But since, time and the truth have waked my judgment,

And reason taught me better to distinguish
The vain from the useful learnings-

Enter Master STEPHEN.

Kno. O, well, coz, go in and see: I doubt he be scarce stirring yet.

Step. Uncle, after I go in, can you tell me an' he have e'er a book of the sciences of hawking and hunting? I would fain borrow it.

Kno. Why, I hope you will not a hawking now, will you?

Step. No wosse, but I'll practise against the next year, uncle. I have bought me a hawk, and a hood, and bells, and all; I lack nothing but a book to keep it by:

Kno. O, most ridiculous!

Step. Nay, look you now, you are angry, un

Learn to be wise, and practise how to thrive;
That would I have thee do: and not to spend
Your coin on every bauble, that you fancy,
On every foolish brain, that humours you.
I would not have you to invade each place,
Nor thrust yourself on all societies,
Till men's affections, or your own desert,
Should worthily invite you to your rank.
He, that is so respectless in his courses,
Oft sells his reputation at cheap market.
Nor would I you should melt away yourself
In flashing bravery, lest, while you affect
To make a blaze of gentry to the world,
A little puff of scorn extinguish it,
And you be left like an unsavoury snuff,
Whose property is only to offend.
I'd have you sober and contain yourself:
Not, that your sail be bigger than your boat:
But moderate your expences now (at first),
As you may keep the same proportion still.
Nor stand so much on your gentility,
Which is an airy, and mere borrowed thing,
From dead men's dust and bones: and none of
yours

Except you make, or hold it. Who comes here?
Enter a Servant.

Serv. Save you, gentlemen.

Step. Nay, we do not stand much on our gentility, friend; yet, you are welcome; and I assure you mine uncle here is a man of a thousand

in the hawking and hunting languages now-adays, I'll not give a rush for him. They are more studied than the Greek, or the Latin. He is for no gallant's company without them. And by Gad's lid I scorn it, I, so I do, to be a consort for every hum-drum; hang them scroyls, there's nothing in them, in the world. What do you talk on it? Because I dwell at Hogsder. I shall keep company with none but the archers of Finsbury! or the citizens, that come a ducking to Islington ponds! A fine jest i'faith! slid, a gentleman mun show himself like a gentleman.Uncle, I pray you be not angry. I know what I have to do; I trow, I am no novice.

Kno. You are a prodigal, absurd coxcomb: go

to!

Nay, never look at me, 'tis I that speak.
Take it as you will, sir, I'll not flatter you..
Have you not yet found means enow to waste
That, which your friends have left you, but you

must

Go cast away your money on a kite,

And know not how to keep it, when you've done? O, 'tis comely! this will make you a gentleman! Well, cousin, well! I see you are e'en past hope Of all reclaim. Ay, so, now you're told on it, You look another way.

the world; I am his next heir (at the common law) master Stephen, as simple as I stand here; if my cousin die (as there is hope he will.) I have a pretty living o' my own too, beside, hard by here.

Serv. In good time, sir.

Step. In good time, sir! why? and in very good time, sir. You do not flout, friend, do you? Serv. Not I, sir.

Step. Not you, sir! you were best not, sir; an' you should, here be them can perceive it, and that quickly too: go to. And they can give it again soundly too, an' need be.

Serv. Why, sir, let this satisfy you: good faith, I had no such intent.

Step. Sir, an' I thought you had, I would talk with you, and that presently.

Serv. Good master Stephen, so you may, sir, at your pleasure.

Step. And so I would, sir, good my saucy companion, an' you were out of my uncle's ground, I can tell you; though I do not stand upon my gentility neither in it.

Kno. Cousin! cousin! Will this ne'er be left? Step. Whoreson, base fellow? a mechanical serving man? By this cudgel, an' 'twere not for shame, I would

Kno. What would you do, you peremptory gull?

If you cannot be quiet, get you hence.

You see, the honest man demeans himself
Modestly towards you, giving no reply

To your unseasoned, quarrelling, rude fashion :
And still you huff it, with a kind of carriage,
As void of wit, as of humanity.

Go, get you in! 'fore Heaven, I am ashamed
Thou hast a kinsman's interest in me.

[Erit STEPHEN.

Serv. I pray you, sir, is this master Kno'well's house?

Kno. Yes, marry, is it, sir.

Serv. I should inquire for a gentleman here, one master Edward Kno'well: do you know any such, sir, I pray you?

Kno. I should forget myself else, sir.

Serv. Are you the gentleman? cry your mercy, sir: I was required by a gentleman in the city, as I rode out at this end of the town, to deliver you this letter, sir.

Kno. To me, sir? [To his most selected friend, Master Edward Kno'well.] What might the gentleman's name be, sir, that sent it?

Serv. One Master Well-bred, sir. Kno. Master Well-bred! A young gentleman, is he not?

Serv. The same, sir; Master Kitely married his sister: the rich merchant in the Old Jewry. Kno. You say very true. Brain-worm!

Brain. Sir.

Enter BRAIN-WORM.

Kno. Make this honest friend drink here. Pray you go in.

[Ereunt BRAINWORM and Servant.

This letter is directed to my son :

Yet I am Edward Kno'well too, and may, With the safe conscience of good manners, use The fellow's error to my satisfaction.

Well, I will break it ope (old men are curious) Be it but for the style's sake, and the phrase, To see if both do answer my son's praises, Who is almost grown the idolater

Of this young Well-bred: What have we here?

८

What's this?

[The letter.]

'Why, Ned, I beseech thee, hast thou foresworn all thy friends i' the Old Jewry? or dost 'thou think us all Jews, that inhabit there? Leave 'thy vigilant father alone, to number over his 'green apricots, evening and morning, o' the north-west wall: an' I had been his son, I had 'saved him the labour long since; if taking in all 'the young wenches that pass by, at the back* door, and coddling every kernel of the fruit for 'them would have served. But prithee, come ' over to me, quickly, this morning: I have such 'a present for thee! Our Turkey company never

sent the like to the Grand Signior. One is a 'rhimer, sir, o' your own batch, your own leven; 'but doth think himself poet-major o' the town; 'willing to be shewn, and worthy to be seen.'The other-I will not venture his description 'with you till you come, because I would have you make hither with an appetite. If the worst ' of them be not worth your journey, draw your 'bill of charges, as unconscionable as any Guild'hall verdict will give it you, and you shall be 'allowed your Viaticum.

6

your life.

Brain. O lord, sir, that were a jest indeed!

Kno. I am resolved I will not stop his journey;

Nor practise any violent means to stay
The unbridled course of youth in him: for that,
Restrained, grows more impatient.
There is a way of winning, more by love,
And urging of the modesty, than fear:
Force works on servile natures, not the free.
He, that's compelled to goodness, may be good;
But, 'tis but for that fit: where others, drawn
By softness, and example, get a habit.