Every Man In His Humour

B >> Ben Jonson >> Every Man In His Humour

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

MAT. Indeed, here are a number of fine speeches in this book: "Oh eyes,
no eyes, but fountains fraught with tears;" there's a conceit: Fountains
fraught with tears. "Oh life, no life, but lively form of death;" is't not
excellent? "Oh world, no world, but mass of public wrongs;" O God's me:
"confused and filled with murder and misdeeds." Is't not simply the best
that ever you heard?
Ha, how do you like it?

BOB. 'Tis good.

MAT. "To thee, the purest object to my sense,
The most refined essence heaven covers,
Send I these lines, wherein I do commence
The happy state of true deserving lovers.
If they prove rough, unpolish'd, harsh, and rude,
Haste made that waste; thus mildly I conclude."

BOB. Nay, proceed, proceed, where's this? where's this?

MAT. This, sir, a toy of mine own in my non-age: but when will you come
and see my study? good faith, I can shew you some very good things I have
done of late: that boot becomes your leg passing well, sir, methinks.

BOB. So, so, it's a fashion gentlemen use.

MAT. Mass, sir, and now you speak of the fashion, Signior Prospero's elder
brother and I are fallen out exceedingly: this other day I happened to
enter into some discourse of a hanger, which, I assure you, both for
fashion and workmanship was most beautiful and gentlemanlike; yet he
condemned it for the most pied and ridiculous that ever he saw.

BOB. Signior Giuliano, was it not? the elder brother?

MAT. Ay, sir, he.

BOB. Hang him, rook! he! why, he has no more judgment than a malt-horse.
By St. George, I hold him the most peremptory absurd clown (one a them) in
Christendom: I protest to you (as I am a gentleman and a soldier) I ne'er
talk'd with the like of him: he has not so much as a good word in his
belly, all iron, iron, a good commodity for a smith to make hob-nails on.

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

BOB. How, the bastinado? how came he by that word, trow?

MAT. Nay, indeed, he said cudgel me; I termed it so for the more grace.

BOB. That may be, for I was sure it was none of his word: but when, when
said he so?

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

BOB. By the life of Pharaoh, an't were my case now, I should send him a
challenge presently: the bastinado! come hither, you shall challenge him;
I'll shew you a trick or two, you shall kill him at pleasure, the first
'stoccado' if you will, by this air.

MAT. Indeed, you have absolute knowledge in the mystery, I have heard, sir.

BOB. Of whom? of whom, I pray?

MAT. Faith, I have heard it spoken of divers, that you have very rare
skill, sir.

BOB. By heaven, no, not I, no skill in the earth: some small science,
know my time, distance, or so, I have profest it more for noblemen and
gentlemen's use than mine own practise, I assure you. Hostess, lend us
another bed-staff here quickly: look you, sir, exalt not your point above
this state at any hand, and let your poniard maintain your defence thus:
give it the gentleman. So, sir, come on, oh, twine your body more about,
that you may come to a more sweet comely gentlemanlike guard; so
indifferent. Hollow your body more, sir, thus: now stand fast on your
left leg, note your distance, keep your due proportion of time: oh, yes
disorder your point most vilely.

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

BOB. Oh, out of measure ill, a well-experienced man would pass upon you at
pleasure.

MAT. How mean you pass upon me?

BOB. Why, thus, sir: make a thrust at me; come in upon my time; control
your point, and make a full career at the body: the best-practis'd
gentlemen of the time term it the 'passado', a most desperate thrust,
believe it.

MAT. Well, come, sir.

BOB. Why, you do not manage your weapons with that facility and grace that
you should do, I have no spirit to play with you, your dearth of judgment
makes you seem tedious.

MAT. But one venue, sir.

BOB. Fie! venue, most gross denomination as ever I heard: oh, the
'stoccado' while you live, Signior, not that. Come, put on your cloak, and
we'll go to some private place where you are acquainted, some tavern or so,
and we'll send for one of these fencers, where he shall breathe you at my
direction, and then I'll teach you that trick; you shall kill him with it
at the first if you please: why, I'll learn you by the true judgment of
the eye, hand, and foot, to control any man's point in the world; Should
your adversary confront you with a pistol, 'twere nothing, you should (by
the same rule) control the bullet, most certain, by Phoebus: unless it
were hail-shot: what money have you about you, sir?

