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Bob. Not that I need to care who know it, for the cabin is convenient; but in regard I would not be too popular and generally visited, as some are.

Mat. True, captain, I conceive you.

Bob. For, do you see, sir, by the heart of valour in me (except it be some peculiar and choice spirits, to whom I am extraordinarily engaged, as yourself, or so), I could not extend thus far.

Mat. O, sir, I resolve so.

Bob. I confess I love a cleanly and quiet privacy above all the tumult and roar of fortune. What new piece have you there? What! Go by, Hieronymo !

Mat. Ay, did you ever see it acted? Is 't not well penned?

Bob. Well penned! I would fain see all the poets of these times pen such another play as that was! they'll prate and swagger, and keep a stir of art and devices, when (as I am a gentleman), read them, they are the most shallow, pitiful, barren fellows that live upon the face of the earth again.

Mat. Indeed; here are a number of fine speeches in this book. "O eyes, no eyes, but fountains fraught with tears!" There's a conceit! fountains fraught with tears. "O life, no life, but lively form of death!" Another," O world, no world, but mass of public wrongs!" A third, "Confused and filled with murder and misdeeds!" A fourth, "O, the Muses!" Is 't not excellent? Is 't not simply the best that ever you heard, captain? Ha! how do you like it?

Bob. 'Tis good.

Mat. To thee, the purest object to my sense,

The most refined essence heaven covers,
Send I these lines, wherein I do commence

The happy state of turtle-billing lovers.
If they prove rough, unpolished, harsh, and rude,
Haste made the waste. Thus mildly I conclude.
Where's this?

Bob. Nay; proceed, proceed.

Good

Mat. This, sir? a toy o' mine own, in my nonage; the infancy of my muses! But when will you come and see my study? faith, I can show you some very good things I have done of lateThat boot becomes your leg passing well, captain, methinks.

Bob. So, so; it's the fashion gentlemen now use.

Mat. Troth, captain, and now you speak o' the fashion, Master Wellbred's elder brother and I are fallen out exceedingly: the other day I happened to enter into some discourse of a hanger,

which I assure you, both for fashion and workmanship, was most peremptorily beautiful and gentlemanlike; yet he condemned and cried it down for the most pied and ridiculous that ever he saw. Bob. 'Squire Downright, the half-brother, was 't not?

Mat. Ay, sir, he.

Bob. Hang him, rook! he! why, he has no more judgment than a malt horse. By St George, I wonder you'd lose a thought upon such an animal! the most peremptory absurd clown of Christendom this day he is holden. I protest to you, as I am a gentleman and a soldier, I ne'er changed words with his like. By his discourse, he should eat nothing but hay. He was born for the manger, pannier, or packsaddle. He has not so much as a good phrase in his stomach, but all old iron and rusty proverbs! a good commodity for some smith to make hobnails of.

Mat. Ay, and he thinks to carry it away with his manhood still, where he comes. He brags he will give me the bastinado, as I hear.

Bob. How! he the bastinado! how came he by that word?

Mat. Nay, indeed, he said cudgel me: I termed it so, for my more grace.

Bob. That may be: for I was sure it was none of his word. But when-when said he so?

Mat. Faith, yesterday, they say: a young gallant, a friend of mine, told me so.

Bob. By the foot of Pharaoh, an' 'twere my case now, I should send him a chartel presently. The bastinado! A most proper and sufficient dependence warranted by the great Caranza. Come hither, you shall chartel him. I'll show you a trick or two you shall kill him with at pleasure: the first stoccata, if you will, by this air. Mat. Indeed you have absolute knowledge i' the mystery, I have heard, sir.

Bob. Of whom? Of whom have you heard it, I beseech you? Mat. Troth, I have heard it spoken of divers that you had very rare and un-in-one-breath-utterable skill, sir.

Bob. No, not I; no skill i' the earth: some small rudiments i' the science, as to know my time, distance, or so. I have profest it more for noblemen and gentlemen's use than mine own practice, I assure you. Hostess, accommodate us with another bedstaff here quickly; lend us another bedstaff; the woman does not understand the words of action. Look you, sir, exalt not your point above this state at any hand, and let your poniard maintain your defence; thus (give it to the gentleman and leave us); so, sir, come on! Oh, twine your

body more about, that you may fall to a more sweet, comely, gentlemanlike guard. So, indifferent. Hollow your body more, sir, thus. Now, stand fast on your left leg; note your distance: keep your due proportion of time-O, you disorder your point most irregularly.

Mat. How is the bearing of it now, sir?

Bob. O, out of measure, ill: a well-experienced hand would pass upon you at pleasure.

Mat. How mean you, sir, pass upon me?

