Knowell: Justice Clement! What's he?
Well-Bred: Why, dost thou not know him? He is a city magistrate, a justice here, an excellent good lawyer and a great scholar; but the only mad merry old fellow in Europe.
[Enter Cash.
Bobadill: Master Kitely's man, pray thee vouchsafe us the lighting of this match. (Cash takes match, and exits) 'Tis your right, Trinidado. Did you never take any, Master Stephen?
Stephen: No, truly, sir, but I'll learn to take it now, since you commend it so.
Bobadill: Sir, I have been in the Indies where this herb grows; where neither myself nor a dozen gentlemen more of my knowledge have received the taste of any other nutriment in the world for the space of one and twenty weeks, but the fume of this simple only. By Hercules, I do hold it, and will affirm it, before any prince in Europe, to be the most sovereign and precious weed that ever the earth tendered to the use of man.
[Cob has entered meanwhile.
Cob: Mack, I marvel what pleasure 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. And there were no wiser men than I, I'd have it present whipping, man or woman, that should but deal with a tobacco pipe.
[Bobadill cudgels him. Enter Cash, who drags off the lamenting Cob. While the rest are conversing, Matthew and Bobadill slip out.
Well-Bred: Soft, where's Master Matthew? Gone?