SCENE I.-The Old Jewry. A Room in the Windmill Tavern. Enter Master MATHEW, WELLBRED, and BOBADILL. Mat. Yes, faith, sir, we were at your lodging to seek you too. Wel; Oh, I came not there to-night. Bob. Your brother delivered us as much. Wel. Who, my brother Downright? Bob. He. Mr. Wellbred, I know not in what kind you hold me; but let me say to you this: as sure as honour, I esteem it So much out of the sunshine of reputation, to throw the least beam of regard upon such a-- Wel. Sir, I must hear no ill words of my brother. Bob. I protest to you, as I have a thing to be saved about me, I never saw any gentlemanlike part-- Wel. Good captain, faces about to some other discourse. Bob. With your leave, sir, an there were no more men living upon th' face of the earth, I should not fancy him, by St. George! Mat. Troth, nor I; he is of a rustical cut, I know not how: he doth not carry himself like a gentleman of fashion. Wel. Oh, master Mathew, that's a grace peculiar but to a few, quos aequus amavit Jupiter. Mat. I understand you, sir. Wel. No question, you do,--or do you not, sir. Enter E. KNOWELL and Master STEPHEN. Ned Knowell! by my soul, welcome: how dost thou, sweet spirit, my genius? 'Slid, I shall love Apollo and the mad Thespian girls the better, while I live, for this, my dear Fury; now, I see there's some love in thee. Sirrah, these be the two I writ to thee of: nay, what a drowsy humour is this now! why dost thou not speak? E. Know. Oh, you are a fine gallant; you sent me a rare letter. Wel. Why, was't not rare? E. Know. Yes, I'll be sworn, I was ne'er guilty of reading the like; match it in all Pliny, or Symmachus's epistles, and I'll have my judgment burn'd in the ear for a rogue: make much of thy vein, for it is inimitable. But I marle what camel it was, that had the carriage of it; for, doubtless, he was no ordinary beast that brought it. Wel. Why? E. Know. Why, say'st thou! why, dost thou think that any reasonable creature, especially in the morning, the sober time of the day too, could have mistaken my father for me? Wel. 'Slid, you jest, I hope. E. Know. Indeed, the best use we can turn it to, is to make a jest on't; now: but I'll assure you, my father had the full view of your flourishing style some hour before I saw it. Wel. What a dull slave was this! but, sirrah, what said he to it, i'faith? E. Know. Nay, I know not what he said; but I have a shrewd guess what he thought. Wel. What, what? E. Know. Marry, that thou art some strange, dissolute young fellow, and I--a grain or two better, for keeping thee company.