THE ELDER BROTHER A comedy. Acted at the Black Friars, by his Majesty's Servants. Printed according to the true Copy.  
Written by john Fletcher Gent.  
LONDON, Imprinted by F. K. for I. W. and I. B. 1637.   


The Speakers of the Play.  
LEWIS, a Lord.  
MIRAMONT, a Gentleman.  
BRISAC, a justice, brother to Miramont.  
CHARLES, a Scholar. EUSTACE, a Courtier. sons to Brisac.  
EGREMONT, COWSY, two Courtiers, Friends to Eustace.  
ANDREW, Servant to Charles.  
COOKE, BUTLER, Servants to Brisac.  
PRIEST.  
NOTARY.  
SERVANTS.  
OFFICERS.  
ANGELLINA, Daughter to Lewis.  
SYLVIA, her Woman.  
LILLY, Wife to Andrew.  
LADIES.   

Lectori.  
Wouldst thou all wit, all Comic art survey?  
read here and wonder; FLETCHER writ the Play.    

Prologue.  
BUt that it would take from our modesty,  
To praise the Writer, or the Comedy,  
Till your fair suffrage crown it: I should say,  
Y'are all most welcome to no vulgar Play;  
And so far we are confident; And if he  
That made it, still lives in your memory;  
You will expect what we present tonight,  
Should be judged worthy of your ears and sight.  
You shall hear Fletcher in it; his true strain,  
And neat expressions; living he did gain  
Your good opinions; But now dead commends  
This Orphan to the care of noble friends:  
And may it raise in you content and mirth,  
And be received for a legitimate birth.  
Your grace erects new Trophies to his fame,  
And shall to after times preserve his name.   

The Elder Brother. A Comedy.  

Actus I. Scoena I.  LEWIS, ANGELLINA, SYLVIA. 
NAy, I must walk you farther.  Ang. 
I am tired Sir,  
And ne'er shall foot it home.  Lew. 
'Tis for your health;  
The want of exercise takes from your beauties,  
And sloth dries up your sweetness: That you are  
My only Daughter and my heir, is granted;  
And you in thankfulness must needs acknowledge,  
You ever find me an indulgent Father,  
And open handed.  Ang. 
Nor can you tax me, Sir,  
I hope, for want of duty to deserve  
These favours from you.  Lew. 
No, my Angellina,  
I love and cherish thy obedience to me,  
Which my care to advance thee, shall confirm;  
All that I aim at, is to win thee from  
The practice of an idle foolish state  
Used by great Women, who think any labour,  
(Though in the service of themselves) a blemish  
To their fair fortunes.  Ang. 
Make me understand Sir,  
What 'tis you point at.  Lew. 
At the custom how  
Virgins of wealthy families, waste their youth;  
After a long sleep, when you wake, your woman  
Presents your breakfast, then you sleep again,  
Then rise, and being trimmed up by others hands,  
Y'are led to dinner, and that ended, either  
To Cards or to your Couch (as if you were  
Borne without motion) After this to Supper,  
And then to bed; And so your life runs round  
Without variety or action Daughter.  Syl. 
Here's a learned Lecture!  Lew. 
From this idleness  
Diseases both in body and in mind  
Grow strong upon you; where a stirring nature  
With wholesome exercise guards both from danger:  
I'd have thee rise with the Sun, walk, dance, or hunt,  
Visit the groves and springs, and learn the virtues  
Of Plants and Simples: Do this moderately,  
And thou shalt not with eating chalk, or coals,  
Leather and oatmeal, and such other trash,  
Fall into the green sickness.  Syl. 
With your pardon  
(Were you but pleased to minister it) I could  
Prescribe a remedy for my Lady's health,  
And her delight too, far transcending those  
Your Lordship but now mentioned.  Lew. 
What is it Sylvia?  Syl. 
What is't? A noble Husband; In that word, a  
Noble Husband, all content of Woman  
Is wholly comprehended; He will rouse her,  
As you say, with the Sun, and so pipe to her,  
As she will dance, ne'er doubt it, and hunt with her,  
Upon occasion, until both be weary;  
And then the knowledge of your Plants and Simples,  
As I take it, were superfluous; A loving,  
And but add to it a game some Bedfellow,  
Being the sure Physician.  Lew. 
Well said Wench.  Ang. 
And who gave you Commission to deliver  
Your verdict, Minion?  Syl. 
I deserve a fee,  
And not a frown, dear Madam; I but speak  
Her thoughts, my Lord, and what her modesty  
Refuses to give voice to; Show no mercy  
To a Maidenhead of fourteen, but off with 't:  
Let her lose no time Sir, fathers that deny  
Their Daughters lawful pleasure, when ripe for them,  
In some kind's edge their appetites to taste of  
The fruit that is forbidden.  Lew. 
'tis well urged,  
And I approve it; no more blushing Girl,  
Thy woman hath spoke truth, and so prevented  
What I meant to move to thee: There dwells near us  
A Gentleman of blood, Monsieur Brisac,  
Of a fair state, six thousand Crowns per annum,  
The happy Father of two hopeful Sons,  
Of different breeding; Th'elder, a mere Scholar,  
The younger, a quaint Courtier.  Ang. 
Sir, I know them  
By public fame, though yet I never saw them;  
And that opposed antipathy between  
Their various dispositions, renders them  
The general discourse and argument;  
One part inclining to the Scholar Charles,  
The other side preferring Eustace, as  
A man complete in Courtship.  Lew. 
And which way  
(If of these two you were to choose a husband)  
Doth your affection sway you?  Ang. 
To be plain, Sir,  
(Since you will teach me boldness) As they are  
Simply themselves, to neither; Let a Courtier  
Be never so exact, Let him be blessed with  
All parts that yield him to a Virgin gracious,  
If he depend on others, and stand not  
On his own bottoms, though he have the means  
To bring his Mistress to a Masque, or by  
Conveyance from some great ones lips, to taste  
Such favour from the kings; or grant he purchase,  
Precedency in the Country, to be sworn  
A servant Extraordinary to the Queen;  
Nay, though he live in expectation of  
Some huge preferment in reversion; If  
He Want a present fortune, at the best  
Those are but glorious dreams, and only yield him  
A happiness in posse, not in esse;  
Nor can they fetch him silks from th'Mercer; nor  
Discharge a tailor's bill; nor in full plenty  
(Which still preserves a quiet bed at home)  
Maintain a family.  Lew. 
Aptly considered,  
And to my wish, but what's thy censure of  
The Scholar?  Ang. 
Troth (if he be nothing else)  
As of the Courtier; all his Songs, and Sonnets,  
His Anagrams, Acrostics, Epigrams,  
His deep and Philosophical discourse  
Of natures hidden secrets, makes not up  
A perfect husband; He can hardly borrow  
The Stars of the Celestial crown to make me  
A tire for my head; nor Charles' Wain for a Coach,  
Nor Ganymede for a Page, nor a rich gown  
From Juno's Wardrobe, nor would I lie in  
(For I despair not once to be a mother)  
Under heavens spangled Canopy, or banquet  
My guests and Gossips with imagined Nectar,  
Pure Orleans would do better; no, no, father,  
Though I could be well pleased to have my husband  
A Courtier, and a Scholar, young, and valiant,  
These are but gaudy nothings, If there be not  
Something to make a substance.  Lew. 
And what's that?  Ang. 
A full estate, and that said, I've said all,  
And get me such a one with these additions,  
Farewell Virginity, and welcome wedlock.  Lew. 
But where is such one to be met with Daughter?  
A black Swan is more common, you may wear  
Grey tresses ere we find him.  Ang. 
I am not  
So punctual in all ceremonies, I will bate  
Two or three of these good parts, before I'll dwell  
Too long upon the choice.  Syl. 
Only, my Lord, remember  
That he be rich and active, for without these,  
The others yield no relish, but these perfect;  
You must bear with small faults, Madam.  Lew. 
Merry Wench,  
And it becomes you well, I'll to Brisac,  
And try what may be done; i'th' mean time, home,  
And feast thy thoughts with th'pleasures of a Bride.  Syl. 
Thoughts are but airy food Sir, let her taste them.   

