Part 9 (1/2)

Step. Nay, an't be mine, it shall have a velvet scapbard, coz, that's flat; I'd not wear it, as it is, an you would give me an angel,

Brai. At your wors.h.i.+p's pleasure, sir; nay, 'tis 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

E. Know. Come, come, you shall not buy it: hold, there's a s.h.i.+lling, fellow; take thy rapier.

Step. Why, but I will buy it now, because you say so; and there's another s.h.i.+lling, fellow; I scorn to be out-bidden. What, shall I walk with a cudgel, like Higginbottom, and may have a rapier for money.

E. Know. You may buy one in the city.

Step. Tut! I'll buy this i' the field, so I will: I have a mind to't, because 'tis a field rapier. Tell me your lowest price.

E. Know. You shall not buy it, I. say.

Step. By this money, but I will, though I give more than 'tis worth.

E. Know. Come away, you are a fool.

Step. Friend, I am a fool, that's granted; but I'll have it, for that word's sake. Follow me for your money.

Brai. At your service, sir.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.---Another Part of Moorfields.

Enter KNOWELL.

Know.

I cannot lose the thought yet of this letter, Sent to my son; nor leave t' admire the change Of manners, and the breeding of our youth Within the kingdom, since myself was one--- When I was young, he lived not in the stews Durst have conceived a scorn, and utter'd it, On a gray head; age was authority Against a buffoon, and a man had then A certain reverence paid unto his years, That had none due unto his life: so much The sanct.i.ty of some prevail'd for others.

But now we all are fallen; youth, from their fear, And age, from that which bred it, good example.

Nay, would ourselves were not the first, even parents, That did destroy the hopes in our own children; Or they not learn'd our vices in their cradles, And suck'd in our ill customs with their milk; Ere all their teeth be born, or they can speak, We make their palates cunning; the first words We form their tongues with, are licentious jests: Can it call wh.o.r.e? cry b.a.s.t.a.r.d? O, then, kiss it!

A witty child! can't swear? the father's darling!

Give it two plums. Nay, rather than't shall learn No bawdy song, the mother herself will teach it!--- But this is in the infancy, the days Of the long coat; when it puts on the breeches, It will put off all this: Ay, it is like, When it is gone into the bone already!

No, no; this dye goes deeper than the coat, Or s.h.i.+rt, or skin; it stains into the liver, And heart, in some; and, rather than it should not, Note what we fathers do! look how we live!

What mistresses we keep! at what expense, In our sons' eyes! where they may handle our gifts, Hear our lascivious courts.h.i.+ps, see our dalliance, Taste of the same provoking meats with us, To ruin of our states! Nay, when our own Portion is fled, to prey on the remainder, We call them into fellows.h.i.+p of vice; Bait 'em with the young chamber-maid, to seal, And teach 'em all bad ways to buy affliction.

This is one path: but there are millions more, In which we spoil our own, with leading them.

Well, I thank heaven, I never yet was he That travell'd with my son, before sixteen, To shew him the Venetian courtezans; Nor read the grammar of cheating I had made, To my sharp boy, at twelve; repeating still The rule, Get money; still, get money, boy; No matter by what means; money will do More, boy, than my lord's letter. Neither have I Drest snails or mushrooms curiously before him, Perfumed my sauces, and taught him how to make them; Preceding still, with my gray gluttony, At all the ord'naries, and only fear'd His palate should degenerate, not his manners.

These are the trade of fathers now; however, My son, I hope, hath met within my threshold None of these household precedents, which are strong, And swift, to rape youth to their precipice.

But let the house at home be ne'er so clean Swept, or kept sweet from filth, nay dust and cobwebs, If he will live abroad with his companions, In dung and leystals, it is worth a fear; Nor is the danger of conversing less Than all that I have mention'd of example.

Enter BRAIN WORM, disguised as before.

Brai. My master! nay, faith, have at you; I am flesh'd now, I have sped so well. [Aside.] Wors.h.i.+pful sir, I beseech you, respect the estate of a poor soldier; lam ashamed of this base course of life,--G.o.d's my comfort--but extremity provokes me to't: what remedy?

Know. I have not for you, now.

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