Every Man in His Humor

by Ben Jonson

Dow. Well, sister, I tell you true; and you'll find it so in the
end.
Dame K. Alas, brother, what would you have me to do? I cannot help
it; you see my brother brings them in here; they are his friends.
Dow. His friends! his fiends. 'Slud! they do nothing but haunt him
up and down like a sort of unlucky spirits, and tempt him to all
manner of villainy that can be thought of. Well, by this light, a
little thing would make me play the devil with some of them: an
'twere not more for your husband's sake than anything else, I'd
make the house too hot for the best on 'em; they should say, and
swear, hell were broken loose, ere they went hence. But, by God's
will, 'tis nobody's fault but yours; for an you had done as you
might have done, they should have been parboiled, and baked too,
every mother's son, ere they should have come in, e'er a one of
them.
Dame K. God's my life! did you ever hear the like? what a strange
man is this! Could I keep out all them, think you? I should put
myself against half a dozen men, should I? Good faith, you'd mad
the patien'st body in the world; to hear you talk so, without any
sense or reason.
Enter Mistress BRIDGET, Master MATHEW, and BOBADILL;
followed, at a distance, by WELLBRED, E. KNOWELL,
STEPHEN, and BRAINWORM.
Brid.
Servant, in troth you are too prodigal
Of your wit's treasure, thus fu pour it forth
Upon so mean a subject as my worth.

Mat. You say well, mistress, and I mean as well.
Dow. Hoy-day, here is stuff!
Wel. O, now stand close; pray Heaven, she can get him to read! he
should do it of his own natural impudency.
Brid. Servant, what is this same, I pray you?
Mat. Marry, an elegy, an elegy, an odd toy—
Dow. To mock an ape withal! O, I could sew up his mouth, now.
Dame K. Sister, I pray you let's hear it.
Dow. Are you rhyme-given too?
Mat. Mistress, I'll read it if you please.
Brid. Pray you do, servant.
Dow. O, here's no foppery! Death! I can endure the stocks better.
[Exit.
E. Know. What ails thy brother? can he not hold his water at
reading of a ballad?
Wel. O, no; a rhyme fu him is worse than cheese, or a bag-pipe; but
mark; you lose the protestation.
Mat. Faith, I did it in a humour; I know not how it is; but please
you come near, sir. This gentleman has judgment, he knows how to
censure of a—pray you, sir, you can judge?
Step. Not I, sir; upon my reputation, and by the foot of Pharaoh!
Wel. O, chide your cousin for swearing.
E. Know. Not I, so long as he does not forswear himself.
Bob. Master Mathew, you abuse the expectation of your dear
mistress, and her fair sister: fie! while you live avoid this
prolixity.
Mat. I shall, sir, well; incipere dulce.
E. Know. How, insipere duke! a sweet thing to be a fool, indeed!
Wel. What, do you take incipere in: that sense?
E. Know. You do not, you! This was your villainy, to gull him with
a motte.
Wel. O, the benchers' phrase: pauca verba, pauca verba!
Mat.
Rare creature, let me speak without offence,
Would God my rude words had the influence
To rule thy thoughts, as thy fair looks do mine,
Then shouldst thou be his prisoner, who is thine.
E. Know. This is Hero and Leander.
Wel. O, ay: peace, we shall have more of this.
Mat.
Be not unkind and fair: misshapen stuff
Is of behaviour boisterous and rough.
Wel. How like you that, sir? [Master Stephen shakes his head.
E. Know. 'Slight, he shakes his head like a bottle, to feel an there
be any brain in it.
Mat. But observe the catastrophe, now:
And I in duty will exceed all other,
As you in beauty do excel Love's mother.
E. Know. Well, I'll have him free of the wit-brokers, for he
utters nothing but stolen remnants.
Wel. O, forgive it him.
E. Know. A filching rogue, hang him!—-and from the dead! it's
worse than sacrilege.
WELLBRED, E. KNOWELL, and Master STEPHEN, come forward.