Actus I. Scoena II.  ANDREW, COOKE, BUTLER. 
Unload part of the Library, and make room  
For th'other dozen of Carts, I'll straight be with you.  Co. 
Why hath he more books?  And. 
More than ten Marts send over.  But. 
And can he tell their names?  And. 
their names? he has 'em  
As perfect as his pater noster, but that's nothing,  
‛Has read them over leaf by leaf three thousand times;  
But here's the wonder, though their weight would sink  
A Spanish Carrack, without other ballast,  
He carrieth them all in his head, and yet  
He walks upright.  But. 
Surely he has a strong brain.  And. 
If all thy pipes of wine were filled with books  
Made of the barks of trees, or mysteries writ  
In old moth-eaten velum, he would sip thy Cellar  
Quite dry, and still be thirsty; Then for's Diet,  
He eats and digests more Volumes at a meal,  
Than there would be Larks (though the sky should fall)  
Devoured in a month in Paris, yet fear not  
Sons o'th' the buttery, and kitchen, though his learned stomach  
Cannot b' appeased; he'll seldom trouble you,  
His knowing stomach contemns your black Jacks, Butler,  
And your Flagons, and Cook thy boiled, thy roast, thy baked.  Co. 
How liveth he?  And. 
Not as other men do,  
Few Princes fare like him; He breaks his fast  
With Aristotle, dines with Tully, takes  
His watering with the Muses, sups with livy,  
Then walks a turn or two in via lactea,  
And (after six hours' conference with the stars)  
Sleeps with old Erra Pater.  But. 
This is admirable.  And. 
I'll tell you more hereafter, here's my old Master  
And another old ignorant Elder, I'll upon 'em.  Enter BRISAC, LEWIS. 
What Andrew? welcome, where's my Charles? speak Andrew,  
Where didst thou leave thy Master?  And. 
Contemplating  
The number of the sands in the high way,  
And from that, purposes to make a judgement  
Of the remainder in the Sea; He is Sir,  
In serious study, and will lose no minute  
Nor out of 's pace to knowledge.  Lew. 
This is strange.  And. 
Yet he hath sent his duty Sir before him  
In this fair manuscript.  Bri. 
What have we here?  
pothooks and Andirons!  And. 
I much pity you,  
It is the Syrian Character, or the Arabic,  
Would thou have it said, so great and deep a Scholar  
As Master Charles is, should ask blessing  
In any Christian Language? Were it Greek,  
I could interpret for you, but indeed  
I'm gone no farther.  Bri. 
And in Greek you can  
Lie with your smug wife Lily.  And. 
If I keep her  
From your French dialect, as I hope I shall Sir,  
howe'er she is your Laundress, she shall put you  
To th' charge of no more soap than usual  
For th' washing of your sheets.  Bri. 
Take in the knave,  
And let him eat.  And. 
And drink too, Sir.  Bri. 
And drink too, Sir,  
And see your Master's Chamber ready for him.  But. 
Come Doctor Andrew without Disputation  
Thou shalt commence i'th' Cellar.  And. 
I had rather  
Commence on a cold baked meat.  Co. 
Thou shalt ha''t, Boy.  Exeunt. Bri. 
Good Monsieur Lewis I esteem myself  
Much honoured in your clear intent, to join  
Our ancient families, and make them one,  
And 'twill take from my age and cares to live  
And see what you have purposed put in act,  
Of which your visit at this present is  
A hopeful Omen; I each minute expecting  
Th'Arrival of my Sons; I have not wronged  
Their Birth for want of means and education,  
To shape them to that course each was addicted;  
And therefore that we may proceed discreetly,  
Since what's concluded rashly seldom prospers,  
You first shall take a strict perusal of them,  
And then from your allowance, your fair daughter  
May fashion her affection.  Lew. 
Monsieur Brisac,  
You offer fair, and nobly, and I'll meet you  
In the same line of honour, and I hope,  
Being blessed but with one daughter, I shall not  
Appear impertinently curious,  
Though with my utmost vigilance and study,  
I labour to bestow her to her worth;  
Let others speak her form, and future fortune  
From me descending to her; I in that  
Sit down with silence.  Bri. 
You may my Lord securely,  
Since fame aloud proclaimeth her perfections,  
Commanding all men's tongues to sing her praises;  
Should I say more, you well might censure me  
(What yet I never was) a Flatterer.  
What trample's that without of Horses?  Enter BUTLER. 
Sir my young Masters are newly alighted.  Bri. 
Sir now observe their several dispositions.  Enter CHARLES. 
Bid my subsizar carry my Hackney to the Buttery,  
And give him his beaver; it is a civil  
And sober beast, and will drink moderately,  
And that done, turn him into the quadrangle.  Bri. 
He cannot out of his University tone.  Enter EUSTACE, EGREMONT, COWSY. 
Lackey, take care our Coursers be well rubbed,  
And clothed, they have outstripped the wind in speed.  Lew. 
I marry Sir, there's metal in this young fellow!  
What a sheep's look his elder brother has!  Char. 
Your blessing, Sir?  Bri. 
Rise Charles, thou hast it.  Eust. 
Sir, though it be unusual in the Court,  
(Since 'tis the courtier's garb) I bend my knee,  
And do expect what follows.  Bri. 
Courtly begged.  
My blessing! take it.  Eust. 
Your Lordship's vowed adorer:  to Lew. 
What a thing this brother is! yet I'll vouchsafe him  
The new Italian shrug— How clownishly  
The bookworm does return it.  Ch. 
I'm glad y'are well.  reads. Eust. 
Pray you be happy in the knowledge of  
This pair of accomplished Monsieurs.  
They are Gallants that have seen both Tropicks.  Br. 
I embrace their loves.  Egr. 
which we'll repay with servulating.  Cow. 
And will report your bounty in the Court.  Bri. 
I pray you make deserving use on't first:  
Eustace give entertainment to your friends,  
What's in my house is theirs.  Eust. 
Which we'll make use of;  
Let's warm our brains with half a dozen healths,  
And then hang cold discourse, for we'll speak fireworks.  Exeunt. Lew. 
What at his book already?  Bri. 
Fie, fie, Charles,  
No hour of interruption?  Cha. 
Plato differs  
From Socrates in this.  Bri. 
Come lay them by;  
Let them agree at leisure.  Cha. 
Man's life Sir, being  
So short, and then the way that leads unto  
The knowledge of ourselves, so long and tedious,  
Each minute should be precious.  Bri. 
In our care  
To manage worldly business, you must part with  
This bookish contemplation, and prepare  
yourself for action; to thrive in this age,  
Is held the palm of learning; you must study  
To know what part of my land's good for th' plough,  
And what for pasture, how to buy and sell  
To the best advantage, how to cure my Oxen  
When they're o'ergrown with labour.  Cha. 
I may do this  
From what I've read Sir; for what concerns tillage?  
Who better can deliver it than Virgil  
In his Georgics? and to cure your herds,  
His Bucolics is a masterpiece; but when  
He does describe the Commonwealth of Bees,  
Their industry and knowledge of the herbs,  
From which they gather honey, with their care  
To place it with decorum in the Hive,  
Their government among themselves, their order  
In going forth and coming loaden home,  
Their obedience to their King, and his towards  
To such as labour, with his punishments  
Only inflicted on the slothful Drone,  
I'm ravished with it, and there reap my harvest,  
And there receive the gain my Cattle bring me,  
And there find wax and honey.  Bri. 
And grow rich  
In your imagination, heyday, heyday,  
Georgics, and Bucolics, and Bees! Art mad?  Cha. 
No Sir, the knowledge of these guard me from it.  Bri. 
But can you find among your bundle of books,  
(And put in all your Dictionaries that speak all tongues)  
What pleasures they enjoy, that do embrace  
A well shaped wealthy Bride? Answer me that.  Cha. 
'tis frequent Sir in story, there I read of  
All kind of virtuous and vicious women,  
The ancient Spartan Dames, and Roman Ladies,  
Their beauties, and deformities, and when  
I light upon a Portia or Cornelia,  
Crowned with still flourishing leaves of truth and goodness,  
With such a feeling I peruse their fortunes,  
As if I then had lived, and freely tasted  
Their ravishing sweetness; at the present loving  
The whole sex for their goodness and example.  
But on the contrary when I look on  
A Clytaemnestra or a Tullia,  
The first bathed in her husband's blood; The later,  
Without a touch of piety, driving on  
Her Chariot o'er her father's breathless trunk;  
Horror invades my faculties; and comparing  
The multitudes o'th' guilty, with the few  
That did die Innocents, I detest, and loathe ''em  
As ignorance or Atheism.  Bri. 
You resolve then  
ne'er to make payment of the debt your owe me.  Cha. 
What debt, good Sir.  Bri. 
A debt I paid my father  
When I begat thee, and made him a Grandsire,  
Which I expect from you.  Cha. 
The children Sir,  
Which I will leave to all posterity,  
Begot and brought up by my painful studies,  
Shall be my living issue.  Bri. 
Very well,  
And I shall have a general collection  
Of all the quiddits from Adam to this time  
To be my grandchild.  Cha. 
And such a one I hope Sir,  
As shall not shame the Family.  Bri. 
Nor will you  
Take care of my estate.  Cha. 
But in my wishes,  
For know Sir, that the wings on which my Soul  
Is mounted, have long since borne her too high  
To stoop to any prey, that soars not upwards,  
Sordid and dunghill minds composed of earth,  
In that gross Element fix all their happiness;  
But purer spirits, purged and refined, shake off  
That clog of humane frailty; give me leave  
T'enjoy myself, that place that does contain  
My Books (the best Companions) is to me  
A glorious Court, where hourly I converse  
With the old Sages and Philosophers,  
And sometimes for variety, I confer  
With Kings and Emperors, and weigh their Counsels,  
Calling their Victories (if unjustly got)  
Unto a strict account, and in my fancy,  
Deface their ill placed Statues; Can I then  
Part with such constant pleasures, to embrace  
Uncertain vanities? No, be it your care  
T'augment your heap of wealth; It shall be mine  
T'encrease in knowledge— Lights there for my study.  — Exit. Bri. 
Was ever man that had reason thus transported  
From all sense and feeling of his proper good?  
It vexes me, and if I found not comfort  
In my young Eustace, I might well conclude  
My name were at a period!  Lew. 
he's indeed Sir,  
The surer base to build on.  Bri. 
Eustace.  Enter Eust. Egre. Cow. & Andr. Eust. 
Sir.  Bri. 
Your ear in private.  And. 
I suspect my master  
Has found harsh welcome, he's gone supperless  
Into his study; could I find out the cause,  
It may be borrowing of his books, or so,  
I shall be satisfied.  Eust. 
My duty shall Sir,  
Take any form you please, and in your motion  
To have me married, you cut off all dangers  
The violent heats of youth might bear me to.  Lew. 
It is well answered.  Eust. 
Nor shall you my Lord,  
Nor your fair Daughter ever find just cause  
To mourn your choice of me; the name of husband  
Nor the authority it carries in it  
Shall ever teach me to forget to be  
As I am now her servant, and your Lordships,  
And but that modesty forbids, that I  
Should sound the Trump of my own deserts,  
I could say my choice manners have been such,  
As render me loved and remarkable  
To th' Princes of the blood.  Cow. 
Nay to the King.  Egre. 
Nay to the King and Council.  And. 
These are Court admirers,  
And ever echo him that bears the bag,  
Though I be dull eyed, I see through this juggling.  Eust. 
Then for my hopes.  Cow. 
Nay certainties.  Eust. 
They stand  
As fair as any man's, What can there fall  
In compass of her wishes which she shall not  
Be suddenly possessed of? Loves she titles?  
By th' grace and favour of my princely friends,  
I am what she would have me.  Bri. 
He speaks well,  
And I believe him.  Lew. 
I could wish I did so.  
Pray you a word Sir, he's a proper Gentleman,  
And promises nothing, but what is possible.  
So far I will go with you, Nay I add,  
He hath won much upon me, and were he  
But one thing that his brother is, the bargain  
Were soon struck up.  Bri. 
What's that my Lord?  Lew. 
The heir.  And. 
Which he is not, and I trust never shall be.  Bri. 
Come, that shall breed no difference, you see  
Charles has given o'er the World; He undertake,  
And with much ease, to buy his birthright of him  
For a dry-fat of new books; nor shall my state  
Alone make way for him, but my elder brothers,  
Who being issueless, t' advance our name,  
I doubt not will add his; Your resolution?  Lew. 
I'll first acquaint my daughter with the proceedings,  
On these terms I am yours, as she shall be,  
Make you no scruple, get the writings ready,  
She shall be tractable; tomorrow we will hold  
A second conference: Farewell noble Eustace,  
And you brave Gallants.  Eust. 
Full increase of honour  
Wait ever on your Lordship.  And. 
The Gout rather  
And a perpetual megrim.  Bri. 
You see Eustace,  
How I travail to possess you of a fortune  
You were not borne to, be you worthy of it,  
I'll furnish you for a Suitor; visit her  
And prosper in't.  Eust. 
she's mine Sir, fear it not:  
In all my travails, I ne'er met a Virgin  
That could resist my Courtship.  Eust. 
If this take now,  
W'are made for ever, and will revel it.  Exeunt. And. 
In tough welsh parsley, which in our vulgar Tongue  
Is strong hempen halters; My poor Master cozened,  
And I a looker on! If we have studied  
Our majors, and our minors, antecedents,  
And consequents, to be concluded coxcombs,  
W'have made a fair hand on't, I'm glad I have found  
Out all their plots, and their conspiracies,  
This shall t'old Monsieur Miramont, one, that though  
He cannot read a Proclamation, yet  
Dotes on learning, and loves my Master Charles  
For being a Scholar, I hear he's coming hither,  
I shall meet him, and if he be that old  
Rough tasty blade he always used to be,  
I'll ring him such a peal as shall go near  
To shake their belroome, peradventure, beat ''em,  
For he is fire and flax, and so have at him.  Exit. 
Finis Actus primi.    


Actus 2. Scoena 1.  MIRAMONT. BRISAC. 
NAy brother, brother.  Bri. 
Pray Sir be not moved,  
I meddle with no business but mine own,  
And in mine own 'tis reason I should govern.  Mir. 
But how to govern then, and understand Sir,  
And be as wise as y'are hasty, though you be  
My brother and from one blood sprung, I must tell ye  
Heartily and home too.  Br. 
What Sir?  Mir. 
What I grieve to find,  
You are a fool, and an old fool, and that 'tis two  Bri. 
we'll part 'em, if you please.  Mir. 
No they're entailed to 'em,  
Seek to deprive an honest noble spirit,  
Your eldest son Sir, and your very Image,  
(But he's so like you that he fares the worse for't)  
Because he loves his book and dotes on that,  
And only studies how to know things excellent,  
Above the reach of such course brains as yours,  
Such muddy fancies, that never will know farther  
Than when to cut your Vines, and cozen Merchants,  
And choke your hidebound Tenants with musty harvests.  Bri. 
You go too fast.  Mir. 
I'm not come to my pace yet,  
Because h' has made his study all his pleasure,  
And is retired into his Contemplation,  
Not meddling with the dirt and chaff of nature,  
That makes the spirit of the mind mud too,  
Therefore must he be flung from his inheritance?  
Must he be dispossessed, and Monsieur jingle boy  
His younger brother?—  Bri. 
You forget yourself,  Mir. 
Because h' has been at Court and learned new tongues,  
And how to speak a tedious piece of nothing,  
To vary his face as Seamen do their Compass,  
To worship images of gold and silver,  
And fall before the she Calves of the Season,  
Therefore must he jump into his brother's land?  Bri. 
Have you done yet, and have you spoke enough  
In praise of learning, Sir?  Mir. 
Never enough.  Bri. 
But brother do you know what learning is?  Mir. 
It is not to be a Justice of Peace, as you are,  
And palter out your time i'th' penal Statutes,  
To hear the curious Tenets controverted  
Between a Protestant Constable, and a Jesuit Cobbler,  
To pick natural Philosophy out of bawdry  
When your Worship's pleased to correctify a Lady,  
Nor 'tis not the main moral of blind Justice,  
(Which is deep learning) when your worship Tenants  
Bring a light cause, and heavy Hens before ye,  
Both fat and feasible, a Goose or Pig,  
And than you sit like equity with both hands  
Weighing indifferently the state o'th' question.  
These are your quodlibets, but no learning Brother.  Bri. 
You are so parlously in love with learning,  
That I'd be glad to know what you understand, brother,  
I'm sure you have read all Aristotle.  Mir. 
Faith no,  
But I believe, I have a learned faith Sir,  
And that's it makes a Gentleman of my sort,  
Though I can speak no Greek I love the sound on't,  
It goes so thundering as it conjured Devils;  
Charles speaks it loftily, and if thou wert a man,  
Or hadst but ever heard of Homer's Iliads,  
Hesiod, and the Greek Poets, thou wouldst run mad,  
And hang they self for joy thou'dst such a Gentleman  
To be thy son; O he has read such things  
To me!  Bri. 
And you do understand ''em brother.  Mir. 
I tell thee no, that's not material; the sound's  
Sufficient to confirm an honest man:  
Good brother Brisac, does your young Courtier  
That wears the fine clothes, and is the excellent Gentleman,  
(The Traveller, the Soldier, as you think too)  
Understand any other power than his Tailor?  
Or knows what motion is, more than an Horse-race?  
What the Moon means, but to light him home from Taverns?  
Or the comfort of the Sun is, but to wear slashed clothes in?  
And must this piece of ignorance be popped up,  
Because 't can kiss the hand, and cry sweet Lady?  
Say it had been at Rome, and seen the Relics,  
Drunk your Verdea wine, and rid at Naples,  
Brought home a box of Venice treacle, with it  
To cure young wenches that have eaten ashes:  
Must this thing therefore?—  Bri. 
Yes Sir, this thing must,  
I will not trust my land to one so sotted,  
So grown like a disease unto his study,  
He that will fling off all occasions  
And cares, to make him understand what state is,  
And how to govern it, must by that reason,  
Be flung himself aside from managing:  
My younger boy is a fine Gentleman.  Mir. 
He is an ass, a piece of gingerbread,  
Gilt over to please foolish girls and puppets.  Bri. 
You are my elder brother.  Mir. 
So I had need,  
And have an elder wit, thou'dst shame us all else,  
Go too, I say, Charles shall inherit.  Bri. 
I say no,  
Unless Charles had a soul to understand it,  
Can he manage six thousand Crowns a year  
Out of the metaphysics? or can all  
His learned Astronomy look to my Vineyards?  
Can the drunken old Poets make up my Vines?  
(I know they can drink ''em) or your excellent humanists  
Sell 'em the Merchants for my best advantage?  
Can History cut my hay, or get my Corn in?  
And can Geometry vent it in the market?  
Shall I have my sheep kept with a jacob's staff now?  
I wonder you will magnify this mad man,  
You that are old and should understand.  Mir. 
Should, sayst thou,  
Thou monstrous piece of ignorance in office!  
Thou that hast no more knowledge than thy Clerk infuses,  
Thy dapper Clerk larded with ends of Latin,  
And he no more than custom of offences;  
Thou unreprieveable Dunce! that thy formal bandstrings,  
Thy ring nor pomander cannot expiate for,  
Dost thou tell me I should? I'll pose thy Worship  
In thine own Library and Almanac,  
Which thou art daily poring on to pick out  
Days of iniquity to cozen fools in,  
And full Moons to cut Cattle; dost thou taint me,  
That have run over story, Poetry,  
Humanity?  Bri. 
As a cold nipping shadow  
Does o'er the ears of Corn, and leave 'em blasted,  
Put up your anger, what I'll do I'll do.  Mir. 
Thou shalt not do.  Bri. 
I will.  Mir. 
Thou art an Ass then,  
A dull old tedious Ass, th' art ten times worse  
And of less credit than Dunce Hollingshead  
The Englishman, that writes of snows and Sheriffs.  Enter LEWIS. Bri. 
Well take your pleasure, here's one I must talk with.  Lew. 
Good day Sir.  Bri. 
Fair to you Sir.  Lew. 
May I speak w' ye.  Bri. 
With all my heart, I was waiting on your goodness.  Lew. 
Good morrow Monsieur Miramont.  Mir. 
O sweet Sir,  
Keep your good morrow to cool your worship's pottage,  
A couple of the world's fools met together  
To raise up dirt and dunghills.  Lew. 
Are they drawn?  Bri. 
They shall be ready Sir, within these two hours,  
And Charles set his hand.  Lew. 
'Tis necessary,  
For he being a joint purchaser, though your state  
Was got by your own industry, unless  
He seal to the Conveyance, it can be  
Of no validity.  Bri. 
He shall be ready,  
And do it willingly.  Mir. 
He shall be hanged first.  Bri. 
I hope your daughter likes.  Lew. 
She loves him well Sir,  
Young Eustace is a bait to catch a woman,  
A budding sprightly fellow, y'are resolved then,  
That all shall pass from Charles.  Bri. 
All all, he's nothing,  
A bunch of books shall be his patrimony,  
And more than he can manage too.  Lew. 
Will your brother  
Pass over his land too, to your son Eustace?  
You know he has no heir.  Mir. 
He will be flayed first.  
And horse-collars made of 's skin!  Bri. 
Let him alone,  
A wilful man; my state shall serve the turn, Sir.  
And how does your Daughter?  Lew. 
Ready for the hour,  
And like a blushing Rose that stays the pulling.  Bri. 
Tomorrow, then 's the day.  Lew. 
Why then tomorrow  
I'll bring the Girl, get you the Writings ready.  Mir. 
But hark you Monsieur, have you the virtuous conscience  
To help to rob an heir, an Elder Brother  
Of that which nature and the Law flings on him?  
You were your father's eldest son, I take it,  
And had his Land, would you had had his wit too,  
Or his discretion to consider nobly,  
What 'tis to deal unworthly in these things;  
You'll say he's none of yours, he's his son,  
And he will say, he is no son to inherit  
Above a shelf of Books; Why did he get him?  
Why was he brought up to write and read and know things?  
Why was he not like his father, a dumb Justice?  
A flat dull piece of phlegm, shaped like a man,  
A reverend I doll in a piece of auras?  
Can you lay disobedience, want of manners,  
Or any capital crime to his charge?  Lew. 
I do not,  
Nor do not weigh your words, they bite not me, Sir,  
This man must answer.  Bri. 
I have done't already,  
And given sufficient reason to secure me:  
And so good morrow brother to your patience.  Lew. 
Good morrow Monsieur Miramont.  Mir. 
Good nightcaps  
Keep your brains warm, or Maggots will breed in 'em.  
Well Charles, thou shalt not want to buy thee books yet,  
The fairest in thy study are my gift,  
And the University Louvain for thy sake,  
Hath tasted of my bounty, and to vex  
Th' old doting fool thy father, and thy brother,  
They shall not share a Solz of mine between them;  
Nay more, I'll give thee eight thousand Crowns a year,  
In some high strain to write my Epitaph.  — Exit.  

