Ben: Jonson Page

Every Man out of his Humour
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25

E V E R Y   M A N

OUT OF HIS

 H U M O U R.

A  Comical  Satyr.

First Acted in the Year 1599. By the then Lord CHAMBERLAIN his
Servants: with the Allowance of the Master of REVELS.

The Author B. J.
    Non aliena meo pressi pede | * si propius stes.
    Te capient magis | * & decies repetita placebunt.     Hor.

TO THE

Noblest NURSERIES of Humanity and Liberty in the Kingdom,

The Inns of Court.

I
 Understand you, Gentlemen, not your Houses: and a Worthy Succession of you to all Time, as being born the Judges of these Studies. When I wrote this Poem I had Friendship with divers in your Societies; who, as they were great Names in Learning, so they were no less Examples of Living. Of them, and then (that I say no more) it was not despis'd. Now that the Printer, by a doubled Charge, thinks it worthy a longer life than commonly the Air of such things doth promise; I am careful to put it a servant to their Pleasures, who are the Inheriters of the first Favour born it. Yet, I command, it lie not in the way of your more Noble and Useful Studies to the publick. For so I shall suffer for it: But when the Gown and Cap is off, and the Lord of Liberty Reigns, then to take it in your Hands, perhaps may make some Bencher, tincted with humanity, read and not repent him.

By your true Honourer,           

BEN. JOHNSON.



E                                      The

26
The Names of the Actors.
A S P E R, the Presenter.
MACILENTE.
PUNTARVOLO. { His Lady.
Waiting Gent.
Huntsman.
Serving Men 2.
Dog and Cat.
CARLO BUFFONE.
FASTID. BRISK.       Cindedo his Page.    
DELIRO.
FALLACE. 		{ Fido their Servant.
Musicians.
SAVIOLINA.
SORDIDO.     His Hind.    
FUNGOSO. { Taylor.
Haberdasher.
Shoe-maker.
SOGLARDO.
SHIFT.             Rustici. 
CLOVE. { A Groom.
Drawers.
Constable, and.
Officers.
ORANGE.
G R E X.
CORDATUS.                                 MITIS.
The Principal Comedians were
RIC. BURBADGE.
AUG. PHILIPS. 		|
| 		WILL. SLY.
JOH. HEMINGS. 		|
| 		HEN. CONDEL.
THO. POPE.
ASPER his Character.
H
E is of an ingenious and free spirit, eager and constant
 in reproof, without fear, controling the Worlds abuses.
One whom no servile hope of gain, or frosty apprehension of
danger, can make to be a Parasite, either to Time, Place, or
Opinion.
      MACILENTE.    A Man well parted, a sufficient Scho-
lar, and travail'd; who (wanting that place in the worlds
account which he thinks his merit capable of) falls into such
an envious Apoplexy, with which his judgment is so dazled
and distated, that he grows violently impatient of any opp-
site happiness in another.
      PUNTARVOLO.    A vain-glorious Knight, over-En-
glishing his Travels, and wholly consecrated to singularity; the
very Jacob's Staff of Complement: a Sir that hath liv'd to
see the revolution of Time in most of his Apparel. Of presence
good enough, but so palpable affected to his own praise, that (for
want of flatterers) he commends himself, to the floutage of his
own Family. He deals upon returns, and strange perfor-
mances, resolving (in despight of publick derision) to stick to
his own particular Fashion, Phrase, and Gesture.
      CARLO BUFFONE.    A publick, scurrilous, and prophane
Jester; that (more swift than Circe) with absurd similes will
transform any Person into deformity. A good Feast-hound, or
Banket-beagle, that will sent you out a Supper some three Miles
off, and swear to his Patrons (Damn him) he came in Oars,
when he was but wafted over in a Skuller. A slave that hath
an extraordinary gift in pleasing his Pallat, and will swill up
more Sack at a sitting than would make all the Guard a Posset.
His Religion is railing, and his Discourse ribaldry. They stand
highest in his respect, whom he studies most to reproach.
      FASTIDIUS BRISK.    A neat, spruce affecting Courtier,
one that wears Clothes well, and in fashion; practiseth by his
Glass how to salute; speaks good remnants (notwithstanding
the Base-viol and tobacco:) swears tersly, and with variety;
cares not what Ladies favour he belyes, or great Mans fami-
liarity: a good property to perfume the Boot of a Coach. He
will borrow another Man's Horse to praise, and backs him as
his own. Or, for a need, on foot can post himself into credit
with his Merchant, only with the gingle of his Spur, and the
jerk of his Wand.
      DELIRO.    A good doting Citizen, who (it is thought)
might be of the Common Councel for his Wealth: a fellow sin-
cerely besotted on his own Wife, and so rapt with a conceit of
her perfections, that he simply holds himself unworthy of her.
And in that hood-winkt humour lives more like a Suter than a
Husband; standing in as true dread of her displeasure, as
when he first made Love to her. He doth sacrifice two-pence in
Juniper to her every morning before she rises, and wakes her
with villanous-out-of-tune Musick, which she out of her con-
tempt (though not out of her judgment) is sure to dislike.
      FALLACE.    Deliro's Wife, and Idol: a proud mincing

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Peat, and as perverse as he is officious. She dotes as perfectly
upon the Courtier, as her Husband doth on her, and only wants
the face to be dishonest.
      SAVIOLINA.    A Court Lady, whose weightiest praise is
a light wit, admir'd by her self, and one more, her servant
Brisk.
      SORDIDO.    A wretched hob-nai'd Chuff, whose recrea-
tion is reading of Almanacks; and felicity, foul Weather.
One that never pray'd, but for a lean dearth, and ever wept
in a fat Harvest.
      FUNGOSO.    The Son of Sordido, and a Student: one
that has revell'd in his time, and follows the Fashion a far off,
like a Spie. He makes it the whole bent of his endeavours,
to wring sufficient means from his wretched Father to put him
in the Courtiers Cut: at which he earnestly aims, but so un-
luckily, that he still lights short a Sute.
      SHIFT.    A thread-bare Shark: one that never was Sol-
dier, yet lives upon lendings. His profession is skeldring and
odling, his bank Pauls, and his ware-house Pict-hatch. Takes
up single Testons upon Oaths, till Dooms-day. Falls under Exe-
cutions of three Shillings, and enters into five-groat Bonds.
He way-lays the reports of services, and cons them without
Book, damning himself he came new from them, when all the
while he was taking the Diet in the bawdy-house, or lay pawn'd
in his Chamber for Rent and Victuals. He is of that admi-
rable and happy memory, that he will salute one for an old
acquaintance that he never saw in his life before. He usurps
upon Cheats, Quarrels, and Robberies, which he never did,
only to get him a name. His chief exercises are, taking the
Whiff, squiring a Cockatrice, and making privy searches for
Imparters.
      CLOVE and ORANGE.    An inseparable case of Cox-
combs, City born; The Gemini, or Twins of foppery: that like
a pair of woodden Foyles, are fit for nothing but to be practis'd
upon. Being well flatter'd they'll lend Mony, and repent
when they ha' done. Their glory is to invite Players, and
make Suppers. And in company of better rank (to avoid the
suspect of insufficiency) will inforce their ignorance most despe-
rately, to set upon the understanding of any thing. Orange is
the more humourous of the two (whose small portion of juice being
squeez'd out) Clove serves to stick him with commendations.
       CORDATUS.    The Author's Friend: an Man inly ac-
quainted with the scope and drift of his Plot: of a discreet and
understanding judgment; and has the place of a Moderator.
       MITIS.    Is a Person of no action, and therefore we have
EVERY
reason to afford him no Character.

27

E V E R Y   M A N

OUT OF HIS

 H U M O U R.


After the second Sounding.

G R E X.

Cordatus, Asper, Mitis.

N
Ay, my dear Asper.
   Mit. Stay your Mind.
   Asp. Away.
   Who is so patient of this impious World,
That he can check his Spirit, or rein his Tongue?
Or who hath such a dead unfeeling Sense,
That Heavens horrid Thunders cannot wake?
To see the Earth crackt with the weight of Sin,
Hell gaping under us, and o're our Heads
Black rav'nous Ruin, with her Sail-stretcht Wings,
Ready to sink us down, and cover us.
Who can behold such Prodigies as these,
And have his Lips seal'd up? Not I: My Soul
Was never ground into such Oily Colours,
To flatter Vice, and dawb Iniquity:
But (with an armed and resolved Hand)
I'll strip the ragged Follies of the Time
Naked as at their Birth: (Cor. Be not too bold.
   Asp. You trouble me) and with a Whip of Steel
Print wounding Lashes in their Iron Ribs.
I fear no Mood stampt in a private Brow,
When I am pleas'd t' unmask a publick Vice.
I fear no Strumpets Drugs, nor Ruffians Stab,
Should I detect their hateful Luxuries:
No Brokers, Usurers, or Lawyers Gripe,
Were I dispos'd to say, They're all corrupt.
I fear no Courtiers Frown, should I applaud
The easie Flexure of his supple Hams.
Tut, these are so innate and popular,
That drunken Custom would not shame to laugh
(In scorn) at him, that should not dare to tax 'em.
And yet, not one of these but knows his Works,
Knows what Damnation is, the Devil, and Hell;
Yet hourly they persist, grow rank in Sin,
Puffing their Souls away in perj'rous Air,
To cherish their Extortion, Pride, or Lusts.
   Mit. Forbear, good Asper; be not like your Name.
   Asp. O, but to such whose Faces are all Zeal,
And (with the Words of Hercules) invade
Such Crimes as these! that will not smell of Sin,
But seem as they were made of Sanctity!
Religion in their Garments, and their Hair
Cut shorter than their Eye-brows! when the Conscience
Is vaster than the Ocean, and devours
More Wretches than the Counters.   Mit. Gentle Asper,
Contain your Spirit in more stricter Bounds,
And be not thus transported with the Violence
Of your strong Thoughts.   Cor. Unless your Breath had
      power
To melt the World, and mould it new again,

