Clement: Ha! You speak against tobacco. Your name?
Cob: Cob, sir, Oliver Cob.
Clement: Then, Oliver Cob, you shall go to jail.
Cob: Oh, I beseech your worship, for heaven's sake, dear master justice!
Clement: He shall not go; I did but fear the knave. Formal, give him his warrant. (Exeunt Formal and Cob) How now, Master Knowell, in dumps? Your cares are nothing. What! Your son is old enough to govern himself; let him run his course.
Act IV
Scene I.—At Kitely's. Dame Kitely and Down-Right, who, to his sister's great indignation, is reproving her for admitting Well-Bred's companions. Enter Bridget, Matthew, and Bobadill; Well-Bred, Stephen, Young Knowell, and Brain-Worm at the back.
Bridget: Servant, in truth, you are too prodigal
Of your wit's treasure thus to pour it forth
Upon so mean a subject as my worth.
What is this same, I pray you?
Matthew: Marry, an elegy, an elegy, an odd toy.
I'll read it if you please.