master Apple-John. Variety of good
Names does well, Sir.
   Car. I, and good parts, to make those good names:
out of which I imagin yond' Bills to be yours.
   Shif. Sir, if I should deny the Manuscripts, I were
worthy to be banisht the middle Isle, for ever.
   Car. I take your word, Sir: this Gentleman has sub-
scrib'd to 'em, and is most desirous to become your Pu-
pil. Marry you must use expedition. Signior Insulso Sog-
liardo,
this is the Professor.
   Sog. In good time, Sir; nay, good Sir, house your
Head: do you profess these Slights in Tabacco?
   Shif. 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 Ordina-
ry, Theatre, or the Tilt-yard, if need be, i' the most
popular Assembly that is.
   Punt. But you cannot bring him to the whiffe, so soon?
   Shif. Yes, as soon, Sir: he shall receive the first, second,
and third whiffe, if it please him, and (upon the receipt)
take his Horse, drink his three Cups of Canary, and ex-
pose one at Hounslow, a second at Stanes, and a third at
Bagshot.
   Car. Baw-waw!
   Sog. You will not serve me, Sir, will you? I'll give
you more than countenance.
   Shif. Pardon me, Sir, I do scorn to serve any Man.
   Car. Who? he serve? he! he keeps high men, and
low men, he! he has a fair living at Fullam.
   Shif. But in the nature of a fellow, I'll be your fol-
lower, if you please.
   Sog. Sir, you shall stay, and dine with me, and if
we can agree, we'll not part in haste: I am very boun-
tiful to Men of Quality. Where shall we go, Signior?
   Punt. Your Miter is your best House.
   Shif. I can make this Dog take as many whiffes as I
list, and he shall retain, or effume them, at my pleasure.
   Punt. By your patience, follow me, Fellows.
   Sog. Sir, Puntarvolo!
   Punt. Pardon me, my Dog shall not eat in his Com-
pany for a Million.
   Car. Nay, be not you amaz'd, Signior Whiffe, what
e're that Stiff-neckt Gentleman says.
   Sog. No, for you do not know the humour of the
Dog, as we do: where shall we dine, Carlo? I would
fain go to one of these Ordinaries, now I am a Gentleman.
   Car. So you may, were you never at any yet?
   Sog. No faith, but they say there resorts your most
choice Gallants,
   Car. 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
Affrick: but that'll be help't 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 travail'd: 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.
   Sog. I warrant you, I am resolute: come, good Signior,
there's a poor French Crown for your Ordinary.
   Shift. It comes well, for I had not so much as the
least Portcullice of Coyn before.

[column break]

G R E X.                              

   Mit. I travel with another objection, Signior, which
I fear will be enforc'd against the Author, e're I can be
deliver'd 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 Dukes 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 familliarly
allied to the time.
   Cor. You say well, but I would fain hear one of these
autumne Judgements define once, Quid sit Comedia? 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 vitæ, Speculum con-
suetudinis, Imago veritatis;
a thing throughout pleasant,
and ridiculous, and accommodated to the correction of
manners: if the Maker have fail'd 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.                         

With a Hal-
ter about his                          
Neck.
N
Ay, gods'-pretious, 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 hun-
ger and thirst with Poverty; that my sleep shall be bro-
ken, and their Hearts not broken; that my Coffers shall
be full, and yet care; their's empty, and yet merry!
'Tis time, that a Cross should bear Flesh and Blood, since
Flesh and Blood cannot bear this Cross.

G R E X.                               

   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. Beshrowe 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
Chrystal; another says, tempestuous blasts and storms,
and 'twas as calm as a Milk-bowl; here be sweet Rascals
for a man to credit his whole Fortunes with: You Sky-
staring Cocks-combs you, you Fat-brains, out upon you;
you are good for nothing but to sweat Night-caps, 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 dye a better Schollar 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.

The LETTER.             
S
Weet and dear Father (desiring you first to send me your bles-
 sing, which is more worth to me than gold or silver) I desire
you likewise to be advertised, that this Shrovetide (contrary to
custom) we use always to have Revells; which is indeed dan-
cing and makes an excellent shew in truth; especially if we Gen-
tlemen be well attir'd, which our Seniors note, and think the bet-
ter of our Fathers, the better we are maintain'd, and that they
shall know if they come up, and have any thing to do in the Law:
therefore, good Father, these are (for you 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 Gen-
tility, that I may say to our Calumniators, with
Tully, Ego
sum ortus domus meæ, tu occasustuæ. And thus (not doubt-
ing of your fatherly benevolence) I humbly ask your Blessing, and
pray God to bless you.                
Yours, if his own.
How's



Every Man out of his Humour. 45


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 sub-
scription 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 Benevo-
lence? 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 there in spight 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 e'er they touch it, I have hid it
as deep as Hell from the sight of Heaven, and to it I go
[Falls off.
now.

Act III.    Scene VIII.

[To him.
            Rustici.

Rust. 1.  
A
Y 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 hang'd himself, help to
get him again.
   Rust. 2. Hang'd himself? 'Slid carry him afore a Ju-
stice, 'tis chance-medly, 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 answer't.
   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 foot-way,
Neighbour.
   Rust. 1. I, an' 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 hang'd I can tell you.
   Sord. You thread-bare horse-bread-eating Rascals, if
you would needs have been meddling, could you not
have untied it, but you must cut it? and in the midst
too! Ay me.
   Rust. 1. Out on me, 'tis the Catterpiller Sordido! how
cursed are the Poor, that the Viper was blest with this
good fortune?
   Rust. 2. Nay, how accurst art thou, that art cause to
the curse of the Poor?
   Rust. 3. I, and to save so wretched a Caytiff?
   Rust. 4. Curst be thy Fingers that loos'd him.
   Rust. 2. Some desperate Fury possess thee, that thou
maist hang thy self too.
   Rust. 5. Never maist thou be sav'd, that sav'd so
damn'd a Monster.
   Sord. What Curses breathe these Men! how have my
      deeds
Made my looks differ from another Mans,
That they should thus detest, and lothe 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 past, and twenty-fold
Restore to all Men, what with wrong I rob'd them:
My Barns and Garners shall stand open still

[column break]

To all the Poor that come, and my best Grain
Be made Alms-bread, to feed half-famisht Mouthes.
Though hitherto amongst you I have liv'd,
Like an unsavoury Muck-hill to my self,
Yet now my gather'd 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 chang'd; come in with me
And witness my Repentance: now I prove,
"No Life is blest, that is not grac't with Love.
   Rust. 2. O miracle! see when a Man has grace!
   Rust. 3. Had't not been pitty, 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. 2. O God, how he wept, if you mark't it! did
you see how the tears trill'd?
   Rust. 5. Yes, believe me, like Master Vicars Bowles
upon the Green for all the World.
   3. or 4. O Neighbour, God's Blessing o'your Heart,
Neighbour, 'twas a good grateful deed.

G R E X.

   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 foggy Multi-
tude; but in good faith, Signior, your Author hath large-
ly out-stript my expectation in this Scene, I will liberal-
ly confess it. For when I saw Sordido so desperately in-
tended, I thought I had had a hand of him, then.
   Cor. What? you suppos'd he should have hung himself
indeed?
   Mit. I did, and had fram'd my objection to it ready,
which may yet be very fitly urg'd, and with some neces-
sity: for though his purpos'd violence lost th' effect, and
extended not to death, yet the intent and horror of the
object, was more than the nature of a Comedie will in
any sort admit.
   Cor. I? what think you of Plautus, in his Comedie, cal-
led 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 restrain'd from his
resolv'd 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 pre-occupy your
imagination withall. Let your mind keep company
with the Scene still, which now removes it self from
the Country to the Court. Here comes Macilente and
Signior Brisk, freshly suited, lose not your self, for now
the Epitasis, or busie part of our subject is in act.

Act III.    Scene IX.

Macilente, Brisk, Cinedo, Saviolina.

Fast.  
W
ELL, now, Signior Macilente, you are not on-
  ly welcome to the Court, but also to my
Mistris's withdrawing Chamber: But, get me some Ta-
bacco, I'll but go in, and shew I am here, and come to
you presently, Sir.
   Maci. What's that he said? by Heaven, I markt him
      not:
My thoughts and I were of another World.
I was admiring mine own out-side here,
To think what Priviledge and Palm it bears
Here,




46 Every Man out of his Humour.


Here, in the Court! Be a Man ne'er so vile
In Wit, in Judgment, 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 rince 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 Vertue in bad Clothes! ha, ha, ha, ha,
That Raiment should be in such high request!
How long should I be, e'er I should put off
To the Lord Chancellor's Tomb, or the Sheriff's Posts?
By Heaven (I think) a thousand, thousand Year.
His Gravity, his Wisdom, and his Faith,
To my dread Soveraign (graces that survive him)
These I could well indure to reverence,
But not his Tomb: no more than I'ld commend
The Chappel Organ, for the gilt without,
Or this Base-Viol, for the varnisht Face.
   Fast. I fear I have made you stay somewhat long,
Sir; but is my Tabacco ready Boy?
   Cine. I, Sir.
   Fast. Give me, my Mistris is upon coming, you shall
see her presently Sir, (Tab.) you'll say you never ac-
costed a more piercing Wit. This Tabacco is not dried
Boy, or else the Pipe is defective. Oh, your Wits of
Italy are nothing comparable to her! her Brain's a ve-
ry Quiver of Jests! and she does dart them abroad with
that sweet, loose, and judicial aim, that you would —
here she comes, Sir.
[She is seen, and goes in again.