Actus II. Scoena II.  EUSTACE, EGREMONT, COWSY. 
How do I look now to my elder Brother;  
Nay, 'tis a handsome Suit.  Cow. 
All courtly, courtly.  Eust. 
I'll assure ye Gentlemen, my Tailor has travailed,  
And speaks as lofty language in his bills too,  
The cover of an old Book would not show thus.  
Fie, fie, what things these Academics are,  
These bookworms, how they look!  Egr. 
Th' are mere Images,  
No gentle motion nor behaviour in 'em,  
They'll prattle ye of primum mobile,  
And tell a story of the state of Heaven,  
What Lords and Ladies govern in such houses,  
And what wonders they do when they meet together,  
And how they spit snow, fire, and hail like a Juggler,  
And make a noise when they are drunk, which we call Thunder.  Cow. 
They are the sneaking'st things, and the contemptiblest;  
Such small beer brains, but ask'em any thing  
Out of the Element of their understanding,  
And they stand gaping like a roasted Pig;  
Do they know what a Court is or a Council,  
Or how th' affairs of Christendom are managed?  
Do they know any thing but a tired hackney?  
And they cry absurd as the Horse understood'em.  
They have made a fair youth of your elder brother,  
A pretty piece of flesh.  Eust. 
I thank ''em for it,  
Long may he study to give me his state.  
Saw you my Mistress?  Egre. 
Yes, she's a sweet young woman,  
But be sure you keep her from learning.  Eust. 
Songs she  
May have, and read a little unbaked Poetry,  
Such as the Dabblers of our time contrive,  
That has no weight nor wheel to move the mind,  
Nor indeed nothing but an empty sound;  
She shall have clothes but not made by Geometry,  
Horses and Coach but of no immortal race;  
I will not have a Scholar in mine house  
Above a gentle Reader, They corrupt  
The foolish women with their subtle problems:  
I'll have my house called Ignorance, to fright  
Prating Philosophers from entertainment.  Cow. 
It will do well, love those that love good fashions,  
Good clothes and rich, they invite men to admire ''em,  
That speak the lisp of Court, Oh 'tis great learning!  
To ride well, dance well, sing well, or whistle Courtly,  
theyare rare endowments; that have seen far Countries  
And can speak strange things, though they speak no truths,  
For then they make things common. When are you married?  Eust. 
Tomorrow, I think, we must have a Masque Boys,  
And of our own making.  Egre. 
'tis not half an hour's work,  
A Cupid and a fiddle, and the thing's done,  
But let's be handsome, shall's be Gods or Nymphs?  Eust. 
What, Nymphs with beards?  Cow. 
That's true, we'll be  
Knights then,  
Some wandering Knights, that light here on a sudden.  Eust. 
Let's go, let's go, I must go visit, Gentlemen,  
And mark what sweet lips I must kiss tomorrow.  Exeunt.  

Actus II. Scoena II.  COOKE, ANDREW, BUTLER. 
And how does my Master?  And. 
Is at's book, peace Coxcomb,  
That such an unlearned tongue as thine should ask for him!  Co. 
does he not study conjuring too?  And. 
Have you  
Lost any plate, Butler? But. No, but I know  
I shall tomorrow at dinner.  And. 
Then tomorrow  
You shall be turned out of your place for't; we meddle  
With no spirits o'th' Buttery, they taste too small for us;  
Keep me a pie in folio, I beseech thee,  
And thou shalt see how learnedly I'll translate him;  
Shall's have good cheer tomorrow.  Coo. 
Excellent, good cheer Andrew.  And. 
The spite on't is, that much about that time,  
I shall be arguing, or deciding rather,  
Which are the Males and Females of red Herrings,  
And whether they be taken in the red Sea only,  
A question found out by Copernicus,  
The learned Motion-maker.  Co. 
I marry, Butler,  
Here are rare things; a man that looked upon him,  
Would swear he understood no more than we do.  But. 
Certain, a learned Andrew.  And. 
I've so much on't,  
And am so loaden with strong understanding,  
I fear, they'll run me mad, here's a new instrument,  
A metamatical glister to purge the Moon with,  
When she is laden with cold phlegmatic humours,  
And here's another to remove the Stars,  
When they grow too thick in the Firmament.  Co. 
O heavens! why do I labour out my life  
In a beefpot? and only search the secrets  
Of a Salad; and know no farther!  And. 
They are not  
Revealed to all beads; These are far above  
Your Element of Fire, Cook, I could tell you  
Of Archimedes' glass to fire your coals with,  
And of the philosopher's turf that ne'er goes out;  
And Gilbert Butler, I could ravish thee,  
With two rare inventions.  But. 
What are they Andrew?  And. 
The one to blanch your bread from chippings base,  
And in a moment, as thou wouldst an Almond,  
The Sect of the Epicurians invented that;  
The other for thy trenchers, that's a strong one,  
To cleanse you twenty dozen in a minute,  
And no noise heard, which is the wonder Gilbert,  
And this was out of Plato's new ideas.  But. 
Why what a learned Master dost thou serve Andrew?  And. 
These are but the scrapings of his understanding, Gilbert;  
With gods and goddesses, and such strange people  
He deals, and treats with in so plain a fashion,  
As thou dost with thy boy that draws thy drink,  
Or Ralph there with his kitchen boys and scalders.  Coo. 
But why should he not be familiar and talk sometimes,  
As other Christians do, of hearty matters,  
And come into the Kitchen, and there cut his breakfast?  But. 
And then retire to the Buttery and there eat it,  
And drink a lusty bowl, my younger Master  
That must be now the heir will do all these,  
I and be drunk too; These are mortal things.  And. 
My Master studies immortality.  Coo. 
Now thou talk'st  
Of immortality, how does thy wife Andrew? My old Master  
Did you no small pleasure when he procured her  
And stocked you in a fame. If he should love her now,  
As he hath a colt's tooth yet, what says your learning  
And your strange instruments to that my Andrew?  
Can any of your learned Clerks avoid it?  
Can ye put by his Mathematical Engine?  And. 
Yes, or I'll break it; thou awaken'st me,  
And I'll peep i'th' Moon this month but I'll watch for him.  
My Master rings, I must go make him a fire,  
And conjure o'er his books.  Coo. 
Adieu good Andrew,  
And send thee manly patience with thy learning.  — Exeunt.  

Actus II. Scoena IV.  CHARLES. 
I have forgot to eat and sleep with reading,  
And all my faculties turn into study,  
'tis meat and sleep, what need I outward garments,  
When I can clothe myself with understanding,  
The Stars and glorious Planets have no Tailors,  
Yet ever new they are and shine like Courtiers,  
The seasons of the year find no fond parents,  
Yet some are armed in silver Ice that glisters,  
And some in gaudy green come in like Masquers,  
The Silkworm spins her own suit and her lodging,  
And has no aid nor partner in her labours;  
Why should we care for any thing but knowledge,  
Or look upon the world but to contemn it?  Enter ANDREW. 
Would you have anything?  Cha. 
Andrew, I find  
There is a sty grown o'er the eye o'th' Bull,  
Which will go near to blind the Constellation.  And. 
Put a gold-ring in's nose, and that will cure him.  Cha. 
Ariadne's crown's awry too, two main-stars  
That held it fast are slipped out.  And. 
Send it presently  
To Gallatteo the Italian Star-wright  
he'll set it right again with little labour.  Cha. 
Thou art a pretty Scholar.  And. 
I hope I shall be,  
Have I swept your books so often to know nothing?  Cha. 
I hear thou art married.  And. 
It hath pleased your father  
To match me to a maid of his own choosing,  
I doubt her constellation's loose too, and wants nailing,  
And a sweet farm he has given us a mile off Sir,  Cha. 
Marry thyself to understanding, Andrew,  
These women are Errata in all Authors,  
They're fair to see to, and bound up in velum,  
Smooth, white and clear, but their contents are monstrous;  
They treat of nothing, but dull age and diseases.  
Thou hast not so much wit in thy head, as there is  
On those shelves Andrew.  And. 
I think I have not Sir.  Cha. 
No, if thou hadst thou'dst ne'er have married a woman  
In thy bosom, they're Cataplasmes made o'th' deadly sins,  
I ne'er saw any yet but mine own mother,  
Or if I did, I did regard them, but  
As shadows that pass by of under Creatures.  And. 
Shall I bring you one? I'll trust you with my own wife;  
I would not have your brother go beyond ye,  
theyare the prettiest natural Philosophers to play with.  Cha. 
No, no, th' are optics to delude men's eyes with.  
Does my younger brother speak any Greek yet, Andrew?  And. 
No, but he speaks high Dutch, and that goes as daintily.  Cha. 
Reach me the books down I read yesterday,  
And make a little fire, and get a manchet,  
Make clean those instruments of brass I showed you,  
And set the great Sphere by, then take the fox tail  
And purge the books from dust, last take your Lily,  
And get your part ready.  And. 
Shall I go home Sir?  
My wife's name is Lily, there my best part lies, Sir.  Cha. 
I mean your Grammar, O thou dunderhead!  
Wouldst thou be ever in thy wives Syntaxis?  
Let me have no noise, nor nothing to disturb me,  
I am to find a secret.  And. 
So am I too,  
Which if I do find, I shall make some smart for't.  — Exeunt.   


Actus 3. Scoena 1.  LEWIS, ANGELLINA, SYLVIA, NOTARY. 
THis is the day my daughter Angellina,  
The happy, that must make you a fortune,  
A large and full one, my great care has wrought it,  
And yours must be as great to entertain it,  
Young Eustace is a Gentleman at all points,  
And his behaviour affable and courtly,  
His person excellent, I know you find that,  
I read it in your eyes, you like his youth,  
Young handsome people should be matched together,  
Then follows handsome Children, handsome fortunes,  
The most part of his father's state, my Wench,  
Is tied in jointure, that makes up the harmony,  
And when y'are married he's of that soft temper,  
And so far will be chained to your observance,  
That you may rule and turn him as you please.  
What are the writings drawn on our side, Sir?  Not. 
They are, and here I have so fettered him,  
That if the Elder Brother set his hand to,  
Not all the power of Law shall ere release him.  Lew. 
These Notaries are notable confident Knaves,  
And able to do more mischief than an Army:  
Are all your Clauses sure?  Not. 
Sure as proportion,  
They may turn Rivers sooner than these Writings.  Not. 
Why did you not put all the lands in, Sir?  Lew. 
'twas not conditioned.  Not. 
If it had been found,  
It had been but a fault made in the Writing,  
If not found all the Land.  Lew. 
These are small Devils  
That care not who has mischief, so they make it;  
They live upon the mere scent of dissension.  
'tis well, 'tis well, Are you contented Girl?  
For your will must be known.  Ang. 
A husband's welcome,  
And as an humble wife I'll entertain him,  
No sovereignty I aim at, 'tis the man's Sir,  
For she that seeks it, kills her husband's honour:  
The Gentleman I have seen, and well observed him,  
Yet find not that graced excellence you promise,  
A pretty Gentleman, and he may please too,  
And some few flashes I have heard come from him,  
But not to admiration, as to others;  
he's young, and may be good, yet he must make it,  
And I may help, and help to thank him also.  
It is your pleasure I should make him mine,  
an't has been still my duty to observe you.  Lew. 
Why then let's go, and I shall love your modesty.  
To horse, and bring the Coach out. Angellina,  
Tomorrow you will look more womanly.  Ang. 
So I look honestly, I fear no eyes, Sir.  Exeunt.  