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It is in vain to spend it in these Moods.
   Asp. I not observ'd this thronged Round till now.
Gracious and kind Spectators, you are welcome;
Apollo and the Muses feast your Eyes
With graceful Objects, and may our Minerva
Answer your Hopes, unto their largest Strain.
Yet here mistake me not, Judicious Friends:
I do not this, to beg your Patience,
Or servilely to fawn on your Applause,
Like some dry Brain, despairing in his Merit.
Let me be censur'd by th' austerest Brow,
Where I want Art or Judgment, tax me freely:
Let envious Censors, with their broadest Eyes,
Look through and through me, I pursue no Favour;
Only vouchsafe me your Attentions,
And I will give you Musick worth your Ears.
O, how I hate the monstrousness of Time,
Where every servile imitating Spirit,
(Plagu'd with an itching Leprosie of Wit)
In a meer halting Fury, strives to fling
His Ulc'rous Body in the Thespian Spring,
And streight leaps forth a Poet! but as lame
As Vulcan, or the Founder of Cripplegate.
   Mit. In faith this Humour will come ill to some,
You will be thought to be too peremptory.
   Asp. This Humour? good! And why this Humour, Mitis?
Nay, do not turn, but answer.   Mit. Answer? what?
   Asp. I will not stir your Patience, pardon me,
I urg'd it for some Reasons, and the rather
To give these ignorant well-spoken Days
Some Taste of their Abuse of this word Humour.
   Cor. O, do not let your Purpose fall, good Asper;
It cannot but arrive most acceptable,
Chiefly to such as have the happiness
Daily to see how the poor innocent Word
Is rackt and tortur'd.   Mit. I, I pray you proceed.
   Asp. Ha? what? what is't?   Cor. For the abuse of Humour.
   Asp. O, I crave pardon, I had lost my Thoughts.
Why, Humour (as 'tis ens) we thus define it,
To be a Quality of Air, or Water,
And in it self holds these two Properties,
Moisture and Fluxure: As, for demonstration,
Pour Water on this Floor, 'twill wet and run:
Likewise the Air (forc'd through a Horn or Trumpet)
Flows instantly away, and leaves behind
A kind of Dew; and hence we do conclude,
That whatsoe're hath Fluxure and Humidity,
As wanting power to contain it self,
Is Humour. So in every Humane Body,
The Choler, Melancholy, Phlegm, and Blood,
By reason that they flow continually
In some one Part, and are not continent,
Receive the name of Humours. Now thus far
It may, by Mataphor, apply it self
Unto the general Disposition:
As when some one peculiar Quality
Doth so possess a Man, that it doth draw
E2                                               All


28 Every Man in his Humour.Every Man out of his Humour.

All his Affects, his Spirits, and his Powers,
In their Confluctions, all to run one way,
This may be truly said to be a Humour.
But that a Rook by wearing a py'd Feather,
The Cable Hatband, or the three-pil'd Ruff,
A Yard of Shoe-tye, or the Switzer's Knot
On his French Garters, should affect a Humour!
O, it is more than most ridiculous.
   Cor. He speaks pure Truth now; if an Idiot
Have but an apish or fantastick Strain,
It is his Humour.   Asp. Well, I will scourge those Apes,
And to these courteous Eyes oppose a Mirrour,
As large as is the Stage whereon we act;
Where they shall see the Times Deformity
Anatomiz'd in every Nerve and Sinew,
With constant Courage, and contempt of Fear.
   Mit. Asper, (I urge it as your Friend) take heed,
The Days are dangerous, full of exception,
And Men are grown impatient of Reproof.   Asp. Ha, ha!
You might as well have told me, Yond' is Heaven,
This Earth, these Men, and all had mov'd alike.
Do not I know the Times Condition?
Yes, Mitis, and their Souls, and who they be
That either will or can except 'gainst me,
None but a sort of Fools, so sick in taste,
That they contemn all Physick of the Mind,
And, like glad Camels, kick at every touch.
Good Men, and vertuous Spirits, that loath their Vices,
Will cherish my free Labours, love my Lines,
And with the fervor of their shining Grace
Make my Brain fruitful, to bring forth more Objects
Worthy their serious and intentive Eyes.
But why enforce I this? as fainting? No.
If any here chance to behold himself,
Let him not dare to challenge me of Wrong;
For, if he shame to have his Follies known,
First he should shame to act 'em: My strict Hand
Was made to seise on Vice, and with a Gripe
Squeeze out the Humour of such Spongy Natures,
As lick up every idle Vanity.
   Cor. Why, this is right Furor Poeticus!
Kind Gentlemen, we hope your Patience
Will yet conceive the best, or entertain
This Supposition, That a Mad-man speaks.
   Asp. What, are you ready there? Mitis, sit down,
And my Cordatus. Sound ho, and begin.
I leave you two, as Censors, to sit here:
Observe what I present, and liberally
Speak your Opinions upon every Scene,
As it shall pass the View of these Spectators.
Nay, now y'are tedious, Sirs; for shame begin.
And, Mitis, note me; if in all this Front
You can espy a Gallant of this Mark,
Who (to be thought one of the Judicious)
Sits with his Arms thus wreath'd, his Hat pull'd here,
Cries Mew, and nods, then shakes his empty Head,
Will shew more several Motions in his Face
Than the new London, Rome, or Niniveh,
And (now and then) breaks a dry Bisquet-Jest,
Which, that it may more easily be chew'd,
He steeps in his own Laughter.   Cor. Why, will that
Make it be sooner swallow'd?   Asp. O, assure you.
Or if it did not, yet, as Horace sings,
"Jejunus raro stomachus vulgaria temnit,
"Mean Cates are welcom still to hungry Guests.
   Cor. 'Tis true; but why should we observe 'em, Asper?
   Asp. O, I would know 'em; for in such Assemblies
Th' are more infectious than the Pestilence:
And therefore I would give them Pills to purge,
And make 'em fit for fair Societies.
How monstrous and detested is't, to see
A Fellow, that has neither Art nor Brain,
Sit like an Aristarchus, or stark Ass,
Taking Mens Lines, with a Tabacco-face,

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In snuff, still spitting, using his wry'd Looks
(In nature of a Vice) to wrest and turn
The good Aspect of those that shall sit near him,
From what they do behold! O, 'tis most vile.
   Mit. Nay, Asper.
   Asp. Peace, Mitis, I do know your Thought.
You'll say, Your Guests here will except at this:
Pish, you are too timerous, and full of doubt.
Then he, a Patient, shall reject all Physick,
'Cause the Physician tells him, you are sick:
Or, if I say, That he is vicious,
You will not hear of Vertue. Come, y'are fond.
Shall I be so extravagant, to think,
That happy Judgments, and composed Spirits,
Will challenge me for taxing such as these?
I am asham'd.   Cord. Nay, but good pardon us;
We must not bear this peremptory Sail,
But use our best Endeavours how to please.
   Asp. Why, therein I commend your careful Thoughts,
And I will mix with you in Industry
To please: But whom? Attentive Auditors,
Such as will join their Profit with their Pleasure,
And come to feed their understanding Parts:
For these I'll prodigally spend my self,
And speak away my Spirit into Air;
For these I'll melt my Brain into Invention,
Coin new Conceits, and hang my richest Words
As pollisht Jewels in their bounteous Ears.
But stay, I lose my self, and wrong their Patience:
If I dwell here, they'll not begin, I see.
Friends, sit you still, and entertain this Troop
With some familiar and by-Conference,
I'll haste them sound. Now, Gentlemen, I go
To turn an Actor, and a Humorist,
Where (e're I do resume my present Person)
We hope to make the Circles of your Eyes
Flow with distilled Laughter: If we fail,
We must impute it to this only Chance,
[Exit Asper.
"Art hath an Enemy call'd Ignorance.
   Cord. How do you like his Spirit, Mitis?
   Mit. I should like it much better, if he were less con-
fident.
   Cord. Why, do you suspect his Merit?
   Mit. No, but I fear this will procure him much
Envy.
   Cord. O, that sets the stronger Seal on his Desert; if
he had no Enemies, I should esteem his Fortunes most
wretched at this instant.
   Mit. You have seen his Play, Cordatus: Pray you,
how is't?
   Cord. Faith Sir, I must refrain to judge; only this I
can say of it, 'Tis strange, and of a particuliar kind by it
self, somewhat like Vetus Comœdia: a Work that hath
bounteously pleased me; how it will answer the general
expectation, I know not.
   Mit. Do's he observe all the Laws of Comedy in it?
   Cord. What Laws mean you?
   Mit. Why, the equal Division of it into Acts and
Scenes, according to the Terentian manner; his true Num-
ber of Actors; the furnishing of the Scene with Grex or
Chorus, and that the whole Argument fall within compass
of a Days Business.
   Cord. O no, these are too nice Observations.
   Mit. They are such as must be received, by your fa-
vour, or it cannot be authentick.
   Cord. Troth, I can discern no such Necessity.
   Mit. No?
   Cord. No, I assure you, Signior.  If those Laws you speak
of had been delivered us ab initio, and in their present
Vertue and Perfection, there had been some reason of
obeying their Powers; but 'tis extant, that that which
we call Comoedia, was at first nothing but a simple and
continued Song, sung by one only Person, till Susario
invented a Second; after him, Epicharmus a Third;
Phormus

Every Man in his Humour.Every Man out of his Humour. 29

Phormus and Chionides devised to have Four Actors, with
a Prologue and Chorus; to which Cratinus (long after)
added a Fifth and Sixth; Eupolis, more; Aristophanes,
more than they: Every Man in the dignity of his Spi-
rit and Judgment supplied something. And (though
that in him this kind of Poem appeared absolute, and
fully perfected) yet how is the Face of it chang'd since,
in Menander, Philemon, Cecilius, Plautus, and the rest?
who have utterly excluded the Chorus, altered the Pro-
perty of the Persons, their Names, and Natures, and
augmented it with all Liberty, according to the Elegan-
cy and Disposition of those Times wherein they wrote.
I see not then, but we should enjoy the same Licence,
or free Power, to illustrate and heighten our Invention
as they did; and not be tied to those strict and regular
Forms which the Niceness of a few (who are nothing
but Form) would thrust upon us.
   Mit. Well, we will not dispute of this now: But
what's his Scene?
   Cor. Marry, Insula Fortunata, Sir.
   Mit. O, the Fortunate Island: Mass, he has bound
himself to a strict Law there.
   Cor. Why so?
   Mit. He cannot lightly alter the Scene, without cros-
sing the Seas.
   Cor. He needs not, having a whole Island to run
through, I think.
   Mit. No? How comes it then, that in some one Play
we see so many Seas, Countries, and Kingdoms, past
over with such admirable Dexterity?
   Cor. O, that but shews how well the Authors can tra-
vel in their Vocation, and out-run the Apprehension of
their Auditory. But leaving this, I would they would
begin once: This Protraction is able to sour the best-
setled Patience in the Theatre.
   Mit. They have answered your Wish, Sir: they
sound.
   Cor. O, here comes the Prologue. Now, Sir, if you
had staid a little longer, I meant to have spoke your
Prologue for you, i' faith.

The third Sounding.

PROLOGUE.

   Prol. Marry, with all my heart, Sir, you shall do it
yet, and I thank you.
   Cord. Nay, nay, stay, stay, hear you?
   Prol. You could not have studied to ha' done me a
greater benefit at the instant; for I protest to you, I am
unperfect, and (had I spoke it) I must of necessity have
been out.
   Cord. Why, but do you speak this seriously?
   Prol. Seriously! I (Wit's my help, do I) and esteem
my self indebted to your Kindness for it.
   Cord. For what?
   Prol. Why, for undertaking the Prologue for me.
   Cord. How? did I undertake it for you?
   Prol. Did you! I appeal to all these Gentlemen,
whether you did or no? Come, come, it pleases you
to cast a strange look on't now; but 'twill not serve.
   Cord. 'Fore me, but it must serve; and therefore speak
your Prologue.
   Prol. And I do, let me die poison'd with some vene-
mous Hiss, and never live to look as high as the Two-
penny Room again.
   Mit. He has put you to it, Sir.
   Cor. What a humorous Fellow is this? Gentlemen,
good faith I can speak no Prologue, howsoever his weak
Wit has had the Fortune to make this strong use of me
here before you: But I protest ——

[column break]

[He enters with a Boy and Wine.
Carlo Buffone.