   Maci. 'Twas time, his invention had been bog'd else.
   Savi. Give me my Fan there.
   Maci. How now, Monsieur Brisk?
   Fast. A kind of affectionate Reverence strikes me with
a cold shivering (methinks.)
   Maci. I like such tempers well, as stand before their
Mistresses with fear and trembling; and before their
Master, like impudent Mountains.
   Fast. By this Hand, I'ld 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 La-
dies mad with desire: she comes. My good Genius em-
bolden me; Boy, the Pipe quickly.
   Maci. What? will he give her Musick?
   Fast. A second good morrow to my fair Mistris.
   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. Troth, sweet Lady, I shall (Tab.) be prepar'd 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.
[He talks, and takes Tabacco between.

   Maci. I ne'er knew Tabacco taken as a Parenthesis
before.
   Fast. 'Fore God (sweet Lady) believe it, I do ho-
nour 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.
[He takes down the Viol, and plays between.


[column break]

   Maci. 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 Musick, Lady (hum, hum.)
   Savi. Would we might hear it once.
   Fast. I do more adore and admire your (hum, hum,) pre-
dominant perfections, than (hum, hum) ever I shall have
power and faculty to express (hum.)
   Savi. Upon the Viol de Gambo, 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 Tabacco.
   Maci. Tabacco again? he does court his Mistress
with very exceeding good changes.
   Fast. Signior Macilente, you take none, Sir? (Tab.)
   Maci. No, unless I had a Mistress, Signior, it were a
great indecorum for me to take Tabbaco.
   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 your
self shall say it's a good one: I have wisht my self to
be that Instrument (I think) a thousand times, and not
so few, by Heaven (Tab.)
   Maci. Not unlike, Sir: but how? to be cas'd up, and
hung by on the Wall?
   Fast. O, no, Sir, to be in use I assure you; as your
judicious Eyes may testifie. (Tab.)
   Savi. Here, Servant, if you will play, come.
   Fast. Instantly, sweet Lady. (Tab.) In good faith,
here's most divine Tabacco!
   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 Tabacco perfum'd, 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 Igenui-
ty, 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
Woodcock's-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
Tabacco, when they want better entertainment) you see
your Pipe bears the true form of a Woodcock's-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 plain Song, can run no better division upon it? All
her jests are of the stamp, (March was fifteen Years ago.)
Is this the Comet, Monsieur Fastidius, that your Gallants
wonder at so?
   Fast. Heart of a Gentleman, to neglect me afore pre-
sence thus! Sweet Sir, I beseech you be silent in my dis-
grace. By the Muses, I was never in so vile a humour in
my life, and her Wit was at the flood too. Report it not
for a million, good Sir; let me be so far endear'd to your
love.

G R E X.

   Mit. What follows next, Signior Cordatus? this Gal-
lant's humour is almost spent, methinks it ebbs apace,
with this contrary breath of his Mistress.
   Cor. O, but it will flow 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,



Every Man out of his Humour. 47


   Mit. What, i' the old case?
   Cor. I'faith, which makes it the more pitiful; you un-
derstand where the Scene is?



Act IV.    Scene I.

Fallace, Fungoso.

W
HY are you so melancholy, Brother?
   Fung. I am not melancholy, I thank you, Sister.
   Fal. 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 us.
   Fung. Faith, I cannot tell, Sister, but if a Man had
any true melancholy in him, it would make him melan-
choly to see his yeomanly Father cut his Neighbours
Throats, to make his Son a Gentleman: and yet when
he has cut 'em, he will see his Sons Throat cut too, e'er
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 term'd Gentleman that is not
always i' the fashion? I would know but that.
   Fal. If you be melancholy for that, Brother, I think I
have as much cause to be melancholy, as any 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 be-
sides 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, methinks.
   Fal. Nay, good Brother, be not resolute.
   Fung. I sent him a Letter, and he writes me no answer
neither.
   Fal. Oh, sweet Fastidius Brisk! O fine Courtier! thou
art he mak'st 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 Hus-
band, nor Friend i' the Court! O, sweet Fastidius! O
fine Courtier! How comely he bowes him in his Court'-
sie! how full he hits a Woman between the Lips when
he kisses! how upright he sits at the Table! how dain-
tily 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-tooths he carries about
him still! O, sweet Fastidius! O, fine Courtier!

Act IV.    Scene II.

Deliro, Musicians, Macilente, Fungoso.

S
EE, yonder she is, Gentlemen. Now, (as ever you'll
 bear the name of Musicians) touch your Instru-
ments sweetly, she has a delicate Ear, I tell you: play
not a false note, I beseech you.
   Musi. Fear not, Signior 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.
   Fal. Hey — da! this is excellent! I'll lay my life this
is my Husband's dotage. I thought so; nay, never
play boe-peep with me, I know you do nothing but stu-
dy how to anger me, Sir.
   Deli. Anger thee, sweet Wife? why didst thou not
send for Musicians at Supper last Night thy self?
   Fal. To Supper, Sir? now, come up to supper, I be-
seech you: as though there were no difference between
Supper-time, when Folks should be merry, and this
time when they should be melancholy? I would never

[column break]

take upon me to take a Wife, if I had no more judg-
ment to please her.
   Deli. Be pleas'd, 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?
   Deliro. Here, Master Macilente: you are welcome
from Court, Sir; no doubt you have been grac't ex-
ceedingly of Master Brisk's Mistriss, and the rest of the
Ladies for his sake.
   Maci. Alas, the poor phantastick! 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 gallant'st Couriers 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 Zani to a Tumbler,
That tries Tricks after him, to make Men laugh.
   Fal. Here's an unthankful spiteful Wretch! the good
Gentleman vouchsaft to make him his companion (be-
cause my Husband put him into a few Rags) and now
see how the unrude Rascal back-bites him!
   Deli. Is he no more grac't amongst 'em then? say
you?
   Maci. Faith, like a pawn at Chess: fills up a Room,
that's all.
   Fal. O monster of Men! can the Earth bear such an
envious Caytiff?
   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
morgag'd to me, and forfeited: besides, I have Bonds
of his in my Hand, for the receit of now fifty Pound,
now a hundred, now two hundred: still, as he has had
a Fan but wagg'd at him, he would be in a new Suit.
Well, I'll salute him by a Serjeant, the next time I see
him, i'faith, I'll Sute him.
   Maci. Why, you may soon see him, Sir, for he is to
meet Signior Puntarvolo at a Notaries by the Exchange,
presently: where he means to take up, upon return —
   Fal. Now, out upon thee, Judas; canst thou not be
content to backbite thy Friend, but thou must betray
him? wilt thou seek the undoing of any Man? and of
such a Man too? and will you, Sir, get your living by
the counsel of Traytors?
   Deli. Dear Wife, have patience.
   Fal. The House will fall, the Ground will open and
swallow us: I'll not bide here, for all the Gold and Sil-
ver 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 hangs so heavily over a Womans Manger.
   Fal. Help me, Brother: 'ods body, an' you come here
[Deliro follows his Wife.
I'll do my self a mischief.
   Deli. Nay, hear me, sweet Wife, unless thou wilt have
me go, I will not go.
   Fal. 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
towards your Sute: for the love of Gentry, and as ever
you came of Christian Creature, make haste to the Wa-
ter-side (you know where Master Fastidius uses to land)
and give him warning of my Husbands malicious intent;
and tell him of that lean Rascal's treachery: O Heavens!
how




48 Every Man out of his Humour.


how my Flesh rises at him! Nay, sweet Brother, make
haste: You may say, I would have writ to him, but
that the necessity of the time would not permit. He
cannot chuse 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 sey on my Sute,I will go presently, say on my Sute, pay as much
Money as I have, and swear my self into Credit with
my Taylor for the rest.
   Del. O, on my soul you wrong her, Macilente.
Though she be froward, yet I know she is honest.
[Deliro and Macilente pass over the Stage.

   Maci. Well, then have I no Judgment. 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 ——
   Del. If you love me, forbear; all the Arguments i'
the World shall never wrest my Heart to believe it.

G R E X.

