Boy. He's now gone up the street Sir,
With a great train of Gallants.
Cra. What think you now Sir?
Con. Go, and overtake him,
Commend my love unto him: my name is Conon,
Tell him I am new arriv'd, and where I am,
And would request to see him presently:
Ye see I use old dudgen phrase to draw him.
Cra. I'll hang and quarter when you draw him hither.
Con. Away Boy.
Boy. I am gone Sir. [Exit.
Con. Here's to you now,
And you shall find his travel has not stopt him
As you suppose, nor alter'd any freedome,
But made him far more clear and excellent;
It draws the grossness off the understanding,
And renders active and industrious spirits:
He that knows most mens manners, must of necessity
Best know his own, and mend those by example:
'Tis a dull thing to travell like a Mill-horse,
Still in the place he was born in, lam'd and blinded;
Living at home is like it: pure and strong spirits
That like the fire still covet to fly upward,
And to give fire as well as take it; cas'd up, and mewd here
I mean at home, like lusty metled Horses,
Only ty'd up in Stables, to please their Masters,
Beat out their fiery lives in their own Litters,
Why do not you travel Sir?
Cra. I have no belief in't.
I see so many strange things, half unhatcht, to
Return, those that went out men, and good men,
They look like potch'd Eggs with the souls suckt out
Empty and full of wind: all their affections
Are bak'd in Rye crust, to hold carriage
From this good Town to th' other: and when they are open'd,
They are so ill cooked and mouldy—
Con. Ye are pleasant.
Cra. I'll shew ye a pack of these: I have 'em for ye,
That have been long in travel too.