   Carl. Come, come, leave these fustian Protestations:
away, come, I cannot abide these gray-headed Ceremo-
nies. Boy, fetch me a Glass, quickly, I may bid these
Gentlemen welcome; give 'em a Health here. I mar'le
whose Wit 'twas to put a Prologue in yond' Sackbuts
Mouth; they might well think he'd be out of tune, and
yet you'ld play upon him too.
   Cord. Hang him, dull Block.
   Carl. O good words, good words; a well-timber'd Fel-
low, he would ha' made a good Column, an' he had been
thought on, when the House was a building. O, art thou
come? Well said; give me, Boy, fill, so. Here's a Cup
of Wine sparkles like a Diamond. Gentlewomen (I am
sworn to put them in first) and Gentlemen, a Round, in
place of a bad Prologue; I drink this good Draught to
your Health here, Canary, the very Elixir and Spirit of
Wine. This is that our Poet calls Castalian Liquor, when
he comes abroad (now and then) once in a Fortnight,
and makes a good Meal among Players, where he has
Caninum appetitum; Marry, at home he keeps a good
Philosophical Diet, Beans and Butter milk; 'an honest
pure Rogue, he will take you off three, four, five of
these, one after another, and look villanously when he
has done, like a one-headed Cerberus (he do's not hear
me, I hope) and then (when his Belly is well ballac't,
and his Brain rigg'd a little) he sails away with all, as
though he would work Wonders when he comes home.
He has made a Play here, and he calls it, Every Man out
of his Humour: But an' he get me out of the Humour
he has put me in, I'll trust none of his Tribe again while
I live. Genteels, all I can say for him, is, You are wel-
come: I could wish my Bottle here amongst you; but
there's an old Rule, No pledging your own Health. Marry,
if any here be thirsty for it, their best way (that I know)
is, sit still, seal up their Lips, and drink so much of the
[Exit.
Play in at their Ears.

G R E X.

   Mit. What may this Fellow be, Cordatus?
   Cor. Faith, if the Time will suffer his Description, I'll
give it you. He is one, the Author calls him Carlo Buf-
fone, an impudent common Jester, a violent Railer, and
an incomprehensible Epicure; one whose Company is
desir'd of all Men, but belov'd of none; he will sooner
lose his Soul than a Jest, and profane even the most Holy
things, to excite Laughter: No Honourable or Reverend
Personage whatsoever, can come within the reach of his
Eye, but is turn'd into all manner of Variety, by his
adult'rate Similes.
   Mit. You paint forth a Monster.
   Cor. He will prefer all Countries before his Native,
and thinks he can never sufficiently, or with admiration
enough, deliver his affectionate Conceit of Foreign
Atheistical Policies. But stay —— Observe these; he'll
appear himself anon.
   Mit. O, this is your envious Man (Macilente) I think.
   Cor. The same, Sir.

Act I.    Scene I.

Macilente

V
Iri est, fortunæ cæcitatem facile ferre.
 'Tis true; but, Stoick, where (in the vast World)
Doth that Man breathe, that can so much command
His Blood and his Affection? Well, I see
I strive in vain to cure my wounded Soul;
For every Cordial that my Thoughts apply
Turns to a Corr'sive, and doth eat it farther.
There


30 Every Man out of his Humour.

There is no taste in this Philosophy,
'Tis like a Potion that a Man should drink,
But turns his Stomach with the sight of it.
I am no such pild Cynique, to believe
That beggery is the only happiness;
Or (with a number of these patient Fools)
To sing: My mind to me a Kingdom is,
When the lank hungry Belly barks for Food.
I look into the World, and there I meet
With objects, that do strike my blood-shot Eyes
Into my Brain: where, when I view my self,
Having before observ'd, this Man is great,
Might, and fear'd: that lov'd, and highly favour'd:
A third thought wise and learned: a fourth rich,
and therefore honour'd: a fifth rarely featur'd:
A sixth admir'd for his nuptial fortunes:
When I see these (I say) and view my self,
I wish the Organs of my sight were crackt;
And that the Engine of my grief could cast
Mine Eye-balls, like two Globes of wild-fire, forth,
To melt this unproportion'd frame of Nature.
Oh, they are thoughts that have transfixt my heart,
And often (i' the strength of apprehension)
Made my cold passion stand upon my Face,
Like drops of Dew on a stiff cake of Ice.

G R E X.

   Cor. This alludes well to that of the Poet,
Invidus suspirat, gemit, incutitque dentes,
Sudat frigidus, intuens quod odit.
   Mit. O peace, you break the Scene.
   Maci. Soft, who be there?
I'll lay me down a while till they be past.

G R E X.

   Cor. Signior, note this Gallant, I pray you.
   Mit. What is he?
   Cor. A tame Rook, you'll take him presently: list.

Act I.    Scene II.

Sogliardo, Carlo,comma should be omitted Buffone, Macilente.

N
AY, look you Carlo: this is my humour now! I
 have Land and Mony, my Friends left me well,
and I will be a Gentleman whatsoever it cost me.
   Car. A most Gentleman-like resolution.
   Sog. Tut, and I take an humour of a thing once, I
am like your Taylors Needle, I go through, but,
for my name, Signior, how think you? will it not serve
for a Gentlemans name, when the Signior is put to
it? ha?
   Car. Let me hear: how is't?
   Sog. Signior Insulso Sogliardo: methinks it sounds well.
   Car. O excellent! tut, and all fitted to your name,
you might very well stand for a Gentleman: I know
many Sogliardo's Gentlemen.
   Sog. Why, and for my Wealth I might be a Justice
of Peace.
   Car. I, and a Constable for your Wit.
   Sog. All this is my Lordship you see here, and those
Farmes you came by.
   Car. Good steps to Gentility too, marry: but Sogliar-
do, if you affect to be a Gentleman indeed, you must
observe all the rare qualities, humours, and complements
of a Gentleman.
   Sog. I know it, Signior, and if you please to instruct,
I am not too good to learn, I'll assure you.
   Car. Enough Sir: I'll make admirable use i'the pro-
jection of my Medicine upon this lump of Copper here.
I'll bethink me for you Sir.

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   Sog. Signior, I will both pay you, and pray you, and
thank you, and think on you.

G R E X.

   Cor. Is not this purely good?
   Maci. Why, why should such a prick-ear'd HineHind as
this,
Be rich? ha? a Fool? such a transparent Gull
That may be seen through? wherefore should he have
      Land,
Houses, and Lordships? O, I could eat my Intrails,
And sink my Soul into the Earth with sorrow.
   Car. First (to be an accomplisht Centleman,Gentleman that is,
a Gentleman of the time) you must give o'er House-
keeping in the Country, and live altogether in the City
amongst Gallants; where, at your first appearance,
'twere good you turn'd four or five hundred Acres of
your best Land into two or three Trunks of Apparel
(you may do it without going to a Conjurer) and be
sure you mix your self still with such as flourish in the
spring of the Fashion, and are least popular: study their
carriage and behaviour in all; learn to play at Primero
and Passage, and (ever when you lose) ha' two or three
peculiar Oaths to swear by, that no Man else swears:
but above all, protest in your play, and affirm upon your
credit; As you are a true Gentleman, (at every cast) you
may do it with a safe Conscience, I warrant you.
   Sog. O admirable rare! he cannot chuse but be a
Gentleman that ha's these excellent gifts: more, more,
I beseech you.
   Car. You must endeavour to feed cleanly at your Or-
dinary, sit melancholy, and pick your Teeth when you
cannot speak: and when you come to Plays, be hu-
mourous, look with a good starch't Face, and ruffle your
Brow like a new Boot, laugh at nothing but your own
Jests, or else as the Noble Men laugh. That's a special
grace you must observe.
   Sog. I warrant you, Sir.
   Car. I, and sit o'the Stage and flout, provided you
have a good Suit.
   Sog. O, I'll have a Suit only for that, Sir.
   Car. You must talk much of your Kindred and Al-
lies.
   Sog. Lies! no Signior, I shall not need to do so, I have
Kindred i' the City to talk of: I have a Niece is a Mer-
chants Wife; and a Nephew, my Brother Sordido's Son,
of the Inns of Court.
   Car. O, but you must pretend Alliance with Cour-
tiers and great Persons: and ever when you are to dine
or sup in any strange presence, hire a Fellow with a great
Chain (though it be Copper, it's no matter) to bring
you Letters, feign'd from such a Noble Man, or such a
Knight, or such a Lady, To their worshipful, right rare
and nobly qualified Friend or Kinsman, Signior Insulso Sogli-
ardo; give your self stile enough. And there (while
you intend circumstances of News, or enquiry of their
Health, or so) one of your familiars (whom you must
carry about you still) breaks it up (as 'twere in a jest)
and reads it publickly at the Table: at which you must
seem to take as unpardonable offence, as if he had torn
your Mistresses Colours, or breath'd upon her Picture;
and pursue it with that hot grace, as if you would ad-
vance a Challenge upon it presently.
   Sog. Stay, I do not like that humour of Challenge, it
may be accepted; but I'll tell you what's my humour
now: I will do this: I will take occasion of sending one
of my Suits to the Taylors to have the Pocket repaired,
or so; and there such a Letter as you talk of (broke
open and all) shall be left: O, the Taylor will presently
give out what I am, upon the reading of it, worth twen-
ty of your Gallants.
   Car. But then you must put on an extreme face of
discontment at your Man's negligence.
Sog. O,