Wel. Sister, what have you here, verses? pray you let's see: who
made these verses? they are excellent good.
Mat. O, Master Wellbred, 'tis your disposition to say so, sir. They
were good in the morning: I made them ex tempore this morning.
Wel. How! ex tempore?
Mat. Ay, would I might be hanged else; ask Captain Bobadill: he saw
me write them, at the—pox on it!—the Star, yonder.
Brai. Can he find in his heart to curse the stars so?
E. Know. Faith, his are even with him; they have curst him enough
already.
Step. Cousin, how do you like this gentleman's verses?
E. Know. O, admirable! the best that ever I heard, coz.
Step. Body O' Caesar, they are admirable! the best that I ever
heard, as I am a soldier!
Re-enter DOWNRIGHT.
Dow. I am vext, I can hold ne'er a bone of me still: 'Heart, I
think they mean to build and breed here.
Wet. Sister, you have a simple servant here, that crowns your
beauty with such encomiums and devices; you may see what it is to
be the mistress of a wit, that can make your perfections so
transparent, that every blear eye may look through them, and see
him drowned over head and ears in the deep well of desire: Sister
Kitely. I marvel you get you not a servant that can rhyme, and do
tricks too.
Dow. O monster! impudence itself! tricks!
Dame K. Tricks, brother! what tricks?
Brid. Nay, speak, I pray you what tricks?
Dame K. Ay, never spare any body here; but say, what tricks.
Brid. Passion of my heart, do tricks!
Wel. 'Slight, here's a trick vied and revied! Why, you monkeys,
you, what a cater-wauling do you keep! has he not given you rhymes
and verses and tricks?
Dow. O, the fiend!
Wel. Nay, you lamp of virginity, that take it in snuff so, come,
and cherish this tame poetical fury in your servant; you'll be
begg'd else shortly for a concealment: go to, reward his muse. You
cannot give him less than a shilling in conscience, for the book he
had it out of cost him a teston at least. How now, gallants! Master
Mathew! Captain! what, all sons of silence, no spirit?
Dow. Come, you might practise your ruffian tricks somewhere else,
and not here, I wuss; this is no tavern or drinking-school, to vent
your exploits in.
Wel. How now; whose cow has calved?
Dow. Marry, that has mine, sir.
Nay, boy, never look askance at me for the matter; I'll tell you of
it, I, sir; you and your companions mend yourselves when I have
done.
Wel. My companions!
Dow. Yes, sir, your companions, so I say; I am not afraid of you,
nor them neither; your hang-byes here. You must have your poets and
your potlings, your soldados and foolados to follow you up and down
the city; and here they must come to domineer and swagger. Sirrah,
you ballad-singer, and slops your fellow there, get you out, get
you home; or by this steel, I'll cut off your ears, and that
presently.
Wel. 'Slight, stay, let's see what he dare do; cut off his ears!
cut a whetstone. You are an ass, do you see; touch any man here,
and by this hand I'll run my rapier to the hilts in you.
Dow. Yea, that would I fain see, boy.
[They all draw.
Dame K. O Jesu! murder! Thomas! Gasper!
Brid. Help, help! Thomas!
Enter CASH and some of the house to part them.
E. Know. Gentlemen, forbear, I pray' you.
Bob. Well, sirrah, you Holofernes; by my hand, I will pink your
flesh full of holes with my rapier for this; I will, by this good
heaven! nay, let him come, let him come, gentlemen; by the body of
St. George, I'll not kill him.
[Offer to fight again, and are parted.
Gash. Hold, hold, good gentlemen. Dow. You whoreson, bragging
coystril!
Enter KITELY.
Kit.
Why, how now! what's the matter, what's the stir here?
Whence springs the quarrel? Thomas! where is he?
Put up your weapons, and put off this rage:
My wife and sister, they are the cause of this.
What, Thomas! where is the knave?

Gash. Here, sir.
