CLEM. A gentleman? what call you him?

COB. Signior Bobadilla.

CLEM. Good: But wherefore did he beat you, sirrah?

how began the quarrel 'twixt you? ha: speak truly, knave, I advise you.

COB. Marry, sir, because I spake against their vagrant tobacco, as I came by them: for nothing else.

CLEM. Ha, you speak against tobacco? Peto, his name.

PET. What's your name, sirrah?

COB. Oliver Cob, sir, set Oliver Cob, sir.

CLEM. Tell Oliver Cob he shall go to the jail.

PET. Oliver Cob, master Doctor says you shall go to the jail.

COB. Oh, I beseech your worship, for G.o.d's love, dear master Doctor.

CLEM. Nay, G.o.d's precious! an such drunken knaves as you are come to dispute of tobacco once, I have done: away with him.

COB. Oh, good master Doctor, sweet gentleman.

LOR. SE. Sweet Oliver, would I could do thee any good; master Doctor, let me intreat, sir.

CLEM. What? a tankard-bearer, a thread-bare rascal, a beggar, a slave that never drunk out of better than p.i.s.s-pot metal in his life, and he to deprave and abuse the virtue of an herb so generally received in the courts of princes, the chambers of n.o.bles, the bowers of sweet ladies, the cabins of soldiers: Peto, away with him, by G.o.d's pa.s.sion, I say, go to.

COB. Dear master Doctor.

LOR. SE. Alas, poor Oliver.

CLEM. Peto: ay: and make him a warrant, he shall not go, I but fear the knave.

COB. O divine Doctor, thanks, n.o.ble Doctor, most dainty Doctor, delicious Doctor.

[EXEUNT PETO WITH COB.]

CLEM. Signior Lorenzo: G.o.d's pity, man, Be merry, be merry, leave these dumps.

LOR. SE. Troth, would I could, sir: but enforced mirth (In my weak judgment) has no happy birth.

The mind, being once a prisoner unto cares, The more it dreams on joy, the worse it fares.

A smiling look is to a heavy soul As a gilt bias to a leaden bowl, Which (in itself) appears most vile, being spent To no true use; but only for ostent.

CLEM. Nay, but, good Signior, hear me a word, hear me a word, your cares are nothing; they are like my cap, soon put on, and as soon put off. What? your son is old enough to govern himself; let him run his course, it's the only way to make him a staid man: if he were an unthrift, a ruffian, a drunkard, or a licentious liver, then you had reason: you had reason to take care: but being none of these, G.o.d's pa.s.sion, an I had twice so many cares as you have, I'd drown them all in a cup of sack: come, come, I muse your parcel of a soldier returns not all this while.

[EXEUNT.]

ACT III. SCENE IV.

ENTER GIULIANO, WITH BIANCHA.

GIU. Well, sister, I tell you true: and you'll find it so in the end.

BIA. Alas, brother, what would you have me to do?

I cannot help it; you see, my brother Prospero he brings them in here, they are his friends.

GIU. His friends? his friends? 'sblood, they do nothing but haunt him up and down like a sort of unlucky sprites, and tempt him to all manner of villainy that can be thought of; well, by this light, a little thing would make me play the devil with some of them; an't were not more for your husband's sake than any thing else, I'd make the house too hot for them; they should say and swear, h.e.l.l were broken loose, ere they went. But by G.o.d's bread, 'tis n.o.body's fault but yours; for an you had done as you might have done, they should have been d.a.m.n'd ere they should have come in, e'er a one of them.

BIA. G.o.d's my life; did you ever hear the like? what a strange man is this! could I keep out all them, think you?

I should put myself against half a dozen men, should I?

Good faith, you'd mad the patient'st body in the world, to hear you talk so, without any sense or reason.

[ENTER MATHEO WITH HESPERIDA, BOBADILLA, STEPHANO, LORENZO JUNIOR, PROSPERO, MUSCO.]

HESP. Servant, (in troth) you are too prodigal of your wits' treasure, thus to pour it forth upon so mean a subject as my worth.

MAT. You say well, you say well.

GIU. Hoyday, here is stuff.

LOR. JU. Oh now stand close; pray G.o.d she can get him to read it.

PROS. Tut, fear not: I warrant thee he will do it of himself with much impudency.

HES. Servant, what is that same, I pray you?

MAT. Marry, an Elegy, an Elegy, an odd toy.

GIU. Ay, to mock an ape withal. O Jesu.

BIA. Sister, I pray you let's hear it.

MAT. Mistress, I'll read it, if you please.

HES. I pray you do, servant.

GIU. Oh, here's no foppery. 'Sblood, it frets me to the gall to think on it.

[EXIT.]

PROS. Oh ay, it is his condition, peace: we are fairly rid of him.

MAT. Faith, I did it in an humour: I know not how it is, but please you come near, signior: this gentleman hath judgment, he knows how to censure of a -- I pray you, sir, you can judge.

STEP. Not I, sir: as I have a soul to be saved, as I am a gentleman.

LOR. JU. Nay, it's well; so long as he doth not forswear himself.