   Cor. How like you the decyphering 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 IV.    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.
   Not. With all my heart, Sir; and I'll fall in hand
with 'em presently.
   Pun. Well then, first the Sum is to be understood.
   Not. Good, Sir.
   Pun. Next, our several Appellations, and Character
of my Dog and Cat, must be known. Shew him the
Cat, Sirrah.
   Not. So, Sir.
   Pun. Then, that the intended Bound is the Turk's
Court in Constantinople; the Time limited for our Re-
turn, a Year; and that if either of us miscarry, the
whole Venture is lost. These are general, conceiv'st
thou? or if either of us turn Turk.
   Not. I, Sir.
   Pun. Now for Particulars: That I may make my
Travels by Sea or Land, to my best liking; and that
(hiring a Coach for my self) 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 chuse to give my Dog, or Cat, Fish,
for fear of Bones; or any other Nutriment that (by the
Judgment of the most authentical Physicians where I
travel) shall be thought dangerous.
   Not. Well, Sir.
   Pun. That (after the receit of his Money) he shall
neither in his own Person, nor any other, either by di-
rect or indirect means, as Magick, Witchcraft, or other
such exotick Arts, attempt, practise, or complot any
thing to the prejudice of me, my Dog, or my Cat:
Neither shall I use the help of any such Sorceries or In-
chantments, as Unctions to make our Skins impenetrable,
or to travel invisible by vertue of a Powder, or a Ring,
or to hang any three-forked Charm about my Dog's
Neck, secretly convey'd into his Collar, (understand
you?) but that all be performed sincerely, withourwithout Fraud
or Imposture.
   Not. So, Sir.
   Pun. That (for testimony of the Performance) my
self am to bring thence a Turks Mustachio, my Dog a

[column break]

Grecian 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 set-
ting forth, either my self or these be visited with Sick-
ness, or any other casual Event, so that the whole Course
of the Adventure be hindred thereby, that then he is to
return, and I am to receive the prenominated Propor-
tion, upon fair and equal Terms.
   Not. Very good, Sir; is this all?
   Pun. It is all, Sir; and dispatch them, good Notary.
   Not. As fast as is possible, Sir.
   Pun. O Carlo! welcom: 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 main-
tain 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. Methinks, Carlo, you look very smooth! ha?
   Car. Why, I came but now from a Hot-house, I must
needs look smooth.
   Pun. From a Hot-house!
   Car. I, do you make a Wonder on't? Why, it's your
only Physick. Let a Man sweat once a Week in a Hot-
house, and be well rubb'd, and froted, with a good
plump juicy Wench, and sweet Linnen, he shall ne'er ha'
the Pox.
   Pun. What, the French Pox?
   Car. The French Pox! Our Pox. We have 'em in as
good form as they Man: what?
   Pun. Let me perish, but thou art a salt one! Was your
new-created Gallant there with you? Sogliardo?
   Car. O Porpuse! hang him, no: he's a Leiger at Horn's
Ordinary yonder; his villainous Ganymede and he ha'
been droning a Tabacco-pipe there ever sin' yesterday
noon.
   Pun. Who? Signior Tripartite, that would give my
Dog the Whiff?
   Car. I, he. They have hir'd a Chamber and all, pri-
vate, to practise in, for the making of the Patoun, the
Receit 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 Per-
spective) in at a Key-hole; and there we might see
Sogliardo sit in a Chair, holding his Snowt up like a Sow
under an Apple-tree, while th' other open'd his Nostrils
with a Poking-stick, to give the Smoke a more free de-
livery. They had spit some three or fourscore Ounces
between 'em, afore we came away.
   Pun. How! spit three or fourscore Ounces?
   Car. I, and preserv'd it in Porrengers, as a Barber do's
his Blood when he opens a Vein.
   Pun. Out, Pagan; how dost thou open the Vein of
thy Friend?
   Car. Friend? Is there any such foolish thing i' the
World? ha? 'Slid, I ne'er rellisht it yet.
   Pun. Thy Humour is the more dangerous.
   Car. No, not a whit, Signior. Tut, a Man must keep
time in all; I can oyl 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



Every Man out of his Humour. 49


Act IV.    Scene IV.

To them.]
Deliro, Macilente.               

S
Ave you, good Sir Puntarvolo.
   Punt. Signior Deliro! Welcome.
   Deli. Pray you, Sir, did you see Master Fastidius Brisk?
I heard he was to meet your Worship here.
   Punt. You heard no Figment, Sir; I do expect him
at every Pulse of my Watch.
   Deli. In good time, Sir.
   Car. There's a Fellow now looks like one of the Patri-
cians
of Sparta; marry, his Wit's after Ten i' the Hun-
dred: a good Blood-hound, a close-mouth'd Dog, he
follows the Scent 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.
   Car. O, I cannot abide these Limbs of Sattin, or ra-
ther Satan indeed, that'll walk (like the Children of
Darkness) all day in a melancholy Shop, with their Poc-
kets 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?
   Car. O, (Dam me) Immortality! I'l not meddle with
him, the pure Element of Fire, all Spirit, extraction.
   Punt. How Carlo? ha? what is he, Man?
   Car. A Schollar, Macilente, do you not know him? a
lank raw-bon'd Anatomy, he walks up and down like a
charg'd Musket, no Man dares encounter him: that's
his rest there.
   Punt. His rest? why has he a forked Head?
   Car. 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, Signior, you shall not lose
this opportunity, he will be here presently now.
   Deli. Yes faith, 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 my self 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 my self first.
   Deli. O but, Signior, had you such a Wife as mine is,
you would ——
   Maci. Such a Wife? Now hate me, Sir, if ever I
discern'd 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, esteem'd properer
Women; and I have seen less Roses grow upon sweeter
Faces, that have done very well too, in my Judgment:
but in good faith, Signior, for all this, the Gentlewoman
is a good pretty proud hard-favour'd thing, marry not
so peerlessly to be doted upon, I must confess: nay, be
not angry.
   Deli. Well, Sir, (however you please to forget your
self) I have not deserv'd to be thus plai'd 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, Signior, let me tell you, your Wife
is no proper Woman, and by my Life, I suspect her ho-
nesty, that's more, which you may likewise suspect (if
you please:) do you see? I'll urge you to nothing, a-
gainst 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.

[column break]

   Car. O, you shall hear him speak like enny.envy Signior
Macilente, you saw Monsieur Brisk lately? I heard you
were with him at Court.
   Maci. I, Buffone, I was with him.
   Car. And how is he respected there? (I know you'll
deal ingenously with us) is he made of amongst the
sweeter sort of Gallants?
   Maci. Faith I, his Civet and his Casting-glass,
Have helpt 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.
   Car. What, is this all?
   Maci. Why say, that they should shew the frothy Fooll
Such grace as they pretend comes from the Heart,
He had a mighty Wind-fall out of doubt.
Why, all their Graces are not to do grace
To Vertue, or Desert: but to ride both
With their guilt Spurs quite breathless, from themselves.
'Tis now exteem'd 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 Worldings prov'd,
(If not to gain by love) to be belov'd.
   Car. How like you him? is't not a good spiteful slave?
ha?
   Punt. Shrewd, shrewd.
   Car. Dam me, I could eat his Flesh now: divine sweet
Villain!
   Maci. Nay, prethee leave: what's he there?
   Car. Who? this i' the starcht Beard? it's the dull stiff
Knight Puntarvolo, Man; he's to travel now presently:
he has a good knotty Wit, marry he carries little on't out
of the Land with him.
   Maci. How then?
   Car. He puts it forth in venture, as he does his Money
upon the return of a Dog, and Cat.
   Maci. Is this he?
   Car. 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 Poul of Ling upon
Easter-eve, that has furnisht the Table all Lent, as he has
done the City this last vacation.
   Maci. Come, you'll never leave your stabbing simile's:
I shall ha' you ayming at me with 'em by and by, but —
   Car. 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 IV.    Scene V.

[To them.
               Sogliardo, Shift.

S
Ave you, my dear Gallanto's: nay, come approach,
 good Cavalier: prethee (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, Gentiles, know him, know him
all over.
   Punt. Sir (for Signior Sogliardo's sake) let it suffice,
I know you.
   Sog. Why (as I am a Gentleman) I thank you,
Knight, and it shall suffice. Hark you, Sir Puntarvolo,
you'ld little think it; he's as resolute a piece of Flesh as
any i' the World.
   Punt. Indeed, Sir?
   Sog. Upon my Gentility, Sir: Carlo, a word with you;
Do you see that same fellow, there?
   Car. What? Cavalier Shift?

H                                                      Sog.