Wel. Come, let's go: this is one of my brother's ancient humours,
this.
Step. I am glad nobody was hurt by his ancient humour.
[Exeunt Wellbred, Stephen, E. Knowell, Bobadill, and Brainworm.

Kit. Why, how now, brother, who enforced this brawl?
Dow. A sort of lewd rake-hells, that care neither for God nor the
devil And they must come here to read ballads, and roguery, and
trash! I'll mar the knot of 'em ere I sleep, perhaps; especially
Bob there, he that's all manner of shapes: and songs and sonnets,
his fellow.
Brid.
Brother, indeed you are too violent,
Too sudden in your humour: and you know
My brother Wellbred's temper will not bear
Any reproof, chiefly in such a presence,
Where every slight disgrace he should receive
Might wound him in opinion and respect.

Dow. Respect! what talk you of respect among such, as have no spark
of manhood, nor good manners? 'Sdeins, I am ashamed to hear you'!
respect!
[Exit.
Brid.
Yes, there was one a civil gentleman,
And very worthily demeaned himself.
Kit. O, that was some love of yours, sister.
Brid.
A love of mine! I would it were no worse, brother;
You'd pay my portion sooner than you think for.
Dame K. Indeed he seem'd to be a gentleman of a very exceeding
fair disposition, and of excellent good parts.
[Exeunt Dame Kitely and Bridget.
Kit.
Her love, by heaven! my wife's minion.
Fair disposition! excellent good parts!
Death! these phrases are intolerable.
Good parts! how should she know his parts?
His parts! Well, well, well, well, well, well;
It is too plain, too clear: Thomas, come hither.
What, are they gone?
Cash. Ay, sir, they went in.
My mistress and your sister—
Kit. Are any of the gallants within?
Cash. No, sir, they are all gone.
Kit. Art thou sure of it—-?
Cash. I can assure you, sir.
Kit. What gentleman was that they praised so, Thomas?
Cash. One, they call him Master Knowell, a handsome young
gentleman, sir.
Kit.
Ay, I thought so; my mind gave me as much:
I'll die, but they have hid him in the house,
Somewhere, I'll go and search; go with me, Thomas:
Be true to me, and thou shalt find me a master.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II.—-The Lane before COB'S House.
Enter COB
Cob. [knocks at the door.] What, Tib! Tib, I say!
Tib. [within.] How now, what cuckold is that knocks so hard?
Enter Tib.
O, husband! is it you? What's the news?
Cob. Nay, you have stunn'd me, i'faith; you have, given me a
knock O' the forehead will stick by me. Cuckold! 'Slid, cuckold!
Tib. Away, you fool! did I know it was you that knocked?
Come, come, you may call me as bad when you list.
Cob. May I? Tib, you are a whore.
Tib. You lie in your throat, husband.
Cob. How, the lie! and in my throat tool do you long to be
stabb'd, ha?
Tib. Why, you are no soldier, I hope.
Cob. O, must you be stabbed by a soldier? Mass, that's true! when
was Bobadill here, your captain? that rogue, that foist, that
fencing Burgullion? I'll tickle him, i'faith.
Tib. Why, what's the matter, trow?
Cob. O, he has basted me rarely, sumptuously! but I have it here in
black and white, [pulls out the warrant.] for his black and blue
shall pay him. O, the justice, the honestest old brave Trojan in
London; I do honour the very flea of his dog. A plague on him,
though, he put me once in a villanous 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 nobody in to you, wife; nobody 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.
Tib. I warrant you, there shall nobody enter here without my
consent.
Cob. Nor with your consent, sweet Tib; and so I leave you.
Tib. It's more than you know, whether you leave me so.
Cob. How?
Tib. Why, sweet.
Cob.
Tut, sweet or sour, thou art a flower.
Keep close thy door, I ask no more.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-A Room in the Windmill Tavern.
Enter E. KNOWELL, WELLBRED, STEPHEN, and BRAINWORM,
disguised as before.
