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Hast nothing to expect but sore destruction;
Quit then this hostile camp: once more I tell thee,
Thou art not here one single hour in safety.

Cor. Oh, that I had thee in the field,
With six Aufidiuses or more, thy tribe,
To use the lawful sword.

8.-SCENE FROM "EVERY MAN IN HIS HUMOUR."

"

BEN JONSON.

[Born 1574, Ben Jonson appeared as a dramatist in his twentieth year. His father was a clergyman, but died before his birth; and his mother marrying, a second time, a bricklayer, Ben was taken from Westminster school at an early age, and put to the same employment. Disliking this occupation, he enlisted as a soldier, and served in the Low Countries, and is reported to have "killed his man in single combat, in view of both armies. On his return to England, he entered St. John's College, Cambridge; his stay there must have been limited, for when about twenty, he married the daughter of a London actor, making his debût at a low theatre near Clerkenwell; at the same time he commenced writing for the stage. About this time he quarrelled with a brother actor; they fought a duel with swords, and again Jonson killed his antagonist. He was committed to prison on a charge of murder, but discharged without a trial. In 1596 he produced his still celebrated comedy, "Every Man in his Humour;" this was followed by "Every Man out of his Humour." In 1603 "Sejanus," a classic drama; and, subsequently, three comedies,-viz., "Volpone,' "The Alchemist," and "Epicene; or, the Silent Woman." His second classical tragedy, "Catiline," appeared in 1611. In 1619 he was appointed Poet Laureate, and by virtue of his office he had to supply the court masques, in which he displayed much fancy, feeling, and sentiment. Jonson was a member of the Mermaid Club, founded by Sir Walter Raleigh, of which Shakspeare, Beaumont and Fletcher, and other poets were also members. An attack of palsy embittered Jonson's later days, and he was compelled to write when his pen had lost its vigour. Jonson died in difficulties, 1637. He was buried in Westminster Abbey-the only inscription on his grave-stone being, for long afterwards, "O RARE BEN JONSON!]

CHARACTERS:

CAPTAIN BOBADIL, a Braggadocio.

MASTER MATTHEW, a Simpleton.

SCENE-The mean and obscure lodging of Bobadil.

BOBADIL discovered. Enter to him MASTER MATTHEW.

Mat. Save you, sir; save you, captain.

Bob. Gentle Master Matthew! Is it you, sir? Please you to sit down.

Mat. Thank you, good captain, you may see I am somewhat audacious.

Bob. Not so, sir. I was requested to supper last night by a sort of gallants, where you were wish'd for, and drunk to, I assure you. Mat. Vouchsafe me, by whom, good captain?

Bob. Marry, by young Wellbred and others. Why, hostess, a stool here for this gentleman.

Scene from "Every Man in his Humour." 335

Mat. No haste, sir; 'tis very well.

Bob. Body o' me!-it was so late ere we parted last night, I can scarce open my eyes yet; I was but new risen, as you came: how passes the day abroad, sir?-you can tell.

Mat. Faith, some half hour to seven: now, trust me, you have an exceeding fine lodging here, very neat and private !

Bob. Ay, sir; sit down, I pray you. Mr. Matthew (in any case) possess no gentlemen of our acquaintance with notice of my lodging. Mat. Who! I sir ?- -no.

Bob. Not that I need to care who know it, for the cabin is convenient, but in regard I would not be too popular, and generally visited as some are.

Mat. True, captain, I conceive you.

Bob. For, do you see, sir, by the heart of valour in me (except it be to some peculiar and choice spirits, to whom I am extraordinarily engaged, as yourself, or so), I could not extend thus far.

Mat. O Lord, sir, I resolve so.

Bob. I confess I love a cleanly and quiet privacy, above all the tumult and roar of fortune. What new book ha' you there? What! Go by, Hieronymo !

Mat. Ay, did you ever see it acted? Is't not well penn'd?

Bob. Well penn'd! I would fain see all the poets of these times pen such another play as that was!-they'll prate and swagger and keep a stir of art and devices, when (as I am a gentleman), read 'em, they are the most shallow, pitiful, barren fellows, that live upon the face of the earth again.