50 Every Man out of his Humour.


   Sog. O, you know him; cry you mercy: before me,
I think him the tallest Man living within the Walls of
Europe.
   Car. The Walls of Europe! take heed what you say,
Signior, Europe's a huge thing within the Walls.
   Sog. Tut, (an' 'twere as huge again) I'ld justifie what
I speak. 'Slid, he swagger'd e'ne now in a place where
we were: I never saw a Man do it more resolute.
   Car. Nay, indeed swaggering is a good Argument of
Resolution. Do you hear this, Signior:
   Maci. I, to my grief. O, that such muddy Flags,
For every drunken flourish, should atchieve
The name of Manhood; whilst true perfect Valour
(Hating to shew it self) goes by despis'd!
Heart, I do know now (in a fair just cause)
I dare do more than he, a thousand times:
Why should not they take knowledg of this? ha?
And give my worth allowance before his?
Because I cannot swagger! Now the Pox
Light on your Pickt-hatch prowess.
   Sog. Why, I tell you, Sir, he has been the only Bid-
stand
that ever kept New-market, Salisbury-plain, Hockley
i' the hole, Gads-Hill; and all the high Places of any re-
quest: 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 Grey-hound: he has done Five hundred Rob-
beries in his time, more or less, I assure you.
   Punt. What? and scapt?
   Sog. Scapt! i'faith I: he has broken the Jayl when he
has been in Irons, and Irons; and been out, and in a-
gain; and out, and in; Forty times, and not so few, he.
   Maci. A fit Trumpet, to proclaim such a Person.
   Car. But can this be possible?
   Shif. Why, 'tis nothing, Sir, when a Man give his
Affections to it.
   Sog. Good Pilades, discourse a Robbery or two, to
satisfie these Gentlemen of thy worth.
   Shif. Pardon me, my dear Orestes: Causes have their
quiddits, and 'tis ill jesting with Bell-ropes.
   Car. How? Pilades and Orestes?
   Sog. I, he is my Pilades, and I am his Orestes: how
like you the Conceit?
   Car. O, it's an old stale enterlude Device: No, I'll
give you Names my self, look you, he shall be your Ju-
das,
and you shall be his Elder Tree to hang on.
   Maci. Nay.period should be a comma rather, let him be Captain Pod, and this
his Motion; for he does nothing but shew him.
   Car. Excellent: or thus, you shall be Holden, and he
your Camel.
   Shif. 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.
   Sog. Troth, that's pretty: how say you, Cavalier,
shal't be so?
   Car. I, I, most Voices.
   Shif. Faith, I am easily yielding to any good Impres-
sions.
   Sog. Then give hands, good Resolution.
   Car. 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 IV.    Scene VI.

[To them.
Fastidius Brisk.                 

G
Ood hours, make musick with your Mirth, Gentle-
 men, and keep time to your Humours: how now,
Carlo?
   Punt. Monsieur Brisk! many a long look have I ex-
tended for you, Sir.

[column break]

   Fast. Good faith I must crave Pardon; I was invited
this Morning e're I was out of my Bed, by a Bevy of
Ladies, to a Banquet: whence it was almost one of Her-
cules
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 Brace-
let of her Hair but over night, and this Pearl another
gave me from her Fore-head, 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, Sogli-
ardo?
Oh, Signior 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.
   Car. He knows some notorious Jest by this Gull, that
he hath him so obsequious.
   Sog. Monsieur Fastidius, do you see this Fellow there?
does he not look like a Clown? would you think there
were any thing in him?
   Fast. Any thing in him? beshrew me, I: the Fellow
hath a good ingenious Face.
   Sog. By this Element he is as ingenious a tall Man
as ever swagger'd about London: he, and I, call Counte-
nance
and Resolution, but his Name is Cavalier Shift.
   Punt. Cavalier, you knew Signior Clog, that was hang'd
for the Robbery at Harrow o' the Hill?
   Sog. Knew him, Sir! why, 'twas he gave all the di-
rections for the Action.
   Punt. How? was it your Project, Sir?
   Shif. Pardon me, Countenance, you do me some wrong
to make occasions publick, which I imparted to you in
private.
   Sog. Gods will! here are none but Friends, Resolu-
tion.

   Shif. That's all one; things of consequence must
have their respects: where, how, and to whom. Yes,
Sir, he shewed himself a true Clog in the coherence of
that Affair, Sir: for, if he had manag'd 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' liv'd (in despight of fates) to have fed on
Wood-cocks, with the rest: but it was his heavy for-
tune to sink, poor Clog, and therefore talk no more of
him.
   Punt. Why, had he more aiders then?
   Sog. O God, Sir! I, there were some present there,
that were the nine Worthies to him, i'faith.
   Shif. I, Sir, I can satisfie you at more convenient Con-
ference: but (for mine own part) I have now recon-
cil'd my self to other courses, and profess a living out of
my other Qualities.
   Sog. Nay, he has left all now (I assure you) and is
able to live like a Gentleman, by his Qualities. By this
Dog, he has the most rare Gift in Tabacco that ever
you knew.
   Car. He keeps more ado with this Monster, than ever
Bankes did with his Horse, or the Fellow with the Ele-
phant.
   Maci. He will hang out his Picture shortly, in a
Cloth, you shall see.
   Sog. O, he does manage a Quarrel, the best that ever
you saw, for Terms and Circumstances.
   Fast. Good faith, Signior, (now you speak of a
Quarrel) I'll acquaint you with a difference, that hap-
pended between a Gallant, and my self; Sir Puntarvolo,
you know him if I should name him, Signior Lu-
culento.

   Punt. Luculento! what in-auspicious chance interpos'd
it self to your two loves.

Fast. Faith,




Every Man out of his Humour. 51


   Fast. Faith, Sir, the same that sundred Agamemnon and
great Thetis Son l 'l' should be a semi-colon but let the Cause escape, Sir: He sent
me a Challenge (mixt with some few Braves) which I
restor'd, and in fine we met. Now indeed, Sir, (I must
tell you) he did offer at first very desperately, but with-
out Judgment: For, look you, Sir; I cast my self 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
mist my Purpose in his Arm, rasht 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 Hat-
band, then new come up, which I wore about a Mur-
rey French Hat I had) cuts my Hatband, (and yet it was
massie Goldsmiths Work) cuts my Brims, which by
good fortune (being thick embroidered with Gold Twist
and Spangles) disappointed the force of the Blow: Ne-
vertheless, it graz'd on my Shoulder, takes me away six
Purls of an Italian Cut-work 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 breath'd. Now (upon the second Sign of
his Assault) I betook me to the former manner of my
Defence; he (on the other side) abandon'd his Body
to the same Danger as before, and follows me still with
Blows: But I (being loth to take the deadly Advantage
that lay before me of his left Side) made a kind of
Stramazoun, ran him up to the Hilts through the Doub-
let, through the Shirt, and yet mist the Skin. He (ma-
king a reverse Blow) falls upon my emboss'd Girdle, (I
had thrown off the Hangers a little before) strikes off a
Skirt of a thick lac'd Sattin Doublet I had (lin'd with
four Taffataes) cuts off two Panes embroidered with
Pearl, rends through the Drawings-out of Tissue, enters
the Linings, and skips the Flesh.
   Car. I wonder he speaks not of his wrought Shirt.
   Fast. Here (in the opinion of mutual Damage) we
paus'd; but (e'er I proceed) I must tell you, Signior,
that (in this last Encounter) not having leisure to put
off my Silver Spurs, one of the Rowels catcht hold of
the Ruffle of my Boot, and (being Spanish Leather, and
subject to tear,last bracket ')' omitted overthrows me, rends me two pair of
Silk Stockins, (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) ——
   Car. O! comes it in there?
   Fast. Rid after him, and (lighting at the Court-gate
both together) embrac't, and marcht Hand in Hand up
into the Presence. Was not this Business well carried?
   Maci. Well? yes, and by this we can guess what Ap-
parel the Gentleman wore.
   Punt. 'Fore Valour, it was a Designment begun with
much Resolution, maintain'd with as much Prowess, and
ended with more Humanity. How now, what says the
Notary?
   Serv. He says, he is ready, Sir; he stays but your Wor-
ships Pleasure.
   Punt. Come, we will go to him, Monsieur. Gentle-
men, shall we entreat you to be Witnesses?
   Sog. You shall entreat me, Sir. Come, Resolution.
   Shift. I follow you, good Countenance.
   Car. Come, Signior, come, come.
   Maci. O that there should be Fortune
To clothe 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!

[column break]

G R E X.

   Mit. Why, but Signior, how comes it that Fungoso ap-
pear'd not with his hissecond 'his' should be omitted Sisters 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 Trail of the Fashion, and neglect the Impo-
sition of his Friends. Behold, here he comes, very wor-
shipfully attended, and with good Variety.

Act IV.    Scene VII.

Fungoso, Taylor, Shoe-maker, Haberdasher.

G
Ramercy, good Shoe-maker, I'll put Strings to my
 self. Now, Sir, let me see, what must you have
for this Hat?
   Habe. Here's the Bill, Sir.
   Fung. How does't become me? well?
   Tay. 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. Do's it apply well to my Sute?
   Tay. Exceeding well, Sir.
   Fung. How lik'st thou my Sute, Haberdasher?
   Habe. By my troth, Sir, 'tis very rarely well made; I
never saw a Sute sit better, I can tell on.
   Tay. Nay, we have no Art to please our Friends, we.
   Fung. Here, Haberdasher, tell this same.
   Habe. Good faith, Sir, it makes you have an excellent
Body.
   Fung. Nay (believe me) I think I have as good a Bo-
dy in Clothes as another.
   Tay. 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.