Actus III. Scoena II.  BRISAC, ANDREW, COOKE, LILLY. 
Wait on your Master, he shall have that befits him.  And. 
No inheritance, Sir?  Bri. 
You speak like a fool, a coxcomb,  
He shall have annual means to buy him books,  
And find him clothes and meat, what would he more?  
Trouble him with Land? 'tis flat against his nature:  
I love him too, and honour those gifts in him.  And. 
Shall Master Eustace have all?  Bri. 
All, all, he knows how  
To use it, he's a man bred in the world,  
T' other i'th' heavens: my masters, pray be wary,  
And serviceable, and Cook see all your sauces  
Be sharp and poignant in the palate, that they may  
Commend you, look to your roast and baked meats handsomely,  
And what new kickshaws and delicate made things—  
Is th' music come?  But. 
Yes Sir, th' are here at breakfast.  Bri. 
There will be a Masque too, you must see this room clean,  
And Butler your door open to all good fellows,  
But have an eye to your plate, for there be Furies:  
My Lily welcome, you are for the linen,  
Sort it, and see it ready for the Table,  
And see the bridebed made, and look the cords be  
Not cut asunder by the Gallants too,  
There be such knacks abroad; hark hither, Lily,  
Tomorrow night at twelve o'clock, I'll sup w' ye,  
Your husband shall be safe, I'll send ye meat too,  
Before I cannot well stip from my company.  And. 
Will ye so, will you, so, Sir? I'll make one to eat it,  
I may chance make you stagger too.  Bri. 
No answer, Lily?  Lil. 
One word about the linen; I'll be ready,  
And rest your worships still.  And. 
And I'll rest w' ye,  
You shall see what rest 'twill be: Are ye so nimble:  
A man had need have ten pair of ears to watch you.  Bri. 
Wait on your Master, for I know he wants ye,  
And keep him in his study, that the noise  
Do not molest him: I will not fail my Lily—  
Come in sweet hearts, all to their several duties.  Exeunt. And. 
Are you kissing ripe, Sir? Double but my farm  
And kiss her till thy heart ache; these smock vermin,  
How eagerly they leap at old men's kisses,  
They lick their lips at profit, not at pleasure;  
And if 't were not for th' scurvy name of Cuckold,  
He should lie with her, I know she'll labour at length  
With a good Lordship. If he had a wife now,  
But that's all one, I'll fit him: I must up  
Unto my Master, he'll be mad with study.  — Exit.  

Actus III. Scoena III.  CHARLES. 
What noise is in this house, my head is broken,  
Within a Parenthesis, in every corner  
As if the earth were shaken with some strange Collect,  
There are stirs and motions, What Planet rules this house?  Enter ANDREW. 
Who's there?  And. 
'tis I Sir, faithful Andrew.  Cha. 
Come near,  
And lay thine ear down, hear'st no noise?  And. 
The Cooks  
Are chopping herbs and mince meat to make pies,  
And breaking Marrowbones—  Char. 
Can they set them again?  And. 
Yes, yes, in broths and puddings, and they grow stronger  
For th'use of any man.  Cha. 
What sque a king's that?  
Sure there is a massacre.  And. 
Of Pigs and Geese Sir,  
And Turkeys for the spit. The Cooks are angry Sir,  
And that makes up the medley.  Cha. 
Do they thus  
At every dinner? I ne'er marked them yet,  
Nor know who is a Cook.  And. 
Th' are sometimes sober,  
And then they beat as gently as a Tabor.  Char. 
What loads are these?  Andr. 
Meat, meat, Sir, for the Kitchen,  
And stinking fowls the Tenants have sent in,  
They'll ne'er be found out at a general eating,  
And there's fat Venison, Sir.  Cha. 
What's that?  And. 
Why deer,  
Those that men fatten for their private pleasures,  
And let their Tenants starve upon the Commons.  Cha. 
I've read of deer, but yet I ne'er eat any.  And. 
There's a fishmonger's boy with Caviar Sir,  
Anchoves and Potargo, to make ye drink.  Cha. 
Sure these are modern, very modern meats,  
For I understand 'em not.  And. 
No more does any man  
From Caca merda or a substance worse,  
Till they be greased with oil, and rubbed with onions,  
And then flung out of doors, they are rare Salads,  Cha. 
And why is all this, prithee tell me Andrew?  
Are there any Princes to dine here today?  
By this abundance, sure there should be Princes;  
I've read of entertainment for the gods  
At half this charge, will not fine dishes serve 'em?  
I never had but one, and that a small one.  And. 
Your Brother's married this day, he's married,  
Your younger brother Eustace.  Cha. 
What of that?  And. 
And all the friends about are bidden hither,  
There's not a dog that knows the house but comes too.  Cha. 
Married? to whom?  And. 
Why to a dainty Gentlewoman,  
Young, sweet, and modest.  Cha. 
Are there modest women?  
How do they look?  And. 
O you'd bless yourself to see them.  
He parts with's book, he ne'er did so before yet.  Cha. 
What does my father for 'em?  And. 
Gives all his Land,  
And makes your brother heir.  Cha. 
Must I have nothing?  And. 
Yes, you must study still, and he'll maintain you.  Cha. 
I am his eldest brother.  And. 
True, you were so,  
But he has leapt one your shoulders, Sir.  Cha. 
'tis well,  
he'll not inherit my understanding too?  And. 
I think not, he'll scarce find Tenants to let it  
Out to.  Cha. 
Hark, hark.  Andr. 
The Coach that brings the fair Lady.  Enter LEWIS, ANGELLINA, Ladies, NOTARY, &c. And. 
Now you may see her.  Cha. 
Sure this should be modest;  
But I do not truly know what women make of it,  
Andrew; she has a face looks like a story,  
The story of the heaven's looks very like her.  And. 
She has a wide face then.  Cha. 
She has a cherubin's,  
Covered and veiled with modest blushes.  
Eustace be happy whiles poor Charles is patient.  
Get me my book again, and come in with me.  — Exeunt. Enter BRISAC, EUSTACE, EGREMONT, COWSY, MIRAMONT. Bri. 
Welcome sweet Daughter, welcome noble brother,  
And you are welcome Sir, with all your writings,  
Ladies most welcome; What? my angry brother!  
You must be welcome too, the feast is flat else.  Mir. 
I am not come for your welcome, I expect none,  
I bring no joys to bless the bed withal,  
Nor songs, nor Masques to glorify the Nuptials,  
I bring an angry mind to see your folly,  
A sharp one too, to reprehend you for it.  Bri. 
You'll stay and dine though?  Mir. 
All your meat smells musty,  
Your Table will show nothing to content me.  Bri. 
I'll answer you, here's good meat.  Mira. 
But your sauce is scurvy,  
It is not seasoned with the sharpness of discretion.  Eust. 
It seems your anger is at me, dear Uncle.  Mir. 
Thou are not worth my anger, th' art a boy,  
A lump o'thy father's lightness, made of nothing  
But antic clothes and cringes, look in thy head,  
And 'twill appear a football full of fumes  
And rotten smoke; Lady, I pity you,  
You are a handsome and a sweet young Lady,  
And aught to have a handsome man yoked t' ye,  
An understanding too, this is a gimcrack,  
That can get nothing but new fashions on you,  
For say he have a thing shaped like a child,  
'twill either prove a tumbler or a Tailor.  Eust. 
These are but harsh words Uncle.  Mir. 
So I mean 'em  
Sir, you play harsher play w' your elder brother.  Eust. 
I would be loath to give you.  Mir. 
Do not venture,  
I'll make your wedding-clothes sit closer t' ee then;  
I but disturb you, I'll go see my nephew.  Lew. 
Pray take a piece of rosemary.  Mir. 
I'll wear it,  
But for the Lady's sake, and none of yours,  
May be I'll see your table too.  Bri. 
Pray do, Sir.  Ang. 
A mad old Gentleman.  Bri. 
Yes faith, sweet daughter,  
He has been thus his whole age to my knowledge,  
He has made Charles his heir, I know that certainly,  
Then why should he grudge Eustace any thing?  Ang. 
I would not have a light head, nor one laden  
With too much learning, as they say, this Charles is,  
That makes his book his Mistress: Sure, there's something  
Hid in this old man's anger, that declares him  
Not a mere Sot.  Bri. 
Come shall we go and seal, brother?  
All things are ready and the Priest is here,  
When Charles has set his hand unto the Writings.  
As he shall instantly, then to the Wedding,  
And so to dinner.  Lew. 
Come, let's seal the book first,  
For my daughter's Jointure.  Bri. 
Let's be private in't, Sir.  Exeunt.  

Actus III. Scoena IV.  Enter CHARLES, MIRAMONT, ANDREW. Mir. 
Nay, y'are undone.  Cha. 
hum.  Mira. 
Ha'ye no greater feeling?  And. 
You were sensible of the great book, Sir,  
When it fell on your head, and now the house  
Is ready to fall, Do you fear nothing?  Cha. 
Will  
He have my books too?  Mir. 
No, he has a book,  
A fair one too to read on, and read wonders,  
I would thou hadst her in thy study Nephew,  
And 'twere but to new string her.  Cha. 
Yes, I saw her,  
And methought 'twas a curious piece of learning,  
Handsomely bound, and of a dainty letter.  And. 
He flung away his book.  Mir. 
I like that in him,  
Would he had flung away his dulness too,  
And spoke to her.  Cha. 
And must my brother have all?  Mir. 
All that your father has.  Cha. 
And that fair woman too?  Mir. 
That woman also.  Cha. 
He has enough then.  
May I not see her sometimes, and call her Sister?  
I will do him no wrong.  Mir. 
This makes me mad,  
I could now cry for anger; these old fools  
Are the most stubborn and the wilfullest Coxcombs.  
Farewell, and fall to your book, forget your brother,  
You are my heir, and I'll provide y'a wife:  
I'll look upon this marriage though I hate it.  Exit. Enter BRISAC. 
Where is my son?  And. 
There Sir, casting a figure  
What chopping children his brother shall have.  Bri. 
He does well; How dost Charles? still at thy book?  And. 
he's studying now Sir, who shall be his father.  Bri. 
Peace you rude Knave— Come hither Charles, be  
merry,  Cha. 
I thank you I am busy at my book, Sir,  Bri. 
You must put your hand my Charles, as I would have you,  
Unto a little piece of parchment here,  
Only your name, you write a reasonable hand.  Cha. 
But I may do unreasonably to write it,  
What is it Sir?  Bri. 
To pass the Land I have, Sir,  
Unto your younger brother.  Cha. 
Is't no more?  Bri. 
No, no, 'tis nothing, you shall be provided for,  
And new books you shall have still, and new studies,  
And have your means brought in without the care boy,  
And one still to attend you.  Cha. 
This shows your love father.  Bir. 
I'm tender to you.  And. 
Like a stone, I take it.  Cha. 
Why father, I'll go down, an't please you let me,  
Because I'd see the thing they call the Gentlewoman,  
I see no women but through contemplation,  
And there I'll do't before the company,  
And wish my brother fortune.  Bri. 
Do I prithee.  Cha. 
I must not stay, for I have things above  
Require my study.  Bri. 
No thou shalt not stay,  
Thou shalt have a brave dinner too. And, Now has he  
o'erthrown himself for ever; I will down  
Into the Cellar, and be stark drunk for anger.  Exeunt.  

Actus III. Scoena V.  Enter LEWIS, ANGELLINA, EUSTACE, Priest, Ladies, COWSY, Notary, MIRAMONT. Not. 
Come let him bring his son's hand, and all's done.  
Is yours ready?  Pr. 
Yes, I'll dispatch ye presently,  
Immediately, for in truth I am a hungry.  Eust. 
Do, speak apace, for we believe exactly:  
Do not we stay long Mistress?  Ang. 
I find no fault,  
Better things well done than want time to do them.  
Uncle, why are you sad?  Mir. 
Sweet smelling blossom,  
Would I were thine Uncle to thine own content,  
I'd make thy husband's state a thousand, better  
A yearly thousand, thou hast missed a man,  
(But that he is addicted to his study,  
And knows no other Mistress than his mind)  
Would weigh down bundles of these empty kexes.  Ang. 
Can he speak, Sir?  Mir. 
Faith yes, but not to women:  
His language is to heaven, and heavenly wonder,  
To Nature, and her dark and secret causes.  Ang. 
And does he speak well there?  Mir. 
O, admirably,  
But he's too bashful to behold a woman,  
There's none that sees him, nor her troubles none.  Ang. 
He is a man,  Mir. 
Yes, and a clear sweet spirit.  Ang. 
Then conversation methinks—  Mir. 
So think I too,  
But it is his rugged fate, and so I leave you.  Ang. 
I like thy nobleness.  Eust. 
See, my mad Uncle  
Is courting my fair Mistress.  Lew. 
Let him alone,  
There's nothing that alleys an angry mind  
So soon as a sweet beauty; he'll come to us.  Enter BRISAC, CHARLES. Eust. 
My father's here, my brother too! that's a wonder,  
Broke like a spirit from his Cell.  Bri. 
Come hither,  
Come nearer Charles, 'Twas your desire to see  
My noble Daughter, and the company,  
And give your brother joy, and then to seal boy.  
You do like a good brother.  Lew. 
Marry does he,  
And he shall have my love for ever for't.  
Put to your hand now.  Not. 
Here's the Deed Sir, ready.  Cha. 
No, you must pardon me a while, I tell ye,  
I am in contemplation, do not trouble me.  Bri. 
Come, leave thy study, Charles.  Cha. 
I'll leave my life first;  
I study now to be a man, I've found it.  
Before, what man was, was but my Argument.  Mir. 
I like this best of all, he has taken fire,  
His dull mist flies away.  Eust. 
Will you write brother?  Cha. 
No, brother no, I have no time for poor things,  
I'm taking th' height of that bright Constellation.  Bri. 
I say, you trifle time, son.  Cha. 
I will not seal, Sir,  
I am your eldest, and I'll keep my birthright,  
For heaven forbid I should become example;  
Had y' only showed me Land, I had delivered it,  
And been a proud man to have parted with it;  
'tis dirt, and labour; Do I speak right Uncle?  Mir. 
Bravely my boy, and bless thy tongue.  Cha. 
I'll forward,  
But you have opened to me such a treasure,  
I find my mind free, heaven direct my fortune.  Mir. 
Can he speak now? Is this a son to sacrifice?  Cha. 
Such an inimitable piece of beauty,  
That I have studied long, and now found only,  
That I'll part sooner with my soul of reason,  
And be a plant, a beast, a fish, a fly;  
And only make the number of things up  
Than yield one foot of Land, if she be tied to't.  Lew. 
He speaks unhappily.  Ang. 
And methinks bravely,  
This the mere Scholar?  Eust. 
You but vex yourself brother,  
And vex your study too.  Cha. 
Go you and study,  
For 'tis time young Eustace, you want both man and manners,  
I've studied both, although I made no show on't,  
Go turn the Volumes over I have read,  
Eat and digest them, that they may grow in thee,  
Wear out the tedious night with thy dim Lamps  
And sooner lose the day than leave a doubt,  
Distil the sweetness from the poet's Spring,  
And learn to love, Thou know'st not what fair is,  
Traverse the stories of the great Heroes,  
The wise and civil lives of good men walk through;  
Thou hast seen nothing but the face of Countries,  
And brought home nothing but their empty words:  
Why shouldst thou wear a Jewel of this worth?  
That hast no worth within thee to preserve her.  

