Brai. You are conceited, sir: Your name is Master Knowell, as I take it?

E. Know. You are in the right; you mean not to proceed in the catechism, do you?

Brai. No, sir; I am none of that coat.

E. Know. Of as bare a coat, though: well, say, sir.

Brai. [taking E. Know. aside.] Faith, sir, I am but servant to the drum extraordinary, and indeed, this smoky varnish being washed off, and three or four patches removed, I appear your worship's in reversion, after the decease of your good father, Brainworm.

E. Know. Brainworm'! 'Slight, what breath of a conjurer hath blown thee hither in this shape?

Brai. The breath of your letter, sir, this morning; the same that blew you to the Windmill, and your father after you.

E. Know. My father!

Brai. Nay, never start, 'tis true; he has followed you over the fields by the foot, as you would do a hare in the snow.

E. Know. Sirrah Wellbred, what shall we do, sirrah? my father is come over after me.

Wel. Thy father! Where is he?

Brai. At justice Clement's house, in Coleman-street, where he but stays my return; and then--

Wel. Who's this? Brainworm!

Brai. The same, sir.

Wel. Why how, in the name of wit, com'st thou trans.m.u.ted thus?

Brai. Faith, a device, a device; nay, for the love of reason, gentlemen, and avoiding the danger, stand not here; withdraw, and I'll tell you all.

Wel. But art thou sure he will stay thy return?

Brai. Do I live, sir? what a question is that!

Wel. We'll prorogue his expectation, then, a little: Brainworm, thou shalt go with us.--Come on, gentlemen.==-Nay, I pray thee, sweet Ned, droop not; 'heart, an our wits be so wretchedly dull, that one old plodding brain can outstrip us all, would we were e'en prest to make porters of, and serve out the remnant of our days in Thames-street, or at Custom-house key, in a civil war against the carmen!

Brai. Amen, amen, amen, say I. [Exeunt.

SCENE II---The Old Jewry. KITELY'S Warehouse.

Enter KITELY and CASH.

Kit. What says he, Thomas? did you speak with him?

Cash. He will expect you, sir, within this half hour.

Kit. Has he the money ready, can you tell?

Cash. Yes, sir, the money was brought in last night.

Kit.

O, that is well; fetch me my cloak, my cloak!--- [Exit Cash.

Stay, let me see, an hour to go and come; Ay, that will be the least; and then 'twill be An hour before I can dispatch with him, Or very near; well, I will say two hours.

Two hours! ha! things never dreamt of yet, May be contrived, ay, and effected too, In two hours' absence; well, I will not go.

Two hours! No, fleering Opportunity, I will not give your subtilty that scope.

Who will not judge him worthy to be robb'd, That sets his doors wide open to a thief, And shews the felon where his treasure lies?

Again, what earthly spirit but will attempt To taste the fruit of beauty's golden tree, When leaden sleep seals up the dragon's eyes?

I will not go. Business, go by for once.

No, beauty, no; you are of too good caract, To be left so, without a guard, or open, Your l.u.s.tre, too, 'll inflame at any distance, Draw courtship to you, as a jet doth straws; Put motion in a stone, strike fire from ice, Nay, make a porter leap you with his burden.

You must be then kept up, close, and well watch'd, For, give you opportunity, no quick-sand Devours or swallows swifter! He that lends His wife, if she be fair, or time or place, Compels her to be false. I will not go!

The dangers are too many;---and then the dressing Is a most main attractive! Our great heads Within this city never were in safety Since our wives wore these little caps: I'll change 'em; I'll change 'em straight in mine: mine shall no more Wear three-piled acorns, to make my horns ake.

Nor will I go; I am resolved for that.

Re-enter CASH with a cloak.

Carry in my cloak again. Yet stay. Yet do, too: I will defer going, on all occasions.

Cash.

Sir, Snare, your scrivener, will be there with the bonds.

Kit.

That's true: fool on me! I had clean forgot it; I must go. What's a clock?

Cash. Exchange-time, sir.

Kit.

'Heart, then will Wellbred presently be here too, With one or other of his loose consorts.

I am a knave, if I know what to say, What course to take, or which way to resolve.

My brain, methinks, is like an hour-gla.s.s, Wherein my imaginations run like sands, Filling up time; but then are turn'd and turn'd: So that I know not what to stay upon, And less, to put in act.---It shall be so.

Nay, I dare build upon his secrecy, He knows not to deceive me.---Thomas!

Cash. Sir.

Kit.

Yet now I have bethought me too, I will not.--- Thomas, is Cob within?

Cash. I think he be, sir.

Kit.

But he'll prate too, there is no speech of him.

No, there were no man on the earth to Thomas, If I durst trust him; there is all the doubt.

But should he have a clink in him, I were gone.

Lost in my fame for ever, talk for th' Exchange!

The manner he hath stood with, till this present, Doth promise no such change: what should I fear then?

Well, come what will, I'll tempt my fortune once.

Thomas---you may deceive me, but, I hope--- Your love to me is more---

Cash. Sir, if a servant's Duty, with faith, may be call'd love, you are More than in hope, you are possess'd of it.