G R E X.

   Mit. Methinks he discharges his Followers too thick.
   Cor. O, therein he saucily imitates some Great Man.
I warrant you, though he turns off them, he keeps this
Taylor, 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
furnisht 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 —
   Tay. Sir —
   Fung. And but give me Credit for the rest, till the
beginning of the next Term.
   Tay. O Lord, Sir —
   Fung. 'Fore God, and by this Light, I'll pay you to the
utmost, and acknowledge my self very deeply ingag'd
to you by the Courtesie.
   Tay. 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 blest.
   Tay. You will not fail me at the next Term with the
rest?
   Fung. No, an' I do, pray Heaven I be hang'd. Let me
never breathe again upon this mortal Stage, as the Philo-
sopher calls it. By this Air, (and as I am a Gentleman)
I'll hold.

G R E X.

   Cord. He were an Iron-hearted Fellow, in my judgment,
that would not credit upon his Volley of Oaths.
H2                                Tay. Well,




52 Every Man out of his Humour.


   Tay. 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. 'Ods so, I have
forgot Ribband for my Shooes, 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 Rib-
bands: as I am an honest Man, I have utterly disfurnisht
my self, in the default of Memory, pray le' me be be-
holding to you, it shall come home i' the Bill, believe
me.
   Tay. Faith, Sir, I can hardly depart with ready Mo-
ney, but I'll take up, and send you some by my Boy,
presently. What colour'd Ribband would you have?
   Fung. What you shall think meet i' your Judgement,
Sir, to my Sute.
   Tay. Well, I'll send you some presently.
   Fung. And points too, Sir?
   Tay. 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 Sute.

G R E X.

   Cor. Do you observe the plunges, that this poor Gal-
lant is put to (Signior) 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 seal'd and deliver'd.

Act IV.    Scene VIII.

Puntarvolo, Fastidius Brisk, Servants, Carlo, Sogliardo,
[To them.        
   Macilente, Shift, Fungoso.


W
Ell, 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.
   Car. Faith, Gallants, I am Perswading this Gentle-
man 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 thred-bare beggerly Qua-
lities, learning, and knowledg, and therefore the more
accomodate and genuine. Now, for the Life it self —
   Fast. O, the most Celestial, and full of wonder and
delight, that can be imagin'd, Signior, 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 Glo-
rious (and almost Immortal) Beauties, hear such An-
gelical and Harmonious Voices, discourse with such flow-
ing and Ambrosian Spirits, whose Wits are as sudden as
Lightning, and humorous as Nectar; Oh: it makes a
Man all quintessence and flame, and lifts him up (in a Mo-
ment) 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 Insulæ For-
tunatæ, Adonis
Gardens, Tempe or what else (confin'd
within the amplest verge of poesie) to be meer Umbræ,
and imperfect Figures, confer'd with the most essential
felicity of your Court.
   Maci. Well, this Encomion was not extemporal, it came
too perfectly off.

[column break]

   Car. Besides, Sir, you shall never need to go to a Hot-
house, you shall sweat there with courting your Mistress,
or losing your Money at primero, as well as in all the
Stoves in Sweden. Marry this, Sir, you must ever be
sure to carry a good strong Perfume about you, that
your Mistresses 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 Tabacco, or a Base Viol shall
hang o' the Wall, of purpose, will put you in presently.
The tricks of your Resolution has taught you in Tabbaco,
(the whiffe, and those sleights) will stand you in very
good Ornament there.
   Fast. I, to some perhaps: but, an' he should come
to my Mistress with Tabacco (this Gentleman knows)
she'ld 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, Signior, you have seen her?
   Punt. Then can he report no less, out of his Judg-
ment, I assure him.
   Maci. Troth, I like her well enough, but she's too
Self-conceited, methinks.
   Fast. I indeed, she's a little too Self-conceited, an'
'twere not for that Humour, she were the Most-to-be-
admir'd 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 easie.
   Maci. You conclude too quick upon me, Signior;
what will you say, if I make it so perspicuously appear
now, that your self shall confess nothing more pos-
sible?
   Fast. Marry, I will say, I will both applaud, and ad-
mire you for it.
   Punt. And I will second him in the admiration.
   Maci. Why, I'll shew you, Gentlemen. Carlo, come
[They whisper.
hither.
   Sog. Good faith, I have a great humour to the Court:
what thinks my Resolution? shall I adventure?
   Shif. Troth, Countenance, as you please; the Place is
a place of good Reputation and Capacity.
   Sog. O, my tricks in Tabacco (as Carlo says) will
shew excellent there.
   Shif. Why, you may go with these Gentlemen now,
and see Fashions: and after, as you shall see Correspon-
dence.
   Sog, You say true. You will go with me, Resolution?
   Shif. I will meet you, Countenance, about three or
four a Clock; but, to say to go with you, I cannot,
for (as I am Apple-John) I am to go before the Cocka-
trice
you saw this Morning, and therefore pray, present
me excus'd, good Countenance.
   Sog. Farewell, good Resolution, but fail not to meet.
   Shif. As I live.
   Punt. Admirably excellent!
   Maci. If you can but perswade Sogliardo to Court,
there's all now.
   Car. O let me alone, that's my task.
   Fast. Now, by wit, Macilente, it's above measure ex-
cellent: 'twill be the only Court-exploit that ever prov'd
Courtier ingenious,
   Punt. Upon my Soul, it puts the Lady quite out of
her Humour, and we shall laugh with Judgment.
   Car. Come, the Gentleman was of himself resolv'd to
go with you, afore I mov'd it.
   Maci. Why then, Gallants, you two, and Carlo, go
afore to prepare the Jest: Sogliardo and I will come
some while after you.
   Car. Pardon me, I am not for the Court.
   Punt. That's true: Carlo comes not at Court, indeed.
Well, you shall leave it to the faculty of Monsieur Brisk,
and my self; upon our Lives we will manage it happily
Carlo.




Every Man out of his Humour. 53


Carlo shall bespeak Supper at the Mitre, against we come
back: where we will meet, and dimple our Cheeks with
laughter at the success.
   Car. I, but will you all promise to come?
   Punt. My self shall undertake for them: he that fails,
let his Reputation lie under the lash of thy Tongue.
   Car. Gods so, look who comes here!
   Sog. What, Nephew!
   Fung. Uncle, God save you; did you see a Gentle-
man, one Monsieur Brisk? a Courtier, he goes in such
a Sute as I do.
   Sog. Here is the Gentleman, Nephew, but not in such
a Sute.
[ He swouns.
   Fung. Another Sute!
   Sog. How now, Nephew?
   Fast. Would you speak to me, Sir?
   Car. I, when he as recovered himself, poor Poll.
   Punt. Some Rosa-solis.
   Maci. How now, Signior?
   Fung. I am not well, Sir.
   Maci. Why, this it is, to dodg the Fashion.
   Car. 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 Dogs Guardian my self.
   Sog. Nephew, will you go to Court with us? these
Gentlemen and I are for the Court: nay, be not so me-
lancholy.
   Fung. By Gods lid, I think no Man in Christendom
has that Rascally fortune that I have.
   Maci. Faith, your Sute is well enough, Signior.
   Fung. Nay, not for that, I protest, but I had an Er-
rand to Monsieur Fastidius, and I have forgot it.
   Maci. Why, go along to Court with us, and remem-
ber it, come Gentlemen, you three take one Boat, and
Sogliardo and I will take another: we shall be there in-
stantly.
   Fast. Content: good Sir, vouchsafe us your pleasance.
   Punt. Farewell, Carlo; remember.
   Car. I warrant you: would I had one of Kemps Shooes
to throw after you.
   Punt. Good Fortune will close the Eyes of our Jest,
fear not: and we shall frollick.

G R E X.

   Mit. This Macilente, Signior, begins to be more so-
ciable on a sudden, methinks, 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-flood: and, against the
course of all their Affections oppose it self 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 expecta-
tion has dwelt all this while: for I must tell you, Signior
(though I was loth 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 lopt, and cut down by degrees, when it might be
feld in a Moment? and to set the Ax to it before it came
to that pride and fulness, were, as not to have it grow.
   Mit. Well, I shall long till I see this fall, you talk of.

[column break]

   Cor. To help your longing, Signior, let your Imagina-
tion be swifter than a pair of Oars: and by this, suppose
Puntarvolo, Brisk, Fungoso, and the Dog arriv'd at the
Court gate, and going up to the great Chamber. Ma-
cilente,
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.