Beauty clear and fair,  
where the air  
Rather like a perfume dwells,  
Where the violet and the rose  
Their blue veins in blush disclose,  
And come to honour nothing else.   

Where to live near,  
and planted there,  
Is to live, and still live new,  
Where to gain a favour is  
More than light, perpetual bliss,  
Make me live by serving you.   

dear again back recall,  
to this light,  
A stranger to himself and all;  
Both the wonder and the story  
Shall be yours, and eke the glory.  
I am your servant, and your thrall.   Mir. 
Speak such another Ode, and take all yet.  
What say ye to the Scholar now?  Ang. 
I wonder;  
Is he your brother, Sir?  Eust. 
Yes, would he were buried,  
I fear he'll make an ass of me a younger.  Ang. 
Speak not so softly Sir, 'tis very likely.  Bri. 
Come leave your finical talk, and let's dispatch, Charles.  Cha. 
Dispatch? What?  Bri. 
Why the land.  Cha. 
You are deceived, Sir,  
Now I perceive what 'tis that woes a woman,  
And what maintains her when she's wooed. I'll stop here.  
A wilful poverty ne'er made a beauty,  
Nor want of means maintained it virtuously:  
Though land and moneys be no happiness,  
Yet they are counted good Additions.  
That use I'll make, He that neglects a blessing,  
Though he want present knowledge how to use it,  
Neglects himself; May be I have done you wrong Lady,  
Whose love and hope went hand in hand together,  
May be my brother, that has long expected  
The happy hour and blessed my ignorance:  
Pray give me leave Sir, I shall clear all doubts.  
Why did they show me you? Pray tell me that?  (Mir. 
he'll talk thee into a pension for thy knavery)  Cha. 
You happy you, why did you break unto me?  
The rosy sugared morn ne'er broke so sweetly:  
I am a man and have desires within me,  
Affections too, though they were drowned a while,  
And lay dead, till the Spring of beauty raised them,  
Till I saw those eyes, I was but a lump,  
A Chaos of confusedness dwelled in me;  
Then from those eyes shot Love, and he distinguished,  
And into form he drew my faculties;  
And now I know my Land, and now I love too.  Bri. 
We had best remove the maid.  Cha. 
It is too late Sir,  
I have her figure here. Nay frown not Eustace,  
There are less worthy souls for younger brothers,  
This is no form of silk but sanctity,  
Which wild lascivious hearts can never dignify.  
Remove her where you will, I walk along still,  
For like the light we make no separation;  
You may sooner part the billows of the Sea,  
And put a bar betwixt their fellowships,  
Than blot out my remembrance, sooner shut  
Old time into a den, and stay his motion,  
Wash off the swift hours from his downy wings,  
Or steal eternity to stop his glass,  
Than shut the sweet Idea I have in me.  
Room for an elder brother, pray give place, Sir.  Mir. 
Has studied duel too, take heed, he'll beat thee.  
Has frighted the old Justice into a fever;  
I hope he'll disinherit him too for an ass;  
For though he be grave with years, he's a great baby.  Cha. 
Do not you think me mad?  Ang. 
No certain, Sir,  
I have heard nothing from you but things excellent.  Cha. 
You look upon my clothes and laugh at me,  
My scurvy clothes!  Ang. 
They have rich linings Sir.  
I would your brother—  Cha. 
His are gold and gaudy.  Ang. 
But touch'em inwardly, they smell of Copper.  Cha. 
Can ye love me? I am an heir, sweet Lady,  
However I appear a poor dependent;  
Love you with honour, I shall love so ever:  
Is your eye ambitious? I may be a great man.  
Is't wealth or lands you covet? my father must die.  Mir. 
That was well put in, I hope he'll take it deeply.  Cha. 
Old men are not immortal, as I take it,  
Is it, you look for, youth and handsomeness?  
I do confess my brother's a handsome Gentleman,  
But he shall give me leave to lead the way Lady,  
Can you love for love, and make that the reward?  
The old man shall not love his heaps of gold  
With a more doting superstition,  
Than I'll love you; The young man his delights,  
The merchant when he ploughs the angry sea up  
And sees the mountain billows falling on him,  
As if all Elements, and all their angers  
Were turned into one vowed destruction;  
Shall not with greater joy embrace his safety.  
we'll live together like two wanton Vines,  
Circling out souls and loves in one another,  
we'll spring together and we'll bear one fruit,  
One joy shall make us smile, and one grief mourn,  
One age go with us, and one hour of death  
Shall shut our eyes, and one grave make us happy.  Ang. 
And one hand seal the match, I'm yours for ever.  Lew. 
Nay, stay, stay, stay.  Ang. 
Nay certainly, 'tis done Sir.  Bri. 
There was a contract.  Ang. 
Only conditional,  
That if he had the Land, he had my love too;  
This Gentleman's the heir, and he'll maintain it.  
Pray be not angry Sir, at what I say;  
Or if you be, 'tis at your own adventure.  
You have the outside of a pretty Gentleman,  
But by my troth your inside is but barren;  
'tis not a face I only am in love with,  
Nor will I say your face is excellent,  
A reasonable hunting face to court the wind with;  
Nor th' are not words unless they be well placed too,  
Nor your sweet Dam me's, nor your hired verses,  
Nor telling me of Clothes, nor Coach and horses,  
No nor your visits each day in new suits,  
Nor your black patches you wear variously,  
Some cut like stars, some in half Moons, some Lozenges,  
(All which but show you still a younger brother.)  Mir. 
Gramercy Wench thou hast a noble soul too.  Ang. 
Nor your long travails, nor your little knowledge,  
Can make me dote upon you. Faith go study,  
And glean some goodness, that you may show manly,  
Your brother at my suit I'm sure will teach you,  
Or only study how to get a wife Sir,  
Y'are cast far behind, 'tis good you should be melancholy,  
It shows likes a Gamester that had lost his money,  
And 'tis the fashion to wear your arm in a scarf Sir,  
For you have had a shrewd cut o'er the fingers.  Lew. 
But are y' in earnest?  Ang. 
Yes, believe me father,  
You shall ne'er choose for me, y'are old and dim Sir,  
And th' shadow of the earth eclipsed your judgement,  
Y' have had your time without control dear father,  
And you must give me leave to take mine now Sir.  Bri. 
This is the last time of asking, Will you set your hand too?  Cha. 
This is the last time of answering, I will never.  Bris. 
Out of my doors.  Char. 
Most willingly.  Miram. 
He shall Jew,  
Thou of the Tribe of Man-y-asses, Coxcomb,  
And never trouble thee more till thy chops be cold, fool.  Ang. 
Must I be gone too?  Lew. 
I will never know thee.  Ang. 
Then this man will, what fortune he shall run, father,  
Be't good or bad, I must partake it with him.  Enter EGREMONT. 
When shall the Masque begin?  Eust. 
'tis done already,  
All, all, is broken off, I am undone friend,  
My brother's wife again, and has spoiled all,  
Will not release the land, has won the Wench too.  Egre. 
Could he not stay till th' Masque was passed? w' are ready.  
What a scurvy trick's this?  Mir. 
O you may vanish,  
Perform it at some Hall, where the Citizens wives  
May see't for six pence a piece, and a cold supper.  
Come let's go Charles, And now my noble Daughter,  
I'll sell the tiles of my house ere thou shalt want Wench.  
Rate up your dinner Sir, and sell it cheap,  
Some younger brother will take 't up in commodities.  
Send you joy, Nephew Eustace, if ye study the Law,  
Keep your great pippin-pies, they'll go far with ye.  Cha. 
I'd have your blessing.  Bri. 
No, no, meet me no more,  
Farewell, thou wilt blast mine eyes else.  Cha. 
I will not.  Lew. 
Nor send not you for Gowns.  Ang. 
I'll wear course flannel first.  Bri. 
Come let's go take some counsel.  Lew. 
'tis too late.  Bri. 
Then stay and dine, It may be we shall vex 'em.  Exeunt.   


Actus 4. Scoena 1.  Enter BRISAC, EUSTACE, EGREMONT, COWSY. 
ne'er talk to me, you are no men but Masquers,  
Shapes, shadows, and the signs of men, Court bubbles,  
That every breath or breaks or blows away,  
You have no souls, no metal in your bloods,  
No heat to stir ye when ye have occasion,  
Frozen dull things that must be turned with levers,  
Are you the Courtiers and the travailed Gallants?  
The sprightly fellows, that the people talk of?  
Ye have no more spirit than three sleepy sops.  Eust. 
What would ye have me do, Sir?  Bri. 
Follow your brother,  
And get ye out of doors, and seek your fortune,  
Stand still becalmed, and let an aged Dotard,  
A hare-brained puppy, and a bookish boy,  
That never knew a blade above a penknife,  
And how to cut his meat in Characters  
Cross my design, and take thy own Wench from thee,  
In mine own house too? Thou despised poor fellow!  Eust. 
The reverence that I ever bare to you Sir,  
Then to my Uncle, with whom 't had been but sauciness  
T' have been so rough—  Egre. 
And we not seeing him  
Strive in his own cause, that was principal,  
And should have led us on; thought it ill manners  
To begin a quarrel here.  Bri. 
You dare do nothing.  
Do you make your care the excuse of your cowardliness?  
Three boys on hobby-horses with three penny halberds,  
Would beat you all.  Cow. 
You must not say so.  Bri. 
Yes,  
And sing it too.  Cow. 
You are a man of peace,  
Therefore we must give way.  Bri. 
I'll make my way  
And therefore quickly leave me, or I'll force you;  
And having first torn off your flaunting feathers,  
I'll trample on 'em; and if that cannot teach you  
To quit my house, I'll kick ye out of my gates;  
You gaudy glowworms carrying seeming fire,  
Yet have no heat within ye.  Cow. 
O blessed travail!  
How much we owe thee for our power to suffer?  Egre. 
Some splenative youths now that had never seen  
More than their Country smoke would grow in choler.  
It would show fine in us.  Eust. 
Yes marry would it,  
That are prime Courtiers, and must know no angers,  
But give thanks for our injuries, if we purpose  
To hold our places.  Bri. 
Will you find the door?  
And find it suddenly, you shall lead the way, Sir,  
With your perfumed retinue, and recover  
The now lost Angellina, or build on it,  
I will adopt some beggars doubtful issue,  
Before thou shalt inherit.  Eust. 
we'll to council,  
And what may be done by man's wit or valour  
we'll put in execution,  Bri. 
Do, or never  
Hope I shall know thee.  Le. 
O Sir, have I found you?  Exeunt. Ent. Lewis. Bri. 
I never hid myself, whence flows this fury?  
With which as it appears, you come to fright me.  Lew. 
I smell a plot, a mere conspiracy  
Among ye all to defeat me of my daughter,  
And if she be not suddenly delivered,  
Untainted in her reputation too,  
The best of France shall know how I am juggled with.  
She is my heir, and if she may be ravished  
Thus from my care, farewell Nobility,  
Honour and blood are mere neglected nothings.  Bri. 
Nay then, my Lord, you go too far, and tax him  
Whose innocency understands not what fear is.  
If your unconstant daughter will not dwell  
On certainties, must you thenceforth conclude,  
That I am fickle? What have I omitted,  
To make good my integrity and truth?  
Nor can her lightness, nor your supposition  
Cast an aspersion on me.  Lew. 
I am wounded  
In fact, nor can words cure it: do not trifle,  
But speedily, once more I do repeat it,  
Restore my daughter as I brought her hither,  
Or you shall hear from me in such a kind,  
As you will blush to answer.  Bri. 
All the world  
I think conspires to vex me, yet I will not  
Torment myself, some spriteful mirth must banish  
The rage and melancholy which hath almost choked me,  
T' a knowing man 'tis physic, and 'tis thought on,  
One merry hour I'll have in spite of fortune,  
To cheer my heart, and this is that appointed,  
This night I'll hug my Lily in mine arms,  
Provocatives are sent before to cheer me;  
We old men need'em, and though we pay dear  
For our stolen pleasures, so it be done securely:  
The charge much like a sharp sauce gives 'em relish.  
Well honest Andrew, I gave you a farm,  
And it shall have a beacon to give warning  
To my other Tenants when the Foe approaches;  
And presently, you being bestowed elsewhere,  
I'll graft it with dexterity on your forehead;  
Indeed I will Lily, I come, poor Andrew.  Exit.  