E. Know. Well, Brainworm, perform this business happily, and thou
makest a purchase of my love for ever.
Wel. I'faith, now let thy spirits use their best faculties: but, at
any hand, remember the message to my brother; for there's no other
means to start him.
Brai. I warrant you, sir; fear nothing; I have a nimble soul has
waked all forces of my phant'sie by this time, and put them in true
motion. What you have possest me withal, I'll discharge it amply,
sir; make it no question.
[Exit.
Wel. Forth, and prosper, Brainworm. Faith, Ned, how dost thou
approve of my abilities in this device?
E. Know. Troth, well, howsoever; but it will come excellent if it
take.
Wel. Take, man! why it cannot choose but take, if the circumstances
miscarry not: but, tell me ingenuously, dost thou affect my sister
Bridget as thou pretend'st?
E. Know. Friend, am I worth belief?
Wel. Come, do not protest. In faith, she is a maid of good
ornament, and much modesty; and, except I conceived very worthily
of her, thou should'st not have her.
E. Know. Nay, that I am afraid, will be a question yet, whether I
shall have her, or no.
Wel. 'Slid, thou shalt have her; by this light thou shalt.
E. Know. Nay, do not swear.
Wel. By this hand thou shalt have her; I'll go fetch her presently.
'Point but where to meet, and as I am an honest man I'll bring her.
E. Know. Hold, hold, be temperate.
Wel. Why, by—what shall I swear by? thou shalt have her, as I am—
E. Know. Praythee, be at peace, I am satisfied; and do believe thou
wilt omit no offered occasion to make my desires complete.
Wel. Thou shalt see, and know, I will not.
[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-The Old Jewry.
Enter FORMAL and KNOWELL.
Form. Was your man a soldier, sir?
Know. Ay, a knave
I took him begging O' the way, this morning,
As I came over Moorfields.
Enter BRAINWORM. disguised as before.
O, here he is!—-you've made fair speed, believe me,
Where, in the name of sloth, could you be thus?
Brai. Marry, peace be my comfort, where I thought I should have
had little comfort of your worship's service.
Know. How so?
Brai. O, sir, your coming to the city, your entertainment of me,
and your sending me to watch—-indeed all the circumstances either
of your charge, or my employment, are as open to your son, as to
yourself.
Know.
How should that be, unless that villain, Brainworm,
Have told him of the letter, and discover'd
All that I strictly charg'd him to conceal?
'Tis so.
Brai. I am partly O' the faith, 'tis so, indeed.
Know. But, how should he know thee to be my man?
Brai. Nay, sir, I cannot tell; unless it be by the black art. Is
not your son a scholar, sir?
Know.
Yes, but I hope his soul is not allied
Unto such hellish practice: if it were,
I had just cause to weep my part in him,
And curse the time of his creation.
But, where didst thou find them, Fitz-Sword?
Brai. You should rather ask where they found me, sir; for I'll
be sworn, I was going along in the street, thinking nothing, when,
of a sudden, a voice calls, Mr. Knowell's man! another cries,
Soldier! and thus half a dozen of them, till they had call'd me
within a house, where I no sooner came, but they seem'd men, and
out flew all their rapiers at my bosom, with some three or four
score oaths to accompany them; and all to tell me, I was but a
dead man, if I did not confess where you were, and how I was
employed, and about what; which when they could not get out of
me, (as, I protest, they must have dissected, and made an anatomy
of me first, and so I told them,) they lock'd me up into a room
in the top of a high house, whence by great miracle (having a
light heart) I slid down by a bottom of packthread into the
street, and so 'scaped. But, sir, thus much I can assure you,
for I heard it while I was lock'd up, there were a great many
rich merchants and brave citizens' wives with them at a feast;
and your son, master Edward, withdrew with one of them, and has
'pointed to meet her anon at one Cob's house a water-bearer
that dwells by the Wall. Now, there your worship shall be sure
to take him, for there he preys, and fail he will not.
Know.