Every Man out of his Humour. 31

   Sog. O, so I will, and beat him too: I'll have a Man
for the purpose.
   Maci. You may, you have Land and Crowns: O
partial fate!
   Car. Mass, well remembred, you must keep your Men
gallant at the first, fine pyed Liveries laid with good
Gold Lace; there's no loss in it, they may rip't off and
pawn it when they lack Victuals.
   Sor. By'r Lady, that is chargeable Signior, 'twill
bring a Man in debt.
   Car. Debt? why, that's the more for your Credit Sir:
it's an excellent Policy to owe much in these days, if
you note it.
   Sog. As how, good Signior? I would fain be a Poli-
tician.
   Car. O! look where you are indebted any great sum,
your Creditor observes you with no less regard, than
if he were bound to you for some huge benefit, and
will quake to give you the least cause of offence, lest
he lose his Mony. I assure you (in these times) no
Man has his Servant more obsequious and pliant, than
Gentlemen their Creditors: to whom (if at any time)
you pay but a moiety, or a fourth part, it comes more
acceptably than if you gave 'em a New-years gift.
   Sog. I perceive you, Sir: I will take up, and bring
my self in Credit sure.
   Car. Marry this, always beware you commerce not
with Bankrupts, or poor needy Ludgathians: they are
impudent Creatures, turbulent spirits, they care not
what violent Tragedies they stir, nor how they play
fast and loose with a poor Gentlemans fortunes, to get
their own. Marry, these rich Fellows (that ha' the
World, or the better part of it, sleeping in their count-
ing Houses) they are ten times more placable, they;
either fear, hope, or modesty, restrains them from offer-
ing any outrages: but this is nothing to your followers,
you shall not run a penny more in arrearage for them,
an' you list your self.
   Sog. No? how should I keep 'em then?
   Car. Keep 'em? let them keep themselves, they are
no Sheep, are they? What? you shall come in Houses,
where Plate, Apparel, Jewels, and divers other pretty
Commodities lie negligently scattered, and I would ha'
those Mercuries follow me (I trow,) should remember
they had not their Fingers for nothing.
   Sog. That's not so good methinks.
   Car. Why, after you have kept 'em a fortnight, or
so, and shew'd 'em enough to the World, you may turn
'em away, and keep no more but a Boy, it's enough.
   Sog. Nay, my humour is not for Boys, I'll keep Men,
and I keep any; and I'll give Coats, that's my humour:
but I lack a Cullisen.
   Car. Why, now you ride to the City you may buy
one, I'll bring you where you shall ha' your choise for
Mony.
   Sog. Can you, Sir?
   Car. O, I: you shall have one take measure of you,
and make you a Coat of Arms to fit you, of what fashion
you will.
   Sog. By word of Mouth, I thank you, Signior: I'll
be once a little prodigal in a humour i'faith, and have a
most prodigious Coat.
   Maci. Torment and death! break Head and Brain at
once,
To be deliver'd of your fighting issue.
Who can indure to see blind Fortune dote thus?
To be enamour'd on this dusty Turf?
This Clod? a whorson puck-fist? O God, God, God,
      God, &c.
I could run wild with grief now, to behold
The rankness of her bounties, that doth breed
Such Bull-rushes; these Mushromp Gentlemen,
that shoot up in a Night to Place, and Worship.
   Car. Let him alone, some stray, some stray.

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   Sog. Nay, I will examine him before I go, sure.
   Car. The Lord of the Soil has all wefts and strays
here, has he not?
   Sog. Yes, Sir.
   Car. Faith then I pitty the poor Fellow, he's fal'n in-
to a Fools hands.
   Sog. Sirrah, who gave you a Commission to lye in
my Lordship?
   Maci. Your Lordship?
   Sog. How? my Lordship? do you know me, Sir?
   Maci. I do know you, Sir.
   Car. He answers him like an Eccho.
   Sog. Why, who am I, Sir?
   Maci. One of those that Fortune favours.
   Car. The Periphrasis of a Fool; I'll observe this
better.
   Sog. That Fortune favours? how mean you that
Friend?
   Maci. I mean simply. That you are one that lives
not by your wits.
   Sog. By my wits? No, Sir, I scorn to live by my wits,
I. I have better means I tell thee, than to take such
base courses, as to live by my wits. What, dost thou
think I live by my wits?
   Maci. Methinks, Jester, you should not rellish this
well.
   Car. Ha? does he know me?
   Maci. Though yours be the worst use a Man can put
his wit to, of thousands, to prostitute it at every Ta-
vern and Ordinary; yet (methinks) you should have
turn'd your broad-side at this, and have been ready
with an Apologie, able to sink this bulk of ignorance into
the bottom and depth of his contempt.
   Car. Oh! 'tis Macilente! Signior, you are well en-
countered, how is't? O, we must not regard what he
says Man, a Trout, a shallow Fool, he has no more
Brain than a Butter-fly, a meer Stuft suit, he looks like
a musty Bottle new wickard, his Head's the Cork,
light, light. I am glad to see you so well return'd,
Signior.
   Maci. You are? Gramercy, good Janus.
   Sog. Is he one of your acquaintance? I love him the
better for that.
   Car. God's precious, come away Man, what do you
mean? an' you knew him as I do, youl'd shun him, as
youl'd do the Plague.
   Sog. Why, Sir?
   Car. O, he's a black Fellow, take heed on him.
   Sog. Is he a Scholar, or a Soldier?
   Car. Both, both; a lean mungril, he looks as if he
were Chop-fal'n, with barking at other Mens good for-
tunes: 'ware how you offend him, he carries Oyl and
Fire in his Pen, will scald where it drops: his spirit's
like Powder, quick, violent: he'll blow a Man up with
a jest: I fear him worse than a rotten Wall do's the
Cannon, shake an hour after at the report. Away,
come not near him.
   Sog. For God's sake let's be gone, an' he be a Scholar,
you know I cannot abide him. I had as lieve see a
Cockatrice, specially as Cockatrices go now.
   Car. What, you'l stay, Signior? this Gentleman Sogli-
ardo, and I, are to visit the Knight Puntarvolo, and from
thence to the City, we shall meet there.
   Maci. I, when I cannot shun you, we will meet.
'Tis strange! of all the Creatures I have seen,
I envy not this Buffone, for indeed
Neither his Fortunes nor his Parts deserve it:
But I do hate him, as I hate the Devil,
Or that Brass-visag'd monster Barbarism.
O, 'tis an open-throated, black-mouth'd Cur,
That bites at all, but eats not those that feed him.
A slave, that to your Face will (Serpent like)
Creep on the Ground, as he would eat the Dust;

And


32 Every Man out of his Humour.

And to your Back will turn the Tail, and sting
More deadly than a Scorpion: Stay, who's this?
Now for my Soul another minion
Of the old Lady Chance's: I'll observe him.

Act I.    Scene III.

Sordido, Macilente, Hine.

O
 Rare! good, good, good, good, good! I thank my
 Stars, I thank my Stars for it.
   Maci. Said I not true? doth not his passion speak
Out of my divination? O my senses,
Why lose you not your powers, and become
Dull'd, if not deaded with this spectacle?
I know him, 'tis Sordido, the Farmer,
A Boar, and Brother to that Swine was here.
   Sord. Excellent, excellent, excellent! as I would wish,
as I would wish.
   Maci. See how the strumpet Fortune tickles him,
And makes him swoun with laughter, O, O, O.
   Sord. Ha, ha, ha, I will not sow my Grounds this
year. Let me see what Harvest shall we have? June,
July, August?
   Maci. What is't, a Prognostication raps him so?
   Sord. The xx, xxi, xxii days, Rain and Wind, O
good, good! the xxiii, and xxiv, Rain and some Wind,
good! the xxv, Rain, good still! xxvi, xxvii, xxviii,
Wind and some Rain; would it had been Rain and
some Wind: well 'tis good (when it can be no better,)
xxix, inclining to Rain: inclining to Rain? that's not
so good now: xxx, and xxxi, Wind and no Rain: no
Rain? 'Slid stay; this is worse and worse: what says
he of Saint Swithins? turn back, look, Saint Swithins:
no Rain?
   Maci. O, here's a precious durty damned Rogue.
That fats himself with expectation
Of rotten Weather, and unseason'd Hours;
And he is rich for it, and elder Brother!
His Barns are full! his Reeks and Mows well trod!
His Garners crack with store! O, 'tis well; ha, ha, ha:
A Plague consume thee, and thy House.
   Sord. O, here, St. Swithins, the xv day, variable Wea-
ther, for the most part Rain, good; for the most part
Rain: why, it should Rain forty days after, now, more
or less, it was a rule held, afore I was able to hold a
Plough, and yet here are two days no Rain; ha? it makes
me muse. We'll see how the next Month begins, if that
be better. September, first, second, third, and fourth days,
rainy and blustering; this is well now: fifth, sixth, se-
venth, eighth, and ninth, rainy, with some Thunder; I
marry, this is excellent; the other was false printed sure:
the tenth and eleventh, great store of Rain; O good, good,
good, good, good! the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth
days, Rain; good still: fifteenth, and sixteenth, Rain;
good still: seventeenth and eighteenth, Rain, good still;
nineteenth and twentieth, good still, good still, good still,
good still, good still! one and twentieth, some Rain;
Heavens pleasure, would it were more though: the one
and twentieth, two and twentieth, three and twentieth,
great Tempests of Rain, Thunder, and Lightning.
   O good again, past expectation good!
I thank my blessed Angel; never, never
Laid I Penny better out than this,
To purchase this dear Book: not dear for price,
And yet of me as dearly priz'd as Life,
Since in it, is contain'd the very Life,
Blood, Strength, and Sinews of my Happiness.
Blest be the hour, wherein I bought this Book:
His studies happy that compos'd the Book.
And the Man fortunate that sold the Book.
Sleep with this Charm, and be as true to me,
As I am joy'd, and confident in thee.

[column break]

   Maci. Ha, ha, ha? I' not this good? Is't not pleasing
[The Hinde enters with a Paper.
this?
Ha, ha, ha! God pardon me! ha, ha!
Is't possible that such a spacious Villain
Should live, and not be plagu'd? or lies he hid
Within the wrinckled Bosom of the World,
Where Heaven cannot see him? why, (methinks)
'Tis rare, and strange, that he should breathe, and walk,
Feed with disgestion,digestion sleep, enjoy his Health,
And (like a boist'rous Whale, swallowing the poor)
Still swim in Wealth and Pleasure! is't not strange?
Unless his House and Skin were Thunder-proof,
I wonder at it! Methinks, now, the Hectick,
Gout, Leprosie, or some such loath'd Disease,
Might light upon him; or that Fire (from Heaven)
Might fall upon his Barns; or Mice and Rats
Eat up his Grain; or else that it might rot
Within the hoary Reeks, e'en as it stands:
Methinks this might be well; and after all
The Devil might come and fetch him. I, 'tis true!
Mean time he surfeits in Prosperity,
And thou (in envy of him) gnaw'st thy self:
Peace, Fool, get hence, and tell thy vexed spirit,
"Wealth in this Age will scarcely look on merit.
   Sord. Who brought this same, Sirrah?
   Hine. Marry, Sir, one of the Justices Men, he says 'tis
a Precept, and all their Hands be at it.
   Sord. I, and the prints of them stick in my Flesh,
Deeper than i'their Letters: They have sent me
Pills wrapt in Paper here, that should I take 'em,
Would poyson all the sweetness of my Book,
And turn my Honey into Hemlock-juyce.
But I am wiser than to serve their Precepts,
Or follow their Prescriptions. Here's a device,
To charge me bring my Grain unto the Markets:
I, much, when I have neither Barn nor Garner,
Nor Earth to hide it in, I'll bring it; till then,
Each Corn I send shall be as big as Pauls.
O, but (say some) the poor are like to starve.
Why let 'em starve, what's that to me? are Bees
Bound to keep life in Drones and idle Moths? no:
Why such are these (that term themselves the Poor,
Only because they would be pitied,
But are indeed a sort of lazy Beggars)
Licencious Rogues, and sturdy Vagabonds,
Bred (by the sloth of a fat plenteous Year)
Like Snakes in heat of Summer, out of Dung;
And this is all that these cheap times are good for:
Whereas a wholsom and penurious Dearth
Purges the Soil of such vile excrements,
And kills the Vipers up.      Hine. O, but Master,
Take heed they hear you not.      Sord. Why so?
   Hine. They will exclaim against you.
   Sord. I, their exclaims
Move me as much, as thy Breath moves a Mountain!
Poor Worms, they hiss at me, whilst I at home
Can be contented to applaud my self,
To sit and clap my Hands, and laugh and leap.
Knocking my Head against my Roof, with joy
To see how plump my Bags are, and my Barns.
Sirrah, go, hie you home, and bid your fellows,
Get all their Flayls ready again' I come.
   Hine. I will, Sir.
   Sord. I'll instantly set all my Hines to thrashing
Of a whole reek of Corn, which I will hide
Under the Ground; and with the Straw thereof
I'll stuff the out-sides of my other Mows:
That done, I'll have 'em empty all my Garners,
And i' the friendly Earth bury my store,
That, when the Searchers come, they may suppose
All's spent, and that my Fortunes were belyed.
And to lend more opinion to my want.
And stop that many-mouthed vulgar Dog,
(Which else would still be baying at my Door)
Each

