COB

Who's there? Oh, master MATTHEW! give your worship good morrow. I, sir, I and my lineage have kept a poor house, here, in our days. Why sir, and ancient lineage, and a princely. Mine ance'trie came from a Kings belly, no worse man: and yet no man neither (by your worships leave, I did lie in that) but Herring the King of fish (from his belly, I proceed) one of the Monarchs of the world, I assure you. The first read herring, that was broiled in ADAM, and EVE'S kitchen, do I fetch my pedigree from, by the Harrots books. His COB, was my great-great-mighty-great Grand father. Oh, it was a mighty while ago, sir, and a mighty great COB. How know I? why, I smell his ghost, ever and anon. I sir, with avour of your worships nose, M r . MATTHEW, why not the ghost of a herring-cob, as well as the ghost of rasher-bacon? I say rasher-bacon. They were both broiled of the col S? and a man may smell broyld-meate, I hope? you are a scholar, vpsolue me that, now. Oh, my guest, sir! you mean. Why do you laugh, sir? Do you not mean Captain BO BADILL? I will not give it him, though, sir. Mass, I thought somewhat was in't, we could not get him to bed, all night! Well, sir, though he lie not of my bed, he lies of my bench: and it please you to go up, sir, you shall find him with two cushions under his head, and his cloak wrapped a bout him, as though he had neither won nor lost, and yet (I warrant) he never cast better in his life, then he has done, to night. Drunk, sir? you hear not me say so. Perhaps, he swallowed a tavern-token, or some such device, sir: I have nothing to do withal. I deal with water, and not with wine. Gi'me my tankard there, hough. God b'w'you, sir. It's six a clock: I should have carried two turns, by this. What hough? my stopple? come. What TIB, show this gentleman up to the Captain. Oh, and my house were the Brazenhead now! faith, it would eene speak, More fools yet. You should have some now would take this M r . MATTHEW to be a gentleman, at the least. His father's and honest man, a worshipful fish monger, and so forth; and now dos he creep, and wriggle into acquain tance with all the brave gallants about the town, such as my guest is: (O, my guest is a fine man) and they flout him invincibly. He uses every day to a Merchant's house (where I serve water) one master KITE LY'S, in the old Jewry ; and here's the jest, he is in love with my Master's si ster, (mistress BRIDGET) and calls her mistress: and there he will fit you a whole afternoon sometimes, reading of these same abomi nable, vile, (a pox on them, I cannot abide them) rascally verses, poy try, poyetrie , and speaking of interludes , it'll make a man burst to hear him. And the wenches, they do so gear, and ti-he at him—well, should they do so much to me, Ild forswear them all, by the foot of PHARAOH. There's and oath! How many water-bearers shall you hear swear such and oath? O, I have a guest (he teaches me) he dos swear the legiblest, of any man christened: By S to . GEORGE, the foot of PHARAOH, the body of me, as I am gentleman, and a soldier: such dainty oaths! and withal, he dos take this same filthy roguish tobacco , the finest, and cleanliest! it would do a man good to see the fume come forth at is tonnells! Well, he owes me forty shillings (my wife lent him out of her purse, by sixpence a time) beside his lodging: I would I had it. I shall have it, he says, the next A ction. Helter skelter , hang sorrow, care will kill a cat, vp-tailes all, and a louse for the hangman. Hostess, hostess. Perhaps so, sir, take heed some body have not them by the belly, for walking so late in the evening. Collar, master THOMAS? I scorn your collar, I sir, I am none o'your carthorse, though I carry, and draw water. And you offer to ride me, with your collar, or halter either, I may hap show you a jades trick, sir. Nay, I have my rheum, & I can be angry as well as another, sir. Humour? mack, I think it be so, indeed: what is that humour? some rare thing, I warrant. How? must it be fed? I'll none on it: Humour, avant, I know you not, be gone. Let who will make hungry meals for your monster-ship, it shall not be I. Feed you, quoth he? 'Slid, I ha'much ado, to feed my self; especially, on these lean rascally days, too; an't had been any other day, but a fasting day (a plague on them all for me) by this light, one might have done the commonwealth good service, and have drowned them all in the flood, two or three hundred thousand years ago. Oh, I do stomach them hugely! I have a maw now, an't were for S r BEVIS his horse, against them. Marry that, which will make any man out of love with them, I think: their bade conditions, and you will needs know. First, they are of a Flemish breed, I am sure on't, for they raven up more butter, then all the days of the week, beside; next, they stink of fish, and leeke-por ridge miserably: thirdly, they'le keep a man devoutly hungry, all day, and at night send him supperless to bed. Nay, and this were all, 'twere something, but they are the only known enemies, to my generation. A fasting-day, no sooner comes, but my lineage goes to rack, poor cobs they smoke for it, they are made martyrs o'the gridiron, they melt in passion: and your maids too know this, and yet would have me turn HANNIBAL, and eat my own fish, and blood: My princely couz, fear nothing; I have not the heart to devour you, & I might be made as rich as King COPHETVA. Oh, that I had room for my tears, I could weep salt-water enough, now, to preserve the lives of ten thousand of my kin. But, I may curse