Nor will I fail to break his match, I doubt not.
Go thoualong with justice Clement's man,
And stay there for me. At one Cob's house, say'st thou?

Brai. Ay, sir, there you shall have him. [Exit Knowell.] Yes—
invisible! Much wench, or much son! 'Slight, when he has staid
there three or four hours, travailing with the expectation of
wonders, and at length be deliver'd of air! O the sport that I
should then take to look on him, if I durst! But now, I mean to
appear no more afore him in this shape: I have another trick to act
yet. O that I were so happy as to light on a nupson now of this
justice's novice!—Sir, I make you stay somewhat long.
Form. Not a whit, sir. Pray you what do you mean, sir?
Brai. I was putting up some papers.
Form. You have been lately in the wars, sir, it seems.
Brai. Marry have I, sir, to my loss, and expense of all, almost.
Form. Troth, sir, I would be glad to bestow a bottle of wine on
you, if it please you to accept it—
Brai, O, sir
Form. But to hear the manner of your services, and your devices in
the wars; they say they be very strange, and not like those a man
reads in the Roman histories, or sees at Mile-end.
Brai. No, I assure you, sir; why at any time when it please you, I
shall be ready to discourse to you all I know;—and more too
somewhat. [Aside.
Form. No better time than now, sir; we'll go to the Windmill: there
we shall have a cup of neat grist, we call it. I pray you, sir, let
me request you to the Windmill.
Brai. I'll follow you, sir;—and make grist of you, if I have good
luck. [Aside.]
[Exeunt.

SCENE V.-Moorfields.
Enter MATHEW, E. KNOWELL, BOBADILL, and STEPHEN.
Mat. Sir, did your eyes ever taste the like clown of him where we
were to-day, Mr. Wellbred's half-brother? I think the whole earth
cannot shew his parallel, by this daylight.
E. Know. We were now speaking of him: captain Bobadill tells me he
is fallen foul of you too.
Mat. O, ay, sir, he threatened me with the bastinado.
Bob. Ay, but I think, I taught you prevention this morning, for
that: You shall kill him beyond question; if you be so generously
minded.
Mat. Indeed, it is a most excellent trick.
[Fences.
Bob: O, you do not give spirit enough to your motion, you are too
tardy, too heavy! O, it must be done like lightning, hay!
[Practises at a post with his cudgel.
Mat. Rare, captain!
Bob. Tut! 'tis nothing, an't be not done in a—punto. E. Know.
Captain, did you ever prove yourself upon any of our masters of
defence here?
Mat. O good sir! yes, I hope he has.
Bob. I will tell you, sir. Upon my first coming to the city, after
my long travel for knowledge, in that mystery only, there came
three or four of them to me, at a gentleman's house, where it was
my chance to be resident at that time, to intreat my presence at
their schools: and withal so much importuned me, that I protest to
you, as I am a gentleman, I was ashamed of their rude demeanour out
of all measure: Well, I told them that to come to a public school,
they should pardon me, it was opposite, in diameter, to my humour;
but if so be they would give their attendance at my lodging, I
protested to do them what right or favour I could, as I was a
gentleman, and so forth.
E. Know. So, sir! then you tried their skill?
Bob. Alas, soon tried: you shall hear, sir. Within two or three
days after, they came; and, by honesty, fair sir, believe me, I
graced them exceedingly, shewed them some two or three tricks of
prevention have purchased them since a credit to admiration: they
cannot deny this; and yet now they hate me, and why? because I am
excellent; and for no other vile reason on the earth.
E. Know. This is strange and barbarous, as ever I heard.
Bob. Nay, for a more instance of their preposterous natures; but
note; sir. They have assaulted me some three, four, five, six of
them together, as I have walked alone in divers skirts it'll town,
as Turnbull, Whitechapel, Shoreditch, which were then my quarters;
and since, upon the Exchange, at my lodging, and at my ordinary:
where I have driven them afore me the whole length of a street, in
the open view of all our gallants, pitying to hurt them, believe
me. Yet all this lenity will not overcome their spleen; they will
be doing with the pismire, raising a hill a man may spurn abroad
with his foot at pleasure. By myself, I could have slain them all,
but I delight not in murder. I am loth to bear any other than this
bastinado for them: yet I hold it good polity not to go disarmed,
for though I be skilful, I may be oppressed with multitudes.
