Act 2, Scene IV

Scene: A Street before a Tavern

Enter CRATES and CONON.

Crates.
Conon? You are welcome home! you are wondrous welcome!
Is this your first arrival?
Conon.
Sir, out now
I reach'd the town.
Crates.
You are once more welcome then.
Conon.
I thank you, noble sir.
Crates.
Pray you do me the honour
To make my poor house first—
Conon.
Pray, sir, excuse me;
I have not seen mine own yet; nor made happy
These longing eyes with those I love there.—What's this? a tavern?
Crates.
It seems so by the outside.
Conon.
Step in here then;
And since it offers itself so freely to us,
A place made only for liberal entertainment,
Let's seek no further, but make use of this,
And, after the Greek fashion, to our friends
Crown a round cup or two.
[They go into the Tavern.

Enter Vintner and Drawer.

Crates.
Your pleasure, sir.—
Drawers! who waits within?
Drawer.
Anon, anon, sir.
Vinter.
Look into the Lilly-pot. Why, Mark, there!—
You are welcome, gentlemen! heartily welcome,
My noble friend!
Crates.
Let's have good wine, mine host,
And a fine private room.
Vinter.
Will you be there, sir?
What is't you'll drink? I'll draw your wine myself.—
Cushions, ye knaves! Why, when?

Re-enter Drawers with Cushions.

Drawer.
Anon, anon, sir.
[Exit.
Vinter.
Chios, or Lesbos, Greek?
Crates.
Your best and neatest.
Vinter.
I'll draw ye that shall dance.
Crates.
Away; be quick then.
[Exit Vintner.
Conon.
How does your brother, sir, my noble friend,
The good Euphanes? In all my course of travel,
I met not with a gentleman so furnish'd
In gentleness and courtesy; believe, sir,
So many friendly offices I received trom him,
So great and timely, and enjoyed his company
In such an open and a liberal sweetness,
That when I dare forget him——
Crates.
He's in good health, sir;
But you will find him a much alter'd man;
Grown a great courtier, sir.
Conon.
He's worthy of it.
Crates.
A man drawn up, that leaves no print behind him
Of what be was. Those goodnesses you speak of
That have been in him, those that you call freedoms,
Societies, and sweetness, look for now, sir,
You'll find no shadows of them left, no sound
The very air he has lived in alter'd. Now behold him,
And you shall see a thing walk by, look big upon you,
And cry for place 'I am the queen's; give room there!'
If you bow low, may be he'll touch the bonnet,
Or fling a forc'd smile at you for a favour.
Conon.
He is Your brother, sir.
Crates.
These forms put off,
Which travel and court holy-water sprinkle on him,
I dare accept and know him. You'll think it strange, sir,
That even to me, to me, his natural brother,
And one by birth he owes a little honour to——

Enter Vintner with wine.

But that's all one.—Come, give me some wine, mine host.—
Here's to your fair return!
[Drinks.
Conon.
I wonder at it
But sure he has found a nature not worth owning
In this way; else I know he is tender carried.—
I thank you, sir. And now durst I presume,
For all you tell me of these alterations
And stops in his sweet nature (which till I find so,
I have known him now so long, and look'd so through him,
You must give me leave to be a little faithless)
I say, for all these, if you please to venture,
I'll lay the wine we drink, let me send for him
(Even I, that am the poorest of his fellowship)
But by a boy o' th' house too, let him have business,
Let him attend the queen, nay, let his mistress
Hold him betwixt her arms, he shall come to me,
And shall drink with me too, love me, and heartily;
Like a true honest man, bid me welcome home
I am confident.
Crates.
You'll lose.
Conon.
You'll stand to th' wager?
Crates.
With all my heart.
Conon.
Go, boy, and tell Euphanes——

Enter Boy.

Boy.    
He's now gone up the street, sir,
With a great train of gallants.
Crates.
What think you now, sir!
Conon.
Go, and overtake him:
Commend my love unto him, (my name's Conon)
Tell him I am new arrived, and where I am,
And would request to see him presently.—
You see I use old dudgeon phrase to draw him.
Crates.
I'll hang and quarter when you draw him hither.
Conon.
Away, boy.
Boy.    
I am gone, sir.
[Exit.
Conon.
Here's to you now!
And you shall find his travel has not stopt him,
As you suppose, nor alter'd any freedom:
But made him far more clear and excellent.
It draws the grossness of the understanding,
And renders active arid industrious spirits:
He that knows most men's manners, must of necessity
Best know his own, and mend those by example.
'Tis a dull thing to travel like a mill-horse,
Still in the place he was born in, lamed and blinded;
Living at home is like it. Pure and strong spirits,
That, like the fire, still covet to fly upward,
And to give fire, as well as take it, cased up and mew'd here,
I mean at home, like lusty mettled horses,
Only tied up in stables, to please their masters,
Beat out their fiery lives in their own litters.
Why don't you travel, sir?
Crates.
I have no belief in't;
see so many strange things, half unhatch'd too,
Return, those that went out men, and good men,
They look like poach'd eggs, with the soul suck'd out,
Empty and full of wind: All their affections
Are baked in rye-crust, to hold carriage
From this good town to th' other; and when they are open'd,
They are so ill-cook'd and mouldy——
Conon.
You are pleasant.
Crates.
I'll shew you a pack of these: I have 'em for you'
That have been long in travel too.
Conon.
Please you, sir.