Every Man out of his Humour. 33

Each Market-day, I will be seen to buy
Part of the purest Wheat, as for my Houshold;
Where when it comes, it shall increase my heaps,
'Twill yield me treble gain at this dear time,
Promis'd in this dear Book: I have cast all.
Till then I will not sell an Ear, I'll hang first.
O, I shall make my Prizes as I list,
My House and I can feed on Peas and Barley;
What though a world of wretches starve the while?
"He that will thrive must think no Courses vile.

G R E X.

   Cor. Now, Signior, how approve you this? have the
Humorists exprest themselves truly or no?
   Mit. Yes, (if it be well prosecuted) 'tis hitherto hap-
py enough: but methinks Macilente went hence too
soon, he might have been made to stay, and speak some-
what in reproof of Sordido's wretchedness now at the last.
   Cor. O, no, that had been extreamly improper; be-
sides, he had continued the Scene too long with him, as
'twas, being in no more action.
   Mit. You may enforce the length as a necessary Rea-
son; but for propriety, the Scene would very well have
born it in my Judgment.
   Cor. O, worst of both; why, you mistake his Hu-
mour utterly then.
   Mit. How? do I mistake it? is't not Envy.
   Cor. Yes, but you must understand, Signior, he en-
vies him not as he is a Villain, a Woolf i' the Common-
wealth, but as he is rich and fortunate, for the true con-
dition of Envy, is, Dolor alienæ fælicitatis, to have our
Eyes continually fixt upon another Mans Prosperity,
that is, his chief happiness, and to grieve at that.
Whereas if we make his monstruous and abhord Acti-
ons our Object, the Grief (we take then) comes nearer
the Nature of Hate than Envy, as being bred out of a
kind of contempt and loathing in our selves.
   Mit. So you'll infer it had been Hate, not Envy in
him, to reprehend the Humour of Sordido?
   Cord. Right, for what a Man truly envies in another,
he could always love and cherish in himself; but no
Man truly reprehends in another, what he loves in him-
self; therefore reprehension is out of his hate. And this
distinction hath he himself made in a Speech there (if
you markt it) where he says, I envy not this Buffon, but
I hate him.
   Mit. Stay, Sir: I envy not this Buffon, but I hate him:
why might he not as well have hated Sordido as him?
   Cor. No, Sir, there was subject for his Envy in Sordido,
his Wealth; so was there not in the other. He stood
possest of no one eminent Gift, but a most odious and
Fiend-like Disposition, that would turn Charity it self
into Hate, much more Envy, for the present.
   Mit. You have satisifed me, Sir, O, here comes the
Fool and the Jester again methinks.
   Cor. 'Twere pitty they should be parted, Sir.
   Mit. What bright-shining Gallant's that with them?
the Knight they went to?
   Cor. No, Sir, this is one Monsieur Fastidius Brisk, o-
therwise call'd the fresh Frenchefied Courtier.
   Mit. A Humorist too?
   Cor. As humorous as Quick-silver, do but observe him,
the Scene is the Country still, remember.



Act. II.    Scene I.

Fast. Brisk, Cinedo, Carlo Buffone, Sogliardo.

C
Inedo, watch when the Knight comes, and give us
word.      Cine. I will, Sir.
   Fast. How lik'st thou my Boy, Carlo?
   Car. O, well, well. He looks like a Colonel of the
Pigmies Horse, or one of these Motions, in a great

[column break]

antique Clock: he would shew well upon a Habber-
dashers Stall, at a Corner Shop rarely.
   Fast. What a damn'd witty Rogue's this? how he con-
founds with his Similes?
   Car. Better with similes than smiles: and whetherwhither
were you riding now, Signior?
   Fast. Who, I? what a silly jest's that; whether should
I ride but to the Court?
   Car. O, Pardon me, Sir, twenty places more: your
Hot-house, or your Whore house ———
   Fast. By the virtue of my Soul, this Knight dwells in
Elizium here.
   Car. He's gone now, I thought he would flie out pre-
sently. These be our Nimble-spirited Catso's, that ha'
their evasions at pleasure, will run over a Bog like your
Wild Irish; no sooner started, but they'll leap from one
thing to another, like a Ssquirrel,Squirrel heigh! dance and do
tricks i' their Discourse, from Fire to Water, from Water
to Air, from Air to Earth, as if their Tongues did but
e'en lick the four Elements over, and away.
   Fast. Sirrah, Carlo, thou never saw'st my Grey-hobby
yet, didst thou?
   Car. No: ha' you such a one?
   Fast. The best in Europe (my good villain) thou'lt say,
when thou seest him.
   Car. But when shall I see him?
   Fast. There was a Noble Man i' the Court offered me
a hundred Pound for him, by this Light; a fine little fiery
slave, he runs like a (oh) excellent, excellent! with the
very sound of the Spur.
   Car. How? the sound of the Spur?
   Fast. O, it's your only humour now extant, Sir: a good
gingle, a good gingle.
   Car. You shall see him turn Morrice-dancer, he has got
him Bells, a good Sute, and a Hobby-horse.
   Sog. Signior, now you talk of a Hobby-horse, I know
where one is will not be given for a brace of Angels.
   Fast. How is that, Sir?
   Sog. Marry, Sir, I am telling this Gentleman of a Hobby-
horse, it was my Fathers indeed, and (though I say it —
   Car. That should not say it) on, on.
   Sog. He did dance in it, with as good humour, and
as good regard as any Man of his Degree whatsoever,
being no Gentleman: I have danc't in it my self too.
   Car. Not since the humour of Gentility was upon
you? did you?
   Sog. Yes, once; marry, that was but to shew what a
Gentleman might do in a Humour.
   Car. O, very good.

G R E X.

   Mit. Why, this Fellows discourse were nothing but
for the word Humour.
   Cor. O, bear with him, an' he should lack matter and
words too, 'twere pittiful.
   Sog. Nay, look you Sir, there's ne're a Gentleman
i' the Countrey ha's the like humours, for the Hobby-
horse, as I have; I have the method for the threding of
the Needle and all, the ———
   Car. How, the method?
   Sog. I, the Leigerity for that, the Whigh-hie,
and the Daggers in the Nose, and the Travels of the Egg
from Finger to Finger, all the Humours incident to the
Quality. The Horse hangs at home in my Parlor. I'll
keep it for a Monument as long as I live, sure.
   Car. Do so; and when you die, 'twill be an excellent
Trophee to hang over your Tomb.
   Sog. Mass, and I'll have a Tomb (now I think on't)
'tis but so much Charges.
   Car. Best build it in your Life-time then, your Heirs
hap to forget it else.
   Sog. Nay, I mean so, I'll not trust to them.
   Car. No, for Heirs and Executors are grown dam-
nably careless, specially since the Ghosts of Testa-
F                                      tors


34 Every Man out of his Humour.

tors left walking: how like you him, Signior?
   Fast. 'Fore Heavens, his humour arrides me exceed-
ingly.
   Car. Arrides you?
   Fast. I, pleases me (a pox on't) I am so haunted at
the Court, and at my Lodging, with your refin'd choice
Spirits, that it makes me clean of another Garb, another
sheaf, I know not how! I cannot frame me to your harsh
vulgar Phrase, 'tis against my genius.
   Sog. Signior Carlo.

G R E X.

   Cor. This is right to that of Horace, Dum vitant stulti
vitia, in contraria currunt: so this Gallant, labouring to
avoid popularity, falls into a habit of Affectation, Ten
thousand times hatefuller than the former.
   Car. Who he? a Gull, a Fool, no salt in him i' the
Earth, man: he looks like a fresh Salmon kept in a
Tub, he'll be spent shortly. His Brain's lighter than his
Feather already, and his Tongue more subject to lye,
than that's to wag: he sleeps with a Musk-cat every
night, and walks all day hang'd in Pomander Chains
for Penance: he has his Skin tan'd in Civet, to make his
Complexion strong, and the sweetness of his Youth
lasting in the Sense of his sweet Lady; a good empty
puff, he loves you well, Signior.
   Sog. There shall be no love lost, Sir, I'll assure you.
   Fast. Nay, Carlo, I am not happy i' thy love, I see:
pray thee suffer me to enjoy thy Company a little (sweet
Michief Mischief) by this Air, I shall envy this Gentlemans place
in thy Affections, if you be thus private, i'faith. How
now? is the Knight arriv'd?

C I N E D O.

   Cin. No, Sir, but 'tis guest he will arrive presently, by
his Fore-runners.
   Fast. His Hounds! by Minerva an excellent Figure;
a good Boy.
   Car. You should give him a French Crown for it: the
Boy would find two better Figures i' that, and a good
Figure of your Bounty beside.
   Fast. Tut, the Boy wants no Crowns.
   Car. No Crown: speak i' the singular Number, and
we'll believe you.
   Fast. Nay, thou art so capriciously conceited now.
Sirrah (damnation) I have heard this Knight Puntarvolo,
reported to be a Gentleman of exceeding good humour;
thou know'st him: pr'y thee, how is his Disposition? I
ne're was so favour'd of my Stars, as to see him yet.
Boy, do you look to the Hobby?
   Cin. I, Sir, the Groom has set him up.
   Fast. 'Tis well: I rid out of my way of intent to vi-
sit him, and take knowledg of his —— Nay, good
wickedness, his Humour, his Humour.
   Car. Why, he loves Dogs, and Hawks, and his Wife:
well; he has a good riding face, and he can sit a great
Horse; he will taint a Staff well at Tilt: when he is
mounted he looks like the Sign of the George, that's all
I know, save, that instead of a Dragon, he will bran-
dish against a Tree, and break his Sword as confidently
upon the knotty Bark, as the other did upon the Scales
of the Beast.
   Fast. O, but this is nothing to that's deliver'd of him.
They say he has Dialogues and Discourses between his
Horse, himself, and his Dog: and that he will court his
own Lady, as she were a stranger never encounter'd
before.
   Car. I, that he will, and make fresh love to her eve-
ry morning: this Gentleman has been a spectator of it,
Signior Insulso.
   Sog. I am resolute to keep a Page: say you Sir?
[He leaps from whispering with the Boy.