C
Ome, Gentile, Signior, 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
Lodg.
   Punt. Not so: his worth is too well known amongst
them, to be forth-coming.
   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 Employ-
ment, and please thee. Forth, Gentiles.
   Fast. Why, but will you leave him with so slight
command, and infuse 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 Dispo-
sition. 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 in-
duce it self 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 of-
fer me but two Pence, he shall have him; there's for
the Short now. 'Slid, what a mad humorous Gentle-
man is this to leave his Dog with me? I could run a-
way with him now, an' he were worth any thing.
   Maci. Come on, Signior, now prepare to court this
All-wited Lady, most naturally, and like your self.
   Sog. Faith, an' you say the word, I'll begin to her in
Tabacco.
   Maci. O, fie on't: no: you shall begin with, How does
my sweet Lady,
or, Why are you so melancholy, Madam?
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, undand protest; let her fleer, and
look a scew, and hide her Teeth with her Fan, when
she laughs a Fit, to bring her into more matter, that's no-
thing:         




54 Every Man out of his Humour.


thing: you must talk forward (though it be without sense,
so it be without blushing) 'tis most Court-like, and
well.
   Sog. But shall I not use Tabacco at all?
   Maci. O, by no means, 'twill but make your Breath
suspected, and that you use it only to confound the rank-
ness of that.
   Sog. Nay, I'll be advis'd, 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. 'Twere the only true jest in the World, to poy-
son him now: ha? by this Hand I'll do it, if I could
but get him of the Fellow. Signior Sogliardo, walk aside,
and think upon some device to entertain the Lady
with.
   Sog. 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. Sir, now I do, and now I do not: I think this
be sweet and short. Make me his Dog-keeper!
[He throws off the Dog.                            

   Maci. This is excellent, above expectation! nay, stay,
Sir, you'ld be travelling; 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 De-
vils name, for you shall never go o' God's name. Sogli-
ardo,
come.
   Sog. I ha' 't i'faith now, will sting it.
   Maci. Take heed you leese it not, Signior, e'er you
come there: preserve it.

G R E X.

   Cor. How like you this first exploit of his?
   Mit. O, a piece of true envy: but I expect the issue
of the other device.
   Cor. Here they come, will make it appear.

Act V.    Scene II.

To them.]
Saviolina, Puntarvolo, Fastidius Brisk, Fungoso,             
Macilente, Sogliardo.

W
HY, 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 de-
part when I would.
   Savi. 'Tis most Court-like 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 be-
hind you, Sir?
   Punt. Troth, Madam, she hath fore Eyes, and she doth
keep her Chamber: marry I have left her under suffi-
cient 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, Madam, to present
your acute judgment with so Courtly and well-parted a
Gentleman as yet your Ladiship hath never seen.
   Savi. What's he, gentle Monsieur Brisk? not that Gen-
tleman?
   Fast. No Lady, this is a Kinsman to Justice Silence.
   Punt. Pray, Sir, give leave to report him: he's a Gen-
tleman (Lady) of that rare and admirable faculty, as (I
protest) I know not his like in Europe: he is exceedingly
Valiant, and excellent Scholar, and so exactly travel'd,
that he is able, in discourse, to deliver a Model of

[column break]

any Princes 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 Ear.
   Fast. 'Tis most true, Lady: marry he is no such ex-
cellent proper Man.
   Punt. His Travels have chang'd his Complexion,
Madam.
   Savi. O, Sir Puntarvolo, you must think every Man
was not born to have my Servant Brisk's Feature.
   Punt. But that which transcends all, Lady; he doth
so peerlesly imitate any manner of Person for Gesture,
Action, Passion, or what ever ——
   Fast. I, especially a Rustick, or a Clown, Madam,
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 it.
   Savi. O, Monsieur Brisk, be not so tyrannous to con-
fine all Wits within the compass of your own: not find
the sparks of a Gentleman in him, if he be a Gentle-
man?
   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, Madam, 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, Madam, 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. Beshrew me, he Clowns it properly indeed.
   Punt. Nay, mark his Courtship.
   Sog. How does my sweet Lady? hot and moist?
beautiful and lusty? ha?
   Savi. Beautiful, an' it please you, Sir, but not lusty.
   Sog. O ho, Lady; it pleases you to say so in truth:
and how does my sweet Lady? in health? Bona roba,
quæso, quæ novelles? quæ novelles?
sweet Creature!
   Savi. O excellent! why Gallants, is this he that can-
not be decipher'd? they were very blear-witted, i'faith,
that could not discern the Gentleman in him.
   Punt. But you do, in earnest, Lady?
   Savi. Do I Sir? why, if you had any true Court-
judgment in the carriage of his Eye, and that inward
power that forms his Countenance, you might perceive
his counterfeiting as clear as the Noon-day: Alas —
Nay, if you would have tried my Wit, indeed, you
should never have told me he was a Gentleman, but pre-
sented him for a true Clown indeed; and then have
seen if I could have decipher'd him.
   Fast. 'Fore God, her Ladiship says true (Knight) but
does he not affect the Clown most naturally, Mistress?
   Punt. O, she cannot but affirm that, out of the boun-
ty of her judgment.
   Savi. Nay, out of doubt he does well, for a Gentle-
man to imitate; but I warrant you, he becomes his na-
tural carriage of the Gentleman, much better than his
Clownery.
   Fast. 'Tis strange, in truth, her Ladiship 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 decipher'd him, Gentlemen?
   Punt. O, most miraculously, and beyond admira-
tion!
   Maci. Is't possible?
Fast. She




Every Man out of his Humour. 55


   Fast. She hath gather'd 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 judgment 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 Ladi-
ship 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.
   Sog. Tut, that was with holding the Plough.
   Maci. The Plough! did you discern any such thing
in him, Madam?
   Fast. Faith no, she saw the Gentleman as bright as at
Noon day, she: she decipher'd him at first.
   Maci. Troth, I am sorry your Ladiships sight should
be so suddenly struck.
   Savi. O, you'ryou're goodly Beagles!
   Fast. What, is she gone?
   Sog. Nay, stay, sweet Lady, que novelles? que no-
velles?

   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 Signior, your looks are too de-
jected, methinks: why mix you not mirth with the rest?
   Fung. By God's Will, this Sute frets me at the Soul.
I'll have it alter'd to morrow, sure.

Act V.    Scene III.

To him.]
Shift.               

Fastidius, Puntarvolo, Sogliardo, Fungoso, Macilente.

I
 Am come to the Court, to meet with my Counte-
 nace 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 de-
spair 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 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. God's precious, go seek for the Fellow, good Sig-
[He sends away Fungoso.
nior.

   Punt. Here, here I left him.
   Maci. Why, none was here when we came in now,
but Cavalier Shift, 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 stol'n your Dog, Sir, and
been hir'd to it by some that have ventur'd with you:
you may guess by his peremptory answers.

[column break]

   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 lyest.
   Shift. Lye, Sir? y' 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 mar'le he stabs you not: by this Light, he
hath stab'd 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, pacifie 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
'em: make him stoop!
   Punt. My Dog, Villain, or I will hang thee: thou
hast confest Robberies, and other fellonious 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 ne-
ver did Robbery in all my life.
   Fung. O, Sir Puntarvolo, your Dog lies giving up the
[Fungo return'd.
Ghost in the Wood-yard.
   Maci. Heart! is he not dead yet?
   Punt. O, my Dog, born to disastrous fortune! pray
you conduct me, Sir.
   Sog. How? did you never do any Robbery in your
life?
   Maci. O, this is good: so he swore, Sir.
   Sog. I, I heard him. And did you swear true, Sir?
   Shift. I, (as I hope to be forgiven, Sir) I ne'er rob'd
any Man, I never stood by the high-way side, Sir, but
only said so, because I would get my self 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 con-
fest to me the most inexorable company of Robberies,
and damn'd himself that he did 'em; you never heard
the like: out Skoundrel, out follow me no more, I com-
mand 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 my
self! 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. 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 Dogs
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.

G R E X.

   Mit. O, then their fear of Carlo, belike, makes them
hold their meeting.
   Cor. I, here he comes: conceive him but to be enter'd
the Mitre, and 'tis enough.


Act.




56 Every Man out of his Humour.


Act V.    Scene IV.

Carlo, Drawer, George.