MAT. Faith, I have not past two shillings, or so.

BOB. 'Tis somewhat with the least, but come, when we have done, we'll call
up Signior Prospero; perhaps we shall meet with Coridon his brother there.

[EXEUNT.

SCENE IV. -- ENTER THORELLO, GIULIANO, PISO.

THO. Piso, come hither: there lies a note within, upon my desk; here,
take my key: it's no matter neither, where's the boy?

PIS. Within, sir, in the warehouse.

THO. Let him tell over that Spanish gold, and weigh it, and do you see the
delivery of those wares to Signior Bentivole: I'll be there myself at the
receipt of the money anon.

PIS. Very good, sir.
[EXIT PISO.

THO. Brother, did you see that same fellow there?

GIU. Ay, what of him?

THO. He is e'en the honestest, faithful servant that is this day in
Florence; (I speak a proud word now;) and one that I durst trust my life
into his hands, I have so strong opinion of his love, if need were.

GIU. God send me never such need: but you said you had somewhat to tell
me, what is't?

THO. Faith, brother, I am loath to utter it,
As fearing to abuse your patience,
But that I know your judgment more direct,
Able to sway the nearest of affection.

GIU. Come, come, what needs this circumstance?

THO. I will not say what honour I ascribe
Unto your friendship, nor in what dear state
I hold your love; let my continued zeal,
The constant and religious regard,
That I have ever carried to your name,
My carriage with your sister, all contest,
How much I stand affected to your house.

GIU. You are too tedious, come to the matter, come to the matter.

THO. Then (without further ceremony) thus.
My brother Prospero (I know not how)
Of late is much declined from what he was,
And greatly alter'd in his disposition.
When he came first to lodge here in my house,
Ne'er trust me, if I was not proud of him:
Methought he bare himself with such observance,
So true election and so fair a form:
And (what was chief) it shew'd not borrow'd in him,
But all he did became him as his own,
And seem'd as perfect, proper, and innate,
Unto the mind, as colour to the blood,
But now, his course is so irregular,
So loose affected, and deprived of grace,
And he himself withal so far fallen off
From his first place, that scarce no note remains,
To tell men's judgments where he lately stood;
He's grown a stranger to all due respect,
Forgetful of his friends, and not content
To stale himself in all societies,
He makes my house as common as a Mart,
A Theatre, a public receptacle
For giddy humour, and diseased riot,
And there, (as in a tavern, or a stews,)
He, and his wild associates, spend their hours,
In repetition of lascivious jests,
Swear, leap, and dance, and revel night by night,
Control my servants: and indeed what not?

GIU. Faith, I know not what I should say to him: so God save me, I am
e'en at my wits' end, I have told him enough, one would think, if that
would serve: well, he knows what to trust to for me: let him spend, and
spend, and domineer till his heart ache: an he get a penny more of me,
I'll give him this ear.

THO. Nay, good brother, have patience.

GIU. 'Sblood, he made me, I could eat my very flesh for anger: I marle
you will not tell him of it, how he disquiets your house.

THO. O, there are divers reasons to dissuade me,
But would yourself vouchsafe to travail in it,
(Though but with plain and easy circumstance,)
It would both come much better to his sense,
And savour less of grief and discontent.
You are his elder brother, and that title
Confirms and warrants your authority:
Which (seconded by your aspect) will breed
A kind of duty in him, and regard.
Whereas, if I should intimate the least,
It would but add contempt to his neglect,
Heap worse on ill, rear a huge pile of hate,
That in the building would come tottering down,
And in her ruins bury all our love.
Nay, more than this, brother; if I should speak,
He would be ready in the heat of passion,
To fill the ears of his familiars,
With oft reporting to them, what disgrace
And gross disparagement I had proposed him.
And then would they straight back him in opinion,
Make some loose comment upon every word,
And out of their distracted phantasies,
Contrive some slander, that should dwell with me.
And what would that be, think you? marry, this,
They would give out, (because my wife is fair,
Myself but lately married, and my sister
Here sojourning a virgin in my house,)
That I were jealous: nay, as sure as death,
Thus they would say: and how that I had wrong'd
My brother purposely, thereby to find
An apt pretext to banish them my house.