[column break]

   Car. You have seen Signior Puntarvolo accost his Lady?
   Sog. O, I Sir.
   Fast. And how is the manner of it pr'y thee, good Signior?
   Sog. Faith Sir, in very good sort, he has his humours
for it, Sir: as first, (suppose he were now to come from
riding or hunting, or so) he has his Trumpet to sound,
and then the waiting Gentlewoman, she looks out, and
then he speaks, and then she speaks — very pretty i'faith,
Gentlemen.
   Fast, Why, but do you remember no Particulars,
Signior?
   Sog. O, yes Sir, first, the Gentlewoman, she looks
out at the Window.
   Car. After the Trumpet has summon'd a Parle, not
before?
   Sog. No, Sir, not before: and then says he, ha, ha,
ha, ha, &c.
   Car. What says he? be not rapt so.
   Sog. Says he, ha, ha, ha, ha, &c.
   Fast. Nay, speak, speak.
   Sog. Ha, ha, ha, says he: God save you, says he: ha,
ha, &c.
   Car. Was this the ridiculous motive to all this Passion?
   Sog. Nay, that, that comes after is, ha, ha, ha, ha, &c.
   Car. Doubtless he apprehends more than he utters,
[A cry of Hounds within.
this Fellow: or else,
   Sog. List, list, they are come from hunting: stand by,
close under this Tarras, and you shall see it done better
than I can shew it.
   Car. So it had need, 'twill scarce poize the observa-
tion else.
   Sog. Faith, I remember all, but the manner of it is
quite out of my Head.
   Fast. O, with-draw, with-draw, it cannot be but a
most pleasing Object.

Act II.    Scene II.

[To the rest.
Puntarvolo, Huntsman, Gentlewoman.

F
Orrester, give Wind to thy Horn. Enough; by
 this the Sound hath toucht the Ears of the inclosed:
Depart, leave the Dog, and take with thee what thou
hast deserv'd, the Horn, and Thanks.
   Car. I, marry, there's some taste in this.
   Fast. Is't not good?
   Sog. Ah, peace, now above, now above!
[The Gentlewoman appears at the Window.

   Punt. Stay: mine Eye hath (on the instant) through
the bounty of the Window, receiv'd the form of a Nymph.
I will step forward three Paces; of the which, I will
barely retire one; and (after some little flexure of the
Knee) with an erected grace salute her (one, two, and
three.) Sweet Lady, God save you.
   Gent. No, forsooth: I am but the waiting Gentlewo-
man.
   Car. He knew that before.
   Punt. Pardon me: Humanum est errare.
   Car. He learn'd that of his Chaplain.
   Punt. To the perfection of Complement (which is
the Dial of the thought, and guided by the Sun of your
Beauties) are requir'd these three specials: the gnomon,
the puntilio's, and the superficies: the superficies, is that
we call place; the puntilio's, Circumstance; and the
gnomon Ceremony; in either of which, for a stranger to
err, 'tis easie and facile, and such am I.
   Car. True, not knowing her horizon, he must needs
err; which I fear he knows too well.
   Punt. What call you the Lord of the Castle? sweet face.
   Gent. The Lord of the Castle is a Knight, Sir; Sig-
nior Puntarvolo.
   Punt. Puntarvolo? O.
   Carl. Now must he ruminate.
   Fast. Does the Wench know him all this while, then?
Carl.


Every Man out of his Humour. 35

   Carl. O, do you know me, man? why, therein lyes
the Syrrup of the Jest; it's a project, a designment of
his own, a thing studyed, and rehearst as ordinarily at
his coming from hawking or hunting, as a Jig after a Play.
   Sogl. I, e'en like your Jig, Sir.
   Punt. 'Tis a most sumptuous and stately Edifice! of
what years is the Knight, fair Damsel?
   Gent. Faith, much about your years, Sir.
   Punt. What Complexion or what Stature bears he?
   Gent. Of your Stature, and very near upon your
Complexion.
   Punt. Mine is melancholy.
   Carl. So is the Dogs, just.
   Punt. And doth argue Constancy, chiefly in love.
What are his Endowments? Is he courteous?
   Gent. O, the most courteous Knight in Christian
Land, Sir.
   Punt. Is he magnanimous?
   Gent. As the Skin between your Brows, Sir.
   Punt. Is he bountiful?
   Carl. 'Slud, he takes an Inventory of his own good Parts.
   Gent. Bountiful? I, Sir, I would you should know it;
the Poor are serv'd at his Gate, early and late, Sir.
   Punt. Is he Learned?
   Gent. O, I Sir, he can speak the French and Italian.
   Punt. Then he has travail'd?
   Gent. I, forsooth, he hath been beyond Seas once or
twice.
   Carl. As far as Paris, to fetch over a Fashion, and
come back again.
   Punt. Is he Religious?
   Gent. Religious? I know not what you call religious,
but he goes to Church, I am sure.
   Fast. 'Slid, methinks these answers should offend him.
   Carl. Tut, no; he knows they are excellent, and to
her capacity that speaks 'em.
   Punt. Would I might see his face.
   Carl. She should let down a Glass from the Window
at that word, and request him to look in't.
   Punt. Doubtless the Gentleman is most exact, and ab-
solutely qualified? doth the Castle contain him?
   Gent. No, Sir, he is from home, but his Lady is within.
   Punt. His Lady? what, is she fair? splendidious? and
amiable?
   Gent. O, Lord, Sir!
   Punt. Pr'ythee, dear Nymph, intreat her Beauties to
shine on this side of the building.
   Carl. That he may erect a new Dial of Complement,                 
[Gent. leaves the Window.
with his gnomons and his puntilio's.
   Fast. Nay, thou art such another Cynique now, a Man
had need walk uprightly before thee.
   Carl. Heart, can any Man walk more upright than he
does? Look, look; as if he went in a frame, or had a
Suit of Wanescot on: and the Dog watching him, lest
he should leap out on't.
   Fast. O, villain!
   Carl. Well, and e're I meet him in the City, I'll ha'
him joynted, I'll pawn him in East-cheap, among the
Butchers else.
   Fast. Peace, who be these, Carlo?

Act II.    Scene III.

[To the rest.
Sordido, Fungoso, Lady.

Y
Onder's your God-father; do your Duty to him, Son.
   Sog. This, Sir? a poor elder Brother of mine, Sir,
a Yeoman, may dispend some seven or eight hundred a
year: that's him Son, my Nephew, there.
   Punt. You are not ill-come, Neighbour Sordido, though
I have not yet said, well-come: what, my God-son is
grown a great proficient by this?
   Sord. I hope he will grow great one day, Sir.
   Fast. What does he study? the Law?

[column break]

   Sog. I Sir, he is a Gentleman, though his Father be
but a Yeoman.
   Car. What call you your Nephew, Signior?
   Sog. Marry, his name is Fungoso.
   Car. Fungoso? O, he lookt somewhat like a Spunge in
that Pinct yellow Doublet, methought: well, make
much of him; I see he was never born to ride upon a moyl.
[Return'd above.
   Gent. My Lady will come presently, Sir.
   Sog. O, now, now.
   Punt. Stand by, retire your selves a space: nay, pray
you, forget not the use of your Hat; the Air is piercing.
[Sordido and Fungoso withdraw to the other part of
      the Stage, while the Lady is come to the Window.


   Fast. What? will not their Presence prevail against
the Current of his Humour?
   Car. O, no: it's a meer Flood, a Torrent carries all
afore it.
   Punt. What more than heavenly pulchritude is this?
            What magazine, or treasury of bliss?
            Dazle, you Organs to my optique sense,
            To view a Creature of such eminence:
            O, I am Planet-strook, and in yond sphere,
            A brighter Star than Venus doth appear!
   Fast. How? in Verse!
   Car. An extasie, an extasie, Man,
   Lady. Is your desire to speak with me, Sir Knight?
   Car. He will tell you that anon; neither his Brain,
nor his Body, are yet moulded for an answer.
   Punt. Most debonair, and luculent Lady, I decline
me low as the basis of your Altitude.

G R E X.

   Cor. He makes Congies to his Wife in Geometrical
Proportions.
   Mit. Is't possible there should be any such Humourist?
   Cor. Very easily possible, Sir, you see there is.
   Punt. I have scarce collected my Spirits, but lately
scatter'd in the admiration of your form; to which (if
the Bounties of your mind be any way responsible) I
doubt not, but my desires shall find a smooth, and secure
Passage. I am a poor Knight Errant (Lady) that
hunting in the adjacent Forrest, was by adventure in
the pursuit of a Hart, brought to this place; which
Hart (dear Madam) escaped by Enchantment: the
Evening approaching (my self, and Servant wearied)
my suit is, to your fair Castle, and refresh me.
   Lady. Sir Knight, albeit it be not usual with me
(chiefly in the absence of a Husband) to admit any en-
trance to Strangers, yet in the true regard of those inna-
ted Vertues, and fair Parts, which so strive to express
themselves, in you; I am resolv'd to entertain you to the
best of my unworthy power: which I acknowledg to be
nothing vallu'd with what so worthy a Person may de-
serve. Please you but stay while I descend.
   Punt. Most admir'd Lady, you astonish me!
   Carl. What? with speaking a Speech of your own
[She departs: Puntarvolo falls in with
   Sordido and his Son.
penning?

   Fast. Nay, look; pr'y thee peace.
   Carl. Pox on't: I am impatient of such Foppery.
   Fast. O, let's hear the rest.
   Carl. What? a tedious Chapter of Courtship, after
Sir Lancelot, and Queen Guevener? away. I marl in
what dull cold Nook he found this Lady out? that (be-
ing a Woman) she was blest with no more Copy of wit,
but to serve his humour thus. 'Slud I think he feeds
her with Porridge. I: she could ne're have such a thick
Brain else.
   Sogl. Why, is Porridge so hurtful, Signior?
   Carl. O, nothing under Heaven more prejudicial to
those ascending subtile Powers, or doth sooner abate
that which we call, acumen ingenii, than your gross
Fare: Why, I'll make you an Instance: your
F2                                      City                 


36 Every Man out of his Humour.

City-wives, but observe 'em, you ha' not more perfect
true Fools i' the World bred, than they are generally;
and yet you see (by the fineness and delicacy of their
Diet, diving into the fat Capons, drinking your rich
Wines, feeding on Larks, Sparrows, Potato-pies, and such
good unctuous Meats) how their Wits are refin'd and ra-
rified; and sometimes a very Quintessence of Conceit
flows from 'em, able to drown a weak Apprehension.
   Fast. Peace, here comes the Lady.
   Lady. Gods me, here's Company; turn in again.
[Lady with her Gent. descended, seeing them,
   turns in again.