H
Olla: where be these Shot-sharks?
   Draw. By and by: you're welcome, good Master
Buffone.
   Car. Where's George? call me George hither, quickly.
   Draw. What Wine please you have, Sir: I'll draw
you that's neat, Master Buffone.
   Car. Away Neophite, do as I bid thee, bring my dear
George to me: Mass, here he comes.
   Georg. Welcome, Master Carlo.
   Car. What! is Supper ready, George?
   Geor. I, Sir, almost: will you have the Cloth laid,
Master Carlo?
   Car. O, what else? are none of the Gallants come
yet?
   Geor. None yet, Sir.
   Car. Stay, take me with you, George: let me have a
good fat Loin of Pork laid to the Fire, presently.
   Geor. It shall, Sir.
   Car. 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.
   Car. I never hungred 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
mischievous Device, and lyes a soaking in their frothy
Humours like a dry Crust, till he has drunk 'em all up:
could the Pummise but hold up his Eyes at other Mens
Happiness, in any reasonable proportion: 'Slid, the Slave
were to be lov'd next to Heaven, above Honour, Wealth,
rich Fare, Apparel, Wenches, all the Delights of the Belly
and the Groin, whatever.
   Geor. Here, Master Carlo.
   Car. Is't right, Boy?
   Geor. I, Sir, I assure you 'tis right.
   Car. Well said, my dear George, depart: Come, my
small Gimblet, you in the false Scabberd, away, so.
Now to you, Sir Burgomaster, let's taste of your Bounty.
[He puts forth the Drawers, and shuts the Door.


G R E X.

   Mit. What, will he deal upon such quantities of
Wine, alone?
   Cor. You will perceive that, Sir.
   Car. 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 Ima-
gination, I shall talk nothing but Crackers and Fire-
works to night. So, Sir! please you to be here, Sir, and
I here: So.
[He sets the two Cups asunder, and first drinks with
     the one, and pledges with the other.



G R E X.

   Cor. This is worth the observation, Signior.
   Car. 1. Cup. Now, Sir; here's to you; and I present
you with so much of my love.
   2. Cup. I take it kindly from you, Sir, and will return
you the like Proportion: but withal, Sir, remembring
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 sate by her, Sir.

[column break]

   2. I do vail to it with reverence. And now, Signior,
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 exceed-
ingly.

G R E X.

   Mit. Whom should he personate in this, Signior?
   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 pledg it, respectively, Sir. And
now, Sir, here is a replenisht Bowl, which I will reci-
procally turn upon you, to the Health of the Count
Frugale.
   1. The Count Frugale's Health, Sir? I'll pledg it on
my Knees, by this Light.
   2. Will you, Sir? I'll drink it on my Knee, then, by
the Light.

G R E X.

   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 lye.
   1. Lye, 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?
   Car. Nay, I beseech you Gentlemen, what means
this? nay, look, for shame respect your Reputations.
[Speaks in his own Person, and over-turns Wine,
      Pot, Cups and all.



Act V.    Scene V.

Macilente, Carlo, George.

W
Hy, how now Carlo! what humour's this?
   Car. O, my good Mischief! art thou come?
where are the rest? where are the rest?
   Maci. Faith, three of our Ordinance are burst.
   Car. Burst? how comes that?
   Maci. Faith, over-charg'd, over-charg'd.
   Car. But did not the Train hold?
   Maci. O, yes, and the poor Lady is irrecoverably
blown up.
   Car. Why, but which of the Munition is miscarried?
ha?
   Maci. Inprimis, Sir Puntarvolo: next, the Countenance,
and Resolution.
   Car. How? how for the love of wit?
   Maci. Troth, the Resolution is prov'd recreant; the
Countenance hath chang'd his Copy: and the passionate
Knight is shedding funeral Tears over his departed
Dog.
   Car. What's his Dog dead?
   Maci. Poyson'd, 'tis thought: marry, how, or by
whom, that's left for some cunning Woman here o' the
Bank-side to resolve. For my part, I know nothing, more
than that we are like to have an exceeding melancholy
Supper of it.
   Car. 'Slife, and I had purpos'd to be extraordinarily
merry, I had drunk off a good preparative of old Sack
here: but will they come, will they come?

Maci.




Every Man out of his Humour. 57


   Maci. They will assuredly come: marry, Carlo, (as thou
lov'st me) run over 'em all freely to night, and especial-
ly 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, Culverine, or any
thing what thou wilt.
   Car. I warrant thee, my dear Case of Petrionels, so
I stand not in dread of thee, but that thou'ld second me.
   Maci. Why, my good German Tapster, I will.
[He danceth.
   Carl. What, George, Lomtero, Lomtero, & c.
   Geor. Did you call, Master Carlo?
   Carl. More Nectar, George: Lomtero, &c.
   Geor. Your Meat's ready, Sir, an' 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 greasie
Dish? I think thou dost varnish thy Face with the Fat
on't, it looks so like a Glew-Pot.
   Carl. True, my Raw-bon'd-rogue, and if thou would'st
farce thy lean Ribs with it too, they would not (like
ragged Laths) rub out so many Doublets as they do:
but thou know'st not a good Dish, thou. O, it's the on-
ly nourishing Meat in the World. No marvel though
that saucy, stubborn Generation, the Jewes, were for-
bidden it: for what would they ha' done, well pam-
per'd with fat Pork, that durst murmur at their Maker
out of Garlick and Onions. 'Slight, fed with it, the
Whorson strummel, patcht, goggle ey'd Grumbledories,
would ha' Gigantomachiz'd. Well said, my sweet George,
fill, fill.

G R E X.

   Mit. This favours too much of prophanation.
   Cor. O servetur ad imum, qualis ab incœpto processerit, & sibi
constet.
The necessity of his vain compels a Toleration,
for bar this, and dash him out of humour before his time.
   Carl. 'Tis an Axiome in natural Philosophy, What comes
nearest the nature of that it feeds, converts quicker to nourish-
ment, and doth sooner essentiate.
Now nothing in Flesh and
Entrails, assimilates or resembles Man more, than a Hog
or Swine ———
   Maci. True; and he (to requite their Courtesie) of-
tentimes d'offeth 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 nourish-
ing: for indeed (but that it abhors from our nice Na-
ture) 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 con-
trary, Pork, Pork, is your only feed.
   Maci. I take it, your Devil be of the same Diet; he
would ne're ha' desir'd 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.

S
Ir, I would request you be silent.
   Maci. Nay, to him again.
   Carl. Take comfort, good Knight, if your Cat ha'
recovered her Catarh, fear nothing; your Dogs mis-
chance may be holpen.
   Fast. Say how (sweet Carlo) for so God mend me,
the poor Knights Moans draw me into fellowship of his
Misfortunes. But be not discourag'd, good Sir Puntar-

[column break]

volo, I am content your adventure shall be perform'd
upon your Cat.
   Maci. I believe you, Musk-Cod, I believe you, for
rather than thou would'st make present repayment, thou
would'st take it upon his own bare return from Calice.
   Carl. Nay, 'ds life, he'ld be content (so he were well
rid out of his Company) to pay him five for one, at
his next meeting him in Pauls. But for your Dog, Sir
Puntar. if he be not out-right dead, there is a Friend of
mine, a Quack-salver, shall put Life in him again, that's
certain.
   Fung. O, no, that comes too late.
   Maci. Gods 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, Signior, where's your Resolution?
   Sogl. Resolution! hang him Rascal: O, Carlo, if you
love me, do not mention him.
   Carl. Why, how, how so?
   Sogl. O, the arrant'st 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, 'Slud, he looks like an Image carv'd 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
Masters side in the Counter. Do you hear, Sir Puntar?
   Punt. Sir, I do intreat you no more, but enjoyn 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)bracket should be reversed '(' but
in any case keep 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
Perrukes, will glew it on artificially, it shall ne're be
discern'd; besides, 'twill be so much the warmer for the
Hound to travel in, you know.
   Maci. Sir Puntarvolo, death, can you be so patient?
   Car. Or thus, Sir: you may have (as you come
through Germany) a Familiar for little or nothing, shall
turn it self into the shape of your Dog, or any thing (what
                                             
The Knight
beats him.

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 Ban-dog, you.
   Car. As you love wit, stay the enraged Knight, Gen-
tlemen.
   Punt. By my Knighthood, he that stirs in his rescue,
dyes. Drawer, be gone.
   Car. 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.
   Car. Sweet Knight hold in thy fury, and 'fore Heaven
I'll honour thee more than the Turk does Mahomet.
[Within.
   Punt. Down (I say.) Who's there?
   Cons. Here's the Constable, open the Doors.
   Car. Good Macilente ———
   Punt. Open no Door, if the Adalantado of Spain were
here he should not enter: One help me with the Light,
Gentlemen: you knock in vain, Sir Officer.
   Car. Et tu Brute!
   Punt. Sirrah, close your Lips, or I will drop it in
thine Eyes by Heaven.
[He seals up his Lips.
   Car. O, O.
   Cons. Open the Door, or I wil break it open.
I                                                 Maci.




58 Every Man out of his Humour.


   Maci. Nay, good Constable, have patience a little,
you shall come in presently, we have almost done.
   Punt. So; now, are you out of your Humour, Sir?
[They all draw and disperse.
Shift, Gentlemen.

Act V.    Scene VII.

[To them.
               Constable, Officers, Drawers.