GIU. Mass, perhaps so.

THO. Brother, they would, believe it: so should I
(Like one of these penurious quack-salvers)
But try experiments upon myself,
Open the gates unto mine own disgrace,
Lend bare-ribb'd envy opportunity
To stab my reputation, and good name.

[ENTER BOBA. AND MAT.
MAT. I will speak to him.

BOB. Speak to him? away, by the life of Pharaoh, you shall not, you shall
not do him that grace: the time of day to you, gentlemen: is Signior
Prospero stirring?

GIU. How then? what should he do?

BOB. Signior Thorello, is he within sir?

THO. He came not to his lodging to-night, sir, I assure you.

GIU. Why, do you hear? you.

BOB. This gentleman hath satisfied me, I'll talk to no Scavenger.

GIU. How, Scavenger? stay, sir, stay.
[EXEUNT.

THO. Nay, brother Giuliano.

GIU. 'Sblood, stand you away, an you love me.

THO. You shall not follow him now, I pray you,
Good faith, you shall not.

GIU. Ha! Scavenger! well, go to, I say little, but, by this good day,
(God forgive me I should swear) if I put it up so, say I am the rankest --
that ever pist. 'Sblood, an I swallow this, I'll ne'er draw my sword in
the sight of man again while I live; I'll sit in a barn with Madge-owlet
first. Scavenger! 'Heart, and I'll go near to fill that huge tumbrel slop
of yours with somewhat, as I have good luck, your Gargantua breech cannot
carry it away so.

THO. Oh, do not fret yourself thus, never think on't.

GIU. These are my brother's consorts, these, these are his Comrades, his
walking mates, he's a gallant, a Cavaliero too, right hangman cut. God let
me not live, an I could not find in my heart to swinge the whole next of
them, one after another, and begin with him first, I am grieved it should
be said he is my brother, and take these courses, well, he shall hear on't,
and that tightly too, an I live, i'faith.

THO. But, brother, let your apprehension (then)
Run in an easy current, not transported
With heady rashness, or devouring choler,
And rather carry a persuading spirit,
Whose powers will pierce more gently; and allure
Th' imperfect thoughts you labour to reclaim,
To a more sudden and resolved assent.

GIU. Ay, ay, let me alone for that, I warrant you.

[BELL RINGS.

THO. How now! oh, the bell rings to breakfast.
Brother Giuliano, I pray you go in and bear my wife company: I'll but give
order to my servants for the dispatch of some business, and come to you
presently.
[EXIT GIU.
[ENTER COB.
What, Cob! our maids will have you by the back (i'faith)
For coming so late this morning.

COB. Perhaps so, sir, take heed somebody have not them by the belly for
walking so late in the evening.
[EXIT.

THO. Now (in good faith) my mind is somewhat eased,
Though not reposed in that security
As I could wish; well, I must be content,
Howe'er I set a face on't to the world,
Would I had lost this finger at a vent,
So Prospero had ne'er lodged in my house,
Why't cannot be, where there is such resort
Of wanton gallants, and young revellers,
That any woman should be honest long.
Is't like, that factious beauty will preserve
The sovereign state of chastity unscarr'd,
When such strong motives muster, and make head
Against her single peace? no, no: beware
When mutual pleasure sways the appetite,
And spirits of one kind and quality,
Do meet to parley in the pride of blood.
Well, (to be plain) if I but thought the time
Had answer'd their affections, all the world
Should not persuade me, but I were a cuckold:
Marry, I hope they have not got that start.
For opportunity hath balk'd them yet,
And shall do still, while I have eyes and ears
To attend the imposition of my heart:
My presence shall be as an iron bar,
'Twixt the conspiring motions of desire,
Yea, every look or glance mine eye objects,
Shall check occasion, as one doth his slave,
[ENTER BIANCHA WITH HESPERIDA.
When he forgets the limits of prescription.

