Every Man in His Humour Part 4

MUS. Nay, I pray you stand still, sir.

STEP. I will, I will: oh, how it vexes me.

MUS. Tut, never vex yourself with the thought of such a base fellow as he.

STEP. Nay, to see he stood upon points with me too.

MUS. Like enough so; that was because he saw you had so few at your hose.

STEP. What! Hast thou done? G.o.damercy, good Musco.

MUS. I marle, sir, you wear such ill-favoured coa.r.s.e stockings, having so good a leg as you have.

STEP. Foh! the stockings be good enough for this time of the year; but I'll have a pair of silk, e'er it be long: I think my leg would shew well in a silk hose.

MUS. Ay, afore G.o.d, would it, rarely well.

STEP. In sadness I think it would: I have a reasonable good leg?

MUS. You have an excellent good leg, sir: I pray you pardon me.

I have a little haste in, sir.

STEP. A thousand thanks, good Musco.

[EXIT.]

What, I hope he laughs not at me; an he do --

LOR. JU. Here is a style indeed, for a man's senses to leap over, e'er they come at it: why, it is able to break the s.h.i.+ns of any old man's patience in the world. My father read this with patience? Then will I be made an Eunuch, and learn to sing Ballads. I do not deny, but my father may have as much patience as any other man; for he used to take physic, and oft taking physic makes a man a very patient creature. But, Signior Prospero, had your swaggering Epistle here arrived in my father's hands at such an hour of his patience, I mean, when he had taken physic, it is to be doubted whether I should have read "sweet villain here." But, what? My wise cousin; Nay then, I'll furnish our feast with one Gull more toward a mess; he writes to me of two, and here's one, that's three, i'faith. Oh for a fourth! now, Fortune, or never, Fortune!

STEP. Oh, now I see who he laughed at: he laughed at somebody in that letter. By this good light, an he had laughed at me, I would have told mine uncle.

LOR. JU. Cousin Stephano: good morrow, good cousin, how fare you?

STEP. The better for your asking, I will a.s.sure you. I have been all about to seek you. Since I came I saw mine uncle; and i'faith how have you done this great while? Good Lord, by my troth, I am glad you are well, cousin.

LOR. JU. And I am as glad of your coming, I protest to you, for I am sent for by a private gentleman, my most special dear friend, to come to him to Florence this morning, and you shall go with me, cousin, if it please you, not else, I will enjoin you no further than stands with your own consent, and the condition of a friend.

STEP. Why, cousin, you shall command me an 'twere twice so far as Florence, to do you good; what, do you think I will not go with you? I protest --

LOR. JU. Nay, nay, you shall not protest

STEP. By G.o.d, but I will, sir, by your leave I'll protest more to my friend than I'll speak of at this time.

LOR. JU. You speak very well, sir.

STEP. Nay, not so neither, but I speak to serve my turn.

LOR. JU. Your turn? why, cousin, a gentleman of so fair sort as you are, of so true carriage, so special good parts; of so dear and choice estimation; one whose lowest condition bears the stamp of a great spirit; nay more, a man so graced, gilded, or rather, to use a more fit metaphor, tinfoiled by nature; not that you have a leaden const.i.tution, coz, although perhaps a little inclining to that temper, and so the more apt to melt with pity, when you fall into the fire of rage, but for your l.u.s.tre only, which reflects as bright to the world as an old ale-wife's pewter again a good time; and will you now, with nice modesty, hide such real ornaments as these, and shadow their glory as a milliner's wife doth her wrought stomacher, with a smoky lawn or a black cyprus? Come, come; for shame do not wrong the quality of your dessert in so poor a kind; but let the idea of what you are be portrayed in your aspect, that men may read in your looks: "Here within this place is to be seen the most admirable, rare, and accomplished work of nature!"

Cousin, what think you of this?

STEP. Marry, I do think of it, and I will be more melancholy and gentlemanlike than I have been, I do ensure you.

LOR. JU. Why, this is well: now if I can but hold up this humour in him, as it is begun, Catso for Florence, match him an she can.

Come, cousin.

STEP. I'll follow you.

LOR. JU. Follow me! you must go before!

STEP. Must I? nay, then I pray you shew me, good cousin.

[EXEUNT.]

ACT I. SCENE III.

ENTER SIGNIOR MATHEO, TO HIM COB.

MAT. I think this be the house: what ho!

COB. Who's there? oh, Signior Matheo. G.o.d give you good morrow, sir.

MAT. What? Cob? how doest thou, good Cob? does thou inhabit here, Cob?

COB. Ay, sir, I and my lineage have kept a poor house in our days.

MAT. Thy lineage, Monsieur Cob! what lineage, what lineage?

COB. Why, sir, an ancient lineage, and a princely: mine ancestry came from a king's loins, no worse man; and yet no man neither but Herring the king of fish, one of the monarchs of the world, I a.s.sure you. I do fetch my pedigree and name from the first red herring that was eaten in Adam and Eve's kitchen: his Cob was my great, great, mighty great grandfather.

MAT. Why mighty? why mighty?

COB. Oh, it's a mighty while ago, sir, and it was a mighty great Cob.

MAT. How knowest thou that?

COB. How know I? why, his ghost comes to me every night.

MAT. Oh, unsavoury jest: the ghost of a herring Cob.

COB. Ay, why not the ghost of a herring Cob, as well as the ghost of Rashero Bacono, they were both broiled on the coals? you are a scholar, upsolve me that now.

MAT. Oh, rude ignorance! Cob, canst thou shew me of a gentleman, one Signior Bobadilla, where his lodging is?

COB. Oh, my guest, sir, you mean?

MAT. Thy guest, alas! ha, ha.