Enter second Boy.

Crates.
You know the Merchant's Walk, boy?
2 Boy.  
Very well.
Crates.
And you remember those gentlemen were here
The other day with me?
2 Boy.  
Yes.
Crates.
Then go thither,
For there I am sure they are; pray 'em come hither,
(And use my name) I would be glad to see 'em.

Enter first Boy.

1 Boy.  
Your brother's coming in, sir.
Vinter.
'Ods my passion!
Out with the plate, ye knaves; bring the new cushions.
And wash those glasses I set by for high-days;
Perfume the rooms along. Why, sirrah!
1 Boy.  
Here, sir.
Vinter.
Bid my wife make herself ready handsomely,
And put on her best apron; it may be,
The noble gentleman will look upon her.

Enter EUPHANES and two Gentlemen.

Euphanes.
Where is he, boy?
Vinter.
Your worship's heartily welcome!
It joys my very heart to see you here, sir.
The gentleman that sent for your honour—
Euphanes.
Oh, good mine host!
Vinter.
To my poor homely house, an't like your honour—
Euphanes.
I thank thine honour, good mine host. Where is he?
Conon.
What think you now?—My best Euphanes!
Euphanes.
Conon!
Welcome, my friend! my noble friend, how is it?
Are you in safety come, in health?
Conon.
All health, all safety,
Riches, and all that makes content and happiness,
Now I am here, I have. How have you fared, sir?
Euphanes.
Well, I thank Heaven; and never nearer, friend,
To catch at great occasion.
Conon.
Indeed I joy in't.
Euphanes.
Nor am I for myself born in these fortunes;
In truth I love my friends.
Conon.
You were noble ever.
[EUPHANES salutes CRATES.
Crates.
I thought you had not known me.
Euphanes.
Yes; you are my brother,
My elder brother too: 'Would your affections
Were able but to ask that love I owe to you,
And, as I give, preserve it!—Here, friend Conon,
To your fair welcome home!
[They drink.
Conon.
Dear sir, I thank you.—
Fill it to th' brim, boy.—Crates!
Crates.
I will pledge you;
But for that glorious comet, lately fired——
Conon.
Fy, fy, sir, fy!
Euphanes.
Nay, let him take his freedoms;
He stirs not me, I vow to you; much less stains me.
Crates.
Sir, I cannot talk with that neat travelling tongue.
Conon.
As I live, he has the worst belief in men abroad!
I am glad I am come home.

Enter second Boy.

2 Boy.  
Here are the gentlemen.
Crates.
Oh, let 'em enter. Now you that trust in travel,
And make sharp beards and little breeches deities,
You that enhance the daily price of toothpicks,
And hold there is no home-bred happiness,
Behold a model of your minds and actions.
Euphanes.
Though this be envious, yet, done i' th way of mirth,
I am content to thank you for't.
Conon.
'Tis well yet.
Crates.
Let the masque enter.

Enter ONOS, UNCLE, and Tutor.