BIA. Sister Hesperida, I pray you fetch down the rose-water above in the
closet: Sweet-heart, will you come in to breakfast?

THO. An she have overheard me now?

[EXIT HESPERIDA.

BIA. I pray thee, (good Muss) we stay for you.

THO. By Christ, I would not for a thousand crowns.

BIA. What ail you, sweet-heart? are you not well? speak, good Muss.

THO. Troth, my head aches extremely on a sudden.

BIA. Oh Jesu!

THO. How now! what!

BIA. Good Lord, how it burns! Muss, keep you warm; good truth, it is this
new disease, there's a number are troubled withall for God's sake,
sweet-heart, come in out of the air.

THO. How simple, and how subtle are her answers!
A new disease, and many troubled with it.
Why true, she heard me all the world to nothing.

BIA. I pray thee, good sweet-heart, come in; the air will do you harm, in
troth.

THO. I'll come to you presently, it will away, I hope.

BIA. Pray God it do.
[EXIT.

THO. A new disease! I know not, new or old,
But it may well be call'd poor mortals' Plague;
For like a pestilence it doth infect
The houses of the brain: first it begins
Solely to work upon the phantasy,
Filling her seat with such pestiferous air,
As soon corrupts the judgment, and from thence,
Sends like contagion to the memory,
Still each of other catching the infection,
Which as a searching vapour spreads itself
Confusedly through every sensive part,
Till not a thought or motion in the mind
Be free from the black poison of suspect.
Ah, but what error is it to know this,
And want the free election of the soul
In such extremes! well, I will once more strive
(Even in despite of hell) myself to be,
And shake this fever off that thus shakes me.
[EXIT.

----------------------------------------------

ACT II

SCENE I. -- ENTER MUSCO, DISGUISED LIKE A SOLDIER.

MUS. 'Sblood, I cannot choose but laugh to see myself translated thus,
from a poor creature to a creator; for now must I create an intolerable
sort of lies, or else my profession loses his grace, and yet the lie to a
man of my coat is as ominous as the Fico, oh sir, it holds for good policy
to have that outwardly in vilest estimation, that inwardly is most dear to
us: So much for my borrowed shape. Well, the troth is, my master intends
to follow his son dry-foot to Florence, this morning: now I, knowing of
this conspiracy, and the rather to insinuate with my young master, (for so
must we that are blue waiters, or men of service do, or else perhaps we may
wear motley at the year's end, and who wears motley you know:) I have got
me afore in this disguise, determining here to lie in ambuscado, and
intercept him in the midway; if I can but get his cloak, his purse, his
hat, nay, anything so I can stay his journey, 'Rex Regum', I am made for
ever, i'faith: well, now must I practise to get the true garb of one of
these 'Lance-knights; my arm here, and my -- God's so, young master and his
cousin.

LOR. JU. So, sir, and how then?

[ENTER LOR. JU. AND STEP.

STEP. God's foot, I have lost my purse, I think.

LOR. JU. How? lost your purse? where? when had you it?

STEP. I cannot tell, stay.

MUS. 'Slid, I am afraid they will know me, would I could get by them.

LOR. JU. What! have you it?

STEP. No, I think I was bewitched, I.

LOR. JU. Nay, do not weep, a pox on it, hang it, let it go.

STEP. Oh, it's here; nay, an it had been lost, I had not cared but for a
jet ring Marina sent me.

LOR. JU. A jet ring! oh, the poesie, the poesie!

STEP. Fine, i'faith: "Though fancy sleep, my love is deep": meaning that
though I did not fancy her, yet she loved me dearly.

LOR. JU. Most excellent.

STEP. And then I sent her another, and my poesie was: "The deeper the
sweeter, I'll be judged by Saint Peter".

LOR. JU. How, by St. Peter? I do not conceive that.