   Fast. 'Slight, our Presence has cut off the Convoy of
the Jest.
   Carl. All the better, I am glad on't; for the Issue was
very perspicuous. Come, let's discover, and salute the
[Carlo and the other two step forth.
Knight.
   Punt. Stay; who be these that address themselves to-
wards us? What, Carlo? Now, by the sincerity of my
Soul, welcome; welcome Gentlemen: And how dost
thou, thou grand Scourge, or second Untruss of the Time?
   Carl. Faith, spending my Metal in this reeling World
(here and there) as the sway of my Affection carries
me, and perhaps stumble upon a Yeoman Feuterer, as I
do now; or one of Fortunes Moils, laden with Trea-
sure, and an empty Cloke-bag following him, gaping
when a Bag will untie.
   Punt. Peace, you Bandog, peace: What brisk Nym-
fadoro is that in the white Virgin-Boot there?
   Carl, Marry, Sir, one that I must entreat you to take
a very particular knowledge of, and with more than or-
dinary respect; Monsieur Fastidius.
   Punt. Sir, I could wish, that for the time of your
vouchsaft abiding here, and more real Entertainment,
this my House stood on the Muses Hill, and these my
Orchards were those of the Hesperides.
   Fast. I possess as much in your Wish, Sir, as if I were
made Lord of the Indies; and I pray you believe it.
   Car. I have a better opinion of his Faith, than to
think it will be so corrupted.
   Sog. Come, Brother, I'll bring you acquainted with
Gentlemen, and good Fellows, such as shall do you more
grace than ———
   Sord. Brother, I hunger not for such Acquaintance:
Do you take heed, lest ———
[Carlo is coming toward them.

   Sog. Husht: My Brother, Sir, for want of Education,
Sir, somwhat nodding to the Boor, the Clown; but I
request you in private, Sir.
   Fung. By Heaven, it is a very fine Sute of Clothes.

G R E X.

   Cor. Do you observe that, Signior? There's another
Humour has now crackt the Shell.
   Mit. What? he is enamour'd of the Fashion, is he?
   Cor. O, you forestal the Jest.
   Fung. I mar'l what it might stand him in!
   Sog. Nephew?
   Fung. 'Fore me, it's an excellent Sute, and as neatly
becomes him. What said you, Uncle?
   Sog. When saw you my Niece?
   Fung. Marry, yesternight I supt there. That kind of
Boot do's very rare too!
   Sog. And what News hear you?
   Fung. The gilt Spur and all! Would I were hang'd,
but 'tis exceeding good. Say you, Uncle?
   Sog. Your Mind is carried away with somewhat else:
I ask what News you hear?
   Fung. Troth, we hear none. In good faith, I was ne-
ver so pleas'd with a Fashion days of my life. O (an' I
might have but my wish) I'ld ask no more of good now,
but such a Sute, such a Hat, such a Band, such a Doublet,
such a Hose, such a Boot, such a ———

[column break]

   Sog. They say, there's a new Motion of the City of
Niniveh, with Jonas the Whale, to be seen at Fleet-
bridge. You can tell, Cousin?
   Fung. Here's such a world of Questions with him
now: Yes, I think there be such a thing, I saw the Pi-
cture. Would he would once be satisfied. Let me see,
the Doublet, say Fifty shillings the Doublet, and between
three or four Pound the Hose; then Boots, Hat, and
Band: Some ten or eleven Pound will do it all, and Sute
me, 'fore the Heavens.
   Sog. I'll see all those Devices, an' I come to London
once.
   Fung. Gods 'slid, and I could compass it, 'twere rare.
Hark you Uncle.
   Sog. What says my Nephew?
   Fung. Faith Uncle, Il'd ha' desir'd you to have made a
Motion for me to my Father, in a thing that — Walk
aside, and I'll tell you, Sir; no more but this: There's a
parcel of Law-books (some Twenty pounds worth) that
lie in a place for little more than half the Money they
cost, and I think for some twelve Pound, or twenty
Mark, I could go near to redeem 'em; there's Plowden,
Dyar, Brooke, and Fitz-Herbert, divers such as I must have
e'er long; and you know, I were as good save five or six
Pound, as not, Uncle. I pray you, move it for me.
   Sog. That I will: When would you have me do it?
presently?
   Fung. O I, I pray you, good Uncle: God send me
good luck: Lord (an't be thy will) prosper it: O my
Stars, now, now, if it take now, I am made for ever.
   Fast. Shall I tell you, Sir? By this Air, I am the most
beholden to that Lord, of any Gentleman living; he
do's use me the most honourably, and with the greatest
respect, more indeed than can be utter'd with any Opi-
nion of Truth.
   Punt. Then have you the Count Gratiato.
   Fast. As true noble a Gentleman too as any breathes;
I am exceedingly endear'd to his Love: By this Hand,
(I protest to you, Signior, I speak it not gloriously, nor
out of affectation, but) there's he, and the Count Fru-
gale, Signior Illustre, Signior Luculento, and a sort of 'em,
that (when I am at Court) they do share me amongst
'em. Happy is he can enjoy me most private. I do
wish my self sometime an Ubiquitary for their Love, in
good faith.
   Carl. There's ne'er a one of these but might lie a
Week on the Rack, e'er they could bring forth his Name;
and yet he pours them out as familiarly, as if he had
seen 'em stand by the Fire i' the Presence, or ta'n Ta-
bacco with them over the Stage i' the Lords Room.
   Punt. Then you must of necessity know our Court-
star there, that Planet of Wit, Maddona Saviolina?
   Fast. O Lord, Sir! my Mistris.
   Punt. Is she your Mistris!
   Fast. Faith here be some slight Favours of hers, Sir,
that do speak it, she is; as this Scarf, Sir, or this Ribband
in my Ear, or so; this Feather grew in her sweet Fan
sometimes, though now it be my poor Fortune to wear
it, as you see, Sir: slight, slight, a foolish Toy.
   Punt. Well, she is the Lady of a most exalted and in-
genious Spirit.
   Fast. Did you ever hear any Woman speak like her?
or inricht with a more plentiful Discourse?
   Carl. O villanous! nothing but Sound, Sound, a meer
Eccho; she speaks as she goes tir'd, in Cobweb-Lawn,
light, thin; good enough to catch Flies withal.
   Punt. O, manage your Affections.
   Fast. Well, if thou be'st not plagu'd for this Blasphe-
my one day ———
   Punt. Come, regard not a Jester: It is in the power
of my Purse to make him speak well or ill of me.
   Fast. Sir, I affirm it to you (upon my Credit and Judg-
ment) she has the most harmonious and musical strain
of Wit that ever tempted a true Ear; and yet to see,
a rude


Every Man out of his Humour. 37

a rude Tongue would profane Heaven, if it could.
   Punt. I am not ignorant of it, Sir.
   Fast. Oh, it flows from her like Nectar, and she doth
give it that sweet quick Grace, and Exornation in the
Composure, that (by this good Air, as I am an honest
Man, would I might never stir, Sir, but) she do's ob-
serve as pure a Phrase, and use as choice Figures in her
ordinary Conferences, as any be i' the Arcadia
   Carl. Or rather in Green's Works, whence she may steal
with more security.
   Sord. Well, if Ten pound will fetch 'em, you shall
have it; but I'll part with no more.
   Fung. I'll try what that will do, if you please.
   Sord. Do so; and when you have 'em, study hard.
   Fung. Yes, Sir. An' I could study to get Forty shil-
lings more now! Well, I will put my self into the Fa-
shion, as far as this will go, presently.
   Sord. I wonder it rains not! The Almanack says, we
should have store of Rain to day.
   Punt. Why, Sir, to morrow I will associate you to
Court my self, and from thence to the City, about a
Business, a Project I have; I will expose it to you, Sir:
Carlo, I am sure, has heard of it.
   Carl. What's that, Sir?
   Punt. I do intend, this Year of Jubile coming on, to
travel: And (because I will not altogether go upon Ex-
pence) I am determined to put forth some Five thou-
sand Pound, to be paid me Five for One, upon the re-
turn of my self, my Wife, and my Dog, from the Turk's
Court in Constantinople. If all or either of us miscarry
in the Journey, 'tis gone: If we be successful, why,
there will be Five and twenty thousand Pound to enter-
tain Time withal. Nay, go not, Neighbour Sordido,
stay to night, and help to make our Society the fuller.
Gentlemen, frolick: Carlo? what, dull now?
   Carl. I was thinking on your Project, Sir, an' you call
it so? Is this the Dog goes with you?
   Punt. This is the Dog, Sir.
   Carl. He do' not go bare-foot, does he?
   Punt. Away, you Traitor, away.
   Carl. Nay, afore God, I speak simply; he may prick
his Foot with a Thorn, and be as much as the whole
Venture is worth. Besides, for a Dog that never tra-
vell'd before, it's a huge Journey to Constantinople. I'll
tell you now (an' he were mine) I'ld have some present
Conference with a Physician, what Antidotes were
good to give him, Preservatives against Poyson; for
(assure you) if once your Money be out, there'll be
divers Attempts made against the Life of the poor
Animal.
   Punt. Thou art still dangerous.
   Fast. Is Signior Deliro's Wife your Kinswoman?
   Sogl. I, Sir, she is my Niece, my Brother's Daughter
here, and my Nephew's Sister.
   Sord. Do you know her, Sir?
   Fast. O God, Sir, Signior Deliro, her Husband, is my
Merchant.
   Fung. I, I have seen this Gentleman there often.
   Fast. I cry you mercy, Sir: let me crave your Name,
pray you.
   Fung. Fungoso, Sir.
   Fast. Good Signior Fungoso, I shall request to know
you better, Sir.
   Fung. I am her Brother, Sir.
   Fast. In fair time, Sir.
   Punt. Come Gentlemen, I will be your Conduct.
   Fast. Nay, pray you, Sir; we shall meet at Signior
Deliro's often.
   Sogl. You shall ha' me at the Herald's Office, Sir,
for some Week or so at my first coming up. Come,
Carlo.

[column break]

G R E X.

   Mit. Methinks, Cordatus, he dwelt somewhat too long
on this Scene; it hung i' the hand.
   Cor. I see not where he could have insisted less, and
t' have made the Humours perspicuous enough.
   Mit. True, as his Subject lies; but he might have al-
tered the Shape of his Argument, and explicated 'em
better in single Scenes.
   Cor. That had been single indeed. Why, be they
not the same Persons in this, as they would have been
in those? And is it not an Object of more State, to be-
hold the Scene full, and reliev'd with variety of Speak-
ers to the end, than to see a vast empty Stage, and the
Actors come in (one by one) as if they were dropt
down with a Feather into the Eye of the Spectators?
   Mit. Nay, you are better traded with these things
than I, and therefore I'll subscribe to your Judgment;
marry, you shall give me leave to make Objections.
   Cor. O, what else? It's the special Intent of the Au-
thor you should do so; for thereby others (that are
present) may as well be satisfied, who haply would ob-
ject the same you do.
   Mit. So, Sir: But when appears Macilente again?
   Cor. Marry, he stays but till our Silence give him
leave: Here he comes, and with him Signior Deliro, a
Merchant, at whose House he is come to sojourn:
Make your own Observation now, only transfer your
Thoughts to the City, with the Scene; where, suppose
they speak.

