# The Case is Altered/Act II Scene VII

Scene VII.
Enter Onion, Juniper, Valentine, Sebastian, Balthasar, Martino.
Oni. Come on, i'faith, let's to some exercise or other, my hearts.
Fetch the hilts; fellow Juniper, wilt thou play?
[Exuent Martino.]
Junip. I cannot resolve you; 'tis as I am
fitted with the ingenuity, quantity, or quality of the cudgel.
Val. How dost thou bastinado the poor
cudgel with terms!
Junip. O Ingle, I have the phrases, man,
and the anagrams, and the epitaphs, fitting
the mystery of the noble science.
Oni. I'll be hang'd an' he were not misbegotten of some fencer.
Seb. Sirrah, Valentine, you can resolve
me now, have they their masters of defence
in other countries, as we have here in Italy?
Val. O lord, I; especially they in Utopia:
there they perform their prizes and challenges with as great ceremony as the Italian,
or any nation else.
Balt. Indeed! how is the manner of it,
for god's love, good Valentine?
Junip. Ingle, I prithee make recourse
unto us; we are thy friends and familiars,
sweet Ingle.
Val. Why thus, sir.
Oni. God a mercy, good Valentine; nay, go on.
Junip. Silentium bonus socius Onionus,
good fellow Onion, be not so ingenious and
turbulent. So, sir; and how? how, sweet Ingle?
Val. Marry, first they are brought to the public theatre.
Junip. What! ha' they theatres there?
Val. Theatres! I, and plays too, both
tragedy and comedy, and set forth with as
much state as can be imagined.
Junip. By god's so, a man is nobody till he has travell'd.
Seb. And how are their plays? as ours
are? extemporal?
Val. O no; all premeditated things, and
some of them very good, i' faith; my
master used to visit them often when he was there.
Balt. Why how, are they in a place where
any man may see them?
Val. I, in the common theatres, I tell
you. But the sport is at a new play, to observe
the sway and variety of opinion that
passeth it. A man shall have such a confus'd
mixture of judgment, pour'd out in
the throng there, as ridiculous as laughter
itself. One says he likes not the writing,
another likes not the plot, another not the
playing: and sometimes a fellow, that
comes not there past once in five years, at a
parliament time, or so, will be as deep mired
in censuring as the best, and swear by god's
foot he would never stir his foot to see a
hundred such as that is.
Oni. I must travel to see these things, I
shall never think well of myself else.
Junip. Fellow Onion, I'll bear thy charges,
and thou wilt but pilgrimize it along with
me to the land of Utopia.
Seb. Why but methinks such rooks as
these should be ashamed to judge.
Val. Not a whit; the rankest stinkard of
them all will take upon him as peremptory,
as if he had writ himself in artibus magister.
Seb. And do they stand to a popular censure for any thing they present?
Val. I, ever, ever; and the people generally
are very acceptive, and apt to applaud
any meritable work; but there are two sorts
of persons that most commonly are infectious
to a whole auditory.
Balt. What be they?
Junip. I, come, let's know them.
Oni. It were good they were noted.
Val. Marry, one is the rude barbarous
crew, a people that have no brains, and yet
grounded judgments; these will hiss any
thing that mounts above their grounded capacities;
but the other are worth the observation, i' faith.
Omnes. Where be they? where be they?
Val. Faith, a few capricious gallants.
Junip. Capricious! stay, that word's for me.
Val. And they have taken such a habit of
dislike in all things, that they will approve
nothing, be it never so conceited or elaborate;
but sit dispersed, making faces and
spitting, wagging their upright ears, and cry,
filthy, filthy; simply uttering their own condition,
and 2 using their wryed countenances
instead of a vice, to turn the good aspects of
all that shall sit near them, from what they behold.
Enter Martino with cudgels.
Oni. O that's well said; lay them down; come, sirs,
Who plays, fellow Juniper, Sebastian, Balthasar?
Somebody take them up, come.
Junip. Ingle, Valentine?
Val. Not I, sir, I profess it not.
Junip. Sebastian.
Seb. Balthasar.
Balt. Who? I?
Oni. Come, but one bout; I'll give 'em thee, i' faith.
Balt. Why here's Martino.
Oni. Foh, he! alas! he cannot play a
whit, man.
Junip. That's all one; no more could you in statu quo prius.
Martino, play with him; every man has his
beginning and conduction.
Mart. Will you not hurt me, fellow
Onion?
Oni. Hurt thee? no; and I do, put me
among pot-herbs,
And chop me to pieces. Come on.
Junip. By your favour, sweet bullies, give them room, back, so.
Martino, do not look so thin upon the matter.
Oni. Ha! well play'd, fall over to my
leg now: so, to your guard again: excellent!
to my head now: make home your
blow: spare not me, make it home, good, good again.
Seb. Why how now, Peter!
Val. Godso, Onion has caught a bruise.
Junip. Couragio! be not capricious; what!
Oni. Capricious! not I, I scorn to be ca pricious for a scratch,
Martino must have another bout; come.
Val. Seb. Balt. No, no, play no more,
play no more.
Oni. Foh, 'tis nothing, a fillip, a devise;
fellow Juniper, prithee get me a plantan; I
had rather play with one that had skill by half.
Mart. By my troth, fellow Onion, 'twas against my will.
Oni. Nay, that's not so, 'twas against my head;
But come, we'll ha' one bout more.
Junip. Not a bout, not a stroke.
Omnes. No more, no more.
Junip. Why I'll give you demonstration how it came,
Thou openedst thy dagger to falsify over
with the backsword trick, and he interrupted
before he could fall to the close.
Oni. No, no, I know best how it was,
better than any man here. I felt his play
presently; for look you, I gathered upon
him thus, thus, do you see? for the double
lock, and took it single on the head.
Val. He says very true, he took it single on the head.
Seb. Come, let's go.
Enter Martino with a cobweb.
Mart. Here, fellow Onion, here's a cobweb.
Oni. How! a cobweb, Martino! I will
have another bout with you. 'Swounds, do
you first break my head, and then give me
a plaster in scorn? Come, to it, I will have a bout.
Mart. God's my witness.
Oni. Tut, your witness cannot serve.
Junip. 'Sblood, why what! thou art not
lunatic, art thou? and thou be'st, avoid,
Mephostophilus. Say the sign should be in
Aries now, as it may be for all us, where
were your life? answer me that?
Seb. He says well, Onion.
Val. Indeed does he.
Junip. Come, come, you are a foolish naturalist;
go, get a white of an egg, and a
little flax, and close the breach of the head,
it is the most conducible thing that can be.
Martino, do not insinuate upon your good
fortune, but play an honest part, and bear away the bucklers.
[Exuent.]