STEP. Marry, St. Peter to make up the metre.

LOR JU. Well, you are beholding to that Saint, he help'd you at your need;
thank him, thank him.

MUS. I will venture, come what will: Gentlemen, please you change a few
crowns for a very excellent good blade here; I am a poor gentleman, a
soldier, one that (in the better state of my fortunes) scorned so mean a
refuge, but now it's the humour of necessity to have it so: you seem to
be, gentlemen, well affected to martial men, else I should rather die with
silence, than live with shame: howe'er, vouchsafe to remember it is my
want speaks, not myself: this condition agrees not with my spirit.

LOR. JU. Where hast thou served?

MUS. May it please you, Signior, in all the provinces of Bohemia, Hungaria,
Dalmatia, Poland, where not? I have been a poor servitor by sea and land,
any time this xiiij. years, and follow'd the fortunes of the best
Commanders in Christendom. I was twice shot at the taking of Aleppo, once
at the relief of Vienna; I have been at America in the galleys thrice,
where I was most dangerously shot in the head, through both the thighs, and
yet, being thus maim'd I am void of maintenance, nothing left me but my
scars, the noted marks of my resolution.

STEP. How will you sell this rapier, friend?

MUS. Faith, Signior, I refer it to your own judgment; you are a gentleman,
give me what you please.

STEP. True, I am a gentleman, I know that; but what though, I pray you
say, what would you ask?

MUS. I assure you the blade may become the side of the best prince in Europe.

LOR. JU. Ay, with a velvet scabbard.

STEP. Nay, an't be mine it shall have a velvet scabbard, that is flat, I'd
not wear it as 'tis an you would give me an angel.

MUS. At your pleasure, Signior, nay, it's a most pure Toledo.

STEP. I had rather it were a Spaniard: but tell me, what shall I give you
for it? an it had a silver hilt --

LOR. JU. Come, come, you shall not buy it; hold, there's a shilling,
friend, take thy rapier.

STEP. Why, but I will buy it now, because you say so: what, shall I go
without a rapier?

LOR. JU. You may buy one in the city.

STEP. Tut, I'll buy this, so I will; tell me your lowest price.

LOR. JU. You shall not, I say.

STEP. By God's lid, but I will, though I give more than 'tis worth.

LOR. JU. Come away, you are a fool.

STEP. Friend, I'll have it for that word: follow me.

MUS. At your service, Signior.
[EXEUNT.

SCENE II. -- ENTER LORENZO SENIOR.

LOR. SE. My labouring spirit being late opprest
With my son's folly, can embrace no rest
Till it hath plotted by advice and skill,
How to reduce him from affected will
To reason's manage; which while I intend,
My troubled soul begins to apprehend
A farther secret, and to meditate
Upon the difference of man's estate:
Where is decipher'd to true judgment's eye
A deep, conceal'd, and precious mystery.
Yet can I not but worthily admire
At nature's art: who (when she did inspire
This beat of life) placed Reason (as a king)
Here in the head, to have the marshalling
Of our affections: and with sovereignty
To sway the state of our weak empery.
But as in divers commonwealths we see,
The form of government to disagree:
Even so in man, who searcheth soon shall find
As much or more variety of mind.
Some men's affections like a sullen wife,
Is with her husband reason still at strife.
Others (like proud arch-traitors that rebel
Against their sovereign) practise to expel
Their liege Lord Reason, and not shame to tread
Upon his holy and anointed head.
But as that land or nation best doth thrive,
Which to smooth-fronted peace is most proclive,
So doth that mind, whose fair affections ranged
By reason's rules, stand constant and unchanged,
Else, if the power of reason be not such,
Why do we attribute to him so much?
Or why are we obsequious to his law,
If he want spirit our affects to awe?
Oh no, I argue weakly, he is strong,
Albeit my son have done him too much wrong.

[ENTER MUSCO.
MUS. My master: nay, faith, have at you: I am flesh'd now I have sped so
well: Gentleman, I beseech you respect the estate of a poor soldier; I am
ashamed of this base course of life, (God's my comfort) but extremity
provokes me to't; what remedy?