L
Ay hold upon this Gallant, and pursue the rest.
   Fast. Lay hold on me, Sir! for what?
   Cons. Marry, for your Riot 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? s'life 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 appeal to George, here.
   Cons. Tut, George was not here: away with him to
the Counter, Sirs. Come, Sir, you were best get your
self drest 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 choakt with it for me.
   Maci. What, are they gone, Sirs?
[Macilente comes back.

   Geor. O, here's Master Macilente.
   Maci. Sirrah, George, do you see that concealment
there? that Napkin under the Table?
   Geor. Gods so, Signior Fungoso!
   Maci. He's good Pawn for the Reckoning; be sure
you keep him here, and let him not go a way till I come
again, though he offer to discharge all: I'll return pre-
sently.
   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,
[He looks out under the Table.
is the Constable gone?
   Geor. What? Master Fungoso?
   Fung. Was't not a good device this same of me, Sirs.
   Geor. Yes faith; ha' you been here all this while?
   Fung. O God, I: good Sir, look an' the Coast be
clear, I'ld fain 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, '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 nothing to do with that, Sir,
they're all gone but you, and we must be answer'd;
that's the short and the long on't.
   Fung. Nay, if you will grow to extremities, my Ma-
sters, thanthen 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,
Signior, that mightily discredits your Cloths.
   Fung. As I am an honest Man, my Taylor had all my
Money this Morning, and yet I must be fain to alter

[column break]

my Sute 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. 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 look't in the Pot once, in-
deed, but I did not drink.
   Draw. Well, Sir, if you can satisfie our Master, it
shall be all one to us. (By and by.)

G R E X.

   Cor. Lose not you self now Signior.

Act V.    Scene VIII.

Macilente, Deliro, Fallace.

T
Ut, Sir, you did bear too hard a conceit of me in
 that, but I will now make my love to you most
transparent, in spight of any dust of suspition that may
be raised to cloud it: and henceforth, since I see it is so
against your Humour, I will never labour to perswade
you.
   Deli. Why, I thank you, Signior, but what's that you
tell me may concern my peace so much?
   Maci. Faith, Sir, 'tis thus. Your Wives Brother,
Signior 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
an 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 engag'd as now it is, when she
shall hear (as he cannot himself, but must out of ex-
tremity report it) that you came, and offered your self
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 acknowledg my
self 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 Shooes and a Cloke there, I was going to Bed, if
you had not come; what Tavern is it?
   Maci. The Mitre, Sir.
   Deli. O, why Fido, my Shooes. Good faith it cannot
but please her exceedingly.
   Fal. Come, I mar'l what piece of night-work you
have in hand now, that you call for a Cloke, and your
Shooes! what, is this your Pandar?
   Deli. O, sweet Wife, speak lower, I would not he
should hear thee for a World ——
   Fall. Hang him Rascall, I cannot abide him for his
Treachery, with his wild quick-set Beard there. Whi-
ther 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 an-
swer. I'll come back immediately.
   Fall. Nay, and I be not worthy to know whither
you go, stay till I take knowledg 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 Gods sake?
Maci.




Every Man out of his Humour. 59


   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 com-
fort, 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
knowledg of him, the poor Gentleman were undone
for ever.
   Fal. Ay me! that he were.
   Maci. Now therefore, if you can think upon any pre-
sent means for his delivery, do not foreslow it. A bribe
to the Officer that committed him, will do it.
   Fal. 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 Husbands return, that you may go
with more safety.
   Fal. Good truth, so you may: farewel, 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 lov'd 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 Ser-
vice.

G R E X.

   Mit. How Macilente sweats i' this business, if you
mark him.
   Cor. I, you shall see the true Picture of spight anon:
here comes the Pawn, and his Redeemer.

Act V.    Scene IX.

Deliro, Fungoso, Drawers, Macilente.

C
Ome, Brother, be not discourag'd for this, man;
 what?
   Fung. No truly, I am not discourag'd, but I protest
to you Brother, I have done imitating any more Gallants
either in Purse or Apparel, but as shall become a Gentle-
man, 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 shew my love to
you.
   Fung. I will study to deserve it in good truth, an' I
live.
   Deli. What, is't right?
   Geor. I, Sir, and I thank you.
   Fung. Let me have a Capons Leg sav'd, now the
Reckoning is paid.
   Geor. You shall, Sir.
   Maci. Where's Signior Deliro?
   Deli. Here, Macilente.
   Maci. Hark you, Sir, ha' you dispatcht 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 hap-
py a mood) cannot entertain it ill, by any means.
   Deli. 'Tis very true, she cannot indeed, I think.

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   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, Signior, acquaint your Sister, how libe-
rally, and out of his bounty, your Brother has us'd you.
(Do you see?) made you a Man of good reckoning; re-
deem'd that you never were possest of, Credit; gave
you as Gentleman-like 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, Signior,
let's make haste.

Act V.    Scene X.

Fallace, Fast. Brisk.

O
Master Fastidius, what pitty is't to see so sweet a
 Man as you are, in so sowre a Place?

G R E X.

   Cor. As upon her Lips does she mean?
   Mit. O, this is to be imagin'd 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 visit.
   Fal. Nay, you shall be comforted in me more than
this, if you please, Sir. I sent you word by my Bro-
ther, Sir, that my Husband laid to rest you this Morn-
ing, I know not whether you receiv'd it, or no.
   Fast. No believe it, sweet Creature, your Brother gave
me no such intelligence.
   Fal. O, the Lord!
   Fast. But has your Husband any such purpose?
   Fal. O sweet Master Brisk, yes: and therefore be
presently discharg'd, 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?
   Fal. 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 rail'd at him that perswaded him
to't, the Schollar 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 Soveraigns
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'ld say I were in a passion indeed: your Keeper, for
Gods sake. O, Master Brisk (as 'tis in Euphues) Hard
is the choise, when one is compelled either by silence to dye
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) con-
tracted, Prosperity shall not — Gods me! your Husband.
   Fal. O me!

Act V.    Scene XI.

Deliro, Macilente, Fallace, Fastidius Brisk.

I
? is't thus!
   Maci. Why, how now, Signior Deliro? has the
Wolf seen you? ha? hath Gorgon's Head made Marble
of you?
   Deli. Some Planet strike me dead.
I 2                                        Maci.




60 Every Man out of his Humour.


   Maci. Why, look you, Sir, I told you, you might have
suspected this long afore, had you pleas'd, and ha' sav'd
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, Signior? Methinks
you should say it were some Enchantment, deceptio visus,
or so, ha? If you could persuade your self it were a
Dream now, 'twere excellent: Faith, try what you can
do, Signior; it may be your Imagination will be brought
to it in time; there's nothing impossible.
   Fal. Sweet Husband.
   Deli. Out lascivious Strumpet.
   Maci. What? Did you see how ill that stale Vein be-
came him afore, of Sweet Wife, and Dear Heart? And
are you faln just into the same now, with Sweet Hus-
band? Away, follow him, go, keep state; what? Re-
member you are a Woman, turn impudent; gi' him not
the Head, though you gi' him the Horns. Away. And
yet methinks you should take your leave of Enfans-per-
dus
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 gentile) there
could not have come a thing i' this World to have di-
stracted 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. Signior Deliro has entred
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
apiece: Trifles, trifles.
   Fast. O, I am undone.
   Maci. Nay, not altogether so, Sir; the Knight must
have his hundred Pound repaid, that'll help too; and
then Six-score Pounds 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
Poinards 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 o' your Foppery: Well, go your ways
in, remove your self to the Two-penny Ward quickly,
to save Charges, and there set up your rest to spend Sir
Puntar's hundred Pound for him. Away, good Poman-
der, 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 rak't up in their repentant Ashes,
Affords no ampler Subjects 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 sav'd now,
So Heav'n were pleas'd; but let them vanish, Vapors.
Gentlemen, how like you it? Has't not been tedious?

G R E X.

   Cor. Nay, we ha' done censuring now.
   Mit. Yes, faith.

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   Maci. 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
Judgments can give it a more satisfying Allowance;
we'll refer you to them.
   Maci. I? is't e'en so? Well, Gentlemen, I should have
gone in, and return'd to you as I was Asper at the first;
but (by reason the Shift would have been somewhat long,
and we are loth to draw your Patience farther) we'll
intreat 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 Jo-
vis 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.



T H E

E P I L O G U E

At the PRESENTATION before QUEEN
E L I Z A B E T H.

By MACILENTE.

N
Ever 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 chas'd 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 Cities Torrent (bent t' infect
The hallow'd Bowels of the Silver
Thames)
Is checkt by Strength and Clearness of the River,
Till it hath spent it self e'en at the Shore;
So in the ample and unmeasur'd Flood
Of her Perfections, are my Passions drown'd;
And I have now a Spirit as sweet and clear
As the most rarefi'd and subtil 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 admir'd and happy Government:
May still this
Island be call'd 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 stopt within her Land,
And Turtle-footed Peace dance
Fairie 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 Vertues 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.


T H E   E N D.

CYNTHIA's







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