Actus IV. Scoena II.  Enter MIRAMONT, ANDREW. 
Do they chase roundly?  And. 
As they were rubbed with soap, Sir,  
And now they swear aloud, now calm again,  
Like a ring of bells, whose sound the wind still altars,  
And then they sit in council what to do,  
And then they jar again what shall be done;  
They talk of Warrants from the Parliament,  
Complaints to the King, and forces from the Province,  
They have a thousand heads in a thousand minutes,  
Yet ne'er a one head worth a head of garlic.  Mir. 
Long may they chafe, and long may we laugh at 'em,  
A couple of pure puppies yoked together.  
But what says the young Courtier Master Eustace,  
And his two warlike friends?  And. 
They say but little,  
How much they think I know not, they look ruefully,  
As if they had newly come from a vaulting house,  
And had been quite shot through 'tween wind and water  
By a she Dunkirk, and had sprung a leak, Sir.  
Certain my master was too blame.  Mir. 
Why Andrew?  And. 
To take away the Wench o'th' sudden from him,  
And give him no lawful warning, he is tender,  
And of a young girl's constitution, Sir,  
Ready to get the green sickness with conceit;  
Had he but ta'en his leave in travailing language,  
Or bought an Elegy of his condolement,  
That th' world might have ta'en notice, he had been  
An Ass, 't had been some savour.  Mir. 
Thou sayst true,  
Wise Andrew, but those Scholars are such things  
When they can prattle.  And. 
Very perilous things Sir.  Mir. 
And when they gain the liberty to distinguish  
The difference twixt a father and a fool,  
To look below and spy a younger brother  
Pruning and dressing up his expectations  
In a rare glass of beauty, too good for him:  
Those dreaming Scholars then turn Tyrants, Andrew,  
And show no mercy.  And. 
The more's the pity, Sir.  Mir. 
Thou told'st me of a trick to catch my brother,  
And anger him a little farther, Andrew.  
It shall be only anger I assure thee,  
And a little shame.  And. 
And I can fit you, Sir;  
Hark in your ear.  Mir. 
Thy wife?  And. 
So I assure ye:  
This night at twelve o'clock.  Mir. 
'tis neat and handsome;  
There are twenty Crowns due to thy project Andrew.  
I've time to visit Charles, and see what Lecture  
He reads to his Mistress. That done, I'll not fail  
To be with you.  And. 
Nor I to watch my Master.  — Exeunt.  

Actus IV. Scoena III.  ANGELLINA, SYLVIA with a taper. 
I'm worse than ere I was, for now I fear,  
That that I love, that that I only dote on;  
He follows me through every room I pass,  
And with a strong set eye he gazes on me,  
As if his spark of innocence were blown  
Into a flame of lust; Virtue defend me.  
His Uncle too is absent, and 'tis night;  
And what these opportunities may teach him—  
What fear and endless care 'tis to be honest!  
To be a maid, what misery, what mischief!  
Would I were rid of it, so it were fairly.  Syl. 
You need not fear that, will you be a child still?  
He follows you, but still to look upon you,  
Or if he did desire to lie with ye,  
'tis but your own desire, you love for that end;  
I'll lay my life, if he were now a-bed w' ye,  
He is so modest, he would fall asleep straight.  Ang. 
Dare you venture that?  Syl. 
Let him consent, and have at ye,  
I fear him not, he knows not what a woman is,  
Nor how to find the mystery men aim at.  
Are you afraid of your own shadow, Madam?  Ang. 
He follows still, yet with a sober face;  
Would I might know the worst, and then I were satisfied.  Syl. 
You may both, and let him but go with ye.  Cha. 
Why do you fly me? what have I so ill  
About me or within me to deserve it?  Ang. 
I am going to bed Sir.  Cha. 
And I am come to light ye,  
I am a maid, and 'tis a maiden's office;  
You may have me to bed without a scruple,  
And yet I am chary too who comes about me.  
Two Innocents should not fear one another.  Syl. 
The Gentleman says true. Pluck up your heart, Madam.  Cha. 
The glorious Sun both rising and declining  
We boldly look upon, even then sweet Lady,  
When like a modest bride he draws nights curtains,  
Even then he blushes, that men should behold him.  Ang. 
I fear he will persuade me to mistake him.  Syl. 
'tis easily done, if you will give your mind to 't.  Ang. 
Pray ye to your bed.  Cha. 
Why not to yours, dear Mistress?  
One heart and one bed.  Ang. 
True Sir, when 'tis lawful:  
But yet you know—  Cha. 
I would not know, forget it;  
Those are but sickly loves that hang on Ceremony,  
Nursed up with doubts and fears, ours high and healthful,  
Full of belief, and fit to teach the Priest;  
Love should seal first, then hands confirm the bargain.  Ang. 
I shall be an Heretic if this continue.  
What would you do a-bed? you make me blush, Sir.  Cha. 
I'd see you sleep, for sure your sleeps are excellent:  
You that are waking such a noted wonder,  
Must in your slumbers prove an admiration:  
I would behold your dreams too, if 't were possible;  
Those were rich shows.  Ang. 
I am becoming Traitor.  Cha. 
Then like blue Neptune courting of an Island,  
Where all the perfumes and the precious things  
That wait upon great Nature are laid up.  
I'd clip it in mine arms, and chastely kiss it,  
Dwell in your bosom like your dearest thoughts,  
And sigh and weep.  Ang. 
I've too much woman in me.  Cha. 
And those true tears falling on your pure crystals  
Should turn to armlets for great queens t'adore.  Ang. 
I must be gone.  Cha. 
Do not, I will not hurt ye;  
This is to let you know, my worthiest Lady,  
Y' have cleared my mind, and I can speak of love too;  
Fear not my manners, though I never knew  
Before these few hours what a beauty was,  
And such a one that fires all hearts that feel it;  
Yet I have read of virtuous temperance,  
And studied it among my other secrets,  
And sooner would I force a separation  
Betwixt this spirit, and the case of flesh,  
Than but conceive one rudeness against chastity.  Ang. 
Then we may walk.  Cha. 
And talk of any thing,  
Any thing fit for your ears; and my language,  
Though I was bred up dull I was ever civil;  
'tis true, I have found it hard to look on you,  
And not desire, 'twill prove a wise man's task,  
Yet those desires I have so mingled still  
And tempered with the quality of honour,  
That if you should yield, I should hate you for't.  
I am no Courtier of a light condition,  
Apt to take fire at every beauteous face,  
That only serves his will and wantonness,  
And lets the serious part of life run by  
As thin neglected sand. Whiteness of name,  
You must be mine; why should I rob myself  
Of that that lawfully must make me happy?  
Why should I seek to cuckold my delights?  
And widow all those sweets I aim at in you?  
we'll lose ourselves in Venus' groves of myrtle,  
Where every little bird shall be a Cupid,  
And sing of love and youth, each wind that blows  
And curls the velvet leaves shall breed delights,  
The wanton springs shall call us to their banks,  
And on the perfumed flowers we'll feast our senses,  
Yet we'll walk by untainted of their pleasures,  
And as they were pure Temples we'll make in them.  Ang. 
To bed, and pray then, we may have a fair end  
Of our fair loves; would I were worthy of you,  
Or of such parents that might give you thanks:  
But I am poor in all but in your love.  
Once more, good night.  Cha. 
A good night t'ye, and may  
The dew of sleep fall gently on you, sweet one,  
And lock up those fair lights in pleasing slumbers;  
No dreams but chaste and clear attempt your fancy,  
And break betimes sweet morn, I've lost my light else.  Ang. 
Let it be ever night when I lose you.  Syl. 
This Scholar never went to a free-school, he's so simple.  Enter a servant Ser. 
Your brother with two Gallants is at door, Sir,  
And they're so violent, they'll take no denial.  Ang. 
This is no time of night.  Cha. 
Let 'em in mistress.  Serv. 
They stay no leave; Shall I raise the house on 'em?  Cha. 
Not a man, nor make no murmur of 't, I charge ye.  Enter EUSTACE, EGREMONT, COWSY. 
Th' are here, my Uncle absent, stand close to me.  
How do you brother with your curious story?  
Have you not read her yet sufficiently?  Cha. 
No, brother, no, I stay yet in the Preface;  
The style's too hard for you.  Eust. 
I must entreat her,  
she's parcel of my goods.  Cha. 
she's all when you have her.  Ang. 
Hold off your hands, unmannerly, rude Sir;  
Nor I, nor what I have depend on you.  Cha. 
Do, let her alone, she gives good counsel; do not  
Trouble yourself with Ladies, they are too light;  
Let out your land, and get a provident Steward.  Ang. 
I cannot love ye, let that satisfy you;  
Such vanities as you are to be laughed at.  Eust. 
Nay, then you must go, I must claim mine own.  Both. 
Away, away with her.  Cha. 
Let her alone,  She strikes off eustace's hat. 
Pray let her alone, and take your coxcomb up:  
Let me talk civilly a while with you brother,  
It may be on some terms I may part with her.  Eust. 
O, is your heart come down? what are your terms, Sir?  
Put up, put up.  Cha. 
This is the first and chiefest,  Snatches away his sword. 
Let's walk a turn; now stand off fools, I advise ye,  
Stand as far off as you would hope for mercy:  
This is the first sword yet I ever handled,  
And a sword's a beauteous thing to look upon,  
And if it hold, I shall so hunt your insolence:  
'tis sharp I'm sure, and if I put it home,  
'tis ten to one I shall new pink your Satins:  
I find I have spirit enough to dispose of it,  
And will enough to make ye all examples;  
Let me toss it round, I have the full command on't:  
Fetch me a native Fencer, I defy him;  
I feel the fire of ten strong spirits in me.  
Do you watch me when my Uncle is absent?  
This is my grief, I shall be fleshed on Cowards;  
Teach me to fight, I willing am to learn.  
Are ye all gilded Flies, nothing but show in ye?  
Why stand ye gaping? who now touches her?  
Who calls her his, or who dares name her to me?  
But name her as his own, who dares look on her?  
That shall be mortal too; but think, 'tis dangerous.  
Art thou a fit man to inherit land,  
And hast no wit nor spirit to maintain it?  
Stand still thou sign of man, and pray for thy friends,  
Pray heartily, good prayers may restore ye.  Ang. 
But do not kill 'em Sir.  Cha. 
You speak too late, dear,  
It is my first fight, and I must do bravely,  
I must not look with partial eyes on any;  
I cannot spare a button of these Gentlemen;  
Did life lie in their heel Achilles like,  
I'd shoot my anger at those parts and kill 'em.  
Who waits within?  Ser. 
Sir.  Cha. 
View all these, view 'em well,  
Go round about 'em and still view their faces,  
Round about yet, See how death waits upon 'em,  
For thou shalt never view 'em more.  Eust. 
Pray hold, Sir.  Cha. 
I cannot hold you stand so fair before me,  
I must not hold 't will darken all my glories.  
Go to my Uncle, bid him post to the King,  
And get my pardon instantly, I have need on't.  Eust. 
Are you so unnatural?  Cha. 
You shall die last Sir,  
I'll talk thee dead, thou art no man to fight with.  
Come, will ye come? methinks I've fought whole battles.  Cow. 
We have no quarrel to you, that we know on, Sir.  Egre. 
we'll quit the house and ask ye mercy too:  
Good Lady, let no murder be done here;  
We came but to parley.  Cha. 
How my sword  
Thirsts after them? stand away Sweet.  Eust. 
Pray Sir,  
Take my submission, and I disclaim for ever.  Cha. 
Away ye poor things, ye despicable Creatures!  
Do you come post to fetch a Lady from me,  
From a poor Schoolboy that ye scorned of late?  
And grow lame in your hearts when you should execute?  
Pray take her, take her, I am weary of her;  
What did ye bring to carry her;  Egre. 
A Coach and four horses.  Cha. 
But are they good?  Egre. 
As good as France can show Sir.  Cha. 
Are you willing to leave those, and take your safeties?  
Speak quickly.  Eust. 
Yes with all our hearts.  Cha. 
'tis done them  
Many have got one horse, I've got four by th' bargain.  Enter MIRAMONT. Mi. 
How now, who's here?  Ser. 
Nay now, y'are gone without bail.  Mir. 
What, drawn my friends? Fetch me my two-hand sword;  
I will not leave a head on your shoulders, Wretches.  Eust. 
In truth Sir, I came but to do my duty.  Both. 
And we to renew our loves.  Mir. 
Bring me a blanket.  
What came they for?  Ang. 
To borrow me a while, Sir;  
But one that never fought yet has so curried,  
So bastinadoed them with manly carriage,  
They stand like things Gorgon had turned to stone:  
They watched your being absent, and then thought  
They might do wonders here, and they have done so;  
For by my troth, I wonder at their coldness,  
The nipping North or frosts never came near them,  
St. George upon a Sign would grow more sensible:  
If the name of honour were for ever to be lost,  
These were the most sufficient men to do it  
In all the world, and yet they are but young,  
What will they rise to? They're as full of fire  
As a frozen Glowworms tails, and shine as goodly;  
Nobility and patience are matched rarely  
In these three Gentlemen, they have right use on't;  
They'll stand still for an hour and be beaten.  
These are the anagrams of three great Worthies.  Mir. 
They will infect my house with cowardice,  
If they breathe longer in it; my roof covers  
No baffled Monsieurs, walk and air yourselves;  
As I live, they stay not here, white livered wretches!  
Without one word to ask a reason why,  
Vanish, 'tis the last warning, and with speed,  
For if I take ye in hand I shall dissect you,  
And read upon your phlegmatic dull carcases.  
My horse again there: I have other business,  
Which you shall hear hereafter and laugh at it.  
Good night Charles, fair goodness to you dear Lady.  
'tis late, 'tis late.  Ang. 
Pray Sir be careful of us.  Mir. 
It is enough, my best care shall attend ye.  Exeunt.  