66

Mat. Indeed; here are a number of fine speeches in this book. "O eyes, no eyes, but fountains fraught with tears!" There's a conceit!-fountains fraught with tears! "O life, no life, but lively form of death!" Another ! O world, no world, but mass of public wrongs!" A third! "Confused and fill'd with murder and misdeeds!" A fourth! O, the muses! Is't not excellent? Is't not simply the best that ever you heard, captain? Ha! how do like it?

Bob. 'Tis good.

Mat. "To thee, the purest object to my sense,

The most refined essence heaven covers,

Send I these lines, wherein I do commence
The happy state of turtle-billing lovers.

If they prove rough, unpolish'd, harsh, and rude,
Haste made the waste. Thus mildly I conclude."
Bob. Nay, proceed, proceed. Where's this?

[BOBADIL is making him ready all this while. Mat. This, sir? a toy o' mine own, in my nonage; the infancy of my muses! But when will you come and see my study? Good faith, I can show you some very good things I have done of late. That boot becomes your leg passing well, captain, methinks. Bob. So, so; it's the fashion gentlemen now use.

Mat. Troth, captain, and now you speak o' the fashion, Master Wellbred's elder brother and I are fallen out exceedingly. This

other day, I happened to enter into some discourse of a hanger, which, I assure you, both for fashion and workmanship, was most peremptory-beautiful and gentleman-like; yet he condemned and cried it down for the most pyed and ridiculous that ever he saw. Bob. Squire Downright, the half-brother, was't not?

Mat. Ay, sir, he.

Bob. Hang him, rook, he! why, he has no more judgment than a malt-horse. By St. George, I wonder you'd lose a thought upon such an animal; the most peremptory absurd clown of Christendom, this day, he is holden. I protest to you, as I am a gentleman and a soldier, I ne'er changed words with his like. By his discourse, he should eat nothing but hay: he was born for the manger, pannier, or pack-saddle! He has not so much as a good phrase in his belly, but all old iron and rusty proverbs!-a good commodity for some sinith to make hob-nails of.

Mat. Ay, and he thinks to carry it away with his manhood still, where he comes: he brags he will gi' me the bastinado, as I hear. Bob. How? he the bastinado ? How came he by that word, trow ?

Mat. Nay, indeed, he said cudgel me; I term'd it SO for my more

grace.

Bob. That may be, for I was sure it was none of his word; but when? when said he so ?

Mat. Faith, yesterday, they say: a young gallant, a friend of mine, told me so.

Bob. By the foot of Pharaoh, an' twere my case now, I should send him a chartel presently. The bastinado! A most proper and sufficient dependance, warranted by the great Caranza. Come hither; you shall chartel him; I'll show you a trick or two you shall kill him with at pleasure; the first stoccata, if you will, by this air.

Mat. Indeed; you have absolute knowledge i' the mystery, I have heard, sir.

Bob. Of whom?-of whom ha' you heard it, I beseech you?
Mat. Troth I have heard it spoken of divers, that you have very

rare, and un-in-one-breath-utter-able skill, sir.

Bob. By heav'n, no not I; no skill i' the earth; some small rudiments i' the science, as to know my time, distance, or so: 1 have profest it more for noblemen and gentlemen's use than mine own practice, I assure you. Hostess, accommodate us with another bed-staff here quickly: lend us another bed-staff: the woman does not understand the words of action. Look you, sir, exalt not your point above this state, at any hand, and let your poniard maintain your defence, thus (give it the gentleman, and leave us); so, sir. Come on. O twine your body more about, that you may fall to a more sweet, comely, gentleman-like guard; so, indifferent; hollow your body more, sir, thus; now, stand fast o' your left leg, note your distance, keep your due proportion of time. O, you disorder r point most irregularly!

How is the bearing of it now, sir ?

Cato and Decius.

337

Bob. O, out of measure ill!-a well-experienced hand would pass upon you at pleasure.

Mat. How mean you, sir, pass upon me?

Bob. Why, thus, sir (make a thrust at me); come in upon the answer, control your point, and make a full career at the body; the best practis'd gallants of the time name it the passado; a most desperate thrust, believe it!

