E. Know. Ay, with a velvet scabbard, I think.

Step. Nay, an't be mine, it shall have a velvet scapbard, coz,
that's flat; I'd not wear it, as it is, an you would give me an
angel,

Brai. At your worship's pleasure, sir; nay, 'tis a most pure
Toledo.

Step. I had rather it were a Spaniard. But tell me, what shall I
give you for it? An it had a silver hilt

E. Know. Come, come, you shall not buy it: hold, there's a
shilling, fellow; take thy rapier.

Step. Why, but I will buy it now, because you say so; and there's
another shilling, fellow; I scorn to be out-bidden. What, shall I
walk with a cudgel, like Higginbottom, and may have a rapier for
money.

E. Know. You may buy one in the city.

Step. Tut! I'll buy this i' the field, so I will: I have a mind
to't, because 'tis a field rapier. Tell me your lowest price.

E. Know. You shall not buy it, I. say.

Step. By this money, but I will, though I give more than 'tis
worth.

E. Know. Come away, you are a fool.

Step. Friend, I am a fool, that's granted; but I'll have it, for
that word's sake. Follow me for your money.

Brai. At your service, sir.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III.---Another Part of Moorfields.
Enter KNOWELL.

Know.
I cannot lose the thought yet of this letter,
Sent to my son; nor leave t' admire the change
Of manners, and the breeding of our youth
Within the kingdom, since myself was one---
When I was young, he lived not in the stews
Durst have conceived a scorn, and utter'd it,
On a gray head; age was authority
Against a buffoon, and a man had then
A certain reverence paid unto his years,
That had none due unto his life: so much
The sanctity of some prevail'd for others.
But now we all are fallen; youth, from their fear,
And age, from that which bred it, good example.
Nay, would ourselves were not the first, even parents,
That did destroy the hopes in our own children;
Or they not learn'd our vices in their cradles,
And suck'd in our ill customs with their milk;
Ere all their teeth be born, or they can speak,
We make their palates cunning; the first words
We form their tongues with, are licentious jests:
Can it call whore? cry bastard? O, then, kiss it!
A witty child! can't swear? the fath