Actus IV. Scoena IV.  Enter ANDREW. 
Are you come old Master? very good, your horse  
Is well set up, but ere ye part; I'll ride you  
And spur your reverend Justiceship such a question,  
As I shall make the sides o'your reputation bleed,  
Truly I will. Now must I play at Bopeep—  
A banquet— well, Potatoes and Eringoes,  
And as I take it, Cantharides,— Excellent,  
A priapism follows, and as I'll handle it,  
It shall old lecherous Goat in authority.  
Now they begin to bill; how he slavers her.  
Gramercy Lily, she spits his kisses out,  
And now he offers to fumble she falls off,  
(That's a good Wench) and cries fair play above board.  
Who are they in the corner? As I live,  
A covey of Fiddlers; I shall have some music yet  
At my making free o'th' Company of Horners;  
There's the comfort, and a song too! He beckons for one—  
Sure 'tis no Anthem nor no borrowed rhymes  
Out of the School of virtue; I will listen—  A song. 
This was never penned at Geneva, the note's too sprightly.  
So, so, the music's paid for, and now what follows?  
O that Monsieur Miramont would but keep his word,  
Here were a feast to make him fat with laughter,  
At the most 'tis not six minutes riding from his house,  
Nor will he break I hope— O are you come Sir?  
The prey is in the net and will break in  
Upon occasion.  Mir. 
Thou shalt rule me Andrew.  
O th' infinite fright that will assail this Gentleman!  
The quarterns, tertians, and quotidians  
That will hang like Sergeants on his worship's shoulders!  
The humiliation of the flesh of this man!  
This grave austere man will be wondered at.  
How will those solemn looks appear to me,  
And that severe face, that spoke chains and shackles?  
Now I take him in the nick, ere I done with him,  
He had better have stood between two panes of wainscot  
And made his recantation in the market,  
Than hear me conjure him.  And. 
He must pass this way,  
To th' only bed I have, he comes, stand close.  Bri. 
Well done, well done, give me my nightcap. So,  
Quick, quick, untruss me; I will truss and trounce thee;  
Come Wench a kiss between each point; kiss close;  
It is a sweet Parenthesis.  Lil. 
Y'are merry Sir.  Bri. 
Merry I will be anon, and thou shalt feel it,  
Thou shalt my Lily  Lil. 
Shall I air your bed, Sir?  Bri. 
No, no, I'll use no warming pan but thine, Girl;  
That's all; Come kiss me again.  Lil. 
Ha' ye done yet?  Bri. 
No, but I will do, and do wonders, Lily.  
Show me the way.  Lil. 
You cannot miss it, Sir;  
You shall have a caudle in the morning, for  
Your worship's breakfast.  Bri. 
How, i'th' morning Lily?  
thouart such a witty thing to draw me on.  
Leave fooling, Lily, I am hungry now,  
And thouhast another Kickshaw, I must taste it.  Lil. 
'twill make you surfeit, I am tender of you,  
Y'have all y'are like to have.  And. 
Can this be earnest?  Mir. 
It seems so and she honest.  Bri. 
Have I not  
Thy promise Lily?  Lil. 
Yes, and I have performed  
Enough to a man of your years, this is truth,  
And you shall find Sir, you have kissed and toused me,  
Handled my leg and foot, what would you more, Sir?  
As for the rest, it requires youth and strength,  
And th'labour in an old man would breed Agues,  
sciaticas, and Cramps; you shall not curse me,  
For taking from you what you cannot spare, Sir:  
Be good unto yourself, y'have ta'en already  
All you can take with ease; you are past threshing,  
It is a work too boisterous for you, leave  
Such drudgery to Andrew.  Mir. 
How she jeers him?  
Lil Let Andrew alone with his own tillage,  
he's tough, and can manure it.  Bri. 
Y'are a quean,  
A scoffing jeering quean.  Lil. 
It may be so, but  
I'm sure, I'll ne'er be yours.  Bri. 
Do not provoke me,  
If thou dost, I'll have my Farm again, and turn  
Thee out a-begging.  Lil. 
Though you have the will,  
And want of honesty to deny your Deed, Sir,  
Yet I hope Andrew has got so much learning  
From my young Master, as to keep his own;  
At the worst, I'll tell a short tale to the Judges,  
For what grave ends you signed your Lease, and on  
What terms you would revoke it.  Bri. 
Whore, thou dar'st not.  
Yield or I'll have thee whipped; How my blood boil,  
As if 'twere o'er a furnace!  Mir. 
I shall cool it.  Bri. 
Yet gentle Lily, pity and forgive me,  
I'll be a friend t'ye, such a loving bountiful friend—  Lil. 
To avoid suits in Law, I would grant a little,  
But should fierce Andrew know it, what would become  
Of me? And. A whore, a whore.  Bri. 
Nothing but well, Wench,  
I will put such a strong bit in his mouth  
As thou shalt ride him how thou wilt, my Lily:  
Nay, he shall hold the door, as I will work him,  
And thank thee for the Office.  Mir. 
Take heed Andrew,  
These are shrewd temptations.  And. 
Pray you know  
Your Cue, and second me Sir; By your worship's favour.  Bri. 
Andrew! And. I come in time to take possession  
Of th'office you assign me; hold the door,  
Alas 'tis nothing for a simple man  
To stay without when a deep understanding  
Holds conference within, say with his wife a  
A trifle Sir, I know I hold my farm.  
In Cuckold's Tenure; you are Lord o'the soil Sir,  
Lilly is a West, a Stray, she's yours, to use Sir,  
I claim no interest in her.  Bri. 
Art thou serious?  
Speak honest Andrew since thou hast over heard us,  
And wink at small faults, man; I'm but a piddler,  
A little will serve my turn, thou'lt find enough  
When I've my belly full; wilt thou be private  
And silent?  And. 
By all means, I'll only have  
A Ballad made of't, sung to some lewd Tune,  
And the name of it shall be Justice Trap,  
It will sell rarely with your worship's name,  
And Lilies on the top.  Bri. 
Seek not the ruin  
O'my reputation, Andrew.  And. 
'tis for your credit,  
Monsieur Brisac printed in capital letters,  
Then pasted upon all the posts in Paris.  Bri. 
No mercy, Andrew?  And. 
O, it will proclaim you  
From th' City to the Court, and prove sport royal.  Bri. 
Thou shalt keep thy Farm.  Mir. 
He does afflict him rarely.  And. 
You trouble me. Then his intent arriving,  
The vizard of his hypocrisy pulled off  
To the Judge criminal.  Bri. 
O, I am undone.  And. 
he's put out of Commission with disgrace,  
And held uncapable of bearing Office  
Ever hereafter. This is my revenge,  
And this I'll put in practice.  Bri. 
Do but hear me.  And. 
To bring me back from my Grammar to my Hornbook,  
It is unpardonable.  Bri. 
Do not play the Tyrant;  
Accept of composition.  Lil. 
Hear him, Andrew.  And. 
What composition?  Bri. 
I'll confirm thy farm,  
And add unto't an hundred acres more  
Adjoining to it.  And. 
Umb, This mollifies,  
But y'are so fickle, and will again deny this,  
There being no witness by.  Bri. 
Call any witness,  
I'll presently assure it.  And. 
Say you so,  
Troth there's a friend of mine Sir, within hearing,  
That is familiar with all that's past,  
His testimony will be authentical.  Bri. 
Will he be secret?  And. 
You may tie his tongue up,  
As you would do your purse-strings.  Br. 
Miramont.  M. 
Ha, ha, ha.  And. 
This is my witness. Lord how you are troubled?  
Sure, y'have an ague, you shake so with choler;  
he's your loving brother Sir, and will tell nobody  
But all he meets, that you have eat a snake,  
And are grown young, game some, and rampant.  Bri. 
Caught thus?  And. 
If he were one that would make jests of you,  
Or plague ye with making your religious gravity  
Ridiculous to your neighbours, Than you had  
Some cause to be perplexed.  Bri. 
I shall become  
Discourse for Clowns and Tapsters.  And. 
Quick, Lily, quick.  
he's now past kissing, between point and point.  
He swounds, fetch him some Cordial— Now put in Sir.  Mir. 
Who may this be? sure this is some mistake:  
Let me see his face, wears he not a false beard?  
It cannot be Brisac that worthy Gentleman,  
The pillar and the patron of his Country;  
He is too prudent and too cautelous,  
Experience hath taught him t'avoid these fooleries,  
He is the punisher and not the doer,  
Besides he's old and cold, unfit for women;  
This is some Counterfeit, he shall be whipped for't,  
Some base abuser of my worthy brother.  Bri. 
Open the doors, will y' imprison me? are ye my Judges?  Mir. 
The man raves This is not judicious Brisac:  
Yet now I think on't, a'has a kind of dog look  
Like my brother, a guilty hanging face.  Bri. 
I'll suffer bravely, do your worst, do, do.  Mir. 
Why, it's manly in you.  Bri. 
Nor will I rail nor curse,  
You slave, you whore, I will not meddle with you,  
But all the torment that ere fell on men,  
That fed on mischief, fall heavily on you all.  Exit. Lil. 
You have given him a heat, Sir.  Mir. 
He will ride you  
The better,  Lilly. And. 
we'll teach him to meddle with Scholars.  Mir. 
He shall make good his promise t'increase thy Farm, Andrew,  
Or I'll jeer him to death, fear nothing Lily,  
I am thy Champion. This jest goes to Charles,  
And then I'll hunt him out, and Monsieur Eustace  
The gallant Courtier, and laugh heartily  
To see'em mourn together.  And. 
'twill be rare Sir.  Exeunt.   