none but these filthy Alma nacles , for an't were not for them, these days of persecution would never be known. I'll be hanged, an'some Fishmongers son do not make of hem; and puts in more fasting-dais then he should do, because he would utter his father's dried stockfish, and stinking conger. Oh, o? By gods me, I marl, what pleasure, or felicity they have in taking this roguish tobacco ! it's good for nothing, but to choke a man, and fill him full of smoke, and embers: there were four died out of one house, last week, with taking of it, and two more the bell went for, you ster-night; one of them (they say) will never escape it: he voided a bushel of soot yesterday, upward, and downward. By the stocks, and there were no wiser men then I, I'd have it present whipping, man, or woman, that should but deal with a tobacco -pipe; why, it will stifle them all in the end, as many as use it; it's little better then rats bane, or rosaker. Nay, he will not meddle with his match, I warrant you: well it shall be a deer beating, and I live. Marry sir, your brother, master WELLBRED— Strangers? let me see, one, two; mass I know not well, there are so many. I, there's some five, or six of them, at the most. A little while, sir. No, sir. Like enough, sir, yet, I herd not a word of it. By my troth, sir, will you have the truth of it? Then, I am a vagabond, and fitter for Bridewell , then your wor ships company, if I saw any body to be kissed, unless they would have kissed the post, in the middle of the warehouse; for there I left them all, at their tobacco , with a pox. O no sir. Nay, soft and fair, I have eggs on the spit; I cannot go yet, sir. Now am I for some five and fifty reasons hammering, hammering re venge: o, for three or four gallons of vinegar, to sharpen my wits. Re venge, vinegar revenge: vinegar, and mustard revenge: nay, and he had not lyen in my house, it would never have grieved me, but being my guest, one, that I'll be sworn, my wife ha lent him her smock off her back, while his one shirt ha been at washing; pawned her neckerchers for clean bans for him; sold almost all my platters, to buy him tobacco ; and he to turn monster of ingratitude, and strike his lawful host! well, I hope to raise up and host of fury for't: here comes Justice CLEMENT. WHat's master KITELY gone? ROGER? An't please your worship, I am a poor neighbour of your worships— I dwell, sir, at the sign of the water-tankerd, hard by the green lattice: I have paid scot, and lot there, any time this eighteen years. No, sir, to the parish: marry, I have seldom scaped scotfree, at the lattice. An't Like your worship, I am come, to crave the peace of your worship. No, sir, but your worships warrant, for one that ha wronged me, sir: his arms are at too much liberty, I would feign have them bound to a treaty of peace, and my credit could compass it, with your worship. No sir; but I go in danger of my death, every hour, by his means: and I die, within a twelvemonth and a day, I may swear, by the law of the land, that he killed me. Marry, an't please your worship, both black, and blue; colour enough, I warrant you. I have it here, to show your worship. A gentleman, and a soldier, he says he is, o'the city here. Captain BOBADIL. Marry, indeed, and please your worship, only because I spoke against their vagrant tobacco , as I came by them, when they were taking on't, for nothing else. OLIVER, sir, OLIVER COB, sir. Oh, I beseech your worship, for gods sake, deer master Justice. Oh, good master Justice, sweet old gentleman. Dear master Justice; Let me be beaten again, I have de served it: but not the prison, I beseech you. Oh, the Lord maintain his worship, his worthy worship. Nay, you have stonn'd me, I faith! you have given me a knock of the forehead, will stick by me! cuckold? 'slid, cuckold? May I? TIB, you are a whore. How, the lie? and in my throat too? do you long to be stabbed, would? Oh, must you be stabbed by a soldier? Mass, that's true! when was BOBADILL here? your Captain? that rogue, that foist, that fencing Burgullian? I'll tickle him, i'faith. Why, what's the matter? trow! Oh, he has baste worser me, rarely, sumptuously! but I have it herein black and white; for his black, and blue: shall pay him. Oh, the Justice! the honestest old brave Trojan in London ! I do honour the very flay of his dog. A plague on him though, he put me once in a villainous filthy fear; marry, it vanished away, Like the smoke of tobacco: but I was smoked soundly first. I thank the devil, and his good angel, my guest. Well, wife, or TIB (which you will) get you in, and lock the door, I charge you, let no body in to you; wife, no body in, to you: those are my words. Not Captain BOB himself, nor the fiend, in his likeness; you are a woman; you have flesh and blood enough in you, to be tempted: therefore, keep the door, shut, upon all comers. Nor, with your consent, sweet TIB, and so I leave you. How? Tut, sweet, or sour, thou art a flower, Keep close thy door, I ask no more. WEll BRAINWORM, perform this business, happily, And thou makest a purchase of my love, forever, Why, what's the matter, here? What's here to do? Slid, in my house? my master KITELY? Who wrongs you in my house? How? bawd? Is my house come to that? Am I preferred the there? Did I charge you to keep your doors shut, Is 'BEL? and do you let them lie open for all comers? Why? is there no cause? Nay, she shall go. And worthily, I hope: if it shall prove so. Why, now I see thou art honest, TIB, I receive thee as my deam e, and mortal with e, again.