Every Man out of His Humour Part 20

PUNT. But you cannot bring him to the whiffe so soon?

SHIFT. 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 expose one at Hounslow, a second at Stains, and a third at Bagshot.

CAR. Baw-waw!

SOG. You will not serve me, sir, will you? I'll give you more than countenance.

SHIFT. Pardon me, sir, I do scorn to serve any man.

CAR. Who! he serve? 'sblood, he keeps high men, and low men, he! he has a fair living at Fullam.

SHIFT. But in the nature of a fellow, I'll be your follower, 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 bountiful to men of quality. Where shall we go, signior?

PUNT. Your Mitre is your best house.

SHIFT. 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 company for a million.

[EXIT WITH HIS SERVANTS.

CAR. Nay, be not you amazed, signior Whiffe, whatever that stiff-necked 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 Africk; but that will be helped with a good adventurous face. You must be impudent enough, sit down, and use no respect: when anything's propounded above your capacity smile at it, make two or three faces, and 'tis excellent; they'll think you have travell'd; though you argue, a whole day, in silence thus, and discourse in nothing but laughter, 'twill pa.s.s.

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 portcullis of coin before.

MIT. I travail with another objection, signior, which I fear will be enforced against the author, ere 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 duke's son, and the son to love the lady's waiting maid; some such cross wooing, with a clown to their servingman, better than to be thus near, and familiarly allied to the time.

COR. You say well, but I would fain hear one of these autumn-judgments define once, "Quid sit comoedia?" 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 vitae, speculum consuetudinis, 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.

SCENE II. -- THE COUNTRY.

ENTER SORDIDO, WITH A HALTER ABOUT HIS NECK.

SORD. Nay, G.o.d's precious, 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 hunger and thirst with poverty; that my sleep shall be broken, 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.

MIT. What, will he hang himself?

COR. Faith, ay; it seems his prognostication has not kept touch with him, and that makes him despair.

MIT. Beshrew me, he will be 'out of his humour' then indeed.

SORD. Tut, these star-monger knaves, who would trust them? 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 c.o.xcombs 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 votre service! a votre service!' by heaven, I think I shall die a better scholar than they: but soft -- ENTER A HIND, WITH A LETTER.

How now, sirrah?

HIND. Here's a letter come from your son, sir.

SORD. From my son, sir! what would my son, sir? some good news, no doubt.

[READS.

"Sweet and dear father, desiring you first to send me your blessing, which is more worth to me than gold or silver, I desire you likewise to be advertised, that this Shrove-tide, contrary to custom, we use always to have revels; which is indeed dancing, and makes an excellent shew in truth; especially if we gentlemen be well attired, which our seniors note, and think the better of our fathers, the better we are maintained, and that they shall know if they come up, and have anything to do in the law; therefore, good father, these are, for your 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 gentility, that I may say to our calumniators, with Tully, 'Ego sum ortus domus meae, tu occasus tuae.'

And thus, not doubting of your fatherly benevolence, I humbly ask your blessing, and pray G.o.d to bless you.

Yours, if his own," [FUNGOSO.]

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 subscription the gallants use. Well!

wherefore dost thou stay, knave? away; go.

[EXIT HIND.]

Here's a letter, indeed! revels? and benevolence? is this a weather to send benevolence? 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, se 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 spite 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.

[CLAMBERS UP, AND SUSPENDS THE HALTER TO A TREE.]

Stay; I'll try the pain thus a little. O, nothing, nothing. Well now!

shall my son gain a benevolence by my death? or anybody be the better for my gold, or so forth? no; alive I kept it from them, and dead, my ghost shall walk about it, and preserve it. My son and daughter shall starve ere they touch it; I have hid it as deep as h.e.l.l from the sight of heaven, and to it I go now.

[FLINGS HIMSELF OFF.

ENTER FIVE OR SIX RUSTICS, ONE AFTER ANOTHER.

1 RUST. Ah me, what pitiful sight is this! help, help, help!

2 RUST. How now! what's the matter?

1 RUST. O, here's a man has hang'd himself, help to get him again.

2 RUST. Hang'd himself! 'Slid, carry him afore a justice, 'tis chance-medley, o' my word.

3 RUST. How now, what's here to do?

4 RUST. How comes this?

2 RUST. One has executed himself, contrary to order of law, and by my consent he shall answer it.

[THEY CUT HIM DOWN.

5 RUST. Would he were in case to answer it!