E. Know. Ay, believe me, may you, sir: and in my conceit, our whole
nation should sustain the loss by it, if it were so.
Bob. Alas, no? what's a peculiar man to a nation? not seen.
E. Know. O, but your skill, sir.
Bob. Indeed, that might be some loss; but who respects it? I will
tell you, sir, by the way of private, and under seal; I am a
gentleman, and live here obscure, and to myself; but were I known
to her majesty and the lords,—observe me,—I would undertake, upon
this poor head and life, for the public benefit of the state, not
only to spare the entire lives of her subjects in general; but to
save the one half, nay, three parts of her yearly charge in holding
war, and against what enemy soever. And how would I do it, think
you?
E. Know. Nay, I know not, nor can I conceive.
Bob. Why thus, sir. I would select nineteen more, to myself.
throughout the land; gentlemen they should be of good spirit,
strong and able constitution; I would choose them by an instinct, a
character that I have: and I would teach these nineteen the special
rules, as your punto, your reverso, your stoccata, your imbroccato,
your passada, your montanto; till they could all play very near, or
altogether as well as myself. This done, say the enemy were forty
thousand strong, we twenty would come into the field the tenth of
March, or thereabouts; and we would challenge twenty of the enemy;
they could not in their honour refuse us: Well, we would kill them;
challenge twenty more, kill them; twenty more, kill them; twenty
more, kill them too; and thus would we kill every man his twenty a
day, that's twenty score; twenty score that's two hundred; two
hundred a day, five days a thousand: forty thousand; forty times
five, five times forty, two hundred days kills them all up by
computation. And this will I venture my poor gentlemanlike carcase
to perform, provided there be no treason practised upon us, by fair
and discreet manhood; that is, civilly by the sword.
E. Know. Why, are you so sure of your hand, captain, at all times?
Bob. Tut! never miss thrust, upon my reputation with you.
E. Know. I would not stand in Downright's state then, an you meet
him, for the wealth of anyone street in London.
Bob. Why, sir, you mistake me: if he were here now, by this welkin,
I would not draw my weapon on him. Let this gentleman do his mind:
but I will bastinado him, by the bright sun, wherever I meet him.
Mat. Faith, and I'll have a fling at him, at my distance.
E. Know. 'Od's, so, look where he is! yonder he goes.
[Downright crosses the stage.
Dow. What peevish luck have I, I cannot meet with these bragging
rascals?
Bob. It is not he, is it?
E. Know. Yes, faith, it is he.
Mat. I'll be hang'd then if that were he.
E. Know. Sir, keep your hanging good for some greater matter, for I
assure you that were he.
Step. Upon my reputation, it was he.
Bob. Had I thought it had been he, he must not have gone so: but I
can hardly be induced to believe it was he yet.
E. Know. That I think, sir.
Re-enter DOWNRIGHT.
But see, he is come again.
Dow. O, Pharaoh's foot, have I found you? Come, draw to your tools;
draw, gipsy, or I'll thrash you.
Bob. Gentleman of valour, I do believe in thee; hear me—
Dow. Draw your weapon then.
Bob. Tall man, I never thought on it till now—Body of me, I had
a warrant of the peace served on me, even now as I came along, by
a water-bearer; this gentleman saw it, Master Mathew.
Dow. 'Sdeath! you will not draw then?
[Disarms and beats him. Mathew runs away.
Bob. Hold, hold! under thy favour forbear!
Dow. Prate again, as you like this, you whoreson foist you! You'll
control the point, you! Your consort is gone; had he staid he had
shared with you, sir.
[Exit.