LOR. SE. I have not for you now.

MUS. By the faith I bear unto God, gentleman, it is no ordinary custom,
but only to preserve manhood. I protest to you, a man I have been, a man I
may be, by your sweet bounty.

LOR. SE. I pray thee, good friend, be satisfied.

MUS. Good Signior: by Jesu, you may do the part of a kind gentleman, in
lending a poor soldier the price of two cans of beer, a matter of small
value, the King of heaven shall pay you, and I shall rest thankful: sweet
Signior --

LOR. SE. Nay, an you be so importunate --

MUS. O Lord, sir, need will have his course: I was not made to this vile
use; well, the edge of the enemy could not have abated me so much: it's
hard when a man hath served in his Prince's cause and be thus. Signior,
let me derive a small piece of silver from you, it shall not be given in
the course of time, by this good ground, I was fain to pawn my rapier last
night for a poor supper, I am a Pagan else: sweet Signior --

LOR. SE. Believe me, I am rapt with admiration,
To think a man of thy exterior presence
Should (in the constitution of the mind)
Be so degenerate, infirm, and base.
Art thou a man? and sham'st thou not to beg?
To practise such a servile kind of life?
Why, were thy education ne'er so mean,
Having thy limbs? a thousand fairer courses
Offer themselves to thy election.
Nay, there the wars might still supply thy wants,
Or service of some virtuous gentleman,
Or honest labour; nay, what can I name,
But would become thee better than to beg?
But men of your condition feed on sloth,
As doth the Scarab on the dung she breeds in,
Not caring how the temper of your spirits
Is eaten with the rust of idleness.
Now, afore God, whate'er he be that should
Relieve a person of thy quality,
While you insist in this loose desperate course,
I would esteem the sin not thine, but his.

MUS. Faith, Signior, I would gladly find some other course, if so.

LOR. SE. Ay, you'd gladly find it, but you will not seek it.

MUS. Alas, sir, where should a man seek? in the wars, there's no ascent
by desert in these days, but -- and for service, would it were as soon
purchased as wish'd for, (God's my comfort) I know what I would say.

LOR. SE. What's thy name?

MUS. Please you: Portensio.

LOR. SE. Portensio?
Say that a man should entertain thee now,
Would thou be honest, humble, just, and true?

MUS. Signior: by the place and honour of a soldier --

LOR. SE. Nay, nay, I like not these affected oaths;
Speak plainly, man: what thinkst thou of my words?

MUS. Nothing, Signior, but wish my fortunes were as happy as my service
should be honest.

LOR. SE. Well, follow me, I'll prove thee, if thy deeds
Will carry a proportion to thy words.
[EXIT LOR. SE.

MUS. Yes, sir, straight, I'll but garter my hose; oh, that my belly were
hoop'd now, for I am ready to burst with laughing. 'Slid, was there ever
seen a fox in years to betray himself thus? now shall I be possest of all
his determinations, and consequently my young master; well, he is resolved
to prove my honesty: faith, and I am resolved to prove his patience: oh,
I shall abuse him intolerably: this small piece of service will bring him
clean out of love with the soldier for ever. It's no matter, let the world
think me a bad counterfeit, if I cannot give him the slip at an instant;
why, this is better than to have stayed his journey by half: well, I'll
follow him. Oh, how I long to be employed.
[EXIT.

SCENE III. -- ENTER PROSPERO, BOBADILLA, AND MATHEO.

MAT. Yes, faith, sir, we were at your lodging to seek you too.

PROS. Oh, I came not there to-night.

BOB. Your brother delivered us as much.

PROS. Who, Giuliano?

BOB. Giuliano. Signior Prospero, I know not in what kind you value me,
but let me tell you this: as sure as God, I do hold it so much out of mine
honour and reputation, if I should but cast the least regard upon such a
dunghill of flesh; I protest to you (as I have a soul to be saved) I ne'er
saw any gentlemanlike part in him: an there were no more men living upon
the face of the earth, I should not fancy him, by Phoebus.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11