ng'd me, sir: his arms are at too much
liberty, I would fain have them bound to a treaty of peace,
an I could by any means compass it.

LOR. Why, dost thou go in danger of thy life for him?

COB. No, sir; but I go in danger of my death every hour by
his means; an I die within a twelve-month and a day, I may
swear, by the laws of the land, that he kill'd me.

CLEM. How? how, knave? swear he kill'd thee? what pretext?
what colour hast thou for that?

COB. Marry, sir, both black and blue, colour enough, I
warrant you, I have it here to shew your worship.

CLEM. What is he that gave you this, sirrah?

COB. A gentleman in the city, sir.

CLEM. A gentleman? what call you him?

COB. Signior Bobadilla.

CLEM. Good: But wherefore did he beat you, sirrah?
how began the quarrel 'twixt you? ha: speak truly,
knave, I advise you.

COB. Marry, sir, because I spake against their vagrant
tobacco, as I came by them: for nothing else.

CLEM. Ha, you speak against tobacco? Peto, his name.

PET. What's your name, sirrah?

COB. Oliver Cob, sir, set Oliver Cob, sir.

CLEM. Tell Oliver Cob he shall go to the jail.

PET. Oliver Cob, master Doctor says you shall go to the jail.

COB. Oh, I beseech your worship, for God's love, dear master
Doctor.

CLEM. Nay, God's precious! an such drunken knaves as you are
come to dispute of tobacco once, I have done: away with him.

COB. Oh, good master Doctor, sweet gentleman.

LOR. SE. Sweet Oliver, would I could do thee any good; master
Doctor, let me intreat, sir.

CLEM. What? a tankard-bearer, a thread-bare rascal, a beggar,
a slave that never drunk out of better than piss-pot metal in
his life, and he to deprave and abuse the virtue of an herb so
generally received in the courts of princes, the chambers of
nobles, the bowers of sweet ladies, the cabins of soldiers:
Peto, away with him, by God's passion, I say, go to.

COB. Dear master Doctor.

LOR. SE. Alas, poor Oliver.

CLEM. Peto: ay: and make him a warrant, he shall not go,
I but fear the knave.

COB. O divine Doctor, thanks, noble Doctor, most dainty
Doctor, delicious Doctor.

[EXEUNT PETO WITH COB.]

CLEM. Signior Lorenzo: God's pity, man,
Be merry, be merry, leave these dumps.

LOR. SE. Troth, would I could, sir: but enforced mirth
(In my wea