Onos.    
A pretty tavern, 'faith, of a fine structure!
Uncle.  
Bear yourself like a gentleman; here's sixpence,
And be sure you break no glasses.
Tutor.  
Hark ye, pupil;
Go as I taught you, hang more upon your hams,
And put your knees out bent; there; yet a little.
Now I beseech ye, be not so improvident
To forget your travelling pace, 'tis a main posture,
And to all unair'd gentlemen will betray you:
Play with your Pisa beard. Why, where's your brush, pupil?
He must have a brush, sir.
Uncle.  
More charge yet?
Tutor.  
Here, take mine;
These elements of travel, he must not want. sir.
Uncle.  
Mafoy, he has had some nineteen-pence in elements;
What would you more?
Tutor.  
Durus mehercle pater!
Conon.
What, monsieur Onos, the very pump of travel!
Sir, as I live, you have lone me the greatest kindness—
Oh, my fair sir, Lampree, the careful uncle
To this young hopeful issue! Monsieur Tutor too,
The father to his mind! Come, come, let's hug, boys.
Why, what a bunch of travel do I embrace now!
Methinks I put a girdle about Europe.
How has the boy profited?
Uncle.  
He has enough, sir,
If his too fiery mettle do not mar it.
Conon.
Is he not thrifty yet?
Tutor.  
That's all his fault;
Too bounteous minded, being under age too
A great consumer of his stock in pippins:
He had ever a hot stomach.
Conon.
Come hither, Onos.
Will you love me for this fine apple?
Onos.    
Ouy.
Conon.
And will you be ruled by me sometime?
Onos.    
'Faith, I will.
Conon.
That's a good boy.
Uncle.  
Pray give not the child so much fruit;
He's of a raw complexion.
Euphanes.
You, monsieur Hard-Egg!
Do you remember me? Do you remember
When you and your consort travell'd through Hungary?
Conon.
He's in that circuit still.
Euphanes.
Do you remember
The cantle of immortal cheese you carried with you,
The half-cold cabbage in a leather satchel,
And those invincible eggs that would lie in your bowels
A fortnight together, and then turn to bedstaves;
Your sour milk that would choak an Irishman,
And bread was baked in Caesar's time for the army?
Conon.
Providence, providence.
Tutor.  
The soul of travel.
Euphanes.
Can the boy speak yet?
Tutor.  
Yes; and as fine a gentleman,
I thank my able knowledge, he has arrived at,
Only a little sparing of his language,
Which everyinan of observation——
Uncle.  
And of as many tongues——
Tutor.  
Pray be content, sir;
You know you are for the bodily part, the purse,
I for the magazine, the mind.
Euphanes.
Come hither, Springal.
Onos.    
That in the Almain tongue signifies a gentleman.
Euphanes.
What think you of the forms of Italy or Spain?
Onos.    
I love mine own country pippin.
Tutor.  
Nobly'answer'd;
Born for his country first.
Euphanes.
A great philosopher!—
What horses do you prefer?
Onos.    
The white horse, sir
There where I lie; honest, and a just beast.
Tutor.  
0 caput lepidum! A child to say this!
Are these figures for the mouths of infants?
Conon.
Onos, what wenches?
[Apart to him.
Come, tell me true.
Onos.    
I cannot speak without book.
Conon.
When shall we have one? ha?
Onos.    
Steal me from mine uncle;
For, look you, I am broke out horribly
For want of fleshly physick; they say I am too young,
And that 'twill spoil my growth; but, could you help me——
Conon.
Meet me to-morrow, man; no more.—
Euphanes.
You think now
You have open'd such a shame to me of travel,
By strewing these thin cubs! You have honour'd us
Against your will, proclaim'd us excellent:
Three frails of sprats, carried from mart to mart,
Are as much meat as these, to more use travell'd;
A bunch of bloated fools! Methinks your judgment
Should look abroad sometimes, without your envy.
Crates.
Such are most of you. So I take my leave,
And when you find your women's favour fail,
'Tis ten to one you'll know yourself, and seek me.
Upon a better muster of your manners.
Conon.  
This is not handsome, sir.
Euphanes.
Pray take your pleasure:
You wound the wind as much.
Crates.
Come you with me;
I have business for you presently. There's for your wine;
I must confess I lost it.
[Exit.
Onos.    
Shall I steal to you?
And shall we see the wench?
Conon.
A dainty one.
Onos.    
And have a dish of pippins?
Conon.
What? a peck, man.
Tutor.  
Will you wait, sir?
Conon.
Pray let's meet oftner, gentlemen;
I would not lose ye.
Tutor.  
Oh, sweet sir!
Conon.
Do you think I would?
Such noted men as you?
Onos, Uncle, Tutor.
We are your servants!
[Exeunt.
Euphanes.
That thing they would keep in everlasting nonage,
My brother, for his own ends, has thrust on
Upon my mistress: 'Tis true, he shall be rich,
If ever he can get that rogue his uncle
To let him be of years to come to inherit it.
Now, what the main drift is——
Conon.
Say you so? no more words
I'll keep him company till he be of years,
(Though it be a hundred years) but I'll discover it;
And ten to one I'll cross it too.
Euphanes.
You are honest,
And I shall study still your love. Farewell, sir!
For these few hours I must desire your pardon;
I have business of importance. Once a-day,
At least, I hope you'll see me; I must see you else:
So, once more, you are welcome!
Conon.
All my thanks, sir:
And when I leave to love you, life go from me!
[Exeunt.