Act II.    Scene IV.

Deliro, Macilente, Fido, Fallace.

I
'Ll tell you by and by, Sir.
 Welcome (good Macilente) to my House,
To sojourn at my House for ever; if my best
Incates, and every sort of good Intreaty
[Deliro censeth. His Boy strews Flowers.

May move you stay with me.   Maci. I thank you, Sir.
And yet the muffled Fates (had it pleas'd them)
Might have supply'd me from their own full Store,
Without this Word (I thank you) to a Fool.
I see no Reason why that Dog (call'd Chance)
Should fawn upon this Fellow, more than me:
I am a Man, and I have Limbs, Flesh, Blood,
Bones, Sinews, and a Soul, as well as he:
My Parts are every way as good as his;
If I said better, why, I did not lie.
Nath'less, his Wealth (but nodding on my Wants)
Must make me bow, and cry, (I thank you, Sir.)
   Deli. Dispatch, take heed your Mistris see you not.
   Fido. I warrant you, Sir, I'll steal by her softly.
   Deli. Nay, gentle Friend, be merry, raise your Looks
Out of your Bosom; I protest (by Heaven)
You are the Man most welcome in the World.
   Maci. (I thank you, Sir.) I know my Cue, I think.
   Fido. Where will you have 'em burn, Sir?
[With more Perfumes and Herbs.

   Deli. Here, good Fido. What, she did not see thee?
   Fido. No, Sir.
   Deli. That's well. Strew, strew, good Fido, the freshest
Flowers; so.
   Maci. What means this, Signior Deliro? all this cen-
sing?
   Deli. Cast in more Frankincense, yet more; well said.
O, Macilente, I have such a Wife!
So passing fair! so passing fair! unkind!
But of such worth, and right to be unkind,
(Since no Man can be worthy of her Kindness)
   Maci. What can there not?   Deli. No, that is sure as death,
No Man alive! I do not say, is not,
But


38 Every Man out of his Humour.

But cannot possibly be worth her Kindness!
Nay, it is certain, let me do her right.
How, said I? do her right? as though I could,
As though this dull gross Tongue of mine could utter
The rare, the true, the pure, the infinite rights,
That sit (as high as I can look) within her!
   Maci. This is such dotage, as was never heard.
   Deli. Well, this must needs be granted.
   Maci. Granted, quoth you?
   Deli. Nay, Macilente, do not so discredit
The goodness of your judgment to deny it,
For I do speak the very least of her;
And I would crave, and beg no more of Heaven,
For all my Fortunes here, but to be able
To utter first in fit terms, what she is,
And then the true Joys I conceive in her.
   Maci. Is't possible she should deserve so well,
As you pretend?      Deli. I, and she knows so well
Her own deserts, that (when I strive t' enjoy them)
She weighs the things I do, with what she merits:
And (seeing my worth out-weigh'd so in her graces)
She is so solemn, so precise, so froward,
That no observance I can do to her,
Can make her kind to me: if she find fault,
I mend that fault; and then she says, I faulted,
That I did mend it. Now, good Friend, advise me,
How I may temper this strange Spleen in her.
   Maci. You are too amorous, too obsequious,
And make her too assur'd, she may command you.
When Women doubt most of their Husbands Loves,
They are most loving. Husbands must take heed
They give no gluts of Kindness to their Wives,
But use them like their Horses; whom they feed
Not with a Manger-full of Meat together,
But half a Peck at once: and keep them so
Still with an Appetite to that they give them.
He that desires to have a loving Wife,
Must bridle all the shew of that desire:
Be Kind, not Amorous; nor bewraying Kindness,
As if Love wrought it, but considerate Duty.
"Offer no Love-rites, but let Wives still seek them,
"For when they come unsought, they seldom like them.
   Deli. Believe me, Macilente, this is Gospel.
O, that a Man were his own Man so much,
To rule himself thus. I will strive i'faith,
To be more strange and careless: yet, I hope
I have now taken such a perfect course,
To make her kind to me, and live contended,contented
That I shall find my Kindness well return'd,
And have no need to fight with my Affections.
She (late) hath found much fault with every Room
Within my House; one was too big (she said)
Another was not furnisht to her mind,
And so through all: all which, now, I have alter'd.
Then here, she hath a place (on my back-side)
Wherein she loves to walk; and that (she said)
Had some ill smells about it. Now, this walk
Have I (before she knows it) thus perfum'd
With Herbs, and Flowers, and laid in divers places,
(As 'twere on Altars, consecrate to her)
Perfumed Gloves, and delicate Chains of Amber,
To keep the Air in awe of her sweet Nostrils:
This have I done, and this I think will please her.
Behold she comes.      Fal. Here's a sweet stink indeed:
What, shall I ever be thus crost and plagu'd?
And sick of Husband? O, my Head doth ake,
As it would cleave asunder, with those favours,
All my Rooms alter'd, and but one poor walk
That I delighted in, and that is made
So fulsome with Perfumes, that I am fear'd
(My Brain doth sweat so) I have caught the Plague.
   Deli. Why, (gentle Wife) is now thy walk too sweet?
Thou said'st of late, it had sowr Airs about it,
And found'st much fault, that I did not correct it.

[column break]

   Fal. Why, an' I did find fault, Sir?
   Deli. Nay, dear Wife;
   I know, thou hast said, thou hast lov'd Perfumes,
No Woman better.      Fal. I, long since perhaps,
But now that Sense is alter'd: you would have me
(Like to a Puddle, or a standing Pool)
To have no motion, nor no spirit within me.
No, I am like a pure and sprightly River,
That moves for ever, and yet still the same;
Or Fire, that burns much Wood, yet still one flame.
   Deli. But yesterday, I saw thee at our Garden,
Smelling on Roses, and on Purple Flowers,
And since, I hope, the humour of thy Sense
Is nothing chang'd.
   Fal. Why, those were growing Flowers,
And these within my walk, are cut and strew'd.
   Deli. But yet they have one scent.
   Fal. I! have they so?
In your gross judgment. If you make no difference
Betwixt the scent of growing Flowers, and cut ones,
You have a Sense to taste Lamp-Oil i'faith.
And with such judgment have you chang'd the Cham-
      bers,
Leaving no Room, that I can joy to be in,
In all your House: and now my walk, and all,
You smoak me from, as if I were a Fox,
And long, belike, to drive me quite away.
Well, walk you there, and I'll walk where I list.
   Deli. What shall I do? O, I shall never please her.
   Maci. Out on thee, dotard! what Star rul'd his birth?
That brought him such a Star? blind Fortune still
Bestows her gifts on such as cannot use them:
How long shall I live, e'er I be so happy,
To have a Wife of this exceeding form?
   Deli. Away with 'em, would I had broke a joynt,
When I devis'd this, that should so dislike her.
[Fido bears all away:
Away, bear all away.
   Fal. I, do: for fear
Ought that is there should like her. O, this Man,
How cunningly he can conceal himself!
As though he lov'd? nay, honour'd and ador'd?
   Deli. Why, my sweet Heart?
   Fal. Sweet Heart! O! better still!
And asking, why? wherefore? and looking strangely,
As if he were as White as Innocence.
Alas, you'r simple, you: you cannot change,
Look pale at pleasure, and then red with wonder:
No, no, not you! 'tis pitty o' your naturals.
I did but cast an amorous Eye, e'en now,
Upon a pair of Gloves, that somewhat lik't me,
And straight he noted it, and gave command,
All should be ta'en away.   Deli. Be they my bane then.
What, Sirrah, Fido, bring in those Gloves again,
You took from hence.      Fal. Sir, but do not,
Bring in no Gloves, to spite me: if you do ——
   Deli. Ay me, most wretched; how am I misconstru'd?
   Maci. O, how she tempts my Heart-strings with her
      Eye,
To knit them to her Beauties, or to break?
What mov'd the Heavens, that they could not make
Me such a Woman? but a Man, a Beast,
That hath no bliss like to others. Would to Heaven
(In wreak of my misfortunes) I were turn'd
To some fair Water-Nymph, that (set upon
The deepest Whirl-pit of the rav'nous Seas,)
My adamantive Eyes might head-long hale
This Iron World to me, and drown it all.

G R E X.

   Cor. Behold, behold, the translated Gallant.
   Mit. O, he is welcome.

Act


Every Man out of his Humour. 39

Act II.    Scene V.

[To the rest.
                  Fungoso.

S
Ave you Brother and Sister, save you, Sir; I have
 commendations for you out i' the Country: (I won-
der they take no knowledge of my Sute:) mine Uncle
Sogliardo is in Town. Sister, methinks, you are melan-
choly: why are you so sad? I think you took me for
Master Fastidius Brisk (Sister) did you not?
   Fast.Fal. Why should I take you for him?
   Fung. Nay, nothing — I was lately in Master Fastidius
his company, and methinks we are very like.
   Deli. You have a fair Suit, Brother, 'give you joy on't.
   Fung. Faith, good enough to ride in, Brother; I made
it to ride in.
   Fal. O, now I see the cause of his idle demand, was
his new Suit.
   Deli. Pray you, good Brother, try if you can change
her mood.
   Fung. I warrant you, let me alone. I'll put her out
of her dumps. Sister, how like you my Suit?
   Fal. O, you are a Gallant in print now, Brother.
   Fung. Faith, how like you the Fashion? it's the last
Edition, I assure you.
   Fal. I cannot but like it, to the desert.
   Fung. Troth, Sister, I was fain to borrow these Spurs,
I ha' left my Gown in gage for 'em, pray you lend me
an Angel.
   Fal. Now, beshrow my Heart then.
   Fung. Good truth, I'll pay you again at my next ex-
hibition: I had but bare ten Pound of my Father, and
it would not reach to put me wholly into the Fashion.
   Fal. I care not.
   Fung. I had Spurs of mine own before, but they
were not ginglers. Monsieur Fastidius will be here anon,
Sister.
   Fal. You jest?
   Fung. Never lend me Penny more (while you live
then,) and that I'ld be loth to say, in truth.
   Fal. When did you see him?
   Fung. Yesterday, I came acquainted with him at Sir
Puntarvolo's: nay, sweet Sister.
   Maci. I fain would know of Heaven now, why yond
      Fool
Should wear a Suit of Sattin? he? that Rook?
That painted Jay, with such a deal of out-side?
What is his inside trow? ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.
Good Heaven, give me patience, patience, patience.
A number of these Popenjays there are,
Whom, if a Man confer, and but examine
Their inward merit, with such Men as want;
Lord, Lord, what things they are!
   Fal. Come, when will you pay me again, now?
   Fung. O good Sister!
   Maci. Here comes another.

Act II.    Scene VI.