Mat. Well, come, sir.

Bob. Why, you do not manage your weapon with any facility or grace to invite me! I have no spirit to play with you; your dearth of judgment renders you tedious.

Mat. But one venue, sir.

Bob. Venue! fie; most gross denomination as ever I heard. O, the stoccata, while you live, sir, note that; come, put on your cloak, and we'll go to some private place where you are acquainted-some tavern or so—and have a bit; I'll send for one of these fencers, and he shall breathe you, by my direction, and then I will teach you your trick; you shall kill him with it at the first, if you please. Why, I will learn you by the true judgment of the eye, hand, and foot, to control any enemy's point i' the world. Should your adversary confront you with a pistol, 'twere nothing, by this hand. you should, by the same rule, control his bullet, in a line, except it were hail shot, and spread. What money ha' you about you, Master Matthew ?

Mat. Faith, I ha' not past a two shillings, or so.

Bob. 'Tis somewhat with the least; but come; we will have a bunch of radish, and salt to taste our wine, and a pipe of tobacco, to close the orifice of the stomach; and then we'll call upon young Wellbred perhaps we shall meet the Coridon, his brother, there, and put him to the question. [Exeunt.

9.-CATO AND DECIUS.

JOSEPH ADDISON.

[See p. 117.]

Dec. Cæsar sends health to Cato

Cato Could he send it

To Cato's slaughter'd friends, it would be welcome.
Are not your orders to address the senate?

Dec. My business is with Cato! Cæsar sees
The straits to which you are driven: and, as he knows
Cato's high worth, is anxious for your life.

Cato. My life is grafted on the fate of Rome.
Would he save Cato, bid him spare his country.
Tell your dictator this; and tell him, Cato
Disdains a lite which he has power to offer.
Dec. Rome and her senators submit to Cæsar;
Her gen'rals and her consuls are no more,

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Who check'd his conquests, and denied his triumph:
Why will not Cato be this Cæsar's friend?

Cato. Those very reasons thou hast urged forbid it.
Dec. Cato, I've orders to expostulate,

And reason with you as from friend to friend:
Think on the storm that gathers o'er your head,
And threatens ev'ry hour to burst upon it.

Still may you stand high in your country's honours;
Do but comply and make your peace with Cæsar,
Rome will rejoice, and cast its eyes on Cato,

As on the second of mankind.

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I must not think of life on such conditions.

Dec. Cæsar is well acquainted with your virtues,
And therefore sets this value on your life.
Let him but know the price of Cato's friendship,
And name your terms.

Cato.

Bid him disband his legions,

Restore the commonwealth to liberty,

Submit his actions to the public censure,

And stand the judgment of a Roman senate :

Bid him do this, and Cato is his friend.

Dec. Cato, the world talks boldly of your wisdom.Cato. Nay more-tho' Cato's voice was ne'er employed

To clear the guilty, and to varnish crimes,

Myself will mount the rostrum in his favour
And strive to gain his pardon from the people.
Dec. A style like this becomes a conqueror.

Cato. Decius, a style like this becomes a Roman.
Dec. What is a Roman that is Cæsar's foe ?
Cato. Greater than Cæsar: he's a friend to virtue.
Dec. Consider, Cato, you're in Utica,

And at the head of your own little senate:

You don't now thunder in the capitol,

With all the mouths of Rome to second you.

Cato. Let him consider that, who drives us hither; 'Tis Cæsar's sword has made Rome's senate little, And thinn'd its ranks. Alas! thy dazzled eye Beholds this man in a false glaring light, Which conquest and success have thrown upon him; Didst thou but view him right, thou'dst see him black With murder, treason, sacrilege, and crimes That strike my soul with horror but to name them. I know thou look'st on me as on a wretch, Beset with ills and cover'd with misfortunes But, by the gods I swear, millions of worlds Should never buy me to be like Cæsar.

Dec. Does Cato send this answer back to Cæsar, For all his gen'rous cares and proffer'd friendship? Cato. His cares for me are insolent and vain :

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