Actus 5. Scoena 1.  EUSTACE, EGREMONT, COWSY. 
Turned out of doors and baffled!  Egre. 
We share with you  
In the affront.  Cow. 
Yet bear it not like you  
With such dejection.  Eust. 
My Coach and horses made  
The ransom of our cowardice.  Cow. 
Pish, that's nothing,  
'tis Damnum reparabile, and soon recovered.  Egre. 
It is but feeding a suitor with false hopes,  
And after squeeze him with a dozen of oaths.  
You are new rigged, and this no more remembered.  Eust. 
And does the Court that should be the example  
And Oracle of the Kingdom, read to us  
No other doctrine.  Egre. 
None that thrives so well  
As that, within my knowledge.  Cow. 
Flattery rubs out,  
But since great men learn to admire themselves,  
'tis something crest-fallen.  Egre. 
To be of no Religion,  
Argues a subtle moral understanding,  
And it is often cherished.  Eust. 
Piety then,  
And valour, nor to do nor suffer wrong,  
Are there no virtues.  Egre. 
Rather vices, Eustace;  
Fighting! What's fighting? It may be in fashion,  
Among Provant swords, and buff-jerkin men:  
But w'us that swim in choice of silks and Tissues;  
Though in defence of that word reputation,  
Which is indeed a kind of glorious nothing,  
To lose a dram of blood must needs appear  
As coarse as to be honest.  Eust. 
And all this  
You seriously believe.  Cow. 
It is a faith,  
That we will die in, since from the black guard  
To the grim Sir in office, there are few  
Hold other Tenets.  Eust. 
Now my eyes are open,  
And I behold a strong necessity  
That keeps me knave and coward.  Cow. 
Y'are the wiser.  Eust. 
Nor can I change my Copy, if I purpose  
To be of your society.  Egre. 
By no means.  
Eust. Honour is nothing with you?  Cow. 
A mere bubble,  
For what's grown common is no more regarded.  Eust. 
My sword forced from me too, and still detained,  
You thinks no blemish.  Egre. 
Get me a battoon,  
'tis twenty times more courtlike, and less trouble.  Eust. 
And yet you wear a sword.  Cow. 
Yes, and a good one,  
A Milan hilt, and a Damasco blade,  
For ornament, no use the Court allows it.  Eust. 
will't not fight of itself?  Cow. 
I ne'er tried this,  
Yet I have worn as fair as any man,  
I'm sure I've made my Cutler rich, and paid  
For several weapons, Turkish and Toledo's,  
Two thousand Crowns, and yet could never light  
Upon a fighting one.  Eust. 
I'll borrow this,  
I like it well.  Cow. 
'tis at your service Sir,  
A lath in a velvet scabbard will serve my turn.  Eust. 
And now I have it, leave me, y'are infectious,  
The plague and leprosy of your baseness spreading  
On all that do come near you, such as you  
Render the Throne of Majesty, the Court  
Suspected and contemptible, you are scarabs  
That batten in her dung, and have no palates  
To taste her curious viands, and like Owls  
Can only see her night deformities,  
But with the glorious splendour of her beauties  
You are struck blind as Moles, that undermine  
The sumptuous building that allowed you shelter,  
You stick like running ulcers on her face,  
And taint the pureness of her native candour,  
And being bad servants cause your master's goodness  
To be disputed of; make you the Court  
That is the abstract of all Academies,  
To teach and practise noble undertakings  
(Where courage sits triumphant crowned with Laurel,  
And wisdom loaded with the weight of honour)  
A School of vices.  Egre. 
What sudden rapture's this?  Eust. 
A heavenly one that raising me from sloth and ignorance,  
(In which your conversation long hath charmed me)  
Carries me up into the air of action,  
And knowledge of myself; even now I feel  
But pleading only in the Courts-defence,  
(Though far short of her merits and bright lustre)  
A happy alteration, and full strength  
To stand her Champion against all the world,  
That throw aspersions on her.  Cow. 
Sure he'll beat us,  
I see it in his eyes.  Egre. 
A second Charles;  
Pray look not Sir so furiously.  Eust. 
Recant  
What you have said, ye mongrels, and lick up  
The vomit you have cast upon the Court,  
Where you unworthily have had warmth and breeding,  
And swear that you like Spiders, have made poison  
Of that which was a saving antidote.  Egre. 
We will swear any thing.  Cow. 
We honour the Court  
As a most sacred place.  Egre. 
And will make oath,  
If you enjoin us to't, nor knave, nor fool,  
Nor Coward living in it.  Eust. 
Except you two,  
You Rascals!  Cow. 
Yes, we are all these, and more,  
If you will have it so.  Eust. 
And that until  
You are again reformed and grown new men,  
You ne'er presume to name the Court, or press  
Into the porter's Lodge but for a penance,  
To be disciplined for your roguery, and this done  
With true contrition.  Both. 
Yes Sir.  Eust. 
You again,  
May eat scraps and be thankful.  Cow. 
Here's a cold breakfast  
After a sharp nights walking.  Eust. 
Keep your oaths,  
And without grumbling vanish.  Both. 
We are gone, Sir.  Exeunt. Eust. 
May all the poorness of my spirit go with you,  
The fetters of my thraldom are filed off:  
And I at liberty to right myself,  
And though my hope in Angellina's little,  
My honour (unto which compared she's nothing)  
Shall like the Sun disperse those lowering Clouds,  
That yet obscure and dim it; not the name  
Of brother shall divert me, but from him,  
That in the world's opinion ruined me,  
I will seek reparation, and call him  
Unto a strict account. Ha! 'tis near day,  
And if the muse's friend rose-cheeked Aurora,  
Invite him to this solitary grove,  
As I much hope she will, he seldom missing  
To pay his vows here to her, I shall hazard  
To hinder his devotions— The door opens.—  Enter Charles. 
'tis he most certain, and by's side my sword,  
Blessed opportunity.  Cha. 
I have o'erslept myself,  
And lost part of the morn, but I'll recover it:  
Before I went to bed, I wrote some notes  
Within my Table-book, which I will now consider.  
Ha! What means this? What do I with a sword?  
learned mercury needs not th' aid of Mars, and innocence  
Is to itself a guard, yet since arms ever  
Protect arts, I may justly wear and use it,  
For since 't was made my prize, I know not how  
I'm grown in love with't, and cannot eat nor study,  
And much less walk without it: but I trifle,  
Matters of more weight ask my judgement.  Eust. 
Now Sir,  
Treat of no other Theme, I'll keep you to it,  
And see y'expound it well.  Cha. 
Eustace!  Eust. 
The same Sir,  
Your younger brother, who as duty binds him,  
Hath all this night (turned out of doors) attended,  
To bid good morrow t'ye.  Cha. 
This not in scorn,  
Commands me to return it, Would you ought else?  Eust. 
O much, Sir, here I end not, but begin;  
I must speak to you in another strain,  
Than yet I ever used, and if the language  
Appear in the delivery rough and harsh,  
You (being my Tutor) must condemn yourself,  
From whom I learned it.  Cha. 
When I understand  
(Be't in what style you please) what's your demand,  
I shall endeavour in the self same phrase  
To make an answer to the point.  Eust. 
I come not  
To lay claim to your birthright, 'tis your own,  
And 'tis fit you enjoy it, nor ask I from you  
Your learning and deep knowledge; (though I am not  
A Scholar as you are) I know them Diamonds  
By your sole industry, patience and labour  
Forced from steep rocks and with much toil attended,  
And but to few, that prize their value granted,  
And therefore without rival freely wear them.  Cha. 
These not repined at (as you seem t'inform me)  
The motion must be of a strange condition,  
If I refuse to yield to't, therefore Eustace,  
Without this tempest in your looks propound it,  
And fear not a denial.  Eust. 
I require then,  
(As from an enemy and not a brother)  
The reputation of a man, the honour,  
Not by a fair war won when I was waking,  
But in my sleep of folly ravished from me,  
With these, the restitution of my sword,  
With large acknowledgement of satisfaction,  
My Coach, my Horses, I will part with life,  
Ere lose one hair of them, and what concludes all,  
My Mistress Angellina, as she was  
Before the musical Magic of thy tongue  
Enchanted and seduced her. These performed,  
And with submission, and done publicly  
At my Fathers and my Uncle's intercession,  
(That I put in too) I perhaps may listen  
To terms of reconcilement; but if these  
In every circumstance are not subscribed to,  
To th' last gasp I defy thee.  Cha. 
These are strict  
Conditions to a brother.  Eust. 
My rest is up,  
Nor will I give less.  Cha. 
I'm no Gamester, Eustace,  
Yet I can guess your resolution stands  
To win or lose all; I rejoice to find ye  
Thus tender of your honour, and that at length  
You understand what a wretched thing you were,  
How deeply wounded by yourself, and made  
Almost incurable, in your own hopes  
The dead flesh of pale cowardice growing over  
Your festered reputation, which no balm  
Or gentle unguent ever could make way to,  
And I am happy, that I was the Surgeon,  
That did apply those burning corrosives  
That render you already sensible  
O th' danger you were plunged in, teaching you,  
And by a fair gradation, how far  
And with what curious respect and care  
The peace and credit of a man within,  
(Which you were thought till now) should be preferred  
Before a gaudy outside, pray you fix here,  
For so far I go with you.  Eust. 
This discourse  
Is from the subject.  Cha. 
I'll come to it brother,  
But if you think to build upon my ruins,  
You'll find a false foundation, your high offers  
Taught by the masters of dependencies,  
That by compounding differences 'tween others  
Supply their own necessities, with me  
Will never carry 't; As you are my brother,  
I would dispense a little, but no more  
Than honour can give way to; nor must I  
Destroy that in myself I love in you,  
And therefore let not hopes nor threats persuade you,  
I will descend to any composition,  
For which I may be censured.  Eust. 
You shall fight then.  Cha. 
With much unwillingness with you, but if  
There's no evasion—  Eust. 
None.  Cha. 
Hear yet a word,  
As for the sword and other fripperies,  
In a fair way send for them, you shall have 'em,  
But rather than surrender Angellina,  
Or hear it again mentioned, I oppose  
My breast unto loud thunder, cast behind me  
All ties of Nature.  Eust. 
She detained, I'm deaf  
To all persuasion.  Cha. 
Guard thyself then Eustace,  
I use no other Rhetoric.  Enter Miram. Mir. 
Clashing of swords  
So near my house? brother opposed to brother!  
Here is no fencing at half-sword, hold, hold,  
Charles, Eustace.  Eust. 
Second him, or call in more help,  
Come not between us, I'll not know nor spare you;  
D'ye fight by th' book?  Cha. 
'tis you that wrong me, off Sir,  
And suddenly I'll conjure down the spirit  
That I have raised in him.  Eust. 
Never Charles,  
Till thine, and in thy death, be doubled in me.  Mir. 
I'm out of breath, yet trust not too much to't boys',  
For if you pause not suddenly, and hear reason.  
Do, kill your Uncle, do, but that I'm patient,  
And not a choleric old tasty fool,  
Like your father, I'd dance a matachin with you,  
Should make you sweat your best blood for't, I would,  
And it may be I will, Charles I command thee,  
And Eustace I entreat thee, thouart a brave Spark,  
A true tough metalled blade, and I begin  
To love thee heartily, give me a fighting Courtier,  
I'll cherish him for example; in our age  
theyare not borne every day.  Cha. 
You of late Sir,  
In me loved learning.  Mir. 
True, but take me w'ye, Charles,  
'twas when young Eustace wore his heart in's breeches,  
And fought his battles in Compliments and Cringes,  
When's understanding waved in a flaunting feather,  
And his best contemplation looked no further  
Than a new fashioned doublet, I confess then  
The lofty noise your Greek made only pleased me,  
But now he's turned an Oliver and a Rowland,  
Nay the whole dozen of peers are bound up in him;  
Let me remember, when I was of his years  
I did look very like him, and did you see  
My picture as I was then, you would swear  
That gallant Eustace, (I mean, now he dares fight)  
Was the true substance and the perfect figure.  
Nay, nay, no anger, you shall have enough Charles.  Cha. 
Sure Sir, I shall not need addition from him.  Eust. 
Nor I from any, this shall decide my interest,  
Though I am lost to all deserving men,  
To all that men call good, for suffering tamely  
Insufferable wrongs, and justly slighted,  
By yielding to a minute of delay  
In my revenge, and from that made a stranger  
Unto my father's house and favour, one whelmed  
With all disgraces, yet I will mount upward,  
And force myself a fortune, though my birth  
And breeding do deny it.  Cha. 
Seek not Eustace,  
By violence what will be offered to you,  
On easier composition; though I was not  
Allied unto your weakness, you shall find me  
A brother to your bravery of spirit,  
And one that not compelled to't by your sword,  
(Which I must never fear) will share with you,  
In all but Angellina.  Mir. 
Nobly said Charles,  
And learn from my experience, you may hear reason  
And never maim your fighting; for your credit  
Which you think you have lost, spare Charles and swinge me,  
And soundly; three or four walking velvet cloaks.  
That wear no swords to guard 'em, yet deserve it,  
Thou art made up again.  Eust. 
All this is lip-salve.  Mir. 
It shall be Hearts-ease, Eustace, ere I've done;  
As for thy father's anger, now thou dar'st fight,  
ne'er fear't, for I've the dowcets of his gravity  
Fast in a string, and will so pinch and wring him,  
That spite of his authority, thou shalt make  
Thine own conditions with him.  Eust. 
I'll take leave  
A little to consider.  Cha. 
Here comes Andrew.  Mir. 
But without his Comical and learned face,  
What sad disaster, Andrew?  And. 
You may read Sir,  
A Tragedy in my face.  Mir. 
Art thou in earnest?  And. 
Yes, by my life Sir, and if now you help not,  
And speedily by force or by persuasion,  
My good old Master (for now I pity him) is  
Ruined for ever.  Cha. 
Ha, my father!  And. 
He Sir.  Mir. 
By what means? speak.  And. 
At the suit of Monsieur Lewis,  
His house is seized upon, and he in person  
Is under guard, (I saw it with these eyes Sir)  
To be conveyed to Paris, and there sentenced.  Mir. 
Nay, then there is no jesting.  Cha. 
Do I live,  
And know my father injured?  And. 
And what's worse Sir,  
My Lady Angellina—  Eust. 
What of her?  And. 
she's carried away too.  Mir. 
How?  And. 
While you were absent,  
A crew of Monsieur Lewis friends and kinsmen  
By force broke in at th' back part of the house  
And took her away by violence, faithful Andrew,  
(As this can witness for him) did his best,  
In her defence, but 't would not do.  Mir. 
Away,  
And see our horses saddled, 'tis no time  
To talk, but do: Eustace, you now are offered  
A spacious field, and in a pious war  
To exercise you valour, here's a cause,  
And such a one, in which to fall is honourable,  
Your duty and reverence due to a father's name  
Commanding it; but these unnatural jars  
Arising between brothers (should you prosper)  
Would shame your victory.  Eust. 
I would do much Sir,  
But still my reputation!  Mir. 
Charles shall give you  
All decent satisfaction; nay, join hands,  
And heartily; why this is done like brothers;  
And old as I am, in this cause that concerns  
The honour of our family, Monsieur Lewis  
(If reason cannot work) shall find and feel  
There's hot blood in this arm, I'll lead you bravely.  Eust. 
And if I follow not, a coward's name  
Be branded on my forehead.  Cha. 
This spirit makes you  
A sharer in my fortunes.  Mir. 
And in mine,  
Of which (Brisac once freed, and Angellina  
Again in our possession) you shall know  
My heart speaks in my tongue.  Eust. 
I dare not doubt it, Sir.  Exeunt  

Actus V. Scoena II.  Enter LEWIS, BRISAC, ANGELLINA, SYLVIA, Officers. Lew. 
I'm deaf to all persuasion.  Bri. 
I use none,  
Nor doubt I, though a while my innocence suffers,  
But when the King shall understand how falsely  
Your malice hath informed him, he in justice  
Must set me right again.  Ang. 
Sir, let not passion  
So far transport you as to think in reason,  
This violent course repairs, but ruins it;  
That honour you would build up you destroy;  
What you would seem to nourish, if respect  
Of my preferment or my reputation  
May challenge your paternal love and care,  
Why do you, now good fortune has provided  
A better husband for me than your hopes  
Could ever fancy, strive to rob me of him?  
In what is my Lord Charles defective, Sir?  
Unless deep learning be a blemish in him,  
Or well proportioned limbs be mulcts in Nature,  
Or what you only aimed at large revenues,  
Are on the sudden grown distasteful to you?  
Of what can you accuse him?  Lew. 
Of a rape  
Done to honour, which thy ravenous lust  
Made thee consent to.  Syl. 
Her lust! you are her father.  Lew. 
And you her Bawd.  Syl. 
Were you ten Lords, 'tis false,  
The pureness of her chaste thoughts entertain not  
Such spotted instruments.  Ang. 
As I have a soul Sir.  Lew. 
I am not to be altered, to sit down  
With this disgrace would argue me a Peasant,  
And not borne noble: all rigour that the Law  
And that increase of power by favour yields,  
Shall be with all severity inflicted;  
You have the king's hand for't; no Bail will serve,  
And therefore at your perils Officers, away with 'em.  Bri. 
This is madness.  Lew. 
Tell me so in open Court,  
And there I'll answer you.  Enter Mir. Char. Eust. Andrew. Mir. 
Well overtaken.  Cha. 
Ill if they dare resist.  Eust. 
He that advances  
But one step forward dies.  L. 
Show the Kings Writ.  Mir. 
Show your discretion, 'twill become you better.  Cha. 
Y'are once more in my power, and if again  
I part with you, let me for ever lose thee.  Eust. 
Force will not do't nor threats, accept this service  
From your despaired of Eustace.  And. 
And beware  
Your reverend Worship never more attempt  
To search my Lilly-pot, you see what follows.  Lew. 
Is the king's power contemned?  Mir. 
No, but the torrent  
O'your wilful folly stopped. And for you, good Sir,  
If you would but be sensible, what can you wish  
But the satisfaction of an obstinate will,  
That is not endeared to you? rather than  
Be crossed in what you purposed, you'll undo  
Your daughter's fame, the credit of your judgement,  
And your old foolish neighbour; make your states,  
And in a suit not worth a cardecu,  
A prey to Advocates, and their buckram Scribes,  
And after they have plumed ye, return home  
Like a couple of naked Fowls without a feather.  Cha. 
This is a most strong truth Sir.  Mir. 
No, no, Monsieur,  
Let us be right Frenchmen, violent to charge,  
But when our follies are repelled by reason,  
'tis fit that we retreat and ne'er come on more:  
Observe my learned Charles, he'll get thee a Nephew  
On Angellina shall dispute in her belly,  
And suck the Nurse by Logic: and here's Eustace,  
He was an Ass, but now is grown an Amadis;  
Nor shall he want a Wife, if all my land  
For a jointure can effect it: Y'are a good Lord,  
And of a gentle nature, in your looks  
I see a kind consent, and it shows lovely;  
And do you hear old Fool? but I'll not chide,  
Hereafter like me, ever dote on learning,  
The mere belief is excellent, 'twill save you;  
And next love valour though you dare not fight  
yourself, or fright a foolish Officer, young Eustace  
Can do it to a hair. And to conclude,  
Let Andrew's Farm b'increased, that is your penance,  
You know for what, and see you rut no more,  
You understand me, So embrace on all sides.  
I'll pay those Billmen, and make large amends;  
Provided we preserve you still our friends.  — Exeunt.   

Epilogue.  
'tIs not the hands, or smiles, or common way  
of approbation to a well-liked Play,  
We only hope; But that you freely would  
To th' Author's memory, so far unfold,  
And show your loves and liking to his wit,  
Not in your praise, but often seeing it;  
That being the grand assurance that can give  
The Poet and the Player means to live.  
FINIS.