SCENE I.-The Old Jewry. A Hall in KITELY'S House.
Enter KITELY, CASH, and DOWNRIGHT.

Kit.
Thomas, come hither.
There lies a note within upon my desk;
Here take my key: it is no matter neither.—-
Where is the boy?

Cash. Within, sir, in the warehouse.

Kit.
Let him tell over straight that Spanish gold,
And weigh it, with the pieces of eight. Do you
See the delivery of those silver stuffs
To Master Lucar: tell him, if he will,
He shall have the grograns, at the rate I told him,
And I. will meet him on the Exchange anon.

Cash. Good, sir. [Exit.

Kit. Do you see that fellow, brother Downright?

Dow. Ay, what of him?

Kit. He is a jewel, brother.
I took him of a child up at my door,
And christen'd him, gave him mine own name, Thomas:
Since bred him at the Hospital; where proving
A toward imp, I call'd him home, and taught him
So much, as I have made him my cashier,
And giv'n him, who had none, a surname, Cash:
And find him in his place so full of faith,
That I durst trust my life into his hands.

Dow.
So would not I in any bastard's, brother,
As it is like he is, although I knew
Myself his father. But you said you had somewhat
To tell me, gentle brother: what is't, what is't?

Kit.
Faith, I am very loath to utter it,
As fearing it may hurt your patience:
But that I know your judgment is of strength,
Against the nearness of affection—-

Dow.
What need this circumstance? pray you, be direct.

Kit.
I will not say how much I do ascribe
Unto your friendship, nor in what regard
I hold your love; but let my past behaviour,
And usage of your sister, [both] confirm
How well I have been affected to your—-

Dow.
You are too tedious; come to the matter, the matter.

Kit.
Then, without further ceremony, thus.
My brother Wellbred, sir, I know not how,
Of late is much declined in what he was,
And greatly alter'd in his disposition.
When he came first to lodge here in my house,
Ne'er trust me if I were not proud of him:
Methought he bare himself in such a fashion,
So full of man, and sweetness in his carriage,
And what was chief, it shew'd not borrow'd in him,
But all he did became him as his own,
And seem'd as perfect, proper, and possest,
As breath with life, or colour with the blood.
But now, his course is so irregular,
So loose, affected, and deprived of grace,
And he himself withal so far fallen off
From that first place, as scarce no note remains,
To tell men's judgments where he lately stood.
He's grown a stranger to all due respect,
Forgetful of his friends; and not content
To stale himself in all societies,
He makes my house here common as a mart,
A theatre, a public receptacle
For giddy humour, and deceased riot;
And here, as in a tavern or a stews,
He and his wild associates spend their hours,
In repetition of lascivious jests,
Swear, leap, drink, dance, and revel night by night,
Control my servants; and, indeed, what not?

Dow. 'Sdeins, I know not what I should say to him, in the whole
world! He values me at a crack'd three-farthings, for aught I see.
It will never out of the flesh that's bred in the bone. I have
told him enough, one would think, if that would serve; but counsel
to him is as good as a shoulder of mutton to a sick horse. Well!
he knows what to trust to, for George: let him spend, and spend,
and domineer, till his heart ake; an he think to be relieved by
me, when he is got into one O' your city pounds, the counters, he
has the wrong sow by the ear, i'faith; and claps his dish at the
wrong man's door: I'll lay my hand on my halfpenny, ere I part
with it to fetch him out, I'll assure him.'

Kit. Nay, good brother, let it not trouble you thus.

Dow. 'Sdeath! he mads me; I could eat my very spur leathers for
anger! But, why are you so tame? why do you not speak to him, and
tell him how he disquiets your house?

Kit.
O, there are divers reasons to dissuade me.
But, would yourself vouchsafe to travail in it
(Though but with plain and easy circumstance),
It would both come much better to his sense,
And savour less of stomach, or of passion.
You are his elder brother, and that title
Both gives and warrants your authority,
Which, by your presence seconded, must breed
A kind of duty in him, and regard:
Whereas, if I should intimate the least,
It would but add contempt to his neglect,
Heap worse on ill, make up a pile of hatred,
That in the rearing would come tottering down,
And in the ruin bury all our love.
Nay, more than this, brother; if I should speak,
He would be ready, from his heat of humour,
And overflowing of the vapour in him,
To blow the ears of his familiars
With the false breath of telling what disgraces,
And low disparagement's, I had put upon him.
Whilst they, sir, to relieve him in the fable,
Make their loose comments upon every word,
Gesture, or look, I use; mock me all over,
From my flat cap unto my shining shoes;
And, out of their impetuous rioting phant'sies,
Beget some slander that shall dwell with me.
And what would that be, think you? marry, this:
They would give out, because my wife is fair,
Myself but lately married; and my sister '.
Here sojourning a virgin in my house,
That I were jealous I—-nay, as sure as death,
That they would say: and, how that I had quarrell'd,
My brother purposely, thereby to find
An apt pretext to banish them my house.

Dow. Mass, perhaps so; they're like enough to do it.

Kit.
Brother, they would, believe it; so should I,
Like one of these penurious quack-salvers,
But set the bills up to mine own disgrace,
And try experiments upon myself;
Lend scorn and envy opportunity
To stab my reputation and good name—
Enter Master MATHEW struggling with BOBADILL.

Mat. I will speak to him.

Bob. Speak to him! away! By the foot of Pharaoh, you shall not! you
shall not do him that grace.—The time of day to you, gentleman O'
the house. Is master Wellbred stirring?

Dow. How then? what should he do?

Bob. Gentleman of the house, it is to you: is he within, sir?

Kit. He came not to his lodging to-night, sir, I assure you.

Dow. Why, do you hear? you!

Bob.
The gentleman citizen hath satisfied me;
I'll talk to no scavenger. [Exeunt Bob. and Mat.

Dow. How! scavenger! stay, sir, stay!

Kit. Nay, brother Downright.

Dow. 'Heart! stand you away, an you love me.

Kit. You shall not follow him now, I pray you, brother, good faith
you shall not; I will overrule you.

Dow. Ha! scavenger! well, go to, I say little: but, by this good
day (God forgive me I should swear), if I put it up so, say I am
the rankest cow that ever pist. 'Sdeins, an I swallow this, I'll
ne'er draw my sword in the sight of Fleet-street again while I
live; I'll sit in a barn with madge-howlet, and catch mice first.
Scavenger! heart!—and I'll go near to fill that huge tumbrel-slop
of yours with somewhat, an I have good luck: your Garagantua breech
cannot carry it away so.

Kit. Oh, do not fret yourself thus: never think on't.

Dow. These are my brother's consorts, these! these are his
camerades, his walking mates! he's a gallant, cavaliero too,
right hangman cut! Let me not live, an I could not find in my heart
to swinge the whole gang of 'em, one after another, and begin with
him first. I am grieved it should be said he is my brother, and
take these courses: Well, as he brews, so shall he drink, for
George, again. Yet he shall hear on't, and that tightly too, an I
live, i'faith.

Kit.
But, brother, let your reprehension, then,
Run in an easy current, not o'er high
Carried with rashness, or devouring choler;
But rather use the soft persuading way,
Whose powers will work more gently, and compose
The imperfect thoughts you labour to reclaim;
More winning, than enforcing the consent.

Dow. Ay, ay, let me alone for that, I warrant you.

Kit.
How now! [Bell rings.] Oh, the bell rings to breakfast.
Brother, I pray you go in, and bear my wife company till I come;
I'll but give order for some despatch of business to my servants.