Bob. Why, thus, sir, (make a thrust at me ;) come in upon the answer, control your point, and make a full career at the body; the best practised gallants of the time name it the passado; a most desperate thrust, believe it!

Mat. Well, come on, sir.

Bob. Why, you do not manage your weapon with any facility or grace to invite me! I have no spirit to play with you; your dearth of judgment renders you tedious.

Mat. But one venue, sir.

Bob. Venue! fie, most gross denomination as ever I heard. O! the stoccata, while you live, sir, note that; come, put on your cloak, and we'll go to some private place where you are acquainted, some tavern, or so—and have a bit; I'll send for one of these fencers, and he shall breathe you by my direction, and then I will teach you your trick; you shall kill him with it at the first if you please. Why, I will learn you by the true judgment of the eye, hand, and foot, any enemy's point i' the world. Should your adversary confront you with a pistol, 'twere nothing by this hand; you should by the same rule control his bullet in a line, except it were hailshot and spread.

What money have you about you, Master Matthew?

Mat. Faith, I have not past a two shillings, or so.

Bob. 'Tis somewhat with the least; but, come, we will have a bunch of radish and salt to taste our wine; and a pipe of tobacco to close the orifice of the stomach; and then we'll call upon young Wellbred. Perhaps we shall meet the Coridon, his brother, there, and put him to the question.

BEN JONSON'S Every Man in his Humour.

6.-PALEMON AND ARCITE, CAPTIVES IN GREECE.

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Pal. Why, strong enough to laugh at misery, And bear the chance of war yet. We are prisoners I fear for ever, cousin.

Arc. I believe it;

And to that destiny have patiently

Laid up my hour to come.

Pal. Oh, cousin Arcite,

Where is Thebes now? where is our noble country?
Where are our friends, and kindred? Never more
Must we behold those comforts; never see

The hardy youths strive for the games of honour,
Hung with the painted favours of their ladies,
Like tall ships under sail; then start amongst them,
And, as an east wind, leave them all behind us
Like lazy clouds, whilst Palemon and Arcite,
Even in the wagging of a wanton leg,

Outstript the people's praises, won the garlands,
Ere they have time to wish them ours. Oh, never
Shall we two exercise, like twins of Honour,
Our arms again, and feel our fiery horses

Like proud seas under us! Our good swords now,
(Better the red-eyed God of War ne'er wore)
Ravished our sides, like age, must run to rust,
And deck the temples of those gods that hate us;
These hands shall never draw them out like lightning,
To blast whole armies, more!

Arc. No, Palemon,

Those hopes are prisoners with us: Here we are,
And here the graces of our youth must wither
Like a too timely spring; here Age must find us,
And, which is heaviest, Palemon, unmarried;
No figures of ourselves shall we ere see,

To glad our age, and like young eagles teach them
Boldly to gaze against bright arms, and say
Remember what your fathers
were, and conquer.

The fair-eyed maids shall weep our banishments,
And in their songs curse ever-blinded Fortune,

Till she for shame see what a wrong she has done
To Youth and Nature: This is all our world;
We shall know nothing here, but one another;
Hear nothing, but the clock that tells our woes;
The vine shall grow, but we shall never see it;
Summer shall come, and with her all delights,
But dead-cold Winter must inhabit here still!

Pal. 'Tis too true, Arcite! To our Theban hounds, That shook the aged forest with their echoes,

No more now must we halloo; no more shake
Our pointed javelins, whilst the angry swine
Flies like a Parthian quiver from our rages,
Struck with our well-steeled darts! All valiant uses
(The food and nourishment of noble minds)
In us two here shall perish; we shall die,
(Which is the curse of honour!) lastly,
Children of Grief and Ignorance.
Arc. Yet, cousin,

Even from the bottom of these miseries,
From all that fortune can inflict upon us,

I see two comforts rising, two mere blessings,
If the gods please to hold here; a brave patience,
And the enjoying of our griefs together.

Whilst Palemon is with me, let me perish
If I think this our prison!

Pal. Certainly,

'Tis a main goodness, cousin, that our fortunes
Were twined together: 'Tis most true, two souls
Put in two noble bodies, let them suffer
The gall of hazard, so they grow together,
Will never sink; they must not; say they could,
A willing man dies sleeping, and all's done.

Arc. Shall we make worthy uses of this place,
That all men hate so much?

Pal. How, gentle cousin?

Arc. Let's think this prison a holy sanctuary
To keep us from corruption of worse men!
We are young, and yet desire the ways of Honour;
That, liberty and common conversation,

The poison of pure spirits, might, like women,
Woo us to wander from. What worthy blessing
Can, be but our imaginations

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