BASTARD. Brother, adieu. Good fortune come to thee! For thou wast got i' th' way of honesty. Exeunt all but the BASTARD A foot of honour better than I was; But many a many foot of land the worse. Well, now can I make any Joan a lady. 'Good den, Sir Richard!' - 'God-a-mercy, fellow!' And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter; For new-made honour doth forget men's names: 'Tis too respective and too sociable For your conversion. Now your traveller, He and his toothpick at my worship's mess - And when my knightly stomach is suffic'd, Why then I suck my teeth and catechize My picked man of countries: 'My dear sir,' Thus leaning on mine elbow I begin 'I shall beseech you' - That is question now; And then comes answer like an Absey book: 'O sir,' says answer 'at your best command, At your employment, at your service, sir!' 'No, sir,' says question: I, sweet sir, at yours. And so, ere answer knows what question would, Saving in dialogue of compliment, And talking of the Alps and Apennines, The Pyrenean and the river Po - It draws toward supper in conclusion so. But this is worshipful society, And fits the mounting spirit like myself; For he is but a bastard to the time That doth not smack of observation - And so am I, whether I smack or no; And not alone in habit and device, Exterior form, outward accoutrement, But from the inward motion to deliver Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age's tooth; Which, though I will not practise to deceive, Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn; For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising. But who comes in such haste in riding-robes? What woman-post is this? Hath she no husband That will take pains to blow a horn before her?